#Basically a walking bully target

[toothlickpick]

the conclave book constantly emphasizes how being a pope is basically a lonely death sentence. cardinals close to being elected pope are isolated out of respect and awe, popes can't go out to eat at their favorite restaurants or go on strolls, they're constantly targeted as the head of the church etc..

the book frames benitez as, literally and symbolically, a 60ish year old boy who has no idea what hes getting into. he stumbles to think of a name when he gets elected pope, begs lomelli to stay with him to guide him, and even the smallest papal clothes literally do not fit him because he's so tiny. he's framed with a childlike awe and openness needed to lead the church through dark and cynical times

i think another genius moment for the movie is that it frames benitez in almost the opposite direction. movie benitez is quiet and contemplative. he likes lomelli, but in the same way an angel would favor a prophet. he's the only one to care about His Holiness' turtles and see their virtue despite their apparent stupidity, which is obviously a reflection of how His Holiness saw the cardinals and the rest of the Kingdom of God. From the very beginning, he is isolated from the other cardinals, never really shown to discuss things with anyone other than lawrence. In the end when he scolds tedesco, you dont get the impression of a wise childlike figure speaking up against a bully, you get the impression of moses telling ramses to let his people go.

and in the end when movie benitez is elected pope, he pauses. he refuses to get dressed until lawrence sees him about the one issue he knows will be a problem. he comes into the papacy knowing he will make a great sacrifice, and he treats it that way.

tldr book benitez is a 60ish year old boy wearing papal clothes too big for him to fully handle, movie benitez is a man walking up cavalry hill, both are my babies, thank you for coming to my ted talk

[callsigns-haze]

Beat me for the crown 1

Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

Years after the war, Xaden and YN are raising their two children, Liam and Kaia, in Tyrrendor’s royal residence. While YN is away on a girls' trip that for some reason includes Ridoc, Liam—small for his age despite being heir—is relentlessly bullied and hides his injuries until a brutal second attack drives him, bloody and broken, into Xaden’s arms late at night

⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains themes of bullying, physical violence, drinking, anger, emotional distress, and injury involving a child.

The sun is golden through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm glow on the mess of dresses, boots, and accessories strewn across your bed. Your room—your room in the royal residence of Tyrrendor—is a chaotic masterpiece of controlled packing frenzy. You’re half-laughing, half-arguing with yourself as you debate whether or not you need the fourth pair of heeled boots (“I definitely might need them, what if we go somewhere fancy?”) when you hear it.

A low, drawn-out groan. Then a sigh that sounds borderline pained. Followed by the unmistakable thud of a heavy folder hitting your desk.

You glance over your shoulder.

Xaden Riorson, your husband, your partner through war and fire and revolution, the King of Tyrrendor and the father of your two terrifyingly clever children, is currently slumped at your desk like the world’s most exasperated bureaucrat. His hair—still that inky black, streaked now with a dignified silver near his temples—falls forward as he rubs his hand over his face, fingers dragging down with dramatic exhaustion.

“Everything alright, Your Majesty?” you tease, turning and leaning against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, hip cocked.

He doesn’t even lift his head. “If I have to read one more request for funds to renovate a statue of someone no one remembers, I’m going to set the entire treasury on fire.”

You grin, biting your lip to hide the laugh. “That would be… dramatic. Even for you.”

He lifts his head at that, those obsidian eyes locking on yours—and you see it, the smirk trying to fight its way past the grumpiness. But he loses that battle and lets his head fall back with another groan. “You’re abandoning me.”

“I’m going on a girls trip,” you remind him, tossing a bundle of socks into your bag. “It’s not abandonment if I warned you.”

“You didn’t warn me Ridoc was coming.”

“That’s fair,” you murmur, grabbing the list Mira sent this morning and tucking it into your satchel. “I didn’t know until twenty minutes ago.”

“He’s not a girl.”

“Technically, no. But Sloane insists he makes the best cocktails, and Violet wants him for target practice if we get bored, so…”

Xaden grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like I knew this was a mistake.

You walk over, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He leans back immediately, head tilting into the curve of your neck with a tired sigh. “You’ll survive,” you murmur, pressing a kiss just below his ear. “You have Garrick to keep you sane, Sawyer to help you build forts with the kids, and Brennan for sarcasm. Plus our children—who are basically miniature yous. You’ll be fine. Oh and your cousin.”

“I miss you already,” he says dramatically, and you laugh into his neck.

“You're going to miss my ass in these shorts,” you say, voice low and teasing.

He growls, arms reaching back to pull you into his lap, the desk groaning in protest under the sudden shift of weight. “That too.”

You giggle, letting your forehead rest against his. “You’re insufferable when I leave.”

“Because I actually like you,” he says plainly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “And because Liam and Kaia are going to take full advantage of your absence to negotiate extra sweets and a later bedtime.”

“Use the look,” you whisper.

He smirks. “Which one?”

“The one you used on that Sage before you vaporized him.”

“Tempting.”

The door creaks open before you can respond, and a little voice pipes in: “Dad, Kaia says she’s Queen now and I have to listen to her forever.”

You and Xaden both blink. Liam, now twelve and shorter than most boys, stands in the doorway with his arms crossed, looking exactly like his father on a bad day.

From somewhere down the hall, Kaia yells: “BECAUSE I WAS BORN SECOND. I’M A MIRACLE.”

You glance at Xaden.

He sighs again. “Go on your trip,” he mutters. “Before I pack myself in your bag and come with you.”

You kiss his cheek and whisper, “You wouldn’t last five minutes with that many women.”

“You’re probably right.” He glances down the hall. “And neither will Ridoc.”

You both laugh.

And when you finally close your bag and sling it over your shoulder, you take one last look at your chaotic, wonderful little family—King Xaden surrounded by paperwork and pint-sized versions of himself, and all of them completely, utterly doomed without you for the weekend.

Perfect.

The moment Liam disappears from the doorway with a loud, exasperated sigh, you barely have time to adjust your bag strap before the unmistakable sound of bare feet pattering down the hall echoes like a storm brewing in the distance.

And then she appears.

Kaia Riorson barrels into the room like a force of nature, a blur of dark curls and swishing skirts, her arms already open wide as she launches herself directly at your legs.

“Mama!” she squeals, clutching your thighs like you’re about to disappear forever rather than leave for a weekend. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye to me, were you?”

You bend down, brushing her wild curls back from her face. She’s the image of her father—onyx eyes with those telltale golden flecks, skin like warm bronze from days spent in the sun, and that sharp Riorson jaw she already uses to full effect in every argument, whether with her brother or the palace tutors.

And stars, is she already eight. Eight going on eighty.

“Of course not,” you say with a grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “How could I leave without a proper Kaia Riorson sendoff?”

She straightens at that, planting her tiny hands on her hips in a way that mirrors Xaden so perfectly it makes you bite back a laugh. “I left you a checklist on the dresser,” she announces with regal seriousness. “To ensure you remember your travel documents, your tonic for headaches—since Aunt Mira talks so much—and your good boots for hiking. And the backup ones.”

You glance over her shoulder to the edge of the dresser, and sure enough: a neatly folded parchment list written in tiny, careful script.

Xaden raises his brows from the desk, giving you a look that very plainly says She’s your child, and you smirk in response.

Kaia isn’t just clever—she’s terrifyingly bright, already reading at a level far beyond her age, soaking up history and politics with a kind of fierce hunger. It makes sense, you suppose. She's grown up in the aftermath of war and revolution, in the heart of a rebuilt kingdom, with a father who rules and a mother who would rather die than be ruled.

She’s got both your blood in her veins—and she burns like it.

“Did you also leave me a tactical escape route in case Ridoc tries to teach us dance moves again?” you ask, deadpan.

Kaia giggles. “Obviously. It’s on the back of the list. Plan Alpha-K.”

“I taught you too well,” you whisper, tugging her close and kissing her temple.

She melts into the hug for a second—just a second—before she pulls back with an almost wistful frown. “I wish I could come with you.”

“I know, baby.” You brush your thumb across her cheek. “But this is just for the girls. You’ve got a kingdom to help Dad rule while I’m gone.”

Her eyes light up at that. “Does that mean I get the crown?”

From the desk, Xaden cuts in dryly. “No.”

She spins around and marches over to him. “Why not? I already read the amendment to the Tyrrish Succession Treaty and everything. It doesn’t technically say heirs under ten can’t assume temporary authority—”

“I burned that amendment,” Xaden says with an arch of his brow. “You annotated it in red ink and included a doodle of yourself holding a sceptre.”

“It was artistic interpretation!”

You stifle your laughter as Xaden leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples with all the weariness of a man outnumbered by the brilliance—and persistence—of the women in his life.

Kaia pivots back to you. “Okay, fine. No crown. But if Dad falls asleep in a meeting again, I am declaring a National Dessert Day.”

You hold out a fist. She bumps it like the tiny revolutionary she is.

“Well, good,” she says primly. “Because as the acting Lady Regent while you're away, I need to be briefed on several things. First, the kitchen staff needs to understand that under no circumstances is Dad's allowed to cook. Not even toast. We all remember what happened last time.”

You press a hand over your mouth to hide your laugh, glancing over at Xaden, who’s watching from the desk with a raised brow and a wounded expression. “That fire was barely bigger than a candle,” he mutters.

Kaia ignores him entirely.

“Second,” she continues, tugging your hand and making you crouch so she can whisper in your ear like she’s sharing classified battle plans, “Liam keeps letting the palace boys bully him out of the courtyard when they spar. Just because he’s small doesn’t mean they should treat him like a baby. He’s the heir to Tyrrendor, and I keep telling him to act like it, but he says I’m bossy. Am I bossy?”

You smooth her hair, hiding your soft smile. “Only when you're right. Which, unfortunately for the rest of us, is often.”

Kaia beams, utterly pleased.

Then her arms are around your waist again, and her voice is soft in your side. “Be safe, Mama. And tell Aunt Violet I think her hair looks better short.”

You kiss the top of her head and breathe her in, letting yourself memorize the scent of wildflowers and parchment and sunshine that always seems to cling to her. “I will.”

She pulls back, brushing invisible dust off your traveling cloak. “I’ll watch over Liam,” she adds, more seriously now. “The kitchen boys were teasing him again. I’ll make them regret it.”

Your heart tightens.

Because Liam—twelve and bright and thoughtful—is still small for his age. Still soft around the edges. Still gentle in a world that hasn’t quite learned to stop testing him. He’s the heir to Tyrrendor, yes. But that doesn’t stop the older boys from pushing him around, doesn’t stop the whispers, the underestimation.

Kaia sees it. Feels it. And even if she’s younger, even if she’s half a head shorter, she’s got claws for him.

You crouch again, hand cupping her cheek. “Just make sure you don’t start a fire, okay?”

She grins. “Just a small one.”

Then she kisses your cheek, twirls on her heel, and dashes from the room with all the fury and elegance of the little queen she’s becoming.

And you’re left standing there with your bag over your shoulder, a half-packed bed behind you, and your husband watching you with that unreadable expression that still manages to stir heat low in your belly, even after all these years.

“You sure you want to leave me with her?” he mutters.

You flash him a grin. “I trust her more than you.”

“She’s eight.”

You shoulder your bag with a smirk. “And already running circles around you.”

From the hallway, you hear Liam mutter something about Kaia being “Queen of Overreacting,” followed by the sound of footsteps retreating quickly—probably realizing she’s within earshot.

“She just wants to protect him,” Xaden says behind you, voice low and warm, like the smell of the cedarwood soap he still insists on using. “Even if it comes out like a battle cry.”

You nod. It’s true. Liam may be the heir—the firstborn, the boy with the lineage and the weight of a crown already etched onto his shoulders—but he’s still small for his age. Sharp as a blade, sure, but not built for the kind of battlefield presence Xaden had at twelve. And he gets pushed around for it more often than he admits. Kaia, on the other hand, is half his size and twice as loud, and somehow convinced it’s her job to fight his battles and run the kingdom while you’re gone.

“She’ll take care of him,” you say softly, kissing the top of her head.

Kaia pulls back into the room, suddenly solemn. “I know I joke a lot,” she says, eyes wide and serious, “but I’ll be good, I promise. And I’ll take notes if anyone does anything especially stupid.”

“Please do.”

You stand and she wraps her arms around your waist one last time, squeezing tight before looking up at you with a grin that is all mischief and heart.

“Bring me back something expensive and shiny,” she says sweetly.

“Of course,” you laugh. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?”

“A broke one,” Xaden mutters without looking up from his paperwork.

Kaia snickers and skips to the door, pausing only to give you a little wave. “Bye, Mama! Try not to kill Ridoc.”

“No promises!”

And then she’s gone, trailing chaos in her wake like a proper Riorson. You look back at your husband, who watches her go with a tired kind of fondness.

“She’s you,” you say.

“No,” he murmurs. “She’s you—just dressed in my temper.”

You laugh, heart full, and finally shoulder your bag with a sigh. The room feels quieter without Kaia’s whirlwind presence, but the warmth lingers.

And gods help Tyrrendor if she ever really does become Queen.

You cross the room slowly, giving yourself a moment to just look at him—at Xaden. Your husband. The King of Tyrrendor. The same boy who once stood beneath lightning-split skies and dared fate to take him first. Now he’s older, steady. His broad shoulders still carry the weight of too many things—battlefields, guilt, duty, your shared past—but there’s peace in the lines of his face now, etched beside the silver starting to dust the edges of his dark hair.

He groans softly and leans back in the chair, rubbing his temples like the stack of scrolls in front of him might catch fire if he so much as glances at them wrong.

You rest your hip on the edge of the desk, arms folded, teasing. “You know you’re allowed to delegate, Your Highness.”

He looks up, glancing at you over the tops of the papers. “I tried. Kaia told me my signature was unbalanced and revoked the parchment.”

You snort. “To be fair, she does have a decent eye for penmanship.”

“She’s eight,” he mutters.

“She’s Kaia,” you correct, sliding the paper off the top of the stack and reading it sideways. “Hmm. Budget request for a secondary aerial defence net over the west cliffs?”

“Yes, and apparently the only justification was ‘just in case.’” He groans again, slumping forward to rest his forehead on the desk. “I’m begging you. Take me with you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you laugh. “You’ll be fine. Garrick and Bodhi are here, Liam needs a confidence boost, and Kaia needs to be stopped before she rewrites the palace's entire line of succession.”

“I’m going to die,” he says into the desk.

You run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, and he hums like a man starved of touch—even after twelve years of marriage, two kids, and gods know how many war council meetings.

“Don’t you dare,” you murmur.

He turns his head just enough to look up at you with those dark, molten eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

Your heart tightens, just a little. “I’ll miss you too.”

And then, softer, teasing, “But not so much that I won’t enjoy having one night without someone barging into our bed because of a thunderstorm, a bad dream, or a heated debate about whether the moon is technically a weapon.”

He groans again, but this time it’s almost a laugh. “Liam started that argument.”

“And Kaia finished it.”

“With charts.”

You grin. “That’s our girl.”

He sits up slowly, taking your hand, pulling you between his knees so you’re close—so close—and the teasing fades from his eyes, replaced by that look. The one that says no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much life has shifted beneath your feet, you’ll always be it for him.

“Be careful,” he says, voice low and rough.

You lean down and kiss him—soft, slow, lingering like the promise of something waiting for you when you return.

“I always am,” you whisper.

He brushes his lips against yours once more before letting you go. “Tell Mira I said if she brings home another owl, I’m burning the aviary.”

“Noted.”

You sling the bag over your shoulder, give him one last wink, and turn toward the door.

Behind you, his voice is a low murmur, reverent and amused all at once. “You were always the dangerous one.”

You glance back, smiling. “Still am.”

And then you’re gone—out into the corridor, toward the echo of voices and laughter and friends waiting to whisk you away, just for a little while, from crowns and chaos and the most loving kind of madness that is your family.

And stars, you wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

The halls of the Tyrrendor royal residence are quieter than usual—too quiet, which immediately tells you Kaia is either plotting something or Liam finally got her to leave him alone long enough to hide in the library. The soft echo of your boots against the marble floors is the only sound as you descend the wide staircase, the weight of your travel bag slung across your shoulder and the lingering warmth of Xaden’s kiss still pressed to your lips.

You adjust your grip and keep moving, the grand archways of the lower wing coming into view—and with them, voices. Familiar, chaotic, ridiculous voices.

“No, Ridoc, for the last time, you cannot come just because you say you identify as ‘emotionally feminine.’”

“That’s a legitimate excuse!” he protests. “Besides, you need someone to carry things. I’m very strong. Exceptionally strong. Just ask—”

“Absolutely not,” Mira says, cutting him off with that patented General tone that makes even grown riders snap to attention. “You’re here because Kaia invited you and you had the audacity to say yes.”

“She said I was essential to the operation,” Ridoc insists, arms spread like he’s appealing to a jury. “Her words, not mine.”

You turn the corner into the vestibule and laugh at the sight before you.

Rhiannon is perched on the edge of a chaise, hair braided back tight and face buried in the packing list she wrote for everyone two weeks ago. Maren and Cat are sorting through supplies, arguing about whether it’s “overkill” to bring five daggers each—spoiler: it’s not. Mira is checking a map and muttering about schedules. Sloane is sitting beside Violet on a bench, both of them sipping tea, looking serene in a way that only ever precedes absolute chaos. And Ridoc… well, Ridoc is standing in the center of it all with a satchel slung dramatically across his chest, already wearing tinted glasses like you’re going somewhere tropical instead of the Aretian coast.

“Sorry I’m late,” you announce as you walk in, and eight heads turn toward you like a synchronized squadron. Violet’s face lights up immediately.

“You’re never late,” she says, standing to hug you. “We were starting to worry Xaden locked you in a room and threw away the key.”

“He tried,” you murmur, grinning as you return her hug. “But Kaia overruled him.”

“I knew she was my favourite niece,” Rhiannon says brightly.

“She’s everyone’s favourite niece,” Mira sighs. “Including mine, and I’m not even biologically allowed to pick favourites or Leia would end me.”

You drop your bag by the others and stretch your arms with a groan. “She’s planning a full security audit while I’m gone. And apparently Xaden is forbidden from cooking.”

“Smart girl,” Maren nods.

Cat tosses you a piece of dried fruit. “We’re packed, provisioned, and Ridoc has agreed to carry all our bags.”

“Wait, what?” Ridoc sputters, but Violet just pats his shoulder as she passes.

“You’re emotionally feminine, remember?” she teases. “Lean into the nurturing energy.”

“You’re all going to miss me when I marry rich and leave you behind.”

“You say that every week,” Imogen mutters, grabbing her pack.

You laugh again, warmth blooming in your chest as you look around at this ridiculous, perfect group—your friends, your family. The war was years ago, the revolution even longer, but this? This is peace. This is yours.

“All right,” Mira says, rolling up the map and tucking it under her arm. “Let’s go before someone gets cold feet.”

“Or Xaden shows up shirtless in the hall and begs you to stay,” Cat grins.

“Don’t give him ideas,” you say, hoisting your bag. “He already tried that move twice.”

They laugh, and together, the eight of you head for the doors—toward the carriage, toward freedom, toward a weekend of laughter and stars and chaos. And, if Ridoc has anything to say about it, probably at least one spa day and a very expensive bottle of wine.

You don’t look back.

You’ll be home soon enough.

Tyrrendor Royal Residence, Evening

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting golden light over the rich stonework and high-vaulted ceilings of the reading chamber. The scent of burning cedar mixes with old pages and Fern’s faint, warm dog smell—a comfort all on its own.

Liam is sprawled across the couch, one arm slung over his face, a thick leather-bound history book open across his chest. The other arm is draped over the gangly mass of limbs and fur that is Fern, their shaggy, brown-footed Gordon Setter who has made herself very comfortable using the twelve-year-old as a full-body cushion. Her tail thumps against the cushion every time Liam shifts beneath her weight, a silent protest that he should stay still.

Kaia, eight years old going on eighty, is curled on the floor in front of the fireplace, her legs crossed, her posture absurdly perfect as she reads aloud quietly to herself from a diplomatic theory tome that probably should’ve bored her to sleep fifteen minutes ago. But Kaia doesn’t do boring. She does analysis, logic, and the occasional ruthless breakdown of someone’s psychological weaknesses—for fun.

The door creaks open, letting in a gust of cooler air and the heavy sound of bootsteps.

“Evening, squirt,” Garrick says as he walks in first, nodding toward Liam with an easy grin and ruffling his dark hair as he passes. “Didn’t see you out in the courtyard this afternoon. Bunch of the other heirs were doing sparring drills.”

Bodhi trails behind, tossing a wrapped sweet into his mouth. “Yeah, I saw the Ironcrest boys working the heavy blades. You could’ve joined them, right?”

Xaden walks in last, tall and quiet and very, very still.

There’s no mistaking the flash of warning in his eyes, the subtle shift of muscle in his jaw. His gaze narrows—just slightly—but Garrick doesn’t miss it.

“Easy,” he mutters under his breath, lifting both hands in surrender.

“Liam’s got time,” Xaden says evenly, walking past and setting a stack of correspondence on the sideboard. “He’s ahead of his studies. There’s more than one way to prepare to lead.”

But Liam’s shoulders have already tensed beneath Fern. His face remains neutral, but there’s a flicker of something beneath it—shame, or maybe that low-grade anxiety he’s carried since he turned eleven and everyone started expecting him to be someone. To be Xaden Riorson’s son.

“Please,” Kaia mutters from the floor without even looking up, “he’s not training because he doesn’t want to get beaten up again.”

The room stills.

Xaden turns sharply. “Kaia—”

“He didn’t even tell anyone,” she continues, flipping a page like she’s reciting weather patterns. “They broke his ribs. A week ago. Brennan mended him before anyone else found out.”

“Shut up, Kaia!” Liam snaps, sitting up so fast Fern lets out a soft yip of surprise and scrambles off him.

Kaia finally looks up from her book. “Well, it’s true, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it. They ganged up on you because you’re smaller and quiet and smarter than all of them combined, but you don’t have to be quiet—”

“I said shut up!” Liam’s voice cracks with the sharp edge of hurt that makes him sound younger than twelve. “Why do you always have to run your mouth?”

“Why do you always let them hurt you?” Kaia shoots back, rising to her feet, her cheeks flushed with rising anger. “You think hiding it makes you stronger? It makes you a coward!”

“Kaia,” Xaden barks, his tone edged with authority now. “Enough.”

But neither of them hears him. Not really. The fire snaps behind them like the tension in the room, and Liam’s fists are balled at his sides.

“I’m not a coward!” he yells. “You don’t know what it’s like—every time I go out there, they look at me like I’m some little kid who got lucky being born first. Like I didn’t earn anything!”

“You don’t try! You sit around with Fern and read while everyone else is out learning to fight! You let them walk all over you and then pretend it’s fine!”

“I hate you!”

“Good! I hate you more!”

Xaden moves, quick as lightning, stepping between them—but Liam’s already storming for the door, brushing past Garrick and Bodhi without a word.

“Liam!” Xaden calls, low and sharp. “Liam, stop—”

The door slams hard enough to rattle the sconces.

Kaia stands in the middle of the room, shoulders heaving, eyes brimming but defiant. “He always runs away. He always runs.”

Xaden rounds on her, but his voice is softer now. Not gentler—just lower. Controlled. Dangerous in a different way. “And that gives you permission to humiliate him? Publicly?”

She opens her mouth, but Garrick holds up a hand. “Let her sit with it, Xaden. Let both of them.”

Xaden’s jaw flexes. For a moment, he looks like he might snap the nearest chair in half.

Fern whines softly and pads toward the door where Liam disappeared, ears low.

Kaia stares at the fire again, her lower lip trembling now that the adrenaline is gone.

And Xaden—Xaden just sinks onto the couch, one hand over his face, like the weight of fatherhood and peace is somehow heavier than war ever was.

Xaden exhales slowly through his nose, the kind of measured breath that’s meant to calm, but does absolutely nothing to untangle the knot of rage and helplessness pulling tighter in his chest. He drops his hand from his face and looks at the flames instead, watching as they lick over the charred logs like they’re trying to burn through the tension still crackling in the room.

Fern whines again at the door, then pads back to sit beside the couch, pressing her head against his knee like she’s asking him to fix it—like she knows he can’t.

Garrick’s voice is the first to break the silence. “Kaia.”

She doesn’t look up from the fire. Her arms are crossed tight over her chest, jaw clenched, face blotchy from holding back the flood she’s too stubborn to release.

“What exactly happened?” Garrick asks, softer this time. Not as the General. As Uncle Garrick. “To Liam.”

Kaia’s throat bobs as she swallows, and for a second it looks like she might stay silent. But then she huffs out a breath and shakes her head. “He didn’t tell me,” she says. “Not really. I found out because I walked in on Brennan healing him in the north wing. I wasn’t supposed to see, and Brennan made me swear not to say anything, but—” She cuts off, her voice tightening. “He looked like he met Malek. His ribs were black and blue, and he couldn’t even breathe without flinching.”

Xaden stiffens. “Who?” The word is barely a growl, cold and low.

Kaia shrugs, finally turning toward them. “He wouldn’t say. But it happened in the training yards. The day they let the Ironcrest and Marhen boys spar. I guess they made a ring and kept pushing him in. Liam said it was a game—that it was ‘all in fun.’”

“Fucking hell,” Bodhi mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “They jumped him.”

“He’s small,” Kaia says quietly. “They know he’s the heir, but he doesn’t look like one. So they test him. He never fights back.”

“Because he’s trying to prove he’s better than them,” Garrick mutters, pacing toward the hearth. “Godsdammit.”

“I only brought it up because…” Kaia's voice falters again. “He just keeps shrinking, and no one’s saying anything. You always tell us that protecting people means seeing them, and he’s right there, hurting, and no one even notices!”

Xaden presses a hand against his mouth, the fury in his veins starting to lose its edge, replaced by something colder. He didn’t miss it. Not really. He saw the way Liam flinched last week when Fern jumped up on him too hard. The stiffness in his posture when he sat down for dinner. The way he always seemed to vanish around sparring hours. He just… didn’t push.

Because he wanted Liam to come to him. Because he thought maybe giving his son space was the better option than pressing into his pride. Because Xaden, for all his commanding presence and ruthless intellect, still found himself lost in the damn dark when it came to fatherhood.

“You did the right thing, telling us,” he says finally, voice rough.

Kaia blinks, surprised.

“I know you’re trying to protect him,” he adds. “But sometimes protecting someone means letting them be seen—even when they don’t want to be.”

Kaia swipes at her cheek with the back of her sleeve. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Xaden stands. His shadow stretches long and tall across the room. “No,” he says. “But I’m going to find him.”

And then, without waiting for anyone else to respond, he heads for the door, Fern trailing faithfully at his side, both of them moving into the night to find the boy who wears his eyes—and all of his weight.

The corridor to Liam’s wing is quiet, unusually so. The kind of quiet that seeps into the stone itself, amplifying every footstep until they echo like memories.

Xaden’s boots tread heavily down the long hall, Fern’s claws clicking beside him in a staccato rhythm, like she’s urging him forward. The guards posted at the entrance to the family quarters straighten when they see him, but he waves them off without a word. His jaw is tight. His brows drawn low. The air around him hums with restrained power, with the fury of a father who’s failed to see something he should have.

He reaches Liam’s door and lifts a fist to knock—firm but not loud. He doesn’t want to startle him. He just wants to talk.

“Liam,” he says, voice steady. “Open the door.”

Nothing. No shuffle of feet, no sound of movement. Just silence.

Fern whines softly and presses her nose to the seam beneath the door.

Xaden frowns, heart picking up pace. “Liam, I know you’re in there. Let me in, son.”

Still nothing.

He places a hand on the wood. “I’m not here to yell. I just want to talk.”

A beat.

Then—

“Go away!”

The words slam against the wood as hard as a spell-cast. Liam’s voice is cracked, frayed at the edges, too loud to hide the fact that it’s trembling.

“I’m not leaving,” Xaden says, jaw tightening.

“You should!” Liam yells from the other side. “I don’t want to talk to you! I don’t want to talk to anyone! Just go!”

Xaden’s stomach sinks. He leans his forehead against the door.

“Liam,” he murmurs.

“You didn’t see it,” his son screams. “You didn’t even notice! And now everyone’s looking at me like I’m some fragile little prince who can’t hold his own. And Kaia—Kaia told everyone!”

“I didn’t need her to,” Xaden says quietly. “I saw it, Liam. I saw it, and I should’ve asked. That’s on me.”

A choked sound breaks through the wood—half a sob, half a breath held too long.

Xaden closes his eyes. “You didn’t deserve what happened to you. You didn’t deserve to carry it alone.”

“Don’t—don’t say that like you know,” Liam shouts. “You’ve never been like me! You’re not small, or quiet, or scared! You’re the Rebellion’s Weapon. You’re you! And I’m just…” His voice fades. “I’m just nothing.”

Xaden’s heart twists, a raw, deep pain he hasn’t felt since the war, since holding someone he loved in his arms while the world fell apart.

“You are everything,” he says fiercely. “You are everything I ever hoped my son would be.”

“Then why do I feel like I disappoint you every time I walk in a room?”

Silence.

And then the soft sound of a quiet sob Liam doesn’t manage to swallow.

Fern whines again, pawing gently at the door.

“Liam,” Xaden says, low and aching. “Please. Let me in.”

But the lock stays bolted. And Liam’s voice returns, softer this time. Fragile. “I can’t. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I don’t care how you look. I care that you’re hurting.”

Another pause. Another breath.

“Just… just go,” Liam says again, his voice breaking. “Please, Dad. Just go.”

Xaden stands there a long time. Long enough that the fire torches down the hall begin to dim. Long enough that Fern lies down and rests her chin on her paws with a heavy sigh.

He presses his hand against the door once more, as if he could reach through it and wrap his arms around the boy on the other side. His son. His legacy. His heart.

“I’ll be right outside,” he says softly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

And then he sits. Right there on the cold stone floor. His back against the door. Guarding his son in silence—not as a king, not as a warrior. But as a father who refuses to walk away again.

Two hours.

That’s how long Xaden sits there, back pressed to the cold wooden door of his son’s room, knees drawn up, arms draped loosely across them as Fern sleeps beside him. The hallway has long since grown quiet. No servants pass. No guards linger nearby. Just the crackle of distant torches and the subtle tick of time bleeding out.

He’s not sure what he expected—maybe Liam cracking the door open just a sliver. Maybe one of those sigh-heavy reconciliations you read in books, or that one sob that leads to a father pulling his son into his chest and promising him he’s not alone.

But the door never opens.

Not even a shuffle of feet. Just the distant sound of a boy crying—quiet now, muffled behind the thick stone walls. Like Liam has pressed his face into his pillow and is trying to drown the sound in cotton.

And maybe that’s what breaks Xaden more than anything else.

He scrubs a hand over his face and leans his head back against the door, his neck stiff from the angle, his heart heavier than it’s been in years. Not even the revolution weighed this much, he thinks grimly. That war had a path. A purpose. This?

This is his son—his baby—hurting, and pushing him away, and he can’t do a godsdamn thing about it.

He closes his eyes. He’s not used to giving up. It’s not in his blood. But something in his chest tells him that staying now—forcing it—might do more damage than good.

So, with the weight of failure dragging on every limb, he exhales one long, shuddering breath and slowly rises to his feet.

Fern lifts her head, confused, tail twitching.

“I know, girl,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers behind her ears. “I hate it too.”

He turns back to the door, resting one palm flat against the wood. “I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I’m right here, whenever you’re ready.”

Then, before he can change his mind—or let the guilt devour him whole—he turns and walks away, the hem of his black tunic whispering against the stone, the shadows swallowing him up as he disappears down the hall.

Behind him, Fern hesitates for a beat longer… and then follows.

And in the silence that follows, only the sound of a quiet sniffle remains, buried deep within the locked room where a twelve-year-old boy curls up and quietly lets himself break.

Xaden’s steps are slow as he walks back through the winding halls of the residence, each footfall echoing too loud in the quiet. The kind of silence that hangs heavy with the things that weren’t said, the comfort he couldn’t give, the son he couldn’t reach.

His shoulders sag with the weight of it. The defeat.

He pushes open the double doors to the main sitting room, the warm glow of the hearth spilling across the stone floor like it’s trying to offer some semblance of peace. But peace feels far away tonight.

Garrick looks up from the armchair near the fire as the doors whisper shut behind Xaden. His expression is unreadable—not surprised, not judgmental. Just there. Steady in the way only Garrick ever is. His hands are steepled over his stomach, one boot propped over the other knee as he leans back in the deep brown leather, eyes tracking every exhausted line on Xaden’s face.

No one speaks at first.

And maybe that’s a kindness.

Bodhi sits on the long couch closest to the fire, slouched down far enough that the curve of his arm is a perfect cradle. Kaia is tucked into his side like a little shadow, her tiny hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt, dark curls falling over her brow. Her cheek is pressed against his chest, mouth slightly open in the deep, dreamless sleep of the utterly spent.

The flames catch in her onyx eyes—closed now—and make her look impossibly small.

Bodhi’s head lifts when Xaden enters, but he doesn’t move, careful not to disturb her. “She cried herself to sleep,” he says softly, voice a murmur meant not to wake her. “Kept saying she didn’t mean to make it worse.”

Xaden swallows hard.

“She was scared for him,” Bodhi adds after a moment. “Guess she didn’t know it’d hurt him more.”

“She’s eight,” Xaden murmurs, stepping further into the room, each word a sigh. “She shouldn’t be worrying about her brother breaking ribs in a training ring.”

Garrick shifts in his chair, his voice quiet but pointed. “And he shouldn’t be getting his ribs broken in the first place.”

Xaden glances at him, the tired lines around his mouth pulling tighter.

“He wouldn’t let me in,” he admits.

Bodhi’s brows draw together. “Still?”

Xaden nods once.

“I sat there for two hours,” he says, voice low. “He cried. I heard him crying. And he still told me to go.”

Garrick doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at him with eyes that have known Xaden longer than almost anyone alive. Then, finally, he nods once toward the fire.

“Sit down,” he says simply. “You look like you just lost a battle.”

Xaden huffs a humourless breath. “Didn’t even get to draw my weapon.”

But he moves anyway, taking the seat across from Garrick, elbows on his knees, hands tangled together. The firelight catches on the silver threads at his temples, makes the weight of age and fatherhood look like armor he never asked to wear.

Fern settles beside the couch, curling beneath the table like even she’s exhausted.

The only sound for a long while is the crackle of firewood and the slow, steady breaths of Kaia sleeping against Bodhi’s side.

And in that room, dimly lit and warm, surrounded by people who love his children like their own, Xaden closes his eyes for a brief moment—and lets the ache in his chest bloom into something raw and wordless.

Because this isn’t war.

This is something far more delicate.

And gods, he doesn’t know how to win.

Part 2....

A/N: I was not intending it to get so long for it to turn into a mini series but here we areeeeeeeeee Comments, thoughts and reblogs would be really appreciated

Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

[targaryenluvs]

— A WHOLE NEW WORLD

pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

summary: in which you and percy navigate a whole other world, and encounter trials in the way.

warnings: angst, bullying mentions, teasing, physical violence courtesy of clarisse my bae, drowning, confessions, fluff, hugs, smooches, percy n you are a comedic duo i swear, basically a self insert, not proof read

wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: i’m insane, this is the longest thing ive ever written. so please reblog and interact <3

you’d grown up with the same stories percy had. the greek gods and goddesses, their lives and tales, their failures and secrets. what you didn’t expect was to be the child of one.

you, percy and grover were currently on a field trip, and you couldn’t have been happier. all around you was history, and you were fascinated by it all. breaking away from them, you viewed the tallest of statues and the intricate, taking your phone out secretly and snapping a photo to show your mother later.

you were dragged out of your fairytale by laughter, and percy’s scowl evident on his face as you made your way over. “i don’t know if you have a miserable home life or just enjoy being a bitch but this trip would be much more enjoyable without your annoying voice.” you sneered before shining a fake smile her way. percy’s laugh in your ear made you join in, but the reprimand afterwards dulled your mood.

you weren’t a big fan of bullies, especially when they targeted your friends. for some reason you obtained a boost of confidence and a need to protect your own friends from such people yet you couldn’t defend yourself on your best day.

the trio of you sat, eating your lunches, you were inhaling your favourite food much to the amusement of grover and percy. “i don’t think your food is running off y/n.” grover teased as you shoved his arm, “i know, but i’ve been waiting for so long, i didn’t eat anything this morning, i was too excited.” percy turned his head towards you, “you were excited?” you nodded, “for a museum?” you waved him off, returning to your food.

but not before nancy launched a sandwich percy’s way, you’d had enough, and so had he. the two of you got up despite grover’s protests, and somehow she ended up in the fountain, even though percy hadn’t touched her. you’d been lost in the crowd around the fountain and once you’d broken out you found percy on the ground.

“perce! percy are you okay?” you tried to shake him awake to no avail, so you did the next best thing, slapping him awake. twice should do it. his eyes opened, focusing in on you, “i’m here, i’m fine, i know you care about me.” relieved, yet annoyed you hit his shoulder before you and grover helped him up.

and when he did wake up he spoke about what he saw. on the walk to your hearing percy went into detail. and you couldn’t help but feel scared, what the hell was going on?

and the two of you stuck with the story of nancy throughout, feeling betrayed when grover went against you. your own parents were out of town and you were freshly kicked out of school, percy’s home was also your own. you prepared yourself before the two of you entered the apartment, gabe wasn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes.

and soon enough yourself, percy and his mother were headed for montauk. you’d left over twenty four messages for your parents but it seemed none of them had made their way through.

“so all the stories, they’re all true?” percy was fast asleep in the front seat, and the book in your hands wasn’t all that interesting. sally nodded, “i know it’s all a lot for the two of you to take in,” if percy was a demigod, then were you too? “what am i? who’s my parent then? are my parents my parents? am i adopted?” sally stopped at the intersection abruptly, turning towards you with a sad smile, “sweetheart, it doesn’t matter. your parents love you no matter what, i know it. you’ll learn everything with time, i’ll tell you more when we’re all inside okay?”

the water droplets on the window were plentiful, some big, some small, some new and others falling. the storm outside was looming, loud and dark, but it seemed to bring you comfort in all honesty, you loved the rain. and as you sat and drove all you could think of was your future, and what it had in store for you.

you’d been in the kitchen whilst listening into sally explain to percy about his parentage, the gods and goddesses. you were sure if you heard anymore you’d pass out. percy’s outburst led you back to them.

“well i’m not a baby! i know there’s no such thing as monsters, i know there’s no such thing as gods and i know for certain that there’s no such thing as demigods.” the hand on percy’s shoulder brought him back down, “percy, why would your mother lie to you? no one on this earth loves you more than her, i think we should listen.” his face was riddled with confusion, “you’re telling me you believe this crap?”

before the conversation could get heated, grover’s appearance interrupted. “what the hell are you doing here? how did you get here?” grover sighed, as much as he wanted to explain he needed you all to get moving, “i promise i’ll explain everything but somethings coming,” percy and yourself took a step back, “grover.”

“and i know that sounds really bad,”

“grover?” he brushed the two of you off, continuing to ramble at sally.

“but the important thing is not to panic—”

“i’m not panicking.” sally rested her hands on her hip, “great! i’m also definitely not panicking. i feel very good about how we’re doing so far—” you closed your eyes, maybe when you opened them it’d go away. “grover!” you and percy shouted out at the same time, “what?”

you pointed towards his legs as percy spoke up, “why is there half a goat in your pants?” his legs were bare, mist not around.

as if the day couldn’t have gotten any crazier or exhausting for you and percy grover all of a sudden showed up and you were all on the move. sally was punching the accelerator, whilst grover continued to explain, “what are you?” grover turned to face you, “i’m a satyr. and i’m your protector. i was assigned to you but we didn’t know that y/n was special like you, so i guess i’m sort of protecting you both.”

“you’re my protector? and what y/n doesn’t get one?” you laughed, “no offence but i think i’m alright perce. if you’re our protector than shouldnt you have protected us at school? against nancy?”

“i protect you against actual evil,” you snorted, “the only evil is nancy’s personality, that should count.” percy managed a smile at your words. “if i hadn’t gotten you kicked out of school, you’d have never survived the night. and what’s chasing us now would have found you there easily.” it was like a truckload of information all at once, you felt like you were in a movie.

“the mist. it’s the veil that hides the magical world from the human world. my legs. dodds’ wings. even dodds’ absence, but it isn’t supposed to hide things from me. that never happens. something powerful is at work here. the sooner we get you two to camp, the better off you’re… you told them about camp, right?” grover looked towards sally for an answer as you moved his hand away from your face. grover tended to move them around when talking about something he was passionate about.

“not yet, no.” sally shook her head as you smiled, “you’re early remember?”

“camp is a sanctuary for half-bloods.” great now you were going to a summer camp. the more he divulged the more you began to understand. you’d always been told you were special, percy especially. you should’ve known you were meant for more. demi gods were never safe, that was obvious by the huge monster behind the car.

“is that the minotaur?”

“once the attacks start, they never let up. okay? dodds was just the beginning.” you twisted your body to get another look at it, “okay well if we’re being chased than maybe less talking and more runnin, driving, whatever just go!” you shouted out, your heart was ramming against your chest, your hands felt warm and jittery. you needed to move, to do something, you hated just sitting and relying on a car. you zoned out in time for percy’s regular jokes.

“he is still wearing underpants.” you giggled at him, “i wonder what size.”

“the mythomagic cards were training. everything has been training for what’s still ahead of you, and i know wherever percy goes, you go.” you rolled your eyes, “i always hated those stupid cards, guess i should’ve played huh?” percy cocked his head, “what’s ahead of me? of us?”

“kids,” you all turned to sally, her knuckles were turning pale white, an unrelenting grip on the wheel, “hold on, please.” you clutched on to the seatbelt and seats as you all were jolted around, dodging a car and attempting to evade the minotaur, which wasn’t exactly all that easy as he rammed into the car, horns penetrating sallys window.

she fought for control, her foot pressing down on the accelerator before you all ended up crashing.

the ground was wet and mushy, you felt dirt gather underneath your fingertips as you crawled out of the car. you could see sally helping percy out as grover made his way out. your leg was aching, a shard of glass caused a gash in your thigh and dragging it along the floor hurt like a bitch, “ah, shit!” you rolled over onto your back.

percy’s eyes darted towards you the second you cried out, “y/n!” he dashed towards you, sally and grover in tow. “are you okay? what happened? where does it hurt?” his eyes were frantic and his hands unsure, the sight of you hurt was more than enough to worry him. “i’m fine, i just, if we take the shard out and tie something around then it’ll stop the bleeding right?”

percy shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head, hoping it would clear it out, the whole situation was already stressful but his best friend injured? an absolute nightmare. “i— i don’t know! mom! what do we do?” he shouted as sally grabbed your jumper from inside, “move aside percy, let me help.” he didn’t want to, percy wanted to stay right by your side, but he knew she could help you where he couldn’t.

the make shift tourniquet did the job thankfully, but you were in and out from the loss of blood, the last thing you recall was sally jackson in the hands of the minotaur, and suddenly, gone.

your voice was stuck, trapped in your throat. your eyes stung immensely, waterline flooded. she was family to you, one of the sweetest people, supportive. and just like that, erased, just dust. your eyes searched your surroundings for percy, to see him, to help him, but all you could view was darkness as it took you far away.

the last thing you’d heard was grover yelling out for the two of you, “stay awake! please!” his pleads were unmet, as you were whisked away to a world of sleep.

the light was harsh on your eyes having just woken up, at least your bed was comfortable. but you still had no clue where you were. your body was stiff, needing to move around. as you shuffled to sit a voice called out for you.

“y/n!” you turned to see percy peering through the window, a large smile on his face as he promptly ran inside to you. “percy.” his arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing hardly. “you’re killing me here.” you croaked out as he let go, taking a step back.

“i’m sorry. do you need something? are you hungry?”

“that i am, where are we?”

“camp half-blood, welcome y/n l/n.” an older boy spoke up from the doorway with his arms crossed, leaning on the frame. “luke.” percy recognised the boy, which made you feel at ease, “hi luke.” he smiled, “hey, how are you feeling?” you sighed lifting the blanket up and resting your feet on the floor, attempting to rise from the bed. “like i need to walk a bunch, is there food around?”

luke nodded his head before signalling you to follow, “is your leg okay?” the pain had lessened since the initial hit but it was still sore, “i think i’ll be okay, might have a limp. i can be a zombie for halloween maybe.” percy was glad you were making jokes, seemingly back to normal.

the camp was everything you could have dreamed of. straight out of the pages of a book or out of a movie, amazing scenery, nice enough people, and insane skills amongst them. you had no clue how you’d fit in. you’d settled into hermes’ cabin, your bag and bed next to percy’s.

“so, how long have you been awake?” you were pushing down on your mattress with your hands, testing the springs. the bed wasn’t as soft as you’d have liked it to be but you couldn’t exactly buy a new one.

“let’s go outside and talk.” percy muttered, leading the way. you were sat down behind the cabin now, percy slowly sliding down the wall to be next to you.

“i only woke up a few minutes before you, i saw chiron he’s a—something. and i met the camp director mr d, dionysus by the way. they wouldn’t let me go back into the infirmary until we finished talking.”

“why’d you want to come back so quickly?”

“your bracelet was missing, i didn’t know where it was so i was freaking out. anyways i saw the camp a little, and i came back for it and you were awake. i got, i got scared before.” percy couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, he felt nervous admitting it, his worry for you. your smile was wide as you recalled his own worry for the bracelet you’d made him.

“what? why?” he exhaled, his hands playing with his shirt, “i— i thought you wouldn’t wake up maybe.” you grabbed his hand, “i’m right here, there’s nothing to worry about perce. how are you feeling?” your voice was barely above a whisper, filled with sympathy and sorrow, you still hadn’t spoken about his mother.

“don’t.” he shook his head whilst averting his gaze, staring down at his hands. “don’t what? i’m not going to force you to talk about i promise, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” percy closed his eyes, “i can’t just,” percy breathed in, working up the courage to meet your eye, he hated the pity on your face, “just forget it, her.” you rested your hand on his neck, bringing him in, “no one’s asking you to percy, if there’s anything you need from me, or if you just want to sit and die of diabetes with every blue food in the world, i’ll be right there.”

“thank you.” his voice came out muffled against your shoulder. you tried your best to comfort him with a hand in his hair, you pulled him back to take a look at him. his eyes were glossy, a few tears had fallen free. using your sleeve you wiped them away, “now what demigod has the time for tears, percy jackson?”

you loved percy best like this, with a grin plastered on his face.

“yknow what we could use?” percy pulled you up from the ground, before you walked back to the cabin. “and what exactly is that m’lady?” you rolled your eyes, “first of all i despise your british accent and second, a nap!”

percy was sweating profusely, his nightmare having jolted him up from his bed. his jittery movements concerned you, book in your hands forgotten as you surged forwards, “perce? you okay?” his eyes were blown and chest heaving, but at the sight of you he relaxed, “yeah, yeah i’m fine.”

“you okay?” luke stood infront of the two of you, arms crossed, “super.” percy snipped back as you swatted his arm, “be nice.” your voice was firm, and you knew how percy was, you’d say sarcasm was probably his middle name if you hadn’t already known it.

“we all have them, you know.” luke clicked his tongue, taking a step closer. “intense, recurring nightmares. that’s normal here.” his words were surprising to you, knowing that yourself and percy rarely fit in.

“and the daydreams, and the ADHD, and dyslexia. demigods just process reality differently, than humans do. for the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.” you let out a sigh, whether of relief or sadness you didn’t know. did you want to fit in? be the same as everyone else? nothing special?

“so are you also… do you not know who your—“ lukes lips pressed into a thin line, knowing what percy insinuated, “am i… unclaimed?” the two of you nodded in unison, “no, hermes is my father. that doesn’t matter, we’re all on the same team here.”

percy’s agitation was obvious, as well as reasonable and it was exactly how you felt. “each kid is brought here and made to wait around until their parent decides to pick up the phone? pick up— whatever. how is that fair?“ percy nodded along, “she’s right, why is that okay? why do they get to bring us here to just ignore some of us?” you did feel bad for luke, you felt as if the two of you were bombarding him with questions and expecting him to hold all of life’s answers.

“spend too much time trying to figure out why the gods do whatever it is they do, you’ll drive yourself crazy. sooner you stop worrying about that, the sooner you can enjoy what this place actually does offer.”

percy’s interest piqued, “and what’s that?”

“glory.”

you’d spent hours trying different things. percy almost hit a bunch of campers with an arrow, whilst you’d hit the bullseye, much to your elation. the both of you were absolutely horrendous at welding, which you figured. the only thing that had stuck with you through out the day was the idea of offerings. and you knew percy was thinking the same thing.

the smell of fire invaded your senses as percy threw in the thing that meant most, whilst you sat by him and wondered if it would actually work, would she be able to hear you? you’d zoned out for a bit, feeling as if you were intruding whilst he talked.

“i hope you’re sitting down, but… i think… i’ve made some friends here. like, real friends. y/n and i, we might actually fit in for once.” you beamed at the thought, yet not wanting to interrupt so you settled for nudging his shoulder to which he smiled at you, “i think they might really like me. imagine that. he isn’t here. my father, he just… didn’t show. i mean, ignoring me is one thing, but he doesn’t get to ignore you. i’m gonna make him come down here. i’m gonna make him see me, i’m gonna make him see us both.” and with that he blew out the fire, a small flicker of hope ignited inside.

“we’re going to get her back percy, i swear.”

and that was the end of your pleasant night, the reign of terror, clarisse and others were infront of your cabin. and that’s where your night went haywire.

you and percy were thrown to the floor roughly, landing on your bad thigh caused you to shout in pain. “aw, does someone have a scratch? where’d you get it from? the minotaur?” the girl was blonde, and you had no clue who she was but her mocking tone made you want to punch her in the face.

“do you think you’re special? better than everyone else?”

“no.”

“tell me you made it all up about the minotaur, and I’ll let you go. maybe to impress your friend here? you practically have heart eyes when you look at her.” clarisse approached you, “don’t touch her!” percy shouted as clarisse chuckled, “why not? you gonna stop me?”

“he didn’t make anything up.” you responded to her question since percy hadn’t, with her harsh glare you prayed for the earth to swallow you whole. “she’s right, i didn’t make anything up.” clarisse was hoping for truthfulness from percy, she couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or happy, she could teach him a lesson.

“some kids gotta learn the hard way.” the two other girls charged towards percy before abruptly walking around him, dragging you up by the elbows. “hey! if you’re mad at me then hurt me! don’t touch her! let her go!” clarisse held percy back as the girls forced you to your knees, “guys i appreciate the sentiment but i’m not all that thirsty.” please tell me this wasn’t used recently.

percy thrashed around in her grip, desperate to save you, “you really like her don’t you? not a single ounce of fight in you when it’s your ass on the line but for her,” his chest heaved, and his hands clenched, he wasn’t commonly violent, but a beat down on clarisse seemed amazing right about now.

“get off her! y/n!” your eyes were clenched shut in an attempt to prepare yourself, holding your breath, yet nothing happened. when you peeled your eyes open you were met with an empty toilet bowl.

“please tell me you guys didn’t drink it yourselves.” if it wasn’t already an indication of her irritation based on the scowl on her face the second-grade ‘you stole my swing’ type of pull at your hair dragged you back to younger self. but what really awakened you were the three tentacle like forms of water, “what the hell?” the harsh collision of your back on the wall saved you from the attack. the girls all staggered around, careful of the water before scurrying out.

percy rushed over to you, hands cradling your face, “are you okay? did they hurt you? you didn’t touch the water did you?” you raised your hand to cut off percy’s rambling, “i’m fine, but what the hell was that?” he shook his head, “not a single idea in my head.” percy slumped opposite of you, “there’s not much in your head either way.” percy placed his hand on his heart, feigning shock and hurt, “how dare you!” your giggles rejuvenated percy, your smile was all he needed to be happy again.

the figure of someone at the door caused you to shoot up, careful of the water, you saw annabeth come into view. crap.

“we can explain.” you both held up your hands, caught at the scene of the crime and afraid of the consequences. “no, you can’t.” percy nodded in agreement, “okay,” the girls face resonated with percy, eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he tried to recall how, “wait, I know you.”

annabeth shrugged her shoulders, “no, you don’t.” percy stepped forwards infront of you, directly inline with her, “yeah, but you were there. that night in the infirmary.” you couldn’t recall seeing her there when you woke up, “i don’t think she was, i don’t remember seeing you.” anabeth peered down at her shoes before returning to the conversation.

“yes. i’m annabeth.” she introduced herself, you’d heard of her a bit from other campers, daughter of athena.

“are you stalking us, annabeth?”

“yes.” her bluntness was something you didn’t expect. “okay. why?” you inquired further, “well, i’ve been waiting to see if something like this would happen. “so i’d know if you can help me.”

“you’ve been waiting for me to get my head in a toilet and for percy to be manhandled? well, girlhandled.” percy was confused, “help you do what?”

“win capture the flag.”

the helmets weren’t exactly the most comfortable but you figured keeping your brain in your skull was more crucial.

you walked next to luke with percy on the left of him, “you’re gonna love this. campwide mock warfare, all glory to the victors. annabeth’s the head counselor of the athena cabin. she’s led our team to three straight wins. been a long time since anyone’s won a fourth.”

“she was there in the bathroom, she said she’d been waiting for it to happen.”

“annabeth sees the world differently. always six steps ahead of everyone else. you should cut her a break.” you scoffed, “cut her a break for what? her life seems perfectly fine.” luke shook his head, “not everything’s as it seems y/n.”

“whose side are you on, anyway?”

luke stopped and turned towards percy, “oh, hers, always. she’s my little sister. maybe I should back up.” you nodded, “i think we should sit down if we’re going to be getting an origin story here.”

luke’s entire story of how he and annabeth got to camp made you regret your earlier comments of an easy life. she’d been fighting since she was a child, it’s all she’s known. “she’s been watching us since we got here. why?”

“annabeth is the strongest warrior in camp, the only way left to prove herself is to go on a quest.”

“and what does this have to do with us?”

“chiron’s been promising her for years. one day, a demigod would arrive who was fated to go on a quest that even chiron couldn’t prevent. and when that happened, she could join it. every new arrival, or, arrivals in your case, annabeth watches, looking for a sign they’re the one. usually, she gives up after a day or two, but she’s still watching you two.”

“can you ask her to knock it off?” as much as you hated to admit it, she did kind of freak you out, “i agree, we’re not going on some magical quest any time soon.”

“yeah, sure. but you never know, what if she’s right?” the conch shell blowing in the distance alerted you all.

it was battle time.

as you walked behind luke you couldn’t help your nervousness, which percy always noticed. “hey,” his voice was soft and reassuring, a hand on your shoulder, “we’re gonna be fine, it’s just a friendly game. we’ve won three times and we’re going to get a fourth since they have us brilliant additions of course.” percy literally bowed in front of you as if being applauded for a performance as you chuckled, “oh please, you cant win with idiocy percy.”

“that is extremely offensive! how many times have i beaten you in monopoly?”

“ohh, you want to talk about monopoly mr bank robber? do you honestly think no one noticed when you randomly turn in broken change and grab even more bigger notes? or the fact that three houses does not make a hotel!” clarisse watched the two of you fool around from afar, she was going to make you pay.

the pebble you’d thrown clattered against percy’s armour, “hey! what was that for?” you groaned out loud, your head lolling back, meeting the log. “if you keep flossing i’m going to push you myself perce. you need to take this more serious—” the girls surrounded you from every angle, swords in hand as you rose from the floor, your own sword clutched tightly.

“flags that way, it’s not here.” clarisse smirked, “we know. yeah, glory’s fine. revenge is more fun.” her spear crackled as they all surged forwards, time to fight, it’s now or never.

clarisse’s scream was deafening. “so much for friendly huh?” percy shook his head, “not now! you can tell me how wrong i was when we’re out of here.” for some reason once they’d begun their attack, you’d never felt more alive. as if you were born for this, to fight. every sword and hit that came your way was met with double the force, hurling people backwards as you tried to make your way to percy’s side. one of the girls was sly, managing to corner you on the boardwalk near by.

her knee, she’s weak in the knees.

the voice echoed through your head, as if compelled you followed up on it as the girl went down almost immediately. thank you very much random voice! the sound of cheers floated through the air as you saw luke plant the flag in the ground.

4 — 0.

perhaps you’d been distracted by the people, or maybe it was percy being held by his armour courtesy of clarisse. either way you didn’t notice the girl lunging your way, not until the cold water engulfed your body.

you’d never learnt to properly swim.

percy’s footsteps drummed through the air, each step heavy and weighed down with purpose. he had to get to you, now. the second you’d hit the water he was on the ground running. it had only been about five seconds at most yet percy was already at your previous spot, diving in head first.

act now, think later.

your eyesight was blurry as the two of you resurfaced, the first thing you spotted the crowd on the shoreline, they waited with bated breath, your team cheering once the two of you were back up. “i’m so sorry, i said i would protect you but clarisse— i was so scared when i saw you get pushed, i think i froze up. i should’ve listened to you, i should’ve taken it more seriously. this is all my fault.” he was holding onto your face for dear life, afraid to let go.

percy had dived head first into the water for you, no hesitation. he put himself at risk for you. he always knew what to say and what to do. percy was your person. you’d been an idiot, why’d it take so long for you to realise what you knew deep down?

you love percy jackson. and not in a friend way, in a love way. in the best way.

your lips were pressed on his in seconds, you weren’t in a hurry, not desperate, not messy. just passionate and deep, as if you were trying to convey your feelings through it. you were simultaneously trying your hardest to remember this moment. percy’s cold hands on your cheeks, both of you sopping wet, nothing else mattered to you, until he kissed back. percy on the other hand was desperate, he’d been waiting for so long, settling for the title of best friend. he had you in his arms, he’d already lost his own mother, he wasn’t going to lose his other half.

his hair tousled, curls sticking to his face, yours dripping wet, hands on your neck as you clutched his. “what are we percy?” he grinned, “whatever we want to be.” the pair of you may have forgotten the fact that you were currently surrounded by campers, but the deafening cheers and shouts of support warmed your heart. surely a kiss didn’t elicit such a reaction? yes it did, but also the fact that a trident loomed over percy’s head.

percy jackson, son of poseidon.

the two of you walked with a literal army of people, friends, even. for once you both felt as if you belonged.

luke was unbearable, taking any chance he could to tease the two of you, “my little campers, all grown up.” he fake-cried, wiping false tears from his eyes as you poked him, “now if we can find someone then where’s your partner pal?” percy laughed, “please never say pal again.” you turned his way, scrunching your nose, “doesn’t work does it?” he shook his head as the three of you chuckled.

“but seriously, you two are made for each other, i’m happy for you.” as you reached the cabin you couldn’t help yourself as you hugged luke by surprise, “thank you. we’ll be in soon, we just have a bit to talk about.” luke made his way inside as the two of you turned to walk away but not before hearing him call out, “keep your hands to yourself percy!” percy rolled his eyes as you smiled.

the two of you sat at the boardwalk again, feet dangling off. you’d been discussing the quest, as well as the fact that it was only undertaken by three.

“so, you, me, anabeth and grover. percy i know school sucks but if you could count those names on your fingers for me please.” percy groaned as you laughed at your own joke, “i know, i know. but i figure four heads are better than three.” your legs swung back and forth as you shrugged your shoulders, “we could fold grover into a box and take him with us secretly.” percy suggested.

“yeah, maybe.” your voice was quieter than before, eliciting concern from percy, “hey? you okay?” you were fidgeting again, this time with the black bracelet you’d made for him. he met your eyes with a smile as he lifted your head by the chin.

“i promise, i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” and for once you could feel how serious he was, “thank you perce, you— have been apart of my life since i was little. i don’t think there’s a single person i trust more on this planet than you. i’m sorry, for everything you’ve gone through. i swear, we’re going to make it out of this. we’re going to find your mother, we’re going to find the lighting bolt, and everything can return to normal. well, besides the fact that we’re all demigods and all.” the laughter was bittersweet, a moment of peace before you embarked on the quest.

“you’re beautiful you know that?” he whispered to you, as if he was afraid for others to hear. you grinned at his words, leaning in towards him as he followed, “i know, you make it a point to tell me at least once a day. but you, percy, are as gorgeous as the calm seas.”

you wiggled your finger in his face as he swatted it away, “if i had known my girlfriend was a poet i would’ve had every word of yours written down.” you felt fuzzy, warm. with percy you felt a million ways, all of them good.

as cheesy as he was you loved him.

“look at us, exploring a whole new world.”

“did you just aladdin me?”

“yup, do you think they have a flying carpet here?”

“why so zeus can strike it down when he’s angry? i feel like the gods are all little kids throwing temper tantrums.” percy shushed you, “they might be listening.” he joked as you punched him.

“i hope they are. so they know, we’re coming for them.”

“holy shit that was a badass line.”

“perce?”

“yeah?”

“you’re ruining it.”

[parkjihoonswifey]

Saw your requests were open and thought about a childhood friends to lovers with Yeon Sieun x reader? Slightly suggestive if ya want some spice, but it’s not necessary :D I’ll most likely come back and request for more weak hero content

Could I be 🐍 anon?

Thank you!

A/N: this has been sitting in the requests for a hot minute, so I'm happy to finally get it out.

Title: Assumptions

Pairings: Si-eun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slightly suggestive.

enjoy!

it all started when you were both two. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and you were an outgoing curious little girl. You had made your way over into their driveway somehow, where little si-eun stood, playing with some action figure. You had excitedly ran up, introducing yourself. He didn't say anything, but you kept trying and asked what he was playing with. He stared at you with a blank expression before handing the action figure to you. "Optimus prime. Keep it." You celebrated and excitedly hugged him before your parents had come out of their door, calling your name to come back inside.

"Thank you um—"

"—Si-eun"

"Thank you si-eun!" you exclaimed, planting a small kiss on his cheek before running back to your parents, who asked where you got the toy from. You cheerfully explained, si-eun was listening to the whole thing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Growing up side by side in the same quiet neighborhood, you and Si-eun shared a bond that ran deeper than most childhood friendships. You both built forts out of cardboard boxes, raced bikes down the hill, and traded secrets under the old elm tree at the park. From the time he had moved into the neighborhood, you were inseparable—not out of romance, but simply because of the understanding you guys shared with each other in a way few others did. Si-eun was always a quiet kid, and you never pushed him to speak. Even with little words, you could read him like you wrote the book yourself, he was basically you as a boy. But of course being a boy and a girl who spent nearly every waking hour together made you the target of constant teasing.

Every other kid in the neighborhood seemed convinced you were boyfriend and girlfriend. No matter how many times you and Si-eun made gagging noises or scowled at the suggestion, the rumors never stopped. Even classmates at school chimed in, whispering and giggling whenever you two sat next to each other in class or showed up to events as a pair. It was irritating, and to the both of you, absolutely ridiculous. After all, you saw each other more like siblings than anything romantic.

What was worse were the jokes from your parents, who found endless amusement in imagining a future where the two childhood best friends would “realize their love” and live happily ever after. “Just wait,” Si-eun’s mother would say with a wink, “You’ll end up marrying each other someday.” Your mom would nod and add, “It’s always the childhood friend.” Each time, you two would roll your eyes, exchange looks of mutual horror, and vow—once again—that nothing like that would ever happen. Of course, life has a funny way of turning promises like that into something far more complicated.

Elementary school was the same as early childhood. You two would protect each other from bullies, play on the playground together, sit at lunch together, and walk home together. Kids would see you guys around and point, saying "Everyone says they are boyfriend and girlfriend." and each time you heard that, you'd cover si-eun's ears as you tell them off for spreading rumors. It never bothered him, though, nothing did.

Through middle school, your bond only deepened. you stuck together like glue, shielding each other from the older kids who tried to pick on either one of you, and offering quiet solidarity when either of you had a bad day. You still sat side by side at lunch, signed up for the same electives, and rode the same bus home, where you'd part ways at the driveways with a wave or a sarcastic remark. Of course dating never crossed into your lives—not because you weren’t curious, but because every crush ended up assuming you were already off the market. "Aren’t you with him?" or “Isn’t she your girlfriend?” were questions heard so often, you eventually stopped trying. It wasn’t worth the trouble. At least, not then.

By the time high school rolled around, you found yourselves in fewer classes together, schedules pulling each other in different academic directions. You still clung to the one constant you both had—lunch. It was a sacred part of the day, that small window of time where the chaos of high school could fade away, and you could just be yourselves.

As you both entered senior year, the connection evolved into something quieter but more intense. You skipped classes like a synchronized routine, sometimes ditching school altogether to explore the city or just sit around doing nothing. The friendship became a world of its own—too familiar to question, too easy to fall into. Both of your eighteenth birthdays rolled around, celebrated with family and each other. On weekends, you each rotated between your house and his, lounging around like it was second nature. The teasing never stopped, not from the parents or the few neighborhood kids who hadn’t moved away. But somewhere between all the jokes and assumptions, things began to shift. This time, neither of you was rolling your eyes.

Si-eun had always been reserved, almost unreadable to most people—but to him, you were an open book written in a language only he could understand. He trusted you with parts of himself he wouldn’t even acknowledge aloud. you were beautiful in a way that felt unreal—quiet, grounded, and gentle, the kind of person who he could sit in silence for hours with and you would still make him feel heard. To you, he was a rare kind of boy—sharp-witted, oddly thoughtful, and never once afraid to be silent. He made the world make sense. So when your sixteenth friendship anniversary landed on a weekend where his parents happened to be out of town, and you casually invited yourself over to spend the night, it didn’t feel strange.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"I'm so glad to finally get a turn eating all your food, my house is almost empty," you sighed as you flopped down onto his couch. The cushions sank beneath you, familiar and worn in from the years you'd spent hanging out here—watching movies, doing homework, or just sitting in comfortable silence. Si-eun cleared his throat from the kitchen, where he was rummaging through the fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and the hum of the appliance filling the space.

"You've eaten half my pantry," he called back. He returned with a couple of drinks and dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. The glow from the TV cast flickering light over the room, but neither of you were really paying attention to it. There was a charged stillness between you, the kind that had been building for weeks, maybe longer—something unspoken shifting in the way your glances lingered and how your laughter had gotten just a bit softer.

You looked over at him, your gaze meeting his, and for once, neither of you looked away. The air grew heavy. His hand rested near yours on the couch cushion, just barely brushing your fingers. "You know," you murmured, heart pounding a little faster, "this is the part where one of our parents would come in and say, 'See? Told you two you were meant for each other.'" Si-eun gave a soft, breathless laugh, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in slowly, eyes searching yours for hesitation. When your lips finally met, it was cautious at first—tentative, testing the weight of years of friendship and all the closeness that had come before. But once that boundary broke, everything rushed in at once. The kiss deepened, hungry and heated, hands moving with urgency, mouths meeting again and again like you'd been holding back forever. The room, the years, the world—all faded beneath the pull of each other.

You sat up, throwing your leg over his lap and straddling him. His arms hesitated, finding their way to the curve of your waist. You turned your head to the side, deepening the kiss. Your arms rested on his shoulders and your hands found their way into his hair, pulling softly. He barely had time to think before he was standing up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his bedroom through the kiss.

You pulled away, falling back onto his mattress. He climbed on top of you, face digging into your neck as he left hickeys. He found your sensitive spot, and you sigh deep into his neck, hands finding their way into his hair once more.

"Are we gonna?—" He breathed out

"—If you talk I think I'll snap back into reality. just do it."

And so he does.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You lay there, heavy breaths and moving chests.The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the TV still playing in the background and the slow rhythm of your breaths. You lay beneath the blankets, the weight of what just happened settling around you like a thick, electric silence. Neither of you spoke at first—not out of discomfort, but out of awe, maybe disbelief, at how something that once seemed impossible now felt right.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you said softly, turning your head to glance at him. Your voice wasn’t nervous or unsure—just honest.

Si-eun let out a sigh  low and breathy. “Yeah.” He looked at you then, serious for a moment. “I think....part of me’s been waiting for that for a long time.”

You blinked, surprised by the confession—but not in a bad way. It was like something inside you clicked into place. Having such an intimate moment with the only boy you could trust for the past sixteen years of your life made you feel as though it was destiny you had invited yourself over tonight. “So... does this mean that everyone was right?” you asked, half-teasing, half-afraid of the answer.

He smiled, that small, rare smile he only gave you when no one else was around. “I think so.”

You nodded slowly, heart thudding in a new kind of rhythm. “If that’s true, I’m okay with it. I think I want it to be true.”

Si-eun wrapped his arm around you, pulling you a little closer. “Then let’s stop pretending it’s not."

And just like that, years of denying, joking, and brushing off the idea dissolved into something simple and certain. For once, everyone else might have actually been right.

A/N: I'm really proud of this I hope you guys like it.

[metallic-t4ste]

Hello! I was searching for twst blogs and i really want to make a request!

Can i ask romantic headcanons of malleus, Vil, silver and jamil with a shy sweet s/o that has suffered from harrasment/bullying? S/o always been a easy target for jokes from other students bc of their shy and collected personality but at some moment s/o breaks down crying and asks for help/advice from their boyfriend, i really love angst with fluff and comfort.

If this is too much you can reject this request!

Sorry I'm so late... Thanks for the request tho it was quite fun actually. There's no proof read tho. It's short because I'm not feeling good rn sorry

Malleus

You're literally so sweet, you are literally the most important precious little thing in his life.

So he is absolutely LIVID at the fact that these meaningless lowlifes are harassing you.

(he is literally planning for you to be the future queen so the absolute AUDACITY they have)

Before he does anything he wants to make sure you're alright first the idiotic scoundrels shall be spared for the time being

Seeing you cry is absolutely heartbreaking

He comforts you holding you silent listening patiently at you talking

Stroking your hair and back

He tells you that you should not let them get to you

(he has never been bullied a day in his life well expect for Leona ig... so he's not to sure on what to do. But he shall try his best)

He knows you're shy but he truly believes you can over come it and stand your ground

He tells you to try telling and authoritative figure or them off or ignoring them maybe

He also suggests letting him deal with it

If he so happens to over hear you being the butt of some bad jokes he would immediately step in to defend you without hesitation

He just wants you to be able to breathe without some jerk bullying you for just existing

If you're an NRC student

He becomes more protective of you after that always following you around

Giving anyone who even dares to even snicker at you, the most piss off death glare ever

Yeah no one messing with you after that

Vil

Vil is not having it

*gasp* how dare they!?

Aren't ugly ppl irl supposed to be humble or something!?

Seeing you walk in his room with tears in your beautiful eyes was horrible

The fact that you were being basically a punching bag for someone's mean little jokes was unacceptable

He even stops doing his makeup mid way

You ask him for advice for you to stop getting bullied and he starts of by saying to not change anything about yourself

You're literally so perfect they're obviously the problem

Vil would sit you down on his bed and let you talking

Caressing your hand and wiping you tears being ever so gentle

He makes sure to listen up real good,

After you've calmed down

Vil would advise you to take a stand and even tell someone about it

Make sure to take as much distance as possible and ignore them no matter what even when it's easier said than done

He knows how you can be shy so he doesn't blame you if you're hesitant to stand up for yourself

But that doesn't mean he won't just let you deal with all that harassment without a word

He reassures you that this is what needs to be done

And even helps you along the way he wants to make sure you learn how to stand your grown and make boundaries

He's probably talking so much shit about them

Silver

Plus you where crying so it was obvious

He knew something was up when you busted into his room (which made him wake up)

And you no longer had your collected demeanor

Caressing your back and silently listening to you talk about your problems

He makes sure to give you advice

Like Vil he tells you to stand your ground and tell the teacher

He wants to reassure you that everything will be alright

He is very calm and patient and he wants to make sure you're ready first

He might even teach you a little self defense just to make sure you're not gonna get hurt

If you're a student at NRC

On one of the occasions we was awake during break

He even noticed about you being targeted for people's entertainment

And was quite displeased with it

He calmly (slightly passive aggressive) told those bullies off and broth you with him somewhere else

We would not stand for his S/O getting bullied

And is very quick to defend them but he also wants his S/o to be able to stand up for themselves

Jamil

He is very upset why would anybody bully you!?

You're so sweet send whoever it is sending them to the guillotine

He would pat your back and listen to you while nodding

And giving you some tissues

(if you find comfort in food)

He'd definitely cook you up your fav comfort dish to help you out

He wants you to feel safe

He suggests confronting them head on but scratches it when he thinks about how you can be quite shy

He opted for telling the teachers instead

If you're an NRC student

He tried to help you confront them

(he might us his special magic on them to tell them to just leave you alone)

He tries telling you to stay close to him and not be afraid to call him if you're having any trouble

[elliekuma]

nerd abby & mean reader … stay with me now

i'm staying with you ... completely with you forever actually ... thank you so much for your service this is absolutely toe curling (,,>﹏<,,) enjoy guys :3 <333 i love u everyone i hope you're all having a good day/night & stay safe !!!!!

this is a top/sub! abby x bottom/dom! reader ... not for everyone but i personally think it's so sexy ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

꒰ cw. mean! reader, spitting, fingering ꒱

⋆˙⟡ nerd! abby is used to your constant belittling. after being your classmate for years now, she’s almost become okay with being the target for all your anger. after all, you know something the others don’t.

nerd! abby's first few years of academics were endless days of unjustified bullying and teasing from the rest of her peers. she had grown accustomed to people making fun of her, building immunity to the various remarks they'd whisper to each other as she walked down the hall. "wow, weird outfit, huh?" "doesn't she know contacts exist now?" it's not like she did anything wrong, or bad, she was just... nerdy. big glasses and freckles on her cheeks, hair always tied into a neat braid. it didn't help her case much either when her build was completely different from the rest of the girls in her year. she was bigger, stronger. she had more muscle than the average girl.

of course — the harassment died down after another few years. when you don't pay attention to someone throwing a milk carton at your head and calling you a "freak," they lose interest quickly. her classmates eventually found another unfortunate soul to pick on for their entertainment, leaving her to be forgotten. abby's best case scenario.

but there was one certain person that never left her alone. nagged her for the entire time she's been there. you, who's much smaller, popular with everyone and classified as the basic outgoing pretty girl. you were there when everyone else was picking on her relentlessly, the only difference being that you stayed. persisted, finding joy in making her life miserable. you forced her to write your essays, give you the answers for the weekly homework your professor assigned. if she didn't...

you threatened to show everyone how depraved she truly was.

abby anderson. the quiet nerd who was at the top of every subject, spent her summers doing volunteer work with various animals and found excitement in biology and all things science that were nonetheless extremely difficult and boring to others who weren't her. yes, abby anderson, who lets you pick on her because she'd rather be seen as a nerd than a slut. abby anderson who cums in her pants while she eats you out, dripping all over herself when you call her a stupid mutt. who likes when you stare at her while she's in between your legs, hearing the obscene sound of her slurping and moaning into your cunt while you record her from above.

you like telling abby that you're going to post it everywhere. something inside of you is filled with a sick sense of satisfaction when you see the look on her face, the fear. it turns you on a little bit, knowing you have this much power over her. it's your secret. you're the only one who's allowed to mess with her like this, so you keep a password on your photo album dedicated to your time with abby. of course, you'd never post it. these belong to you. hundreds of pictures and videos of her knelt down in front of you, the dumb look on her face when she gets off just from making you cum.

that's why she takes your cruel words. why you haven't moved on from bullying her. unbeknownst to everyone in your class, they think you pick on her because it's still fun — not because your guilty pleasure is watching her, her twitches and squirms when you make fun of her as she grips and sucks on your nipples like she's dying of thirst. it's not like you'd ever admit to abby that you like it either, even though it always seems to be you that's shoving her into an empty classroom, pressing her against a shelf and kissing her so hard you're both out of breath by the end of it.

so, when abby walks by you and your friends, it's not long before you're walking up to her. you look up at her as she adjusts the frames on her face, a small hint of pink on both her freckled cheeks.

"anderson, you finished my work yet? it's due tomorrow."

abby gulps, looking at everything but you before answering. no, she has not, she was completely swamped with her own work. finals were coming up and she had a million things to study for, alongside her countless essays piling up. she completely forgot about your pile of work and only remembered as soon as she saw a glimpse of you in the morning, her stomach turning.

"uh, not yet.. i'm sorry." abby isn't looking at you, and you find it a little cute that she's so scared of you.

"are you fucking serious? you're good for one thing, can't even do it." you spat, scoffing as you turn away from her. she flinches when you turn back around to face her, your eyes tell her that she's completely in for it later. you stare up at her for a few seconds, just to watch her nervously bite at her lip, before you stand on the tip of your toes, leaning into her ear, "guess you know what that means right?"

it's not long before the both of you are situated in yet another empty classroom. most of the students and professors are gone, leaving you two in the quietness of the building. you're sat on one of the desks with your skirt pulled up, abby standing in between you once again.

"hmm, too bad you didn't do what you were told. might've been nicer to you if you had." you pout at her, watching as her eyes shift from your glistening pussy to your face. it's obvious she wants it as bad as you do, she's aching for it. her hands are at her sides, balled into fists — you giggle in her face, moving one of your hands to her jaw and bringing her face close. not too close that you're breathing each other's air, but close enough that you can see all the dots across her face properly. you take in her expression before collecting a glob of spit in your mouth, spitting on her face. she flinches when it hits, your saliva splattering across her mouth and to the tip of her nose.

"lick it." you smile, abby's tongue poking out of her mouth immediately. she runs it over where she can reach, tasting you on her tongue.

"wow..." you laugh, "you actually listened. not surprised though, a slut like you would do that and more." you push at her leg with your shoe, watching as abby pulls away from you. you take one of her hands and place it on your inner thigh, slowly trailing it towards your waiting heat. she whimpers a little when she feels how wet you are, slick covering the tips of her fingers. "i want you to fuck me, hard, make me come," your words take up the quiet room, the sound of abby's breaths with it. "if you don't.. i'll make sure everyone knows what you really like doing." abby feels her stomach warm.

abby runs her fingers along your slit, rubbing it up and down and spreading your wetness across your pussy. your breath hitches when her fingers brush over your clit, teasing, running it in slow circles while the other rubs at your entrance. she looks at you before pushing a finger into your cunt, watching as your thighs twitch in response. abby's fingers are thick, a stretch that takes a little getting used to, but she thrusts it in and out at a steady pace — small moans spilling from your lips. you smile watching abby so focused on your pussy, her eyes completely glued on the way her fingers slide in and out so easily. "i said hard, anderson. can't do what i asked, can't fuck me properly either. you're useless."

a whimper leaves her lips at your degrading words. she feels absolutely humiliated, and yet, she's ruining her underwear with how wet she's getting. you raise a brow at the sound she makes, "you're really fucking weird, you know that? getting turned on like some s-shit, ah, freak.." abby pushes in another finger, your breath shaky at the new stretch. she's thrusting in even faster, pulling gasps and moans out of you. she moves closer to you, her lips practically touching yours. you feel yourself clamping down on her fingers when you see her observing you so intently, her eyes flickering from your lips and back up to your eyes. "hah... what? you look like you're enjoying this a little too much for someone, ah.. fuck, who isn't getting any.."

"you like this too, don't you?" you can barely hear abby's voice as she curls her fingers, hitting that sweet spot inside of you with precision. you gasp when you feel it, her fingers continuously abusing that spongy spot. your hands grip at her shoulders tightly, fingernails digging into her clothes as she finger fucks you at an even faster pace than before. you can both hear the plap! plap! plap! of her fingers against your cunt, digging deeper and deeper inside of you. "fuck, ah, who would have thought? fuckin' nerd like you.. you're talking back now?"

you're nearing your climax when abby uses her free hand to rub at your clit, the sudden sensitivity mixing in with the pleasure inside of you. it feels like you're gushing everywhere, on abby's fingers, the desk, dripping onto the floor. you buck your hips as she continues rubbing at it while she fucks you, not slow and steady anymore, fast, rough — exactly what you had asked for. abby doesn't let up. "admit it, say it.. tell me you like this as much as i do." your pussy throbs at the sound of her desperate voice, the pit of your stomach boiling up.

"fuck you, i don't... ah, abby.."

abby smiles hearing her name come from your mouth, sweet and airy. anderson this, anderson that. you've never said her first name. and that's all she needs to know that you do want this as much as she does, pulling her fingers out all the way before thrusting it in harshly into your dripping cunt. fireworks explode behind your eyelids when she presses against that spot again, a scream ripping from your throat. you're twitching violently, thighs vibrating against the desk you sat on. abby fucks you through your orgasm, returning to the gentleness she held initially. your head falls onto abby's shoulder, your breaths heavy. you pull away from her after catching your breath, you glare.

"i don't wanna see your stupid... face for a while, you hear me?"

abby nods with a grin, bringing her slick covered fingers up to her mouth and licking it clean.

yeah, it's a mutual benefit.

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

I've seen a lot of takes on what would happen if Sonic and Tails returned to West Side Island and confronted the people who were so abusive to Tails, and I had an idea for a somewhat new spin on it.

What if, now that Tails is a world famous hero, the Islanders try to try to basically gaslight him into thinking none of the abuse ever happened? They find out he's coming and they throw a big "Welcome Home" party and give him a medal and stuff, and when confronted about their treatment of him just completely deny or twist it. Like "oh yes I'm so sorry there were a couple kids who were bullies but that happens to everyone you weren't being targeted, and we tried to get them to stop it" or "we didn't know you were alone and homeless, if we knew we would have taken you in" and all sorts of garbage like that

And Tails, who's maybe a tween-young teen now, and no longer has distinct memories from that early in his life, starts to question if maybe he really was blowing things out of proportion. Maybe he really was just bullied by one or two kids, and they weren't really that bad. Maybe people didn't really chase him away and refuse to even let him go through their garbage for food. He knows he has anxiety. Maybe he was just imagining how much everyone hated him. And he almost wants to believe it, to believe that he was never truly hated.

But Sonic remembers. Sonic remembers the gang of older kids beating and violently attacking toddler aged Tails, and only stopping when he physically intervened with his own fists. He remembers questioning the townsfolk about the two-tailed fox he'd seen and being meet with sneers and complete disdain. He remembers how skinny Tails was, how his ribs were visible even through his fur and how he wolfed down the food Sonic offered him so quickly that he nearly threw it up later. He remembers how Tails flinched from any quick movement or attempt at touch. He remembers the long process of gaining the fox's trust, a process that tested his nine-year-old patience as he spent literal weeks urging Tails to come closer, keeping his hands slow and his face friendly, finally getting the fox to join him at the campfire, to walk beside him without dashing away when moved his arm too fast, and then, eventually, to let him touch him. He remembers the first few times Tails let him try to brush out his matted, dirty fur, each knot a testament to neglect, and finding scars and wounds on the skin beneath that spoke of so much abuse. He remembers realizing for the first time that normal, everyday Mobians could be just as cruel as Eggman.

Tails doesn't trust his own memory. But Sonic remembers. And Sonic is not quick to forgive.

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII

Chapters: 8 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

A/N: I finally managed to make it through! *wipes sweat off my forehead* Whew.

ACT VIII.

I could feel my blood boiling as Jungkook’s sharp voice filled the room. Again.

“Do you even try to meet deadlines, or is this just a joke to you?” he sneered, tossing my portfolio onto his desk like it was garbage. I was working for so long with him that I had gotten used to his outbursts, but today was definitely not the day where he could talk to me like that. I was frustrated and heated enough to keep silent.

The knot of frustration in my chest tightened, and I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the sting of tears. I’d worked so hard on that design, but nothing was ever good enough for him. The perfectionist. The control freak. The world’s most insufferable boss.

“You know what, Boss?” I spat, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “I’m done. I’ve had it with your insults, your impossible standards, and your complete lack of basic human decency.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into that infuriating smirk. He leaned back against his chair, head tilted to the side. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” I snapped, grabbing my bag off the chair. “Find yourself another designer, because I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

I stormed out of his office, my heels clicking angrily against the polished floor. My heart pounded as I pressed the elevator button, praying it would arrive quickly. I couldn’t stay in this building a second longer.

“Y/N.” His voice echoed behind me.

I refused to turn around.

The elevator doors slid open, but before I could step inside, a strong hand caught my arm, spinning me around. My breath hitched as I came face-to-face with him, his dark eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I yanked my arm free. “What do you care? You’ve made it perfectly clear I’m useless to you.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he’d explode. Instead, he stepped closer, forcing me back until I felt the cold metal wall of the elevator behind me.

“You think you can just quit?” he said, his voice a low rasp. “You think I’ll fucking let you?”

My breath came in shallow gasps as the tension crackled between us. “You don’t get to control me, Jungkook. Not anymore.”

For a second, neither of us moved. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between us, his hands bracing against the wall on either side of me.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice raw, his eyes locked on mine.

Before I could process his words, his lips crashed onto mine, fierce and demanding. It was a collision of frustration and something deeper, something I didn’t dare name. My mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body betrayed me, my hands curling into the fabric of his blazer as I kissed him back. His tongue swirled in my mouth and I felt my knees go weak. I heard the faint "ping" sound of the elevator and soon the doors closed. But I was too focused on this, it was as if my body was burning. His hands grasped my hips and for a moment I felt insecure, but soon as I was pressed against him and his kiss became more heated, all insecurities were forgotten.

The kiss was overwhelming, igniting something wild and untamed between us. His touch was possessive, sending shivers down my spine. My head tilted instinctively, giving him better access as his lips moved down to my jawline, then my neck. My breath hitched at the sensation, my fingers curling into his soft hair.

The faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and sharp—mixed with the heat of the moment, intoxicating me further. I whimpered softly, and he growled in response, his lips pressing harder against my skin, marking me.

Then, the elevator dinged.

I froze, my heart leaping into my throat. Jungkook’s lips stilled against my neck as the doors slid open.

And there stood Yoongi.

My supervisor, Jungkook’s best friend, and quite possibly the last person I wanted to see right now. His dark eyes scanned the scene, eyebrows raising slightly as he took in Jungkook’s disheveled blazer, my flushed face, and the undeniable tension crackling in the air.

“Well, this is… interesting,” Yoongi said, his tone unreadable as he stepped into the elevator.

Jungkook pulled back slightly, though his body remained close to mine, as if shielding me from Yoongi’s gaze. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low and clipped.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Yoongi replied, leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed. “But I think the answer’s pretty obvious.” The elevator doors closed and I saw Yoongi reach over and press the red button at the top of all buttons.  It was a STOP button. 

I tried to straighten up, smoothing my blouse and attempting to catch my breath. “This isn’t—”

He held up a hand, cutting me off. “Spare me the explanations. I didn’t ask for a play-by-play.” His gaze flicked between us, his expression neutral but his eyes glinting with mischief. “Though, I have to say, this isn’t exactly HR-friendly behavior.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, his hand still resting on my hip as if staking his claim. “Is there a point to this, or are you just here to annoy me?”

Yoongi smirked. “Both, probably.” He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “But mostly, I’m curious. How did our dear Y/N go from hating your guts to… this?”

Heat rose to my cheeks, and I opened my mouth to protest, but Jungkook beat me to it.

“She didn’t,” he said firmly, his gaze cutting to Yoongi. “This isn’t your business.”

Yoongi’s smirk widened, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Jungkook. I’m just here to push some buttons.” He glanced at me, his tone softening slightly. “You okay?”

I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak.

“Good,” Yoongi said, his playful demeanor returning. “Because I’d hate to see you caught in the crossfire of his temper.”

“Yoongi,” Jungkook warned, his tone sharp.

Yoongi’s smirk didn’t waver as he stepped closer, his dark gaze unwavering and filled with something I couldn’t quite read. The air in the elevator grew even heavier, the tension palpable. My breath quickened as I felt Jungkook’s grip on my hip tighten, his body still close to mine.

“Yoongi,” Jungkook repeated a breathless warning.

But Yoongi only chuckled softly, his voice a low hum that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Relax, Jungkook. I’m not here to steal her. Just curious if our fiery little designer can handle the pressure.”

Before I could respond—or fully understand what he meant—Yoongi moved behind me. My breath hitched as his hands found my waist, his touch firm yet somehow reassuring. Now two sets of hands were all over my body, making me melt completely.

“See?” Yoongi said, his tone teasing as his lips hovered close to my ear. “I’m just helping out. Nothing personal.”

“Yoongi,” I stammered, my voice shaky as my heart raced. “What are you—”

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “Just… trust me.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened as they met mine, his gaze flickering between my face and Yoongi’s presence behind me. There was a challenge there, unspoken but undeniable.

In an instant, Jungkook’s lips were on mine again, the kiss searing and consuming. My back pressed against Yoongi’s chest as Jungkook’s hands framed my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks with surprising gentleness. My senses were overwhelmed, caught between the two of them, their touches both grounding and electric.

Yoongi’s lips ghosted along my neck, his touch feather-light but enough to send sparks down my spine. His fingers rested on my hips, steadying me as Jungkook deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing mine in a way that made my knees weak.

I was caught between them, my body pinned in place by their presence. The weight of it, the intensity of their focus, left me breathless. Jungkook pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his voice low and rough as he muttered, “You drive me crazy.”

Yoongi chuckled softly behind me, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he whispered, “You’ve got both of us wrapped around your finger, you know that?”

My heart pounded wildly as I tried to find words, to make sense of what was happening.

 The pressure was overwhelming, as though the walls of the elevator were closing in. My knees buckled, and just as Jungkook’s lips found mine again, the world shifted—distorted—and everything began to fade.

“Y/N...”

The whisper came again, softer this time. Fainter.

“Y/N!”

The voice echoed, a ripple in the growing void, pulling me out of the suffocating haze. The once overwhelming heat was replaced by a sterile coldness. My limbs felt weighted, disconnected from me, and my chest rose and fell in shallow, measured breaths.

“Y/N, please wake up!”

The urgency in the voice grew louder, breaking through the fog. My lashes fluttered open, and harsh fluorescent light greeted me. Blinking against the glare, I struggled to take in my surroundings. The steady beeping of a heart monitor filled the room, and the faint scent of antiseptic stung my nose.

Hospital?

“Y/N!” Rya’s voice came next, a panicked yet relieved sound. Her face swam into focus, her usually composed demeanor replaced by an expression of raw emotion. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and she leaned closer, gripping my hand tightly.

“Rya?” My voice was a cracked whisper, my throat dry as sandpaper. It was after I heard her voice that I started feeling my body. It was aching all over and I felt paralyzed.

“Oh, thank God,” she breathed, wiping her cheeks quickly as if embarrassed by her tears. “You scared the hell out of us. Do you have any idea—” She cut herself off, shaking her head.

A shadow moved behind her, and Hoseok stepped forward, his arms crossed but his expression soft with concern. “You had us really worried about you, Y/N.” His voice was steady, but I caught the slight quiver underneath.

“What… happened?” I managed to ask, my gaze darting between them.

“You collapsed,” Rya said, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. “They said it was exhaustion and shock. But—” Her voice cracked. “But the accident—”

“Accident?” The fragmented memories returned in jagged flashes—headlights, screeching tires, a sharp jolt of pain before darkness swallowed me whole. “The car…”

“You were hit,” Hoseok said gently. “They brought you here immediately. You’re lucky to be alive. Doctor said you have bruises and your shoulder was dislocated when they brought you in. Thankfully, they managed to help you with it and no other physical traumas were discovered.”

I swallowed hard, trying to process his words. My hands instinctively moved toward my side, feeling for the small bag I’d had with me. My stomach twisted when I found nothing.

“The bag,” I croaked, panic rising in my chest. “Where’s my bag?”

Rya exchanged a worried look with Hoseok. “We… didn’t see one,” she admitted softly.

“No,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “It was important. The journal—”

“Journal, Tina's journal?” Hoseok asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Before I could answer, the memories from the elevator came crashing back with startling clarity—Jungkook’s intensity, Yoongi’s whispered words, the heat and chaos that had consumed me just before the world went dark and I woke up here. I was confused as of to why did I have this . . . was it even a dream? Or a hallucination? I was growing delusional. 

“Y/N, you’re safe now,” Rya reassured, squeezing my hand. “Focus on getting better. We’ll figure everything else out later.”

But even as her words tried to anchor me, a chill ran down my spine. Someone wanted that journal badly enough to ensure I wouldn’t stop them. And they wouldn’t stop, not until they had it. "How long..." I whispered weakly, Rya scooted closer.  "How long what?" "How long was I. . . out?" "It has been a week, Y/N."

I blinked, trying to make sense of what Rya had just said. A week? I’d been unconscious for an entire week? The realization sent a wave of dizziness through me, and I gripped the edge of the hospital blanket tightly.

“A week,” I murmured, my voice shaky. “I’ve been out for a whole week?”

Rya nodded, her expression softening. “The doctors said it was a combination of stress, exhaustion, and the trauma from the accident. You really pushed yourself too hard, Y/N.”

“You had us worried sick,” Hoseok added, his voice firm but kind. He stepped closer, his arms crossed but his eyes betraying a deep concern. “Do you have any idea how many times Rya and I begged the doctors for updates? We practically camped out here.”

“I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, guilt threading through my voice.

“Don’t apologize,” Rya interjected quickly, shaking her head. “We’re just relieved you’re okay. But there’s something you need to know.”

Her tone shifted, and I could sense the tension in the room thickening. My heart picked up speed, the steady beep of the monitor echoing my unease.

“What happened while I was out?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rya hesitated, glancing at Hoseok as if seeking confirmation. He nodded subtly, and she took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s about Jungkook.”

My stomach tightened. “What about him?”

“They’ve cleared him,” Hoseok said, his voice steady. “He’s no longer a suspect in the case.”

“What?” My mind reeled. “How? I thought the evidence—”

“Someone gave the police new evidence,” Rya explained. “A photograph, specifically. It proved Jungkook wasn’t the man who murdered Tina. It took them a few days to actually verify the originality and it’s real. Unfortunately, that’s all we know…"

My blood ran cold as the puzzle pieces began to fit together. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The photograph they’d mentioned… was it the same one I was about to ask Taehyung about before everything spiraled out of control? Who even took my bag in the first place? Who was the person who gave the picture to the police too? So many questions. I was awake for a few minutes already and I already had an headache.

My throat tightened, and I struggled to keep my voice calm. “Did they say what the photograph was of?”

Rya shook her head. “No, just that it was enough to clear him completely. The police didn’t share many details, but it’s all over the news now. Jungkook’s free. He went back to the office last week.”

“Of course, he’s still Jungkook,” Hoseok muttered, his tone laced with irony. “He walked back in like nothing happened.”

But I wasn’t focused on Jungkook’s return to work. My mind was spinning, replaying the moment I’d almost shown Taehyung the photograph, the way it had burned a hole in my thoughts since then.

“What about Taehyung?” I asked suddenly, my voice sharper than I intended. “Did he… did he come by?”

Rya and Hoseok exchanged another glance, their expressions softening.

“He did,” Hoseok said after a moment. “A lot, actually. He sat by your side for hours, especially in the first few days. The nurses said he barely left.”

Rya nodded. “He was here when we weren’t. Every time we came by, he was either reading something to you or just… sitting there, holding your hand.”

My chest tightened, a confusing mixture of relief and guilt washing over me. I’d left Taehyung in the middle of all this chaos without any explanation, and yet, he’d been here. He hadn’t abandoned me.

“He’s been busy the past couple of days, though,” Rya added. “Something about work. But he made us promise to call him the second you woke up.”

“I need to talk to him,” I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else.

“We’ll let him know you’re awake,” Rya said, squeezing my hand. “But for now, you need to rest. You’ve been through enough.”

Rest. It sounded impossible when my thoughts were a storm of suspicions and half-formed connections. But I forced myself to nod, closing my eyes briefly as the weight of everything began to settle.

Somehow, I knew that when I saw Taehyung again, I’d find answers. I just wasn’t sure if I was ready for them.

-

The silence between us stretched, heavy and charged. Taehyung sat by my bedside, his posture relaxed, but there was a sharpness in his gaze that made my skin prickle. It was as if he were studying me, waiting for me to say something—anything.

“I was worried about you, Y/N,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was low and steady, soothing in a way that felt too careful, too deliberate.

I nodded weakly, trying to muster the gratitude I knew I should feel. “Thanks for being here, Tae. Rya and Hoseok told me you stayed… a lot.”

He offered a small smile. “Of course I did. You’d do the same for me.”

Would I?

The thought barely had time to take root before my eyes drifted to his hands resting on his lap. My pulse quickened, a memory flashing vividly in my mind—the scar.

The man I’d seen before the accident, the one who had loomed in the shadows and made my stomach twist with unease, had a distinct scar on his wrist. It was jagged and angry, a mark impossible to miss.

Taehyung’s wrist was bare.

I couldn’t stop myself from staring, my breath catching in my throat. His skin was smooth and unblemished, completely devoid of the scar I was so certain I’d seen.

The realization hit me like a jolt of electricity, sharp and disorienting. I’d been so sure…

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice pulled me back, his brows furrowing as he followed my gaze to his wrist. “What’s wrong?”

I swallowed hard, shaking my head quickly. “Nothing,” I said, my voice a little too high-pitched. “I just… zoned out for a second.”

His eyes lingered on me, sharp and calculating, before he relaxed again. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to feel a little out of it.”

I forced a tight smile, my mind racing. If Taehyung wasn’t the man with the scar, then who was? And why had I been so convinced it was him?

“Did you… hear anything about the guy who hit me?” I asked cautiously, watching his reaction.

Taehyung shook his head. “No. The police didn’t tell me much, just that it seemed deliberate. They’re still looking for leads.”

Deliberate. The word sent a shiver down my spine. My gaze flickered back to his wrist again, my thoughts spiraling.

If Taehyung wasn’t the man with the scar, then I’d accused him in my mind without reason. But the questions surrounding him still lingered. Why had he been so involved? Why had he seemed so calm, even now, when everything felt like it was falling apart?

“You’re staring again,” he said, his tone lighter but edged with curiosity.

I blinked, heat rising to my cheeks. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I guess I’m still processing everything.”

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time. I’m here.” 

But his reassurance didn’t settle me. If anything, it only deepened the unease clawing at my chest. "Fuck, where is my phone, " I croaked out weakly. I tried to sit up properly and Taehyung was by my side immediately, his puppy like eyes were staring at me and I felt a deep pang of guilt in my chest. How could I suspect him at all? I've known him since childhood, he was so caring and always there for people. "If it's about your parents, I already spoke to them. I told them you broke your phone and you will be able to contact them as soon as it gets fixed." I frowned, "And they believed that?" soft snort escaped my lips. I was grateful that he lied, I didn't want to have them worry and fly here. "I mean, they trust me, they think I am a good match for you..." I glanced at him, giving him a weak smile. "Yeah...they do. They like you a lot. And thank you...for doing that, it means a lot." "Don't mention it, next time, treat me a good Subway sandwich and we clear." his comment brightened the mood and made me giggle weakly.

As the night stretched on and Taehyung stayed by my side, I couldn’t shake the thought circling in my mind: If he wasn’t the man with the scar, then who was?

The hospital room was dimly lit, save for the soft glow of the television screen. Taehyung had found the remote, flipping through channels until he stumbled upon Fast and Furious.

“Classic,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips as he settled into the chair beside my bed.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “Of course, you’d pick this.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. It’s cinema gold,” he defended, tossing a piece of the wrapped candy he’d snuck in onto the tray table.

As the opening scene blazed across the screen, we both fell into an easy rhythm of watching and cracking jokes.

“Do you think anyone actually needs this much nitrous?” I asked, arching a brow as one of the cars practically launched itself down a street.

“Absolutely,” Taehyung deadpanned. “How else are they supposed to dramatically explode at the finish line?”

We burst into laughter, the sound light and freeing. It felt good to let go, even if just for a moment.

A particularly over-the-top scene of Dom driving through a collapsing building made me shake my head. “Okay, there’s no way that car is still running after that. It’s basically a glorified tin can at this point.”

“Blasphemy,” Taehyung said, feigning offense. “These cars are indestructible. Haven’t you learned anything?”

I laughed again, the tension I’d felt earlier slowly easing. Taehyung’s easy humor was infectious, and for a while, the world outside the hospital room seemed to fade away.

But then, the door creaked open.

The air shifted immediately, a charged tension filling the room as I turned to see who it was. Jungkook and Yoongi stood in the doorway, their expressions unreadable. Jungkook’s dark eyes flicked between Taehyung and me, lingering just a moment too long on the smile that hadn’t yet faded from my face.

Yoongi, as usual, looked amused, his lips curving into a faint smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” he drawled, his tone light but with an edge I couldn’t quite place.

Taehyung sat up straighter, his easy demeanor shifting subtly. “We were watching cinematic history.” He gestured toward the screen, where another improbable car stunt was unfolding.

Yoongi quirked a brow. “Fast and Furious? Classy.”

Jungkook, however, didn’t seem interested in the television. His gaze locked onto mine, his jaw tightening slightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I replied, my voice quieter now. The warmth I’d felt earlier was quickly replaced by a nervous energy.

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “She’s doing fine. You didn’t have to come all this way to check up on her.”

“We wanted to see for ourselves,” Jungkook said, his tone clipped.

Yoongi stepped further into the room, his sharp eyes darting between us. “Relax, Taehyung. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Friends?” Taehyung echoed, his tone just as sharp. “I don’t recall you visiting much while she was unconscious.”

Yoongi’s smirk deepened, but there was something dangerous in it. “You wouldn’t know because you weren’t here the last few days.”

The tension in the room was palpable now, the playful atmosphere from moments ago completely gone. I shifted uncomfortably, my gaze darting between the three men.

“Guys,” I said, my voice breaking the standoff. “This isn’t a competition.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened slightly as it landed back on me. “You should be resting,” he said, ignoring Taehyung completely.

“I was resting,” I said, gesturing to the TV. “And then Taehyung decided to educate me on the importance of nitrous oxide in car stunts.”

Yoongi chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Sounds about right.”

Jungkook didn’t smile. His jaw tightened again, and he took a step closer to the bed. “If you need anything—”

“She has me,” Taehyung interrupted, his tone firm.

“Funny,” Jungkook replied, his gaze never leaving mine. “Because last I checked, she wasn’t just your concern.”

The room felt like it was on the verge of imploding, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on all of us. Even the TV, still blaring action sequences, felt muted against the charged silence.

“Maybe we should all take a breather,” I suggested weakly, my heart pounding in my chest. “This doesn’t have to turn into… whatever this is.”

Yoongi finally moved, breaking the tension as he grabbed a candy from the tray table and unwrapped it leisurely. “She’s right,” he said, popping it into his mouth. “No need to fight over her. Yet.”

The word hung in the air, laced with something unspoken.

Jungkook’s glare shifted to Yoongi, but he didn’t say anything. Taehyung, however, didn’t back down, his shoulders squaring as he leaned slightly forward.

I sank deeper into the bed, my pulse thrumming in my ears. What had started as a lighthearted evening had turned into something far more complicated—and I wasn’t sure how to untangle it.

The tension in the room was unbearable, a pressure cooker of barely restrained tempers. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed as he took another step toward the bed, his posture rigid. Yoongi, meanwhile, lounged against the wall, but his smirk betrayed an underlying sharpness that felt just as dangerous.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright smug as he leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed casually over the other.

“Relax, guys,” Taehyung said, his voice dripping with cocky amusement. “Y/N and I were just having a little fun. No need to get all territorial.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes flashing. “This isn’t about territory.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Taehyung shot back, a grin tugging at his lips.

Yoongi chuckled, though the sound was anything but friendly. “You’re awfully confident for someone who’s just playing nursemaid.”

Taehyung’s grin widened, and he tilted his head, his gaze flickering toward me. “I don’t mind taking care of her. Someone has to, right?”

“Guys,” I said sharply, my patience wearing thin. “stop it.”

They all glanced at me,their expressions softening slightly, but the defiance in their eyes remained.

“I’m tired,” I said, louder this time, my voice firm as I sat up straighter in bed. “I don’t have the energy for your childish behavior. If you can’t all be civil, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to mine, his expression softening. “Y/N—”

“Let her rest,” Yoongi cut in, though his tone held an uncharacteristic seriousness. He turned to me, his smirk fading slightly. “We won’t take much of your time, before we go we have to talk. Privately.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, his cocky demeanor slipping. “Anything you have to say to her, you can say in front of me.”

Yoongi raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “This isn’t up for debate, little lawyer.”

“It’s fine,” I interjected quickly, raising a hand to stop the brewing argument. “Tae, I’ll be okay. We’ll talk later.”

Taehyung hesitated, his jaw tightening as his gaze flicked between Yoongi and Jungkook. “You sure?”

I nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sure. Thank you for being here, really.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, though his expression remained tense. Standing, he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step toward the door.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said, his voice quieter now. His eyes lingered on mine for a moment, and there was something unspoken in his gaze—a mixture of worry and frustration.

“Goodnight, Tae,” I said softly.

“Goodnight.” With a final glance toward Jungkook and Yoongi he left the room as the door slammed shut. I reached to rub my forehead, clearly tired and exhausted by this entire behavior of theirs. I didn’t get neither of them, it was they were on a damn competition and it was getting on my nerves.

I let out a slow breath, turning my attention back to the two men still in the room. Jungkook stood near the bed, his posture tense, while Yoongi leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed. Both of them wore black suits, they were probably visiting after work. If I didn’t knew them, I’d simply think how attractive they were and pass them on the street without even thinking of talking to them, or them talking to me. I was /that/ insecure in my looks. But now? I had both of these men’s attention on me. And I felt exposed and awkward as hell.

“Okay,” I said, my voice weary. “You have me alone. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait?”

Yoongi pushed off the wall, his expression serious now. “We need to talk about what’s really going on.”

Jungkook nodded, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The accident. The photograph. Everything.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. “What about it?”

Yoongi exchanged a glance with Jungkook before stepping closer, his voice low. “We think whoever’s behind this isn’t done. And you’re still in danger.”

My stomach dropped. “Danger? What are you talking about?”

Jungkook’s voice was firm, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Someone wanted to hurt you, Y/N. And we’re going to figure out who. But you have to cooperate with us..”

The weight of their words settled over me like a suffocating blanket. I’d spent so much time trying to piece everything together on my own, but now, with them standing here, it was clear this wasn’t something I could face alone.

I took a shaky breath, meeting their gazes. “I will hear what you have to say first, if I think it’s worthy enough of me to cooperate, then I shall.”

Jungkook let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head as he ran fingers through his black locks of hair. “You’re so damn stubborn.”

I crossed my arms. “Flattery isn’t going to make me any more agreeable. What exactly do you want from me?”

Jungkook stepped closer, and I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on me. “We already moved your stuff.”

My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

Yoongi looked entirely too pleased with himself. “To a small apartment near the company, it’s security covered so…” he added, voice calm but teasing.

I stared between the two of them, incredulous. “You—what? You can’t just—”

Jungkook shrugged. “We can. And we did.”

I clenched my fists. “That is an invasion of my privacy! What the hell makes you think you can just decide where I live?”

Yoongi sighed dramatically. “Maybe the fact that someone is trying to kill you? Call us crazy.”

I shot him a glare, but my mind was already reeling with a million other thoughts. My things—Hades. Oh god. “Where’s Hades?”

Yoongi hummed, grasping the edge of my bed and leaned closer, “Your little spawn of death and barks is also there in the apartment.”

Jungkook huffed a quiet laugh, but I was too busy staring at them, seething. “And what about Rya? You think she’s just going to be okay with this?”

Jungkook’s gaze softened slightly. “She was worried about you. After what happened, she agreed that you should be somewhere safer. For her own safety, too.”

My stomach twisted. Rya agreed? That meant she really thought it was bad. “Yoongi and I will occassionally come and check up on you, as well as you will have bodyguards escort you to work.” “You are both insane.” “I mean, we are, but you have no choice, really.” Yoongi added, wiggling his eyebrows.

I swallowed, shifting uncomfortably under their watchful eyes. The heat in the room felt suffocating, and I realized too late that we were standing far too close. The memory of my dream hit me like a truck—the way Jungkook and Yoongi had been pressed against me in that tiny elevator, their warmth surrounding me, their breaths teasing my skin—

I felt the heat rise to my face instantly.

Jungkook’s sharp gaze flickered to my expression, as if he could read my thoughts. His lips curled into the slightest smirk, and Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Yoongi asked, his voice slow, knowing.

I quickly shook my head, stepping back. “Nope. Nothing. Just… furious. Absolutely livid.”

Jungkook leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something almost dangerous. “You can be as mad as you want. But you’re staying in that apartment.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. Their presence was suffocating in the worst and best way, and god help me, part of me wanted to keep pushing just to see how far I could take it. Other part of me just wanted to say “Yes”, roll over and cover myself as if to hide away. -

The past week had been… eventful, to say the least. Between physical therapy, endless check-ins from Jungkook and Yoongi, and the suffocating presence of security, I hadn’t had a single moment of true solitude. But I was feeling better now—stronger. The lingering pain was manageable, and more importantly, I could walk on my own again.

Which led me here.

Two bodyguards flanked me as I stepped into the apartment Jungkook and Yoongi had forced me into, their presence a constant reminder that I wasn’t exactly free.

The moment I stepped inside, I was met with the excited barks of my little monster. “Hades!” I grinned, crouching just as my dog launched himself at me, his little tail wagging so hard I thought he might levitate. “Did you miss me, you little terror?”

Hades whined and licked my face, and I buried my hands in his fur, grateful for at least one familiar presence in all this insanity.

Only after I’d gotten my fill of Hades’ affection did I take in my surroundings. And wow.

This place was insane.

It was all sleek black and white, modern and sharp, like something out of a high-end magazine. The floors gleamed under the dim lighting, the glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a breathtaking view of the city. A massive, plush-looking black sofa sat in the center of the living space, and I already knew I’d be spending my nights there—it looked way more inviting than the small bedroom tucked into the corner. The kitchenette was minimal but polished, the kind of thing that suggested whoever owned this place either rarely cooked or had an expensive personal chef.

I frowned. This was definitely a bachelor’s pad.

Yoongi’s bachelor pad?

The thought made me pause. It had to be his, right? Jungkook had plenty of money, but this felt too… refined for him. No offense.

I looked around again, taking in the details. Close to the office. Expensive but understated. Perfectly located for convenience. It screamed Min Yoongi.

I glanced at one of the bodyguards. “Who owns this place?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Mr. Jeon.”

I blinked. Jungkook?

My lips parted in surprise. I’d expected this to be Yoongi’s, but now that I thought about it… the place was sleek, but not entirely cold. There was warmth in the details—things I’d overlooked at first. The slight messiness near the entertainment system, the faint scent of something clean yet musky. Jungkook’s cologne.

My stomach did a weird little flip.

Jungkook owned this place.

I knew he was rich—his suits alone could probably pay my rent for months—but this apartment was stupidly luxurious. And the fact that it was just minutes from our office? That meant he stayed here often.

So why the hell was he giving it to me?

I plopped down onto the massive couch, Hades jumping up beside me. “So, this is my life now, huh?” I muttered, scratching behind his ears.

The bodyguards didn’t answer. They just stationed themselves near the door, watching me like hawks.

I sighed. “Great.”

I was safe. Comfortable. But I wasn’t free.

And something about sleeping in Jungkook’s space—surrounded by his presence, his scent—felt more dangerous than anything else.

As I sank deeper into Jungkook’s ridiculously comfortable couch, Hades curled up beside me, I let my mind wander back over the past week. So much had happened, and yet it felt like time had moved in slow motion.

Rya had visited almost every day, her face twisted with worry no matter how many times I reassured her that I was fine. She had been surprisingly okay with me moving here—though I suspected it was more out of fear for my safety than anything else. Hoseok had also stopped by whenever he could, bringing his usual warmth and easy humor, trying to keep things light even when everything around us felt unbearably heavy.

But Taehyung?

Taehyung had not been happy.

The first time he visited me after finding out I was moving into Jungkook’s apartment, he had been fuming. I could still hear his sharp words from that day.

"Are you serious? Out of all the places you could stay, you’re staying at their apartment?”

I had tried to calm him down, explaining that I didn’t really have a choice, but Taehyung was stubborn—almost as stubborn as me. He hated the idea, hated that Jungkook and Yoongi were the ones “playing hero,” as he so bitterly put it. Eventually, though, he’d had no choice but to accept it.

Even so, I knew him well enough to recognize that he was still uneasy about the whole situation.

And honestly? So was I.

Because ever since that night—the accident, the photograph—I couldn’t shake this awful feeling.

Like I was being watched.

It didn’t make sense. Jungkook and Yoongi had doubled security. I was constantly surrounded by bodyguards, and I never went anywhere alone. There was no way someone could be keeping tabs on me.

And yet, I felt it.

The sensation of eyes on me, lingering just out of sight. The subtle shift in the air that made my skin crawl. I’d glance over my shoulder, expecting to see someone, but there was never anyone there.

At first, I’d brushed it off as paranoia. After everything that had happened, it wasn’t exactly surprising that my nerves were shot. But the feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it had gotten worse.

I pulled my knees to my chest, pressing my lips together. Maybe I was losing it. Maybe I was letting fear get the best of me.

Or maybe… someone really was watching.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my thoughts away from the unsettling idea. Instead, I focused on something more manageable—like the fact that Yoongi had given me a new phone.

My old one had been destroyed beyond repair, and I hadn’t even realized how disconnected I felt without it until Jungkook placed a brand-new one in my hand, his voice nonchalant as ever.

"You need a way to contact us. Don’t lose this one.”

It had taken me a moment to adjust to the new device, but once I did, the first thing I did was call Rya. She had sounded relieved to hear from me, even if our conversations had been short.

I had also called my parents, keeping up the lie Taehyung had fed them.

"Sorry, my phone broke. I just got a new one, but everything’s fine now."

They had believed me without question, which was both a relief and a small pang of guilt. Lying to them had never been easy, but it was necessary. The last thing I needed was my parents panicking over something they couldn’t fix.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Everything was so… unreal. My life had been turned upside down in a matter of days, and now I was here, in Jungkook’s apartment, trying to pretend like things were normal when they were anything but.

Hades nudged my hand, as if sensing my unease, and I let out a small, tired laugh.

"At least I have you," I murmured, scratching behind his ear.

But as I stared out of the massive glass windows, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the horizon, that feeling returned.

That prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

Like someone was watching me.

-

The next morning, I was up earlier than I wanted to be. Hades had decided that I needed to be awake at the crack of dawn, his tiny paws pressing against my stomach as he barked insistently.

"Alright, alright," I groaned, rubbing my face as I sat up. "I’m up, you little gremlin."

Hades wagged his tail, completely unbothered by my suffering.

Dragging myself toward the kitchenette, I squinted at the sleek, ultra-modern touchscreen coffee machine that had been mocking me since I moved in.

"Alright," I muttered to myself. "You and me, we’re gonna get along today."

Attempt #1: Pressed the wrong button. Machine beeped angrily. No coffee.

Attempt #2: Accidentally selected espresso shot instead of a full cup.

Attempt #3: Pressed too many buttons at once. Machine froze like it needed a damn reboot.

Hades barked at me, his tiny tail flicking with judgment.

"Oh, shut up," I grumbled, resetting the machine.

Attempt #4: No water in the tank. Had to refill it.

Attempt #5: Finally got a full cup of coffee.

I let out a triumphant sigh, holding my mug like it was a trophy. "I am the master of technology."

Hades sneezed.

I took a long sip, letting the caffeine work its magic before heading to the bedroom to get ready.

By the time I arrived at the company, escorted by two bodyguards like some sort of celebrity, I was fully awake and determined to have a normal workday.

The moment I stepped inside, the whispers started. My colleagues turned to look at me, some with wide eyes, others with relief.

Then, chaos.

"Y/N! Oh my god, you’re back!"

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"We were so worried!"

"I heard you were in an accident—was it really an accident?"

I barely had time to process the flood of voices before my desk was surrounded. People bombarded me with questions, their faces filled with concern and curiosity.

I forced a smile, trying to keep up with their energy, but before I could even begin to answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Alright, that’s enough," Rya’s firm tone rang out.

Hoseok appeared beside her, his usual bright smile present, but his eyes held a warning. "Give her some space, guys. Let the woman breathe before you interrogate her."

The crowd dispersed, grumbling but ultimately listening.

I shot Rya and Hoseok a grateful look. "Thanks. I think I forgot how loud this place could be."

Rya rolled her eyes. "Please. You should’ve seen them before you even got here. They’ve been talking about you all morning."

"Do you need anything?" Hoseok asked, his voice softer now.

I shook my head, smiling. "No, I’m fine. Really."

They exchanged a look, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t push it further.

And just as I settled into my chair, ready to start the day, a familiar presence loomed nearby.

Jungkook stood near my desk, arms crossed, an unimpressed expression on his ridiculously perfect face.

I blinked up at him. "Uh… good morning?"

"You’re not supposed to be here," he said flatly.

I tilted my head. "Last time I checked, this was my job."

Jungkook exhaled sharply. "You were supposed to take two more days off."

"I’m fine," I repeated. "I’d rather be here than sitting in that apartment doing nothing."

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he sighed. "Fine. Since you’re already here, come to my office."

A few of our colleagues exchanged looks.

I ignored them and followed Jungkook to his office.

Once inside, he immediately launched into the latest project details, his voice professional and controlled. But every now and then, he’d slip in something else.

"So, the marketing team needs a revised pitch deck," he said, tapping on his desk. "Also, you look great today, but that’s nothing new."

I blinked at him.

He didn’t even acknowledge what he just said, continuing on. "I need you to go over the latest client proposals—"

"Wait." I cut him off. "Did you just—"

"What?" He looked so innocent.

I narrowed my eyes. "Never mind. Continue."

"Right. As I was saying, the finance team needs our projections by Friday…”

I deadpanned. "Jungkook."

"What?"

I stared at him for a solid three seconds before laughing in his face.

I couldn’t help it.

He was flirting with me. Horribly.

Jungkook’s brows furrowed. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because you’re terrible at this," I grinned, shaking my head.

"I—" He paused, offended. "Excuse me?"

"You’re not serious," I said, still giggling. "Are you?"

Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it.

His ears turned pink.

I smirked. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."

Before he could respond, I turned on my heel and walked out of his office, still grinning.

And as I sat back down at my desk, I swore I could feel his flustered stare from across the room.

The meeting room was filled with quiet murmurs as everyone settled into their seats. The air buzzed with anticipation as Jungkook stood at the front, his presence commanding the room effortlessly. His dark eyes swept over the team, his usual sharp focus in place as he began the presentation.

Behind him, the large screen displayed the details of their latest client—a high-profile luxury brand looking for a full-scale identity revamp. Jungkook spoke with his usual confidence, outlining their expectations, the marketing direction, and the design elements they needed to refine.

I tried to focus. Really, I did.

But across the room, I could feel Yoongi’s eyes on me.

Every time I dared to glance in his direction, his gaze was already there, heavy and unreadable. It wasn’t the first time he’d done this—watching me with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. But today, it felt more intense. Like he was waiting for something.

I straightened in my chair, pretending not to notice.

Jungkook continued, his voice smooth and authoritative. "With the expansion of our design team and the increased workload, I realized we needed an extra set of hands. So, I’ve gone ahead and hired someone new."

A few people exchanged glances, curiosity sparking around the room.

Jungkook gestured toward the door. "He should be arriving right about—"

As if on cue, the doors swung open.

A tall figure stepped inside, his presence instantly drawing attention. He moved with quiet confidence, his dark eyes scanning the room before settling—

On me.

My breath hitched. My heart stopped, then started again in an erratic rhythm.

No.

It couldn’t be.

My lips parted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Jason."

Silence stretched across the room as the man’s lips curled into a familiar smirk.

But before I could even begin to process it—before the weight of his presence could fully sink in—Jungkook’s voice cut through the air with a shocking revelation.

"Everyone, meet our newest hire."

My brother.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Trouble (FC Barcelona Femení X Putellas/Barca Reader)

Warnings: b*llying, injuries, Foster Care mentioned

Summary: your Mom gets a call from school Case they Wonder where you are or If your Mom Just forgot to call in sick for you.

It was just a normal day. Which for you didn't mean it was a good one. You were supposed to be at school. Cause that's actually where your Mama Alexia had dropped you off.

But as soon as her car was out of sight some of your bullies walked over. They hated you for no reason. Always calling you stuff that could be translated to 'orphan annie' or something close to that. Alexia had adopted you three years ago. You were 12 years old back then. So you had Family now but they didn't seem to care about that. Your bullies didn't hesitate to get physical either. Usually it's just you being pushed. Which was already bad enough but today it was even worse. They basically dragged you into a corner of the bathrooms inside and no one seemed to care.

They threw some punches and kicks and took your Phone away. Throwing it on the floor. Stomping on it so it broke. They left you with what was gonna be a black eye , bruises on your face and your ribs & a bloody nose. You were an athlete but you knew you couldn't have taken on all 6 of them. That was just not realistic . Your bullies also said they would do worse things if you tell on them.

You stayed in the bathroom until classes started before you managed to leave without anyone seeing you. Hiding away by the beach. There was a place that was always quiet. Cause it was hidden away. You sometimes used to sleep there when you were still in the Foster system. You were hugging yourself. Knees pressed against your chest, tears streaming down your face. Your breathing became uneven and you were having a full on Panic Attack around a Minute later. All you wanted was your Mami or one of your aunts to tell you that things would be okay. But you were all alone. Scared and in pain.

At the same time at school everyone claimed they didn't see you. Including your bullies. Bad for them cause the teacher found it weird that your Mami didn't call to sign you out for the day. Because the rare Times you missed school were always excused by Alexia. So what the teacher did was call your Mami, who was concerned and surprised Hearing this.

"Sí, estoy segura de que estaba en la escuela. ¡La dejé allí!(yes I am sure she was at school. I dropped her off!)" Your Mami replied, she was pretty sure you wouldn't skip school. But she could be wrong. Which was why she said she would make her way over to school to see what they can do to find you. Cause the last time your phone was on was on school grounds. twenty minutes after your Mama had dropped you off. Alexia was out with Mapi, Ingrid, Ona & Aitana. So they all joined her. At school they found her smashed Phone on the restroom floor.

"¡Eso es malo!(that's bad!)! Mapi said once they told them about the Phone.

"Lo es. Tenemos que encontrarla.(it is. we have to find her.)" Aitana answered.

"Algo debe estar muy mal. ¡Estoy preocupada por mi pequeña niña!(something must be very wrong. i am worried about my little girl!)" Your Mami always called you her little Girl. Didn't matter that you were in your teenage years.

"¡Encontraremos a nuestra sobrina!" Ona stated. Ingrid nodded her head in agreement.

"yes we will!" She said.

While they stood there a girl walked over to them. She was also a target of the Girls who bullied you.

"Hola, eres la mamá de y/n, ¿verdad?(hello, you are y/n's mom, right?)" She asked Alexia. The other Girls looking at her.

"Sí, lo soy. ¿Por qué?(yes I am. why?)"your Mami answered.

"Hay algunas chicas que la intimidan.(there are some girls that bully her.)" She explained.

"¡¿disculpe?!(excuse me?!)" Ona replied. Everyone looked at the girl. They were shocked, sad and angry.

"A mí también me intimidan, entre algunos otros.(they bully me as well. among a few others.)" The Girl explained the situation to them and she told them their names, saying that she saw that they also cornered you this morning and dragged you to the bathroom. It's what they do alot.

"¿cuales son sus nombres?(what are their names?)" Ingrid asked. Your mami and aunts didn't know whether to cry or go and give the bullies a piece of their minds.

The girl gave them the names of the bullies and also her own so they could use her Name talking to the principal about this. She revealed that her name was Marisa. They thanked her. Ona & Aitana went to talk to the principal while Mapi, Ingrid and your Mami went to look for you.

Your Mami thankfully had the right idea and knew about the hiding place you used to sleep at before she took you in and adopted you.

She saw you sitting there, leaned against the rocks. You eyes were closed now & and you tried fighting sleep, the pain, crying and panic attack made you feel exhausted.

"y/n!" Your Mami yelled and ran over to you. Followed by Ingrid & Mapi. You managed to look at them and you could tell how shocked they were. All three of them close to tears.

"Mami, tías, me duele.(Mami, aunties, It hurts.)" You told them. Sniffling softly.

"Estas segura ahora(you are safe now.)" Mapi replied to you texted Ona & Aitana to let them know that they found you. Your Mami picked you up and you winced. She kissed you forehead.

"Nosotras vamos al hospital!(we are going to the hospital.)"

"it all will be okay!" Ingrid told you.

"Gracias por ayudarme.(thank you for helping me.)" You whispered out.

"Mi pequeño amor, no tienes que agradecernos, somos tu familia.(my little love, you don't have to thank us! we are your family.)" Alexia told you. You could tell your Mami was blaming herself for this. Even though this wasn't her fault.

At school the principal suspended the girls and Ona had informed them that they would hear from the Police for what had happened. Mapi had told them in the text, that you looked all banged up. You were on your way to the Hospital now, Mapi driving. Ingrid in the Passanger seat while your Mami sat in the Back with you. Holding you close without hurting you more then you already were.

The doctor at the hospital checked you over and got some X-rays on your ribs done. Turned out that you had two broken ribs from them kicking you. Your nose thankfully wasn't broken though.

You were sent home with the order to rest up, ice your ribs and nose. Also pain meds were given to you.

Ona and Aitana met you there. A Police officer was also there and you told them what had happened. They also went to Marisa.

Your Mami helped you to take a shower before you got to rest in bed. Having a right grip on Alexia so she couldn't get out of bed.

"Mami, por favor quédate.(Mami, please stay.)" You told her, sniffling softly. She kissed your forehead.

"Está bien, cariño.(okay, sweetheart)" She whispered out and held you close.

A few days later you felt a bit better but still had to rest and you weren't allowed to do anything physical. So no Football for you. Which sucked cause you just made your debut with the Senior Team, playing with your mami and aunties.

There also would be legal consequences for your bullies but you had No Idea what they would be.

But one thing you knew for sure. You could always count on your Family.

[voxisdaddy]

İ have a request, how would hazbin hotel and angels (or archangels) reacts to a coqquette girl demon?

İf you dont know what iş coquette is, here some ideas

Coquette Sins

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Alastor | Lucifer | Husk | Angel Dust | Sir Pentious | Charlie | Vaggie | Cherri Bomb | Rosie | Carmilla | Vox | Valentino | Velvette | Adam | Lute | Emily | Saint Peter | Striker

C/TW: Sexual themes, swearing, some way longer than others, a lot of these are based off appearance sorry, made reader a sinner rather than demon since demon is very vague in the hellaverse lol, not proofread

In which how various Hazbin Hotel characters + Striker react to a demon who brings a fresh aesthetic to hell-aka, a coquette sinner!

Alastor

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I can't say you'd be very intriguing to Alastor based off this aesthetic if I'm completely honest. He frequents Cannibal Town a lot-which while not coquette at all-the colour palette are closely similar and blends in together. Your look being more romantic and innocent looking in comparison however at a longer glance. So you wouldn't per say stand out at first glance, but even when he notices he isn't exactly intrigues. Hell is filled with many people who can look however they want, whatever way they want after all. So at first you're just another one of these poor sinners in this forever inferno. Somehow once you do get to know one another though, he picks up on certain mannerisms and certain things you like. One of the first being when he saw a little plushie you had purchased one day, now decorated with a neat little bow that matches with pretty much everything of you. From then on, he's sure that when he gifts you things, to keep an eye out for more specific things. It clashes with his aesthetic, but it's okay. Slowly he'll start to change your wardrobe to match his.

Lucifer

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lucifer doesn't think very highly of sinners, typical for the sin of Pride, but you're something new to him. He's well aware that human souls come in many different forms and that anyone can present themselves anyway they want, but coquette was a rare one. Anyone who resembled innocence, sweet romantics, and softness was often the target of bullying and harassment in hell-which serves him all the more reason to roll his eyes and dismiss a lot of sinners. Meeting you was a blessing in his eyes. Regardless of whatever judgements you may face you seemed to never stray away from who you are. He's become protective of you because of this. I mean he's protective of you regardless, you're very special to him after all, but you're basically a walking target for unnecessary bullying. Whenever he gifts you rubber duckies and carving of ducklings, he makes sure they are painted and decorated to fit in with your room. Because of your aesthetic by the way, you can match for date nights-which he loves very much!

Husk

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Husk wouldn't find you that intriguing either. He's been in hell for a very long time, seen lots of folk looking very different from one another. Nothing new. I think the longer he knows you though, the more he starts to question things. Nothing bad per say. It's more so because he starts to grow a crush on you and just now finds you more interesting. He'd definitely gift you things that match with your whole look. Especially plushies because come on, who doesn't like a good plushie.

Angel Dust

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Loves your look and aesthetic. It's like you're a different version of him-visually at least. You almost go hand in hand together in a sense. I can imagine two different first impressions of you based on appearance and just getting to know your personality on a very base level. One; he thinks you're one of Charlie's goody two shoes who don't know how to have fun but know how to ruin the fun of others. And two; if you're a dude here, someone he can have fun flirting with because don't you look like an inexperienced doll faced angel~

Sir Pentious

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I think your contracting aesthetics is lowkey a recipe for a cute af looking couple not gonna lie. Sir Pentious would probably be very adoring of you. Don't you look so darling! I feel like out of the main cast, he's been in hell the longest and has definitley seen your type of look before-especially when he was alive. You kind of remind him of those porcelain dolls that would be on the front of store windows. It's probably the leading factor as to why he adores you and treats you as if you're made of porcelain. Even if you're a baddie, yoiu're his baddie-who's also his sweetheart darling.

Charlie

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Charlie loves your aesthetic and how you carry yourself. It feels like such a breath of fresh air in this hellscape she calls home. She's definitely the type to ask what your hobbies are and if she can tag along to whatever it is. Now she'd never change herself to please anyone ever but she would likely, just for fun, dress up and match with you sometimes. Oh but please return the favour every once and awhile! It would make her so happy!

Vaggie

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vaggie as we know is from Heaven, so your type of look isn't new to her per say but it in a sense it does surprise her. This is hell, most people are usually clad in reds, pinks, and black. So your more, dare I say angelic, appearance is a mild surprise to her. She quickly gets over it though ass even in heaven the angels all didn't look like angels sometimes. Sure theirs halos and the feathery wings, but some peoples appearance mirrored some of the folk in hell. Vaggies own appearance and aesthetic clashing with heaven back in her angel days too. So she gets over her initial surprise. You're almost...nostalgic to her in a sense. She's definitely soft with you.

Cherri Bomb

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You're both like polar opposites honestly. She at first has her reservations on you. Based on appearance and personality actually. She understands that this is hell and that everyone can look however they want and some just fall looking a certain way. However this hoe likes to fight, thrives in the night life, high party girl energy, and being that bitch. So you'd naturally clash but after some time, especially in a relationship with you, she wouldn't wish for you to change yourself at all. As even Cherri Bomb needs some relaxing down time every now and then. So going to you and your relaxing and romantic sweet nature is almost spa like to her.

Rosie

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Like Alastor, you wouldn't stick out much to her at first glance because she sees people like you in Cannibal Towne at like every turn. She's wise though, she knows theirs a lot more to you and that you even find a way to stick our visually-intentionally or not. Your romantic look is just darling to her! She has to meet you! And once you do, to say this woman is smitten is an understatement. During a gossip session with Alastor, she definitely mentions you. You're the pearl of her eye. Even as your bond deepens, her smitten ways with you don't fade one bit. Probably has a few garments specifically catered to you with her own Rosie taste. She loves to match, so she'll hope you'll agree to meet her in the middle somewhere.

Carmilla

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She likes to think you're a romanticized version of her. You're...not exactly that but it's close enough. You're a breath of fresh air for her honestly. Being an overlord and especially of her status, she tends to get migraines a lot. So seeing you and your more romantic soft look is already easing her a bit. She'd love to dance with you sometimes honestly. A nice slow dance with fun twirls, perhaps a music box or old record player even, as you unwind together sweetly. If it's alright with you, she'd love to fashion you with some angelic ballerina inspired shoes. Matching is cliche to her, but I headcanon she's lowkey a sucker for that stuff. Plus, it would be great for you to protect yourself with if worse comes to worse.

Vox

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You're an interesting one to him-especially since no one looks like you on his side of the Pentagram City. It excites him in a certain way-now get your head out of the gutter. It's a power thing. You look quite easy to manipulate, frail, weak, obedient-you could be a mindless doll. Getting you under contract would be easy, he tells himself. Of course, falling for you is the last thing he thought would come from this. But when that happens, you're no longer some doll he thinks he can control into being another one of his little workers. He can easily find out what type of music you listen to, what you like to do, furniture you may like, little shop items you always keep an eye out for, ect., He loves coming back home to you, or even when you visit him in his office. He's a stressed out guy with a lot on his plate. You're more soothing to him than you think.

Valentino

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Valentino being Valentino thought you were quite the delectable thing. It's as if you're begging to be ruined, honestly. He's of course quick to try to coerce you into at the very least having sex with him. He's charming, he knows how to use that and be sweet into getting people to trust him. Say you guys are in a romantic relationship though. You somehow managed to take this monsters heart, he's surprisingly not as rough with you vs if you were some one and done bitch he had instead. You look like too much of an angel for him to wanna break so soon. He's still rough and loves it when its rough, but I mean, what do you expect? It's Valentino. He definitely gets you lingerie that match your look. Loves either seeing you wringle in it beneath him or degrading him while you're on top. Believe it or not it's not all about sex with this guy though when it comes to you. When he's in one of his tantrum moods, you're like his own personal angel to give him a hug til he calms down enough to go do something else more level headed.

Velvette

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ She admires your dedication to your aesthetic, but I can't say she likes it very much. It's cute and with the correct look it can look quite fashionable, but she of course has her own standards and strong preferences. I can imagine that when you move in together, she has a love hate relationship with your guys shared massive walk in closet. One half screams Velvette, and the other half screams you. It's satisfying to see the difference in aesthetics, but also annoying because of the obvious clash. She puts up with it though. It's not all bad, seeing as sometimes you two trade outfits. Not often cuz again this woman is very of her own preferences and makes the effort to maintain her aesthetic as often as possible. It does happen though, as sometimes something from your closet catches her eye and she'll either borrow it or design something inspired based off it.

Adam

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Adam first saw you when you went to visit Heaven with Charlie and Vaggie. He at first didn't even know you were with them. You looked like you belonged in Heaven, he had thought you were an angel tagging along with their running around with Emily. He didn't immediately catch onto the lack of halo and feathered wings but that's besides the point. He actually probably went to bother you several hours before the trial. He didn't like any of the sinner souls or demons, but damn it-why do hell get a lot of the hot bitches? I mean yeah everyone in heaven is hot, but maybe he just has a thing for demon bitches, he doesn't know. Plus, it would probably be a good time to grill you and maybe tease you. What? Are you a wannabe angel? Is that why you look like that and came to argue for that hotel?

Lute

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lute does not give a fuck because hello~you're a sinner. She first noticed you during an extermination. She had thought you were an angel actually, because of how you looked. She was initially startled and angry because why the hell would of the extermination angels just be out of uniform in a time like this? But she was very quick to catch onto the fact that you are not one of them so she moved to kill you. Ah but little miss angel wannabe, her words, is more vigilant than she thought. You don't get killed this extermination so when the angels are called back to return to Heaven, she glances back at the last place she saw you run into for shelter. She smirks to herself; you got lucky this year, angel wannabe. She almost wishes you see you again next year.

Emily

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Emily would notice you with this Angel Dust character when they viewed Angel's night out during the trial in Heaven. You seemed to be friends with this group. Even though the focus wasn't on you, she found herself hoping to see you appear through the heavenly lens more frequently. You looked so adorable! Internally she nicknamed you Hell's Angel. She must remain professional and focus on the trial at hand though, which she very much does. She still wishes to get one more glimpse of you once the move on from viewing Angel Dust's night out though. Even when the trial ends, after she deals with the harsh reality she didn't now about, she hopes that Charlie's dreams come true for a chance to properly meet you in Heaven.

Saint Peter

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This angel met you when you came up to the gates with Lucifer's daughter and her friend. When he realized who Charlie is and where this trio just came from, a part of himself silently wondered about you. You looked so...heavenly. You're really only visiting from Hell? Ha ha m-maybe theirs been some sort of mistake. You look like you belong up in heaven. Oh well. Eventually he get's to actually talk with you of course. It's not long but it's something. He almost feels foolish for thinking Hell wouldn't have sinners and demons who have certain aesthetics and preferences. Heaven has those things, why wouldn't hell have it? Maybe hell isn't the shitty eternal hellfire he and many other winners believed it out to be. I like to think that Peter when he's not wearing his robes, has a pastel filled wardrobe. Real soft boy energy. So if you ever get redeemed or can somehow be together, bc this man was whipped almost immediately, you'd match pretty well together.

BONUS!!

Striker

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You intrigued Striker a little bit at first glance. With a raised brow he watched as you smiled sweetly at him and waved before continuing on your way. He doesn't like interacting with the sinners much but he knows enough about them that you being you makes you a target for bullying and harassment. He naturally keeps his distance regardless and doesn't think of you again until he actually sees you again. By the time you end up dating, many compromises need to be made. First of all, sinners can't leave the Pride ring so he can't bring you home to the wrath ring. So he often makes trips to the pride ring to visit you, at some point your home becomes his home before either of you realize it. It kinda makes him feel off-he stands out like a sore thumb in your place. But he tries to not get you place dirty and tries to make sure he's not totally bloody when he shows up.

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK OVER A WHOLE MONTH LOVLEY STAR! I had no idea how to write about various characters reacting to a coquette!sinner!Reader without having so much overlap and I just evbsfvhsbk-

Here it is, finally TvT sorry for taking forever. Thank you for your patience!

[eroscomet]

Make it Right

Chapter two- Hauting for Home

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Paring: Astrid Deetz x Fem!Ghost!Reader

Warnings: Mentions death, a bit angsty, bad writing. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word count: 3k+

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm so sorry that this chapter took a while to make. I was busy on the weekend; however, I found time to finally finish the chapter for you all! I really do hope you guys enjoy this one! I will try to get a specific schedule for updates on certain stories. If you guys are wondering about updates for 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours,' I will try to update that as soon as possible. I will also be doing a couple drabbles on different characters and or drabbles of characters I've already written for. I would also like to thank you guys so much for all the support you all have been showing me! I am so thankful and grateful for each and every one of you! Thank you so much for every like, reblog, and comment, it means a lot to me!

Not proof read

╰┈➤Series Masterlist

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"You talked to my dad?!" Astrid had exclaimed with an amused smile on her face. There it was, that twinkle in her eye that you had missed so much. She hadn't been very happy recently, with you not around and everything else in her life that had been happening.

"Yeah, when I had first died. I got sent to the immigration office, and what do you know? There he was behind the glass. He's just as kind as you always told me he'd be. Surprisingly, he immediately recognized me. He told me that he had been watching after you and practically watched our love 'blossom,' as he put it." The two of you continued walking outside.

You couldn't help but think about how people must be seeing this. Astrid looked as if she were talking to herself from an outside perspective. Aware of her past, you knew people had a tendency to bully her, so when nearing Miss Shannon's School for Girls, you tried to get her to talk as much so that others wouldn't look at her funny. So, you took up most of the time on the way there, talking as much as she could so that she didn't have time to talk. Which was odd because she was usually the one who'd talk while you'd listen.

"He said he liked me, which is a relief. Sometimes, I feel like your mom is more confused but is trying to be supportive. I mean, remember when I had first come over, and she started talking about how she too 'experimented' as she said. Anyway, that isn't the point. I met your dad, and we actually frequently visited you together. It's funny, sometimes we'd bond over how much we missed you."

Astrid's eyes had furrowed as she had begun to notice that every time she began or wanted to speak, you only spoke faster, almost sputtering out information. A frown tugged at your lips as she had caught on.

"I just don't want people to look at you even more weirder than they already do. If you're talking to yourself, they'll find that an easy target. Try...putting on some headphones and pretending you're on the phone? Or you can just put your phone up to your ear?"

She smiled as she took her phone out of her pocket and brought it up to her ear.

"Thanks, you're right. So, what else did he say about me? Did you see my grandfather? What's the afterlife like?" Astrid felt like she had a million different questions to ask.

"Your dad says he's proud of you and that he sees himself in you all the time. As for your grandpa, no. I mean, I feel as if it's harder to find him since he did lose his head to a shark. The afterlife is a bit weird. I can't tell you much about it since I haven't exactly crossed over. I basically only know what headquarters and a few shops look like. I mean, there's a 'Soul Train' which essentially takes you to the 'Great Beyond,' but I never went because I don't want to risk not being able to watch over you."

You grabbed Astid's shoulders, moving beside her to walk toward the street end of the sidewalk. Even though you were dead, the sidewalk rule never really left you, even while Astrid couldn't even see you.

"Yeah, I figured. I almost can't believe that a shark bite ended his life, I knew my family wasn't normal, but we can't even have a somewhat normal death? The Great Beyond, huh? Soul Train is a clever name though. Does no one know what's on the side?"

"I mean, I've never seen someone leave then come back from the train in the full year, almost two years that I've been here. I'm not taking the risk and crossing anyway, I can't lose you again after we just got back to each other."

"You're right..." Her eyebrows furrowed, her attention on the sidewalk as they continued to walk. She thought to herself for a moment before speaking again.

"So, you don't have any ghost tricks you learned?"

"Of course, you'd ask that, would you be disappointed in me if I said I didn't?"

"I mean, you've been gone for a year almost two, I'd expect you to know at least something to make me feel better for all the time you've been gone."

"Okay, uhhh... I can walk through walls and, I guess, float a bit."

"That sounds like every other ghost."

"Just because i'm a ghost doesn't mean I have super powers, Astrid."

"Just saying."

"I mean, I do have this nasty scar from the accident." You lowered your shirt neckline, showing the scar on the lower part of your neck. Astrid winced at the scar before looking away.

"Right. Weird how all it took was one neck twist for you to die.

"Well, it's more like my neck twisted as if I was a cartoon character that got punched, and my head began spinning-"

"Ew, shut up. Don't talk about it like it's something light."

"I'm sorry, you're right."

It was silent for a bit as you guys walked into the school, Astrid opened one of the doors while you phased right through the other door. Astird put her phone back into her pocket as she walked upstairs and past the other students. You followed after her, your eyebrows furrowing at the other students nearby her dorm. Some of them whispering to each other while giggling.

That's when Astrid opened her dorm room's door, a bedsheet attached to the ceiling by a rope coming straight towards her. The bedsheet makes out a ghost with a 'Boo' sign in its chest area. Astrid stumbled back before turning around and looking at the other girls, who began to burst out into laughter behind her.

"When you're all driving carpool and banging your pilates instructor to fill the empty voids in your life, we'll see who gets the last laugh."

The girls smiles and laughs quickly died as she finished speaking. Astrid turned around as she went into her room, shutting the door behind her. You smiled proudly, a laugh escaping you as you saw the looks on the girls faces as they disburst from Astrid's door.

"Witty as always." You said as you phased through her dorm room's door. The make-shift ghost on the ceiling startling you a bit as you had almost 'ran' into it. Sometimes you forget you're a ghost even if it's been a year.

"They have not toned down with the comments? You had always been careful about this topic, not wanting to bring it up too much with Astrid.

"No." It was a simple and straightforward answer that made you not want to question further. A part of you felt angry that you were helpless to all of it now that you're dead. You had gotten so used to defending her against everyone but now your words would only fall on deaf ears.

You sighed as you plopped yourself onto her dorm room's bed, thinkiing for a moment on how to steer away the conversation of bullying that she obviously did not want to talk about.

"Did you hear that my sister's pregnant? I know that I shouldn't bother looking over them since they're perfectly fine.."

"I'm not surprised."

"She's naming the baby after me."

"God, that's ridiculous! Naming their kid after a relative who isn't even dead yet-" Astrid's voice faltered for a moment. The fact that you were dead and have been for almost two years was still a punch in the gut after all this time.

"That's what I said, baby." You offered her a small smile as you played into the bit that you were still alive for Astrid. She still wanted to make her at least feel a bit better.

'Baby.'

Your words - and your smile, even if it was for her benefit - just made Astrid's heart twist further in her chest.

"You're killing me here."

"Why?" Your head tilted to the side as you looked at her.

"Because you're supposed to be dead." Her voice came out in a strangled whisper as she looked down at the papers scattered on her desk.

You bit your lip, you didn't want to show that what Astrid had said hurt you. Even if you were dead, you still had emotions and feelings. You paused for a moment before deciding to drop the topic.

"So, they're having a baby shower. You should go."

"Oh god, a baby shower? Is it too late to make you disappear again?" Her face had immediately scrunched up with distaste at the idea of being forced to go to a baby shower - especially your self-centered sister's baby shower where she'd name her child after you for her own gain.

"Come on, you couldn't see me for a whole year, and now that you're finally able to, you already want to get rid of me? That's cold, babe, even for you. Even for me who's dead cold. Get it? Huh? Dead cold. Because i'm dead? And i'm cold now because I have no blood. No? Okay."

"Oof, that was horrible." She said as she shook her head and grumbled in response.

"Come on, admit you missed me. I heard all your late-night talks that you thought weren't reaching my ears."

"I did miss you - I've missed you for a whole year." She confessed, sounding a bit surprised by her own confession. The room fell silent, the weight of everything that had happened falling onto the both of them. Neither of them wanted to address it, though, they didn't want to have to deal with it now.

"Did you ever-" She paused for a moment as she thought of the right words to say, "When I'd lay in your bed and mope, were you just...watching me?"

"No, I hated that. I'd still do what I would've done if I were alive. I tried holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear that never got to you."

"Sweet nothings, huh?" She teased, which earned an eye roll from you. Again, the room had fell silent as the two were lost in thought before Astrid spoke again, breaking the silence.

"How bad did it hurt?"

"Uh.. Well... I just remember being on the ground one second, then in the air the next. I landed, and well- You know what. It had hurt for that second that I was alive, but it had been an instant death if anything."

Having to talk about your death wasn't an easy topic. It was a reminder of how quick you had lost it all. The blood in your system, the beat of your heart, Astrid. The sight of you nervously fidgeting with your own fingers made Astrid's heart ache.

"I hate that." She muttered, her voice coming in strained, almost as if she was forcing herself to get the words out.

"I'm sorry." Your words were mumbled as she continued to fidget with your fingers, now more anxiously than before. The apology caused Astrid to shut her eyes, trying to hold herself together. She felt that now was not the time to start breaking down.

"Don't. Don't apologize." She had almost snapped at you as she opened her eyes to shoot a glare at you.

"Okay." You were never one to go against her word, you didn't want to start a fight. Especially not now. All you could do was bring up one of your hands, beginning to gently pull on the hairs on the back of your neck as you avoided Astrid's eyes.

"Is that a nervous habit of yours now? Pulling your hair." She asked as she reached her hand out idly to brush your hair out of your eyes.

"I had gotten it when I first reached the afterlife. When you watch the people you love hurting, and all you can do is ghost around them..." Your voice had faltered, forcing yourself to clear your throat and then begin to speak again.

"You feel so helpless. Watching everyone who used to be around you and love you so miserable about your death. It makes you feel guilty but, most of all, useless. There's no way to hold, touch, talk to, comfort them... It's hard."

The room had fallen silent after your words. Astrid's fingertips gently brushed along the back of your head - tracing the place that you usually pulled at. She let her hand rest there, trying to keep you from pulling at your hair again.

"How cold am I?"

Your words made Astrid pause for a moment. Leaning closer to you as she wrapped an arm around her now ghost girlfriend. The chill of your skin made her shiver involuntarily - but Astrid tried not to show the way her body automatically wanted to shy away from the cold.

"Really damn cold. It's like you're an ice cube almost." Her words a mumble as she got closer to you, laying next to you as she rested her head on top of yours.

"I'm sorry that I'm not warm anymore." Your own words come out as a mumble as well, instinctively, your head rests on her shoulder.

"I know you don't much like when it's really cold. I thought I was keeping myself with this sweater but now that someone's actually able to touch me, I realize it's doing nothing for me."

"Gosh, you don't have to apologize for that. At least you're here." She pulled you closer against her, her arms wrapping around your waist - burtying her face into your shoulder, even if your skin was freezing and caused a slight burn against her own warm skin. She ignored the way that her body had involutarily shivered at the contact - focusing instead on the fact that her girlfriend was here.

"Barely." You mumbled quietly as you gently pulled away from your girlfriend, knowing that you were probably burning Astrid's skin with your own cold, dead skin that was now a pale blue hue.

"Don't be like that. You're talking as if you have no more hope."

"Death has a way of doing that."

Astrid let out a quiet huff at your words. Her eyes flickered back and forth from you and her own hands that were now gripped tightly on her bedding - but in the next moment, she let go. Almost as if with a full burst of speed, she darted to you. Her arms wrapping around your body, hauling you into her bed in a tight, crushing embrace.

"Astrid-" You had said in surprise and protest. You knew that you were cold. Dead. The cold would burn Astrid at one point, and you didn't want that. Not when you used to be alive and warm for her. You used to keep her warm and now you can only burn her with your icy dead skin.

"Don't even think about complaining. I don't care if you're cold." Astrid snapped as she held you impossibly close against her. Her body shivered once again as your cold skin was like a bucket of cold water dumped over her body - but she ignored the cold, focusing on the sensation of her girlfriend in her arms.

A frown had tugged at your lips, knowing that eventually, Astrid would get too cold, but after a year of being a lone ghost who watched your loved ones move on or suffer because of you, you couldn't help but be a little selfish. Your arms wrapped around her as tightly as you could.

You missed your girlfriend so much. Watching over her for a year, her suffering for a full year over your death, had done a number on you. You'd cry if you could, but all you felt was this deep internal sadness. You had no heartbeat, you had no blood to warm your body, you had no tears to shed from your dry eyes. Your chest was the most still it had ever been, you had no air to breathe anymore.

It had begun to feel like too much for the both of them. Being this close to each other after a year of thinking they'd never be able to have contact again, feeling each other's skin despite the feeling of a small burning on her own skin from your own. It was almost enough to make Astrid cry.

The cold was beginning to seep into her skin - making her shiver and leaving her skin prickled. But Astrid wouldn't - couldn't - let go of you. Not when it had been a year since she was able to hold you. You had only frowned as you held her tighter. A small hiss escaped Astrid from the cold contact as she tried to get herself impossibly closer to you.

"Damn it, it's getting too cold." She hissed, speaking between clenched teeth as she tried to bury her face into your shoulder further.

"Warm up with the blankets, I'll just lay beside you. I promise I won't disappear." You pulled away, gently moving Astrid off of yourself as you carefully pulled her bedsheets over her body. When you finished tucking her in, you lay beside her, admiring every detail you could land your eyes on.

She only huffed a bit, feeling oddly petulant about the fact that she had to let go of you However, she did as she was told. A small shiver rattled her body as her eyes locked onto yours. She managed to mumble something incohereently as she reached for you, trying to tug you close again.

"Too cold, baby. Just give it a moment. I'm here, you see me." You tried to reassure her as you gently tugged a strand of hair behind her ear.

'Baby.' The soft nickname only made her want to pull you close again, but she knew that you were right. Her body was cold - skin still pricked and burned from being in contact with her girlfriend. She snuggled further into the bedding, her hand gently reaching out to yours. Linking her own pinky with yours, causing you to smile. Her eyes looked into yours as if asking if it was okay to which you had nodded.

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A/N: I don't know why this felt like such a short chapter to me despite it being the most words I've written so far?? I might have some filler chapters for this and 'Picking Up Pieces That Aren't Yours' sometimes. Then again, there is still a lot to write for the storyline themselves. Thank you, lovelies, for all the support on my posts! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I'm so sorry if some days I do not have time to update. Also, if there's anyone that wants to be tagged for updates on this story, leave a comment saying so! Bye, loves!

[aleskyyy]

Annoyingly Yours V — Yeon Sieun x Fem!Reader

You is a bright, carefree high school girl who always smiles, makes friends easily, and sees the good in everyone—except not everyone sees the good in you. When your cheerful nature makes you the target of bullies, no one expects Sieun, the cold and grumpy boy who never talks to anyone, to step in. But he does—with sharp words and quiet strength that send the bullies running.

Warnings— fluff.

Main Masterlist WHC Masterlist

Chapter Four Chapter Finale

Being with you was like learning to live with a permanent sunbeam. That's what Sieun thought.

You texted him good morning with a thousand emojis. You made him a bracelet out of yarn ("It’s crooked," he said. "It’s handmade," you replied proudly). You dragged him into photo booths and stuck the results on his notebook with heart stickers.

And somehow, he let you do it.

Because even though he complained...

Even though he sighed and said, “You’re embarrassing,” or “You’re too loud,” or “Please stop humming in class”—

He never pushed you away. In fact, sometimes, when no one was looking, he reached for your hand first.

You and Sieun didn’t make a big announcement or tell the whole school you were together.

But people noticed.

How Sieun’s glare softened when you skipped into the room. How you always saved him your last strawberry Pocky. How he sat a little closer. Smiled a little more. Watched you like you was something he’d been scared to hope for. And how you always, always looked at him like he hung the stars.

One sunny afternoon, you sat together on a bench just outside the school courtyard, your head resting on his shoulder.

You let out a dreamy sigh. “You know what I like best about you?”

“Nothing?”

You giggled. “Nope. I like how you always act like you hate everyone but secretly care too much.”

“I don’t care.”

“You glared at that senior who bumped into me.”

“They were rude.”

“You held my umbrella and made me walk on the inside of the road.”

“It was raining.”

“You fixed my pen grip because I was holding it weird.”

“That’s just basic survival.”

You grinned. “You love me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re mine.”

He looked away, ears red. But then he mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear:

“Yeah. I am.”

That was how it was with you and Sieun.

Grumpy and sunshine.

Quiet and chaos.

The storm cloud and the girl who refused to stop dancing in the rain.

And somehow—against all odds—they fit.

Perfectly.

© 2025 aleskyyy

[maxdibert]

Pretty messed up how some people are fans of a creepy and obsessive guy who didn’t care if a man and a child died just so he could get the girl.

Alright, let's break this down, anon, because there's a lot to unpack here.

I think I've mentioned this in several posts already, but I'll repeat it: Severus owed James Potter NOTHING—no compassion, no empathy, no mercy. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. James Potter was a rich, popular brat who abused his social and economic capital to torment a poor, unsupported boy for seven years just because he didn't like him from the moment they met on the train to Hogwarts, and from that moment on, he had it in for him. He was a terrible bully who used his friends to join in on that nasty bullying. So if Snape didn’t care that he died, well, Snape had every right to feel that way. Do you go to victims of domestic violence and tell them they should feel sorry for their abusers? No, right? Well, this is the same thing. James was an abuser, Severus was his victim. Severus did more than enough by not telling Voldemort to torture him to death with Cruciatus, because I would have. Honestly, I don't understand why Snaters always bring up the whole "James was dead and Snape walked over his body" as if it were some horrible thing when, hello! You're talking about an ABUSER being dead, mate. Of course, he walked right over his body—what surprises me is that he didn’t throw a party.

Harry had to die. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s basically what the prophecy indicated. He was a target that Voldemort wasn’t going to let slip away, his fate was sealed. And yes, it’s unethical. And yes, it’s immoral. But the truth is that wars are unethical and highly immoral, and horrible, monstrous decisions are often made. Harry was not an option—asking for mercy for him was pointless because there wasn’t going to be any.

I don’t think Severus ever believed that if James was out of the picture, Lily would go to him or anything like that. I mean, they hadn’t spoken for five years—about six by that time. Severus NEVER harassed or stalked Lily. The only time he went after her was when the whole SWM incident happened, and he tried to apologise. Once she made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, Severus respected her decision, and as far as we know from canon, they never interacted again. So, I don’t think, after six years of not talking, with his supposed former best friend having married and had a child with his personal bully, Severus had many expectations of them ending up in any sort of romantic relationship. I think, quite simply, that Lily always represented the only good part of his childhood—the only happy memories, the only moments of peace amidst the hellish violence he endured at home. I believe this was crucial for someone like him, whose childhood and teenage years were marked by violence, and he wasn’t willing to let the one good thing in his life end up murdered.

I agree that Severus is highly obsessive, but haters tend to frame this in a derogatory way, referring to his "obsession" with Lily, and I think it needs some clarification. Yes, Severus is obsessive, and he’s terribly immature at times, and he overreacts enormously when confronted with something that really triggers him (just look at how quickly he loses his temper with Sirius, for instance). This is obviously because he’s someone who never had the opportunity to grow up normally or develop cognitively as he should have, because his whole life was marked by violence. His home life was violent, and at school, he endured violence, and then at 20 years old, he handed his soul over to Dumbledore’s cause and had to work for nearly two decades at a school that was the epicentre of many of his traumas. He literally had neither the spaces nor the environments needed to heal and grow into a functional adult, and you can clearly see this in his behaviour. I’ve always said Severus is more of a diva than the cold, mysterious character people often make him out to be in fanon. To me, he’s someone who, on a personal level, hasn’t been able to grow emotionally in a healthy way and doesn’t know how to manage certain situations, especially those tied to his emotional issues. That said, I also don’t think he was romantically and/or sexually obsessed with Lily. I do think he loved her or was infatuated with her in his youth—first love, crush, whatever. But I don’t believe his need to avenge her death was due to romantic or obsessive love. I think it’s more about his obsession with repaying his debt to her. Severus always felt partially responsible for Lily’s death, and that’s where his obsession lies: it’s not that he’s obsessed with her, per se, but with the fact that he feels guilty for what happened. He feels, in some way, responsible for the death of the one person who showed him kindness, affection, and care during his childhood, which made her the most important person in his life at one point. And guilt often leads to obsession, much like grief that is not properly processed, and I don’t think that kind of obsession is creepy. I think it’s a very human kind of obsession.

Lastly, I don’t find Severus creepy at all. Why is he creepy? I mean, Harry was running around with his invisibility cloak, spying on everyone. The Marauders had A BLOODY MAP that allowed them to track everyone at Hogwarts 24/7 like some kind of magical GPS. Is Severus really the creepy one here? There are literally Animagi who turn into animals to spy on people—I have to laugh at the whole creepy argument.

That being said, if you’re going to come into my DMs to complain about Severus, at least bring some convincing arguments because it’s a bit tiresome hearing the same nonsense over and over again.

[darkbunnylove]

Poly!141 at the gym

Soap is that one GymBro™ that is respected by all because he outlifts nearly everyone at everything, but somehow also stays incredibly humble about it. “Oh that? Nah, you could totally do that too,” he says to a guy half his size, holding a 2kg dumbbell and vibrating with fear.

Basically lives in the gym. Goes whenever there’s a gap in his schedule. Runs a surprisingly balanced split (he took gym advice from a Reddit thread in 2014 and now quotes it like it’s the Bible). Cardio? Handled during drills and chasing down targets. The walk from the locker room to the squat rack is plenty.

Everyone likes him because he talks to everyone. Literally. You. The guy hogging the bench. The janitor. The vending machine. Every gym session starts with a cheerful, “Hey, mate, how many sets you got left?” and ends with a full-blown conversation about the newest pre-workout trends or the crushing weight of modern masculinity.

Gaz is the other GymBro™ and also hits the gym whenever there’s a spare moment, but unlike Soap, he’s usually there in the early morning because it helps him clear his head and start the day right. Probably did track or cross-country as a kid, so he actually likes cardio. Takes it very seriously, too. “You do realize your heart’s a muscle too, yeah? Gotta train it like the rest,” he says, likely even mid-sprint.

Also probably the only one out of the four who goes to the gym because his body is a temple, not because he’s battling a whole army of inner demons.

Friendly, but keeps to himself at the gym. Headphones in, locked in, not trying to bother anyone. But if your form is truly a disaster, he’ll absolutely say something.

Once accidentally signed up for a spin class. Secretly loved it. Now he goes twice a week for the white-girl music. Not like he would tell anyone, though.

Ghost definitely does some sort of hybrid training. Probably boxing, or Muay Thai. Scarily good at it. Like used to compete in high school good. These days, he just keeps it up to stay in shape. Only ever shows up late at night, when the gym is half-empty and dimly lit. Price jokingly calls it his natural habitat.

Definitely fighting some inner demons. Also the only person who can outlift Soap. Occasionally brags.

Not a big coffee lover, but absolutely has a caffeine addiction. Mainlines Monster White like it’s a medical requirement. Gaz is lowkey concerned but stays quiet.

Wears a black hoodie and joggers every single time with the hood up, of course. Never chats. Never smiles. People are lowkey terrified of him on sight, but mostly because between sets, he zones out so hard he ends up staring into the void.

Probably a phonk-enjoyer. Or Britney Spears.

Price either hits the gym at the crack of dawn or well into the late evening, thanks to his nightmare of a schedule. Usually catches Gaz on his way out or Ghost mid-brood. If he shows up at night, he’ll stay even longer than Ghost. 

Very solid split. Great all-rounder. Can crank out weighted pull-ups like it’s nothing and is the only one who actually takes stretching seriously. Does a lot of functional training too, like sled pushes and weighted carries.

Would actually be a phenomenal spotter… if he didn’t only show up when the gym is basically empty.

Does not listen to music. The haunting loop of “you should be doing more” on repeat is enough for him. Probably knocks out an entire set in silence, then just stares at the floor like it said something offensive.

Apart from trying to hit his protein goals the “natural” way, he owns exactly one shaker bottle. It’s survived three deployments and a house fire.

Can casually do pistol squats, but will only do it if practically bullied into it by the others.

Oh, and he's definitely the only one who actually wipes the bench after using it.

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Prologue

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Contents: mentions of violence

Note: This fic has been sitting in my drafts since like the end of February and it’s undergone several changes since then and I’ve got several ideas for this fic. This is just an intro chapter so it’s pretty light right now but please keep an eye on the contents because there are plans for this story to include potentially triggering topics as we go on.

Chapter One

— — — —

A reputation is the beliefs that are generally held about a person.

In high school, reputations are the most important thing about a person. The better your reputation, the better your high school years will be; the better your reputation, the more popularity you’ll have.

The best reputations means the most popularity, and the most popularity means the best reputations.

The best reputations, however, do not always belong to the best people.

Take Regina George, for example.

She’s the Queen of North Shore High — everyone knows who she is, everyone loves her, everyone wants to be associated with her in some way, everyone wants her to like them — but she is far from a good person.

She’s a mean girl, and she’s proud of it too.

She’s at the very top of the social food chain. She’s the peak of the social hierarchy and everyone else, even her fellow Plastics, fall below her lest they want their secrets revealed and their social life ruined.

It’s about power for her and there’s nothing Regina likes more than having power over people.

Unfortunately for Regina, you exist.

The girl with no secrets.

You don’t hide anything about yourself. You’re loud and proud about who you are and it pisses Regina off because that means she has no power over you; nothing to hold over your head and make you bow to her with. Sure she could make something up about you, but she prefers there to be a hint of truth in the rumors she spreads to ensure her dominance, and she can’t do that with you if you’re an open book.

But what pisses Regina off most is that you have no friends, no acquaintances, you don’t talk to anyone unless you have to; you’re basically a loner and yet, despite Regina not wanting to acknowledge it, you’re at the top of the food chain with her.

And she hates it.

You should be at the bottom, you should be below the art freaks, you should be an easy target of bullying by the jocks or her or anyone really, because that’s just how high school works - the lesser get bullied by the higher, but you don’t take shit from anybody; not from the jocks, evident by the way you leave several star players battered and bruised after they put their hands on you, and definitely not from her — evident by the way she insults you one day ( the same day you beat up the jocks ) and you insult her right back without looking at her, without any hesitation, and all while still walking to your class which leaves the whole school stunned.

Regina is pissed about it and lashes out at people for the rest of the day, but there’s also a piece of her that’s intrigued by you which pisses her off even more, and when Regina is pissed it becomes everyone else’s problem.

Except yours because you don’t care and anyone who tries to make it your problem, anyone who tries to make you apologize and “fall in line”, ends up like the jocks.

This is what cements everything in place.

This is the day The North Shore Menace is born.

[juicyvrse]

untamed desolation!

PAIRING ・❥・ lee suhyeok x quiet male!reader

GENRE ・❥・ strangers to lovers au, a little fluffy and angsty sometimes.

SUMMARY ・❥・ being a foreign exchange student at hyosan high made M/N’s life hell. he was a main target for bullies, and barely had any friends to lean on. having to already struggle to get through school, would the outbreak make it worse for him?

words : 1118

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Another day in hell.. or Hyosan High as everyone else liked to call it. M/n took a deep breath as he stepped through the school gates, what would he go through today? Being a new student was one thing but add being from a whole other country? There was a huge target on his back. It got even worse when his friend Jin-Su suddenly went missing. They were both outcasts and had developed a bond because of it, if one got bullied then they both did. He finally had a friend, but just like everything at this damned school Jin-Su slipped through M'n's fingers and he was once again alone.

Like always, Myeong-Hwan and his group of little bullies were anticipating his arrival and he scoffed once he made eye contact. "Hmmm.. It's only one today? Where has your little friend gone?" Myeong-Hwan teased as his little gang laughed along with him. M/n didn't even pay them any mind, he had been down this road several times and was basically numb to it. "Hey fucker I'm talking to you!" Myeong-Hwan raised his voice but M/n continued walking. Gwi-nam stepped up and grabbed the boy by his collar, forcing him to turn around. "Who are you to ignore us? Did you grow some balls all of a sudden?" M/n said nothing, just stared into the boy's eyes with no emotion. "Oh right, remember your place." He dropped his collar and M/n quickly scurried towards the school.

~~~

M/n took a few deep breaths as he stood over the bathroom sink, staring at himself in the mirror. "It's just one day. You can make it through." He sighed and slowly but surely made his way towards his class.

His first class was english which was a bit ironic.. seeing that it was his native language but he didn't mind and the program he was in wasn't against it. Answering the many questions his teacher had somehow kept him sane in this awful place. M/n turned his phone in before settling down in his seat at the back. As class went on, M/n found himself elsewhere, his head in the clouds as he daydreamed and reminisced about Jin-Su. He hoped that wherever he disappeared to, he was atleast happy. He smiled to himself before he was suddenly interrupted.

"Ah, M/n! Since Bare-Su couldn't tell me, can you repeat what the class president just answered?" M/n stood up and slowly looked to the side, scratching his head as he tried to come up with an answer. "Ah.." The class mocked him and repeated the soft interjection. "He sounds just like Bare-Su." One of his classmates said as they snickered. M/n looked over towards Suhyeok, making eye contact with him for a few seconds before turning back towards the teaceher. "I didn't catch it.. Uh sorry." he rubbed the back of his neck before sitting back down.

"Well at least he was honest about it, take note Bare-Su!" Sun-hwa exclaimed while the class laughed again. M/n's attention was now driven over to Suhyeok who looked a bit flustered even though he laughed along with everyone. He hadn't really payed any attention to him, well he didn't pay attention to no one really but Suhyeok was.. interesting. He used to hangout with the bully crew but had a change of heart somewhere down the line, it wasn't anything really anything other than the bare minimum but Y/n still felt a small ounce of appreciation for him. He snapped out of his trance once he realized the boy was looking back at him and maybe he had been staring for too long.

Just as the class settled, the door suddenly slid open and in walked a bloodied Hyeon-Ju. Everyone was immediately startled, She had been missing for a day and now she turned up looking a mess! M/n was definitely thrown off even though he didn't like her, things were getting a bit weird. The teacher and a few students rushed her out towards the infirmary while M/n just went back to his desk to study.

~~

During lunch M/n usually just sat to himself on one of the many benches that laid across the school grounds, there were way too many people inside of the cafeteria and his social battery already wasn't too high to begin with. He had his own lunch anyway, his host family never let him leave without something to eat. Today felt peaceful, the sun was shining and there was a soft breeze in the air. A bright smile made it's way onto M/n's face as he closed his eyes as he let the fresh air enter his lungs.

"Nice smile."

'Who the hell..' M/n thought to himself as his eyes quickly shot open, just for him to find Suhyeok staring right back at him. "Oh.. Hi." He said before softly setting his book aside. "M/n right? why don't you eat in the cafeteria with everyone else?" He inquired as he looked down at the boy. "Why should I? There's way too many people in there and I'd rather be out here anyways." M/n raised his eyebrow as he responded because it was definitely a bit peculiar for Suhyeok to question him like that on a whim. "Ah I see, I'll leave you alone now." Suhyeok put on a smile and saluted towards M/n before walking off.

"He's a weirdo isn't he." Someone else to disturb his peace, great. To his left was Choi Nam-ra, the infamous class president that sat right in front of him. "Yea that was kinda confusing.. at least he didn't hurt me or anything!" M/n said as a low chuckle left his lips. "Actually, this is kinda weird too.. You've never spoken to me before, what's up?" He said with a tilt of his head. 2 people from his class actually talking to him? Oh he was on a roll today. "Hmm, I'd say we're kinda similar. And why not?" She said as she took a seat next to him with a book her hand. "Can't argue with that." He said as he too began to read again.

They sat in comfortable silence doing nothing but reading, even though he had company, M/n still found it serene... he could sit here for hours. Until, he heard screams. He thought he was tripping, even laughing to himself because it was so absurd but.. it didn't stop, it got louder in fact. "M/n! Nam-ra! Run!" Suhyeok came running at them full speed. M/n was startled, immediately shaking Nam-ra's arm and pointing in Suhyeok's direction. That's when he saw them.. or it.. something was chasing the boy and it was coming quick.

Today was a weird day indeed.

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It's been so long since i was supposed to write this.. I was a junior in high school and now i'm a freshman in college.

ANYWAYSSS, hope y'all enjoyeddd

next chapter coming soon!