#I just have to keep them all now and managed who I have and who's practically been re-purposed. Re-designed and everything.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keii-8 · 3 days ago

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the winner takes it all... | date everything x gn!reader

pairing: various x gn!reader

summary: the house became quieter, and the little life you held within you dulled as they moved on with their lives. leaving you to tend your own feelings.

warnings: realized!characters, game ending spoilers, semi-angst, brief mention of abandonment and attachment issues, suggestive comments, friends/lovers not specified, house-poly. grammatical errors, english is not my first language.

a/n: i've read a lot of misunderstandings regarding the game's ending. saying how all of the characters used and left us in the end. i intend to clear that misunderstanding. enjoy!

“Are you sure you'll be okay?”

Spring.

Skylar questions, but in truth, she was uncertain in her Realized form. You have done your job realizing all of your household objects, your bulletin board was filled with their pictures, leaving hers as the last piece of your collage of love.

They have already gone their ways and parted, leaving the house to inspire others in the way you've inspired them in more ways than one. Now, it was her turn to do the same.

“Of course. The house might be less lively but I'll manage.”

The woman who was once your spectacles gazes her eyes to your own, the very part she was allured by you. Your eyes. The very same ones that look at the deepest part of them that were nothing but kind, friendly, and loving.

It was you who gave them purpose, gave them hope and you were also the one who listened, trusted and felt them the most. Your eyes were the ones that made everything for them possible.

“I'm sure you'll make the world a better place, Skylar.”

The world is already a better place because of you.

And to her, your eyes weren't easy to forget.

Parting with Skylar left a sinking feeling within your chest, and you almost felt lost. But the thought of your once household objects became someone they wanted to be left an even deeper feeling, warmth and adoration. You couldn’t thank them enough for keeping up with you all these years.

They were your family, some friends, some lovers, yet you love them all the same. You watched them strive in their own ways and you would always be the first person to know about it. Even if it's through calls, letters, messages or whatnot.

Summer.

Nevertheless, the house feels undeniably empty. There's no one to greet you with their silly yet wholesome antics to catch your attention or come to spend time with you now. Even during the midst of summer. Every corner felt wider, and every object was surprisingly quiet that you can hear a pin drop.

You miss them.

You were uncertain if it's from the feeling that you needed to feel wanted by others in order to function properly, or you just discovered you have the underlying fear of abandonment. Attachment issues could possibly be one of the cards on the table.

You just missed the house being lively. Just like the old days.

However, just as those days passed by in the blink of an eye, your thoughts couldn't help but wander. Wondering what would happen if you decided to keep them as your objects and unintentionally caging them in this birdcage.

Would they still feel content to live with you? Or would they feel entrapped to spend every waking breath with you? Would they deem you as a selfish person if you did? Would they hate you…?

You suddenly felt guilty for thinking that way and shame flooded the pits of your stomach. It was such a selfish thought to think of. It was obvious that they would hate you.

But you loved them too much to keep them. You just couldn't be selfish, not when they have their own dreams to achieve and more emotions to feel on their own accord. You were aware that their emotions and knowledge have its limits, you knew because they served most of their lives as your objects and they were unable to experience the world outside.

You wanted them to experience the real thing. The one thing you couldn't take them away from. Even if it meant you couldn't go out on your own.

In the end, you kept those feelings to yourself.

You got your job back from its limbo state and became the vice president of the human experience in Valdivian. The degree of customer service that you fought and studied so hard for, served its purpose. After a couple of months in the company, you started to advocate for human employment against the technology after almost being replaced by one. AI.

You strived on your own with the passion of your found-family fueling your veins with the world continuing on alongside you.

Leaving your house wasn't easy, but you did it anyway. You've gone to work and spent some of your time in meetings, or at your cubicle. Maybe you can send a request to work from home, that would be a good idea. Just because you have tasted what it's like to meet a lot of people outside the comforts of your home, doesn't mean your social anxiety dissipates that easily.

It became a little cycle of work, especially Tom, your recent manager, would come by your office. Grabbing some coffee, or handing you papers, he even has the confidence to flirt with you during work hours. Although, you brush it off and be professional about his advances. You became on friendly terms with the muscular hunk despite his flirting.

You pressed on with this new aspect of your life, challenging yourself and seeing how far you've reached.

Autumn.

Despite acknowledging the changes for the better, your work and your role in Valdivian has never been an easier job. Similar to the season that brings the coldness to light. Every time you thought that your work would become so easy, it didn't. At least not yet. It was only a hurdle after another.

Finishing documents kept you awake, important calls left you on the brink of starvation, and meetings exhausted you to no end. You were efficient in your work since you love helping others but it seems to drain you mentally for the past few weeks. It won't stop that easily, nor stop any time soon.

And one individual noticed. Mac.

They applied for a job that matched their technological skills for income to support both of you, even though you’ve made it clear that you don't need the money. The company accepted their application and both you and Mac were ecstatic to hear the news when they hired them as an analyst in the crypto-currency industry.

It was all because of your support. They even gawked at your efforts when you decided to expand the office closet for Mac to work in. It was a perfect working space for their wheelchair and the privacy they need, the shadows and the darkness altogether. You just moved the remnants from that lonely place to other available closets. You knew Dorian would be proud.

All was well, Mac thought. You even installed a stair lift for them and they have never felt more seen. Both of you enjoyed your meals together while you both took turns, though it was you who cooked often. Sleeping in the same bed and waking up in each other’s arms. And even taking a bath or a shower together.

However, despite your efforts, Mac noticed that you were being swept by work everyday. They admit their work can be time-consuming and busy as they type in codes or whatnot. But you were even busier than them. To the point you skipped your meals.

“Oh, I'll have to take this call real quick. It might be about the presentation tomorrow. Be right back.”

“Sorry, Mac. I have to run. There's another deadline that came up. Do you want anything that I could get you from the store?”

And then another, then another. Repeat.

You've been burying yourself with work in the past few weeks, deadlines, meetings, emergency calls and whatsoever. It was like a rabbit hole for you to sink through. You go to work every morning with your eyes hollow from the lack of sleep and come back home even more exhausted.

You already missed a reasonable amount of calls from the others who were still updating you even in the tiniest bit. Unread letters, packages that were left unopened, both filling your mailbox entirely. And someone could swim in them any time.

All of them, including Mac, knew that you love helping others until it would reach to a point that you become someone to please others. And also deep down, they knew you missed being wanted, being with all of them. Now, it explains why you were so engrossed at your work.

That's also why Mac immediately contacted their office buddies.

It was another one of those evenings where you got off from work. But this specific night was different and Mac made sure for it to be. They contacted the others, mainly the office residents, to have a fun game night. Of course, Chance and Parker were the experts so they were willing to come.

Jerry and Penelope also came. As for Dasha, they weren't entirely sure due to her busy schedule but she says she'll come straight away after work. All of the food preparations are done, pre-ordered obviously but what can they say? All of them probably can't cook.

“Are the games ready? We have to make this as efficient as possible.” The curly-haired female demanded in a frantic voice. She clearly wants this to be a success. Just for you.

Jerry sweat-dropped. “You've already asked us that a couple of times now.” He couldn't always keep up with Penelope's intensity as she eyed the office desk filled with items of what could be G&G instead of your computer.

Meanwhile, on the other side of your office were Chance and Parker, both in their usual banter. Parker kept being persistent in what games to play, and Chance almost had enough of it.

“We should play… this! Or this? They sure would like… this!”

“Dude. We already agreed on what to play.” Chance sighs. “We’ll resort to your games after we're done with the oneshot.”

“Alright, fine!” The latter groans.

“Hey, I think they're here!” Mac chimed in when all of them fell silent when they heard the front door open. Parker, as enthusiastic as he is, immediately rushed out of the office followed by everyone.

But what they didn't expect was a loud gasp from the game-board addict as they were greeted by a shocking sight. You came home dishevelled and were barely unconscious in the arms of a muscular and dark-skinned hunk, wearing what could be a Valdivian I.D.

The unknown individual was rather surprised to see them, yet unfazed by their shocked expressions.

“Hey, there! I didn't expect anyone in their house at this hour!”

“Who are you, himbo?!” Parker was quick to exclaim.

Penelope wasn't having it either. “A better question… What are you doing with them, huh?”

“I'm Tom! [name]’s recent manager! Nice to meetcha’!” The recent manager seems clueless at the protective gaze being sent his way. He doesn't seem bothered by it. “I take it you guys are…?”

“We're their family.” Mac slightly narrowed their eyes at the man. Guarded by any means necessary while your coworker was still holding you.

When they were objects, they wouldn't be as jealous easily whenever you interact with the other objects around the house. Some already have flings with each other and some treat you as their third or whatever.

But it truly bothered them to see you with another, especially outside the house, to be intimate with. Even though it wasn't your intention to be. Tom looked like he was, though, his hand gripping your waist to steady you with your arm around his neck.

“What happened to them exactly?” Jerry timidly asks.

“Oh, this little champ right here? They took the whole team out for drinks since their first proposal was a success.” Tom shrugged and they were a bit surprised at how far you've already come with your efforts. Despite losing a small bit of yourself.

“I've come to take them home because they're wasted. Should I bring them upstairs or…?”

Chance shook his head. “That's alright. I'll take them.”

Tom handed you in Chance's arms with no question. A few gibberish noise left you when Chance lifted you by the back of your knees and back. You're exhausted and slurred. Your coworker eventually left with the reassurance that you can come to work late for 15 minutes tomorrow.

Chance carried you to bed with the help of others. Cue, Parker's distraught mumbling of you being a ‘cheater’ while poor Jerry was trying to ease both Parker and Penelope's paranoia. This was supposed to be a fun night to let some exhaustion off, but it seems Mac miscalculated.

They played a few board games when Dasha arrived and parted again for the night for work tomorrow.

But it was evident that one certain thing was bothering you.

Winter.

It's been months since autumn, and that particular day. Waking up by Mac's side in the bed and hungover to the bone. They really helped you from your internal loneliness or selfishness and motivated you to enjoy the things you love.

Whether it would be during your hardships or not, they really helped you a lot. You seem quite content with yourself now. Even work felt lighter during these past few months despite constantly following your routine.

As if the storm passed, a storm one of many.

Work hours already ended, and you were amongst the people who walked along the sidewalk to home. Snow piled against every crevice in the city as cars carefully drove by you to seek warmth of their homes.

Evenings were always cold whenever you walked home, hugging your coat and suitcase close to you. Yearning for warmth to cover your shivering neck.

You couldn't help but wonder. You always feel uncannily safe during winter while walking. It didn't just happen once. There’s always someone walking along with you, an unnoticed presence trailing your every move.

That's when you halted your feet midway and pondered for a bit.

“Jon?” You didn't move nor turn around as you heard footsteps of a stealthy individual right behind you. As if they stepped from the shadows.

“I'm not surprised when you know it's me.”

You softly snickered. “You're once my candelabra and it takes a dedicated homeowner to know the objects around the house.”

His voice paused for a moment. “Good point.”

You shook your head with a light atmosphere between you and continued your walk home. But this time, you were accompanied by the mysterious man behind you. Following you in the shadows and you don't dare to look behind you. The tension is both unwavering.

“So you've been following me around, huh?” You stared ahead, hearing the soles of your feet crunch the snow below. It was cold for a quite while, until your shoulders were enveloped by a warm fabric. A scarf. A red scarf gifted by Jon Wick himself.

“I was just passing by. To see how you're doing.” His voice drew close when he tucked the scarf around your neck, and you heard him step back again.

“That's… sweet.” A smile stretched your lips. “I had my ups and downs with my work if that's not obvious. I take it you're doing well with yours?”

There was a sigh. “If you're going to suggest that I adopt a dog again, you know my response never changes.”

“Oh, come on… You never know for sure whether you like them or not!” You let out a snort, imagining him facepalm behind you.

“[name]...” Jon's voice trailed off in exasperation and you took it as a sign to stop.

“Alright, I don't want to pressure you.” You backed off but your next words caused him to let out a sigh. “I'll just have to try next time.”

Silence, and then… “Fine. Maybe I'll consider it."

That was enough. You cheered to yourself when the man finally gave in through your persuasion. Meanwhile, Jon Wick could only roll his eyes as he kept watch on your back at a safe distance.

Eventually, you both arrived at the bottom porch of your house. A sigh of relief escapes you, and you express your gratitude at the man who you still didn't lay your eyes on to satisfy his secrecy. You walked up to the stairs of your porch but halted when an idea came to mind.

“Would you like to come in?” It was an innocent invitation to have him as a guest, but he didn't take it lightly and snickers under his breath.

“As tempting as it is to release some steam with you…” Cue a flush of red growing from the skin of your neck when you realized. “But I'm sure there's a better surprise waiting for you inside. You might want to take a look.”

“Huh..?” Confused, you turned around to face him for an answer but he was gone. There were no traces of his presence anywhere on the front lawn, as if no one stood in it other than you.

You think back to the words he said and glanced at your front door, as your heartbeat suddenly drummed in anticipation. It somehow felt odd to watch the lights inside gleam, it was tempting you with a welcoming presence.

Your keys jingled and you entered.

“Look who's back. Welcome home, love.”

You stared at the familiar bouncer standing beside the doorway with a look of surprise on your face. He stood guard like never before and he sent you a questioning brow because of the dumbfounded expression.

“Surprised?” You nodded at him as you couldn't find the right words to say, and this caused Dorian to snicker.

“D-davi!”

You heard a distressed call and a strong force crashed to your legs, causing you to tumble backward. The floorboards met your bottom as you couldn't comprehend what happened when something wet tickled your cheeks.

“Davi..?” Giggles bubbled out of you when the dog's tongue smothered you with sweet kisses. Mateo watched the view, smiling when you're back from work. Dorian helped you up and you didn't waste anytime as you immediately embraced them one-by-one.

“Matito? What's going on? The house looks lively.” You were right, it does.

You didn't even notice the joyful chatter that bounced off the walls, footsteps echoing from the ceiling, including the cluttering and sizzling in the kitchen that implies someone was cooking... until now.

“We're here to celebrate the holidays with you!” Mateo exclaims and there was a look of shock flashed over your face again. The house did feel heavy, and now you knew it was because of your visitors.

“Mateo? Is [name] back?” You glanced behind Mateo and two lovely women that were once your ceiling and floor appeared. They look perfect with each other, hand in hand.

“Celia, Florence..!” You happily greet the couple in a hug and both squeezed you right back. The two of them were ecstatic to meet you. Mateo chuckled and exited the scene to give you a moment with them but not before taking your suitcase and scarf upstairs.

“Hello, dear. We're so delighted to see you.” Greeted by elegance herself.

The bubbly woman agrees. “I hope you don't mind celebrating with us and for coming by so suddenly!”

“I don't mind at all! It’s just so sudden…!” You sheepishly scratched the back of your neck until something dawned on you. “Oh, gosh… This didn't disturb your work, right?”

“Calm yourself, dear. It's the holidays, and we like to celebrate our first with you. That's all.” Said Celia, and you smiled sweetly. But then, she was deep in thought. “Actually, it was Mac who invited all of us.”

You were surprised. “They did?”

“They would like to propose something.” Celia said and the look in her eyes already told you that they knew what it was about. “They already talked to us about it. However, it needed your approval.”

You hummed in wonder. “I see… shall we go then?”

“I'll go and find them!” Florence exclaims. “Meet us in your office after a few minutes. You can still go ahead and meet the others.”

Celia nods, quite delighted. “She's right, and you don't need to worry about anything since we already handled the task assignments. Most of them are outside to watch Washford and Drysdale perform in the backyard. It eases the weight around the house.”

You chuckled at Celia's comment before they parted ways to look for Mac in this crowded house. It was somewhat a relief that most of them were in the backyard, you couldn't bear to think the house falling apart if all hundred of them were to actually stand inside.

Celia was right, you don't have to worry about anything when they already did the job quite perfectly. Holly was in charge of the decorations, with the help of strong individuals that could carry her on their shoulder or tall ones that could reach the ceiling.

Stefan and most of the kitchen crew were doing kitchen duty, cooking and making enough beverages for everyone. The dining room was filled with it and you could only hope there were tables in the backyard for everyone to dine together.

Everyone greeted you with wide arms and tight hugs. While some planted kisses onto your face. You were left flustered with their gestures and it felt too good to be true. Roaming around the ground floor, you wanted to know if there's anything to do or help. But they reassured you that they'll handle the rest, much to your dismay.

You went upstairs and you immediately noticed your bedroom door closed but the laughter and talking was clearly heard. The voices contain most of the bedroom crew along with the bathroom crew, talking. Sharing all of the fun experiences they had after finding their paths.

Pride swelled within you when they successfully achieved the things where their own path takes them. They were happy and content despite their own struggles. They were just human with dreams after all.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you were certainly engrossed hearing the travels they all made. Some stories were heavily challenging while some of them were delightful as it sounds. Now you find yourself eavesdropping, as you were too engrossed hearing them so happy, you didn't realize you were in the first place.

Your heart ached for some reason, and you didn’t know why. It was thrilling to hear their adventures, how they strived and chose their own paths. But a thought crept from the back of your mind. You should be happy and yet you feel easily discarded. Too easy to earn your trust, too easy to leave.

No, thinking like this felt so wrong. You thought you'd moved on but clearly you weren't. The feeling of abandonment tightened around your chest, fear returned within you. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't speak.

You hastily turned around to leave.

“If it wasn't for [name], I wouldn't be where I am now.”

Those words made you freeze. You recognized Betty's comforting voice and to your surprise, the others inside followed afterwards. The room was filled with nothing but their exclaims of gratitude. Laughter and chatter ensues in the room. Unbeknownst to them, you heard it all.

They expressed the way you helped them all. It started from your approach for the first time, and you have helped them a lot ever since. It was you who motivated them, it was you who believed in them. It was you who wouldn't dare to give up on them. Always has been.

You were the reason why they became from something to someone.

Through Skylar's words: you've brought a whole lot of love in this world.

Your love brought them.

Your throat felt like it had tightened itself. You then caressed your temple in hopes to calm you down. It slightly did. Hearing those words coming out of them was nothing but overwhelming. Now you feel guilty. For them and for Mac who did everything they could.

You didn't even realize your feet walking to who knows where as your hand caressed your head. Until you bumped into someone. The sensation by how your skin jumped snapped you out of it. Finding yourself staring at Volt, and then Eddie who held a tool by the breaker box.

“Are you alright, live wire?” Volt asks out of concern. It looked like you were out of breath, or had seen something you weren't supposed to.

“Yeah. You look out of it.” Now, it was Eddie. Closing the panels shut and he settled one of the tools down before inspecting your face. The both of them suspected something was up.

“Uhm. Fine…” You shakily exhaled, raking your hair back. “I'm fine…”

Eddie didn't seem convinced. “You don't seem like it.”

“Come here and give us a hug, yes?” Volt spreads his arms as wide to invite you in and you don't hesitate. You did as you were told. Your arms found its way to wrap around Volt's back and buried your head on his chest. It didn't take long when another warmth caressed your side. Eddie.

You savored the hug, even for a moment. Although, it didn't last long when you eventually let go. Missing the way Volt’s face fell when the hug was so surprisingly quick. You weren't always one to let go first and hugging is one of the things you love to do.

“Now, what's going on with that pretty head of yours. Hm?” Volt asked and you shrugged like there was nothing. At least you convinced yourself that it was.

You shook your head with your voice hushed. “The house became quieter than I thought it should've after you guys left."

“I hope you realize that you're not that easy to forget, live wire.” Eddie sighs, and you feel conflicted whether it was to offend you or the opposite.

Volt reassured you the opposite. “He's right. Because of your love and your determination, we wouldn't be where we are if it wasn't for the faith you've given us.”

“I guess what I meant to say was...” Eddie trailed off where a noticeable red flushed his neck. His gaze stilled at yours. “Thank you.”

It was a small gesture, but it did reassure you in many ways. A smile made its way to your lips. You didn't say anything and just pulled them both in an embrace. It was longer than before and it was already enough for the three of you before you simultaneously let go.

“It's been great seeing you guys, really.” A lilt of relief entered your tone as Volt held you by the waist, grinning widely.

“As do we, to you, live wire.” He says. With that, you found your face being smothered by their lips so intimately that others might mistake it as a very sexual gesture. It was far more than that. It was comfortable, reassuring.

You laugh. “We'll catch up later. I still need to see Celia about something.”

“Sure.” Eddie nods and pecks a kiss onto your cheek. “Just find us right after your business. We'll be around.”

You absentmindedly kissed each of their cheeks back and deliberately went downstairs feeling a lot lighter than before. Whatever Mac and Celia wants to talk about, you hope everything will be fine. You trudged to your office to meet with them.

“House Homie!”

You were greeted in your office by five men that immediately tackled you in a group hug, squishing you in the middle. The Hanks look as radical as ever and you almost couldn't breathe if it wasn't for Celia demanding them to let you go. These men had so much energy, she couldn't keep up.

She sighs. “The gentlemen have something important to tell you in regards to the house–”

“We’re staying with you!” The Hanks cuts her off. They couldn't contain any excitement and immediately jumped on you in joy. You couldn't process the news when strong hands engulfed you again like a bunch of puppies. They were everywhere, even Hank #4 was clinging onto your leg while Hank #2 had his arms around your waist.

“Wait, really…?” Your voice came out as muffled when a mop of ginger hair amplified your voice. But there was a hint of shakiness to it. You were really surprised.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Imagine going on adventures with you! Pretty rad!”

“Everyday with you will be nothing but fun!”

“And by fun… we mean it, hot stuff.”

“Alright. Thank you, boys.” Celia sighs out of exasperation once more. “You will be excused. You can bother them later."

This time, the five men listened and exited the room as she wished. Closing the door, there was a sigh from Florence and Celia, and you could only give them apologetic looks before Mac chimed in the conversation. They looked rather somber, and their eyes drooped more than normal.

“I know we haven't been interfacing due to my work, and I would like to apologize–”

“Mac.” You call out to them sternly, guilt washing over you. “You don't have to apologize. If anything, I should be the one apologizing for being stupid and treating you so unfairly.”

You approached them, your conscience gnawing at you relentlessly while it reminded you of your nuisances. The air became slightly tense as you went quiet. You didn't even realize that you took their hand over yours. A squeeze from them helped you slightly calm down.

“I was being selfish. Thinking that every single one of you will forget me. It's… terrifying. Even the thought of you all abandoning me, all alone, it's unbearable."

Your voice lowered a volume as you felt your throat tightening.

"I know this doesn't excuse my behavior. I don't want you to feel like you aren't enough, you are. You really are. I'm sorry..."

The three of them fell silent. Your confession caught them by surprise. The office felt tense and weren't sure if it's you or the room itself, but you certainly felt it spinning. You wouldn't dare say a word after your spiral and your head hung itself low to avoid seeing their faces. They could be judging you, and finding you pathetic.

However, despite no words were exchanged, it didn't happen.

Instead, Celia and Florence looped their arms around you, comforting you with nothing but reassurance and the warmth of their presence. In the middle of the silence, you felt loved, treasured. As if words were exchanged into embrace, burying you in it. Then you felt Mac's thumb caress the back of your palm, soothing your thoughts.

Celia leaned her head to your shoulder. "My dearest, we would never forget nor abandon you. You're too important to all of us."

"She's right. We love you all the same, before and after." Florence patted your cheek so soft that she and Celia hugged you again.

You haven't counted the hugs you've received today, and you were certain it was more than usual. But you aren't complaining. You love every single one of it.

“This proposal I am about to make… Would you like to hear about it?” Once the hug ended, Mac immediately went straight to the point. They seemed a bit happier than earlier. The couple soon lets go and yet their warmth lingering.

You nod at them. “Of course.”

You braced yourself for literally anything and yet you didn't expect for them to take out a large blue sheet with white lines printed on it. Florence helped them settle the sheet on your desk, rolling it as widely as it could. The large print was obviously familiar.

“This is… the house's blueprint.” Your voice was laced with uncertainty, you were rather confused as to why they have this.

Celia nods. “Mac proposed that we should expand the house for more rooms."

"Not only for the Hanks, but for others who wanted to stay.” Florence finishes.

You looked at the couple with another wave of shock flashing through your eyes, and your heart immediately swelled. It caused you to wipe any tears that were threatening to fall. It didn't take long when they started pitching for ideas, including you who suggested some of yours to merge your ideas together and come up with a full-proof plan.

It was doing quite well. And you were excited.

Celia and Florence excused themselves once you all finalized the blueprint. They still wanted to enjoy the celebrations. It leaves you and Mac, enjoying the serene silence as muffled bearings can be heard outside the door. Both of you were quiet for a while, until you heard a faint squeak.

An exhale left Mac's lips, they breathed in. “The identities of future tenants, or roommates, other than the Hanks are still unknown… We could only hope that there would be someone interested.”

“Don't worry. We could always make it as guest bedrooms.” You suggested, turning to reassure them. “I won't be lonely anyways knowing that I have… you.”

Your words felt gratifying, while your lovely smile sent shivers down Mac's spine. You are such a wonderful and kind person, and they love you for that. They just hoped that you would see it for yourself.

To see that a lot of them keeps you as someone important in their lives. They wouldn't dare to leave you.

“Are you sure about this? Won't this disrupt your work?” Your tone, growing anxiously, interrupts their thoughts.

“I made sure that it wouldn't. As long as we keep the bed to ourselves, then I have no objections whatsoever.” A snort escapes them. They didn't mean anything behind it. Mac just wanted to have you all by themself once it was time to go to bed to let their disquietude wash away.

Being in your arms at the end of the day was all they wanted.

You smiled. But Mac with their keen eyes saw through it when a faint smirk played at the corner of your lips. “I'll make sure to pay attention to you later after we're done. I wouldn't want you to feel… neglected.”

If Mac was still a computer now, they would comment how you made their CPU overheat and yet they didn't. Too speechless and rather excited to let words come out. Even their own flirtatious comebacks betrayed them. Mac stays silent, they were glad to finally see this spark in you.

The only thing they can do for now is to accompany you outside to enjoy a lot of activities planned by the others. Where a lot of them will be waiting for you. Even Jean Loo, who will be performing tonight despite being the one taking care of your taxes, and this may be the best time to stop him from doing so before you get carried away.

Everything in the house was planned to your enjoyment, a way to express their own gratitude for being there with them.

Either it was away from you, or not, they will hold your name dearly. Even if it is through the hardships they have to face. You always held them close to your heart as the precious individuals that made your life better, and so as they.

If there was one thing they have taught you: Home is really where the heart is.

And to them, you will always be their home.

a/n: my head is so fried because i was writing this for five days, and words are difficult to form when it comes to writing, for me anyways. it's hard when your english is limited. anyways, scandalabra/jon wick mentioned! my pookie <33

#date everything #date everything x gn reader #date everything x reader #mac date everything #date everything game #date everything fanfic #date everything demo #fanfiction #fanfic #x gn reader

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kenzdolls · 2 days ago

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TOTAL INSECURITY .

⌗ pairing: {established relationship} katsuki bakugou x jealous! reader

⌗ trigger warnings: jealousy, insecurity, self-doubt, emotional distress, anxiety, miscommunication, crying, negative self-talk.

⌗ anon request: hello! I was wondering if you could make a story where y/n is getting jealous over katsuki getting close to another girl classmate? like basically him and another girl in class 1-a start training and hangout a bit and reader starts getting a bit jealous and insecure, basically a comfort fic. i’d really appreciate it cause i’m kind of in a mood today 🥹

⌗ a/n: thx for requesting this!! uh, i decided to use a random Japanese generator name thingy because i didn’t want to use any of the actual mha girls. and yes, I am doing requests. I JUST CAN’T FIND PHOTOS. [edit: if you get what the title name is from, ilysm.]

the first time you noticed her, she was standing at the front of class 1-a with that nervous smile transfer students always wore. emiko tanaka—her quirk was something called "energy sync" that let her match and amplify others' abilities temporarily. aizawa had explained it in his usual monotone, but you'd been more focused on the way katsuki's eyes had lingered on her demonstration.

"interesting," he'd muttered, and something cold had settled in your stomach.

you'd been dating katsuki for six months now. six months of his rare soft smiles, of him walking you to class with his hand in yours, of quiet moments where his guard dropped completely. you thought you'd gotten past the worst of your insecurities, but watching emiko successfully sync with his explosions during their first paired training session brought them all rushing back.

"she's really good," kirishima commented, watching as emiko's borrowed explosions created a perfect crater in the training ground. "her control is insane."

"yeah," you managed, throat tight. "really good."

katsuki was grinning—actually grinning—as he helped emiko up from where she'd been knocked back by the recoil. when was the last time he'd smiled like that during training? when was the last time he'd looked at you like that? you tried to remember, but all you could focus on was the way his hands lingered on her arms as he steadied her, the way she looked up at him with those bright eyes full of admiration.

over the next few weeks, it became routine. emiko would pair with katsuki for combat training, their quirks complementing each other perfectly. she could handle his explosive power better than anyone else in class, and he seemed to thrive on having a partner who could keep up. you watched from the sidelines during training, paired with whoever was left, trying not to notice how natural they looked together.

you told yourself it was just training. professional. but then you started noticing the little things.

the way katsuki would wait for her after class, both of them heading to the gym for extra practice while you walked back to the dorms alone. how he'd explain techniques to her with unusual patience, his voice lacking its typical harsh edge. the inside jokes that developed between them—references to their training sessions that made her laugh and him smirk with satisfaction. how she'd save him a seat at lunch sometimes, or bring him notes from classes he'd missed.

you found yourself studying them during meals, watching how comfortable they'd become with each other. emiko would steal food from his plate without him threatening to explode her face off—something that had taken you months to achieve. she'd tease him about his study habits, and he'd actually laugh instead of shouting. worse, she understood his ambitions in a way that felt similar to you, nodding along when he talked about being the number one hero, asking questions that showed she actually listened.

"you're being ridiculous," you whispered to yourself one evening, watching through the gym windows as they worked through a complex combination attack. emiko was practicing syncing with his explosions while moving, and every time she succeeded, katsuki's face would light up with genuine pride. but when she stumbled and katsuki caught her, steadying her with hands on her waist, both of them laughing breathlessly from the exertion, you couldn't stop the tears that blurred your vision.

you turned away before either of them could see you, but not before you heard emiko say, "thanks, katsuki. you're an amazing teacher." the warmth in her voice made your chest ache.

the breaking point came during a weekend study session. you'd been looking forward to spending time with katsuki, had even picked up his favorite snacks from the convenience store. but he'd gotten a text from emiko about needing help with a hero law assignment.

"rain check?" he'd asked, already reaching for his jacket. "she's struggling with the case studies, and you know how brutal those are."

you'd nodded, forced a smile, told him it was fine. but as you watched him leave, something inside you cracked. he used to help you with hero law. he used to be the one you could count on for study sessions and quiet conversations about your dreams. you remembered sitting in his room for hours, him patiently explaining legal precedents while you struggled to understand the complex cases.

now he was rushing off to help someone else, and you were left wondering if you were being replaced. the snacks sat unopened on your desk, mocking you.

the next few days passed in a blur of forced normalcy. you smiled when katsuki kissed you good morning, laughed at his jokes, pretended not to notice when he and emiko would disappear for their training sessions. but the doubt was eating at you, whispering cruel things in the quiet moments.

she's stronger than you. more compatible with his quirk. she doesn't flinch when he shouts, doesn't need the gentle handling you sometimes require. she's everything you're not.

you started avoiding the gym, finding excuses to skip group training sessions. when katsuki asked why, you'd claim you were tired or had homework. the lies tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn't bear to watch them together anymore, couldn't stand seeing how effortlessly she fit into the space you'd thought was yours.

mina noticed first, cornering you after class one day. "hey, what's going on? you've been weird lately."

"nothing," you'd deflected, but she saw right through you.

"it's about bakugou and the new girl, isn't it?" she'd said gently, and your face must have given you away because she sighed. "oh, honey."

"it's stupid," you'd whispered, but mina shook her head.

"feelings aren't stupid. but you should talk to him instead of torturing yourself like this."

but how could you? how could you tell the person you loved that you were terrified of losing him? that every interaction he had with emiko felt like a knife in your chest?

you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice katsuki approaching until he dropped into the seat beside you at lunch.

"you're being weird," he said without preamble, red eyes studying your face. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you replied automatically, stabbing at your rice with more force than necessary. across the cafeteria, you could see emiko sitting with some of the other girls, occasionally glancing over at your table.

"bullshit." his voice was low, meant only for you. "you've been avoiding me for three days. did i do something?"

the concern in his tone almost broke you. this was katsuki—your katsuki—who noticed when you were upset, who cared enough to ask. but then you saw emiko approaching from across the cafeteria, and the doubt came rushing back.

"i'm fine," you insisted, standing abruptly. "i just... i need some air."

you felt his eyes on you as you left, but you didn't turn back. you also didn't see the confused look he exchanged with emiko when she asked if you were okay.

that evening, you were sitting on your bed, staring at your homework without really seeing it, when someone knocked on your door. you knew that knock—sharp, impatient, but not aggressive. katsuki.

"we need to talk," he said when you opened the door, and his expression was serious enough that you stepped aside to let him in.

he sat on your desk chair, turning it to face you as you perched on the edge of your bed. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you could hear the sounds of your classmates in the hallway, muffled conversations and laughter that felt worlds away from the tension in your room.

"are you breaking up with me?"

the question hit you like a physical blow. "what? no! why would you—"

"because you've been acting like you can't stand to be around me," he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "and i can't figure out what i did wrong."

the raw vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache. this was what your insecurity had done—made the person you loved most think he was losing you.

"you didn't do anything wrong," you said quietly. "i just... i've been stupid."

"about what?"

you took a shaky breath, fingers twisting in your lap. "about you and emiko."

katsuki's eyebrows shot up. "me and—what the hell are you talking about?"

"you've been spending so much time with her," you continued, the words tumbling out now that you'd started. "training together, studying together, and she's so good with your quirk, and you smile at her in ways you haven't smiled at me in weeks, and i just—" your voice cracked. "i started thinking maybe you realized you'd be better off with someone who could actually keep up with you."

the silence that followed was deafening. you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, couldn't bear to see confirmation of your fears in his expression.

then you felt the bed dip as he sat beside you, his hand covering yours.

"look at me," he said softly, and when you reluctantly met his eyes, they were intense but gentle. "you really think i'd rather be with her?"

"i don't know," you whispered. "maybe? she's stronger than me, her quirk works better with yours—"

"stop." his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't realized were falling. "just stop."

he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours. "you wanna know why i've been training with her so much? because aizawa paired us up for the upcoming exercise, and i didn't want to look like an idiot in front of the whole class. you wanna know why i help her with homework? because she asked, and i'm not a complete asshole, despite what everyone thinks."

his thumbs traced across your cheekbones. "but you wanna know what i think about when i'm with her? i think about how she's not you. how her laugh doesn't make my chest feel warm, how she doesn't know that i like my coffee with too much sugar, how she's never seen me have a nightmare and stayed up all night to make sure i was okay."

"katsuki—"

"i'm not done." his voice was firmer now, more like the katsuki you knew. "she's a good training partner. hell, she's a good person. but she's not the person i want to come home to. she's not the person i think about when i'm falling asleep, or the person i want to tell when something good happens."

he pulled back slightly, forcing you to meet his eyes. "she's not you, and she never could be. you think i care about quirk compatibility? about who's stronger? i fell in love with you because you're you—because you see good in people, because you believe in me even when i don't believe in myself, because you make me want to be better than i am."

"but you seem so happy when you're with her," you protested weakly.

"i'm happy when i'm getting stronger. when i'm working toward being the best hero i can be. but you know what makes me happiest?" he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "coming back to you afterward. telling you about my day, hearing about yours, just... being with you."

the last of your defenses crumbled. "i'm sorry," you breathed. "i'm so sorry, i just—"

"got scared," he finished, pulling you into his arms. "i get it. but next time you're feeling like this, talk to me, okay? don't just disappear on me. i can't fix a problem if i don't know it exists."

you nodded against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. "i love you," you murmured.

"love you too," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "more than you know."

you stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before katsuki spoke again.

"for the record, though, your quirk works perfectly with mine too. remember last month when we took down that simulation villain together? that was all us, no borrowed power needed."

you pulled back to look at him, finding that familiar smirk on his face. "you're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "my partner got jealous over a training buddy. it's pretty cute, actually."

"shut up," you laughed, pushing at his shoulder, but he caught your hand and brought it to his lips.

"make me," he challenged, eyes twinkling with mischief.

so you did, leaning in to kiss him properly, pouring all your love and relief and apologies into the gesture. when you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, you felt like yourself again.

"so," you said, settling back against his side, "tell me about this training exercise you're so worried about."

and as he launched into an explanation of the complex scenario aizawa had planned, complete with dramatic gestures and colorful commentary about your classmates' weaknesses, you realized something important: this was what you'd been missing. not the explosive training sessions or the patient tutoring, but this—the quiet intimacy of sharing daily life with someone who chose you, again and again.

emiko was a good training partner. but you were katsuki's everything, and he was yours.

that was more than enough.

⌗ taglist: @idexmids @siriuslyginnychase @eleteo125 @st4r-dustx @corpsebridenightamare @boreaswrites [OPEN]

⌗ mutuals: @haikyuubby @va-3 @tulippanes @luvseraphh @miss-indigen0us @cupkiki [OPEN]

✦ REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ✦

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x gender neutral reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou x reader

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kanako257 · 3 days ago

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Saja boys reaction hearing you reveal your crush on them ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 사자. ՞

Pairing: saja boys x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, Romance, Slice of Life, Confession

Word Count: 1,650 words

Warning: None

Disclaimer: All fictional scenarios, personalities, and relationships portrayed in this work are the product of imagination and are not intended to reflect real-life events, actions, or people || Masterlist

Jinu

It slips out while you’re reviewing choreography notes with him backstage. He’s been working solo with you late into the night, still in his stagewear, sweat making his bangs stick to his forehead.

You’re both tired. Maybe too tired.

“You need to stop doing that thing with your hand at the end of the chorus,” you say, not looking up. “It makes it harder for the others to sync.”

He looks at you. “That’s my signature move.”

You scoff. “It’s distracting. Like—really distracting. I mean, even I get thrown off watching you, and I…”

You trail off.

He tilts his head. “You what?”

“I—” You should lie. You absolutely should. But the tiredness, the late hour, the months of trying to be professional—something gives.

“I have a crush on you, okay? You do that thing with your hand and it messes with my brain. So maybe just…cut it out.”

He’s quiet for a moment. The air between you feels like glass.

Jinu doesn’t smile. He doesn’t tease. He leans forward slightly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

You blink. “Because I’m your manager, and you’re—Jinu.”

“Exactly,” he says. “And I trust you more than anyone. You know me better than most. If anyone had a right to…feel something, it’d be you.”

It’s not a confession. Not quite. But there’s softness in the way he looks at you now. Less idol, more man.

And when he gets up to leave, he adds, “I’ll keep the move… unless you want me to stop watching you when you give notes.”

Abby

You and Abby are doing vocal drills, of all things, in the van on the way to a rehearsal.

He’s leaning into your personal space again, teasing you about your “manager voice” — that tone you use when you're scolding the boys.

“Oh, that tone. Say my name like that again,” he grins.

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Abby.”

“C’mon. Just say it like you mean it. Abby.” He makes a mock-dramatic face. “Like you’re in love or something.”

“I am in love,” you mutter, barely realizing you said it aloud.

The van goes silent.

He stares. Blinks. “Wait, are you being serious right now?”

You suck in a breath. “No. Yes. I mean—I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but yes. I guess I am.”

He’s quiet longer than expected. No grin. No snarky reply.

“I didn’t think you saw me like that,” he says, voice lower.

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

He leans back, eyes flicking toward the front of the van, then back to you.

“I do care. I’ve been trying to get a reaction out of you for months.” Then he laughs, not cocky this time. Soft. “Guess I finally got one.”

Mystery

You think he doesn’t notice anything. He’s always so withdrawn, buried in his lyrics or books, headphones in.

But you’re helping him revise a verse one evening and blurt out, “You always write about love like you’ve never felt it.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I haven’t.”

“Well, I have.” You glance at him. “Not that it matters.”

He looks up. “Who?”

You freeze. He doesn’t usually ask questions like that.

You try to brush it off. “It’s complicated. He’s a singer. A demon. Bit of an enigma. Wears too much black. You know.”

He doesn’t react at first. Then:

“Me?”

You don’t respond, which is all the answer he needs.

He nods slowly. Then does something you didn’t expect.

He reaches for your notebook, opens a fresh page, and scribbles a few lines. Hands it to you.

"Even demons want to be seen by the right eyes."

You glance up, startled. He won’t meet your gaze.

“That’s not for a song,” he mutters. “It’s for you.”

Romance

You’re helping him pick fan letters for a video shoot. He’s reading them out loud in exaggerated voices, trying to make you laugh.

“‘Romance Saja, you are the moon to my demon heart—’ Wow. They’re not even subtle.”

You smile. “Some people are just bold like that.”

He pauses. “Would you ever write a letter like this?”

Your eyes meet. You smile a little too long. “Maybe.”

“What would it say?”

You hesitate. Then: “Probably something like…‘Romance Saja, stop making it so hard to be your manager when you’re so goddamn charming all the time.’”

He goes silent. Blinks. His whole expression softens.

“…Wait, are you serious?”

You shrug, playful. “Does it sound like a joke?”

“No. But I thought you didn’t see me like that. That I was just the flirty one.”

“Everyone sees you. I just tried not to.”

He swallows hard, then takes your hand—not dramatically, but gently. Real.

“Tell me again. Not as a manager.”

“…Romance Saja, I like you.”

His smile could light up kingdoms.

Baby

You’re organizing fan meet notes when he barges in with leftover snacks.

“Wanna share?”

You shake your head. “Not hungry.”

He sits beside you anyway. “You okay?”

You sigh. “Yeah. Just tired of pretending things don’t matter.”

He cocks his head. “Like what?”

You look at him. “Like how I’ve had feelings for one of my clients for��too long.”

He goes quiet. His hands fidget with the snack bag.

“Oh,” he says. “Um…do I know him?”

You nod. “Very well.”

He doesn’t speak for a bit.

Then, voice small: “You mean me, right?”

“…Yeah.”

He laughs nervously. “I…thought you were too cool for me.”

You smile. “You’re a literal demon idol. I should be saying that.”

He looks relieved. But serious.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he says. “But I want to be careful. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You nod. “Me neither.”

He nudges your shoulder. “Then let’s…not mess it up.”

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la-principessa-nuova · 2 days ago

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It's no different than looking out of a window and saying "Oh, it's raining today, maybe I'll bring an umbrella"

It’s more like “Oh, it’s raining today, something bad will happen at work today so I should quit.”

Like people can and do take it very literally and make extreme decisions based on it. Some people really do decide who to date or not based on it. Some managers have chosen who to hire or not based on it.

okay agreed but mercury retrograde is kinda real. i could not for the life of me get a new phone that worked…

one experience of your own that happens to line up with one thing from astrology does not prove astrology or even that one part of it.

The thing that keeps astrology so convincing is confirmation bias. There are so many different versions of astrology and so many ways to interpret anything and so many people in the world experiencing so many moments, that occasionally some experiences align with some predictions. People seek out the cases that “prove” it and ignore the way more things that didn’t align.

If I say “based on the alignment of the stars, look out for broken toes today” to a million of people in the morning, someone’s probably going to reach out later and be like “whoa, you were right, i did break my toe today!” And even if they don’t break it, maybe someone’s like “I stubbed my toe really bad and it didn’t break but weird, right! there’s something to it!” Or even “I didn’t break my toe, but the foot broke off of my favorite figurine.”

Now imagine instead I say 10 things like that to all 1 million people every day for a year. Then the number of people each day who have something happen to them that relates to what i said will increase, approximately ten-fold, plus some that align even more interestingly with multiple of those things overlapping, plus people who had yesterday’s thing a day late and see the prediction as truthful bc of that, etc.

And over the year, that’s 365x the opportunities. So we’ve increased the chance of some correlation by at least 3650x over the one prediction in one day. And people will hear stories of others who had things line up, and after a few things line up around them, they will start to believe it more.

And as they do, they will search more and more for things to stretch to ascribe to my predictions. Humans love looking for patterns that aren’t there.

So that’s the expected behavior if i just started giving out random predictions to a large group of people. Does that sound different than astrology?

Compare that to a weather forecast since that example was brought up. If I look at my weather forecast and it says it will rain tomorrow, chances are pretty good it actually will rain tomorrow. If it says it will be 75°F and Sunny, it will almost certainly be within 5°F of that and at least mostly sunny. Yes it makes quite a few predictions, but most of them are right within the expected margin of error, and when they’re way off, you can kinda see what happened, like the storm turned and went further East and missed your area.

Astrology, on the other hand, makes a ton of predictions, like way more, often conflicting, and makes them really vague (not “there is a 85% chance of rain from 2pm-3pm tomorrow” but more like “something with water or ice or snow or humidity will be positively affected in some way somehow in the next 30 days”), and it is wrong the vast percentage of the time. But there are so many things we don’t notice the ones that were wrong. We forget them. But we remember the ones that happened to align. And if one sticks in our head beforehand, we will look out of things we can ascribe to it.

It’s like weather the predictions are the left image, and astrology is more like the right.

but also in astrology there are so many more things being predicted that it almost would make more sense to just color in the entire image with 50% opacity black because almost anything could be construed as being predicted by some part of astrology.

it does still make me insane specifically how many queer people lovingly embrace astrology. I went to a poetry workshop yesterday that was genuinely quite good but also included an option to disclose astrology designations during introductions and so many people broke out some variation of "I'm a [x] sum but I have a [y] placement and it SHOWS" girl no it doesn't. that's meaningless correlation you completely invented the causation

#sabrina says

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finelinevogue · 2 days ago

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ridiculous

summary - you’ve always felt like you’re worth less than everyone else, but not with lando

pairing - lando norris x stranger!reader

word count - ~1k

Someway, somehow, through a friend of a friend of a friend, you had managed to be invited to the Monaco Grand Prix after party.

Just the thought of being in Monaco was ridiculous enough, let alone being invited to a private yacht party after one of the biggest events of the year.

But here you were.

You’d never believed that you would have this lifestyle, but when the opportunity had swung your way you hadn’t given it a second thought before saying yes.

The yacht party was insane. I mean, the yacht itself was incredible; a huge vessel that was three times the size of a regular house. There were five levels and hundreds of people on board. It was hard to keep with it all.

“I’m going to get another drink. You want anything?” Your friend asked you.

“No, I’m good thanks.”

Your friend asked her friend and they decided they’d go together to get a new drink, meanwhile the glass of prosecco in your hand would do.

You didn’t have prosecco by choice, but more that you’d been forced it as soon as you boarded.

A group of people brushed past beside you, with no apology for bumping into you multiple times. Instead you said sorry for being in the way.

Wanting to get out of the way you decided to climb the stairs up another deck.

Your platform sandals meant it was easy to manoeuvre throughout the ship, unlike some other girls wearing five inch stilettos.

You held your prosecco in one hand and pulled up the bottom of your dress with the other, to make sure the white cotton material didn’t get dirty on the floor.

It was quieter upstairs.

There were a couple of people - no one you recognised - but there were a couple of deck chairs that you could seat yourself in.

Once seated you breathed out a shaky breath that you hadn’t realised that you’d been holding in. Your grip on the prosecco glass was all that was keeping you grounded.

“Excuse me, we were sat here.” A girl came up to you and pointed between your chair and the unoccupied one beside you.

“Oh I’m so sorry.”

You stood up and she gave you a tight lipped smile before sitting down with her friend.

“I’m sorry again.” You apologised, before walking away. You could hear them giggling behind you, but you chose not to think about what they were giggling about for too long.

You walked around a little bit before finding some quiet space at the front where you could sit on the floor against the railing.

You knew it probably wasn’t very classy for an F1 party to sit on the floor, but you did so anyway. Your prosecco glass remained untouched on the floor next to you.

It was a few minutes later when the girls from earlier started making a ruckus.

“So why aren’t you kicking everyone off this deck?” The girl who had spoken to you shouted, scoffing as she did.

“Cause they’re allowed to be up here, unlike you.” The guy said back, nodding his head to a security guard who started to escort the two girls off this deck.

You swallowed nervously as the girls shot you a glare.

Only catching the tail end of their conversation you weren’t really sure what was happening, but as the guy wandered over to you, you had a sneaky feeling you were about to find out.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You folded your knees up to your chest for comfort. “Am I in the way? Would you like me to leave too?”

“No.” He chuckled, coming to stand in front of you.

He was really handsome.

Short, curly, hair and a face that was equal parts handsome and cute. His eyes were so unique and that smile so dreamy.

His outfit was nice too; a pair of black trousers and a white linen shirt. It was completed by the glass of beer in his hand.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to the floor space beside you.

“Sure.” You nodded politely.

At this point, it was just you and the guy now sat next to you that were up here on the top deck. It felt a little meet-cute from where you were sat.

The stars were shining so bright and the city lights in the backdrop were just beautiful, but not as much as the guy sat next to you.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Y/N. And yours?”

He looked confused for a moment, before answering with a laugh, “Lando.”

“What?” You smiled as he laughed.

“Sorry. It’s just, it’s not a question I get asked often.”

“What? Your name?”

“Yeah.”

You looked at him puzzled for a moment before reality hit you and left you looking shocked, “Fuck, you’re not an F1 driver are you?”

“Uhh….”

You looked away from him and laughed to yourself - your cheeks blushing from how embarrassing this moment was.

“God.” You stressed.

“Is my job that bad?”

“No, it’s not your job. It’s just… Well…” You looked to Lando, who was looking back at you, before returning to look at the stars ahead, “My friend’s friend told me not to embarrass her today. I was specifically told to stay away from F1 drivers altogether.”

“Because… what?”

“I guess because I’m not really worth your guys’ time.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“So you’re valued less than me because I drive fast cars and you…?”

“Volunteer at a cat shelter.”

“That’s ridiculous. Ridiculous that you’d be valued less, I mean. The cat thing is so cool.” He nudged his shoulder against yours, earning a smile from you in return.

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Just stating the truth. Cat shelter volunteers are way more valued than go-kart drivers.”

“Okay now you’re being silly. Even I know you’re more advanced than a go-kart driver and I know literally nothing about F1.” You laughed, stretching your legs back out in front of you.

“Do you know any team names?”

“Um, Red Bull?”

“Yes.” He nodded at you with pride and it made your insides flutter with excitement.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know any others.”

“That’s okay. I race for McLaren.”

“Are they good? I mean, are you good?”

“I’m alright.”

“I have a feeling you’re just being humble.” You squinted your eyes at him as if it would squeeze the truth out of him. Instead he just laughed it off, making you believe he was better than he let off.

You both went quiet for a moment, trying to figure out where the conversation would lead next.

Sitting next to Lando this evening might be the highlight of your month and maybe even year. You weren’t often - if ever - in situations like this, so you were soaking up every moment and feeling you could.

“Y/N?”

“Lando.”

“I don’t like your friend’s friend.”

You turned your head to face him, finding him looking up at the stars with wonder.

“How come?” You asked quietly.

“Anyone who is rude to you or makes you feel smaller than you are, didn’t deserve to know you.” He turned to face you as he spoke, “I’ve only known you for ten minutes, but I just know that you’re the kind of soul that gives more than is given. I don’t like the thought of someone taking advantage of that, ergo I don’t like your friend’s friend.”

“I think you might be right.” You tried to say with a smile, “Which sucks.”

“I’ll be your new friend, if you want.”

“You want to be friends with me?”

He gave you a look as if to say ‘what have we just talked about’.

“I mean, yes, obviously you do.”

“Alright. Don’t inflate your ego too much there.”

“Says he, who came into this conversation expecting me to know his name.” You shot back.

Lando pretended to look wounded, but the energy between you two was so sarcastic and fun that he couldn’t pull it off efficiently.

“You’re literally on my yacht!”

You burst out laughing over that.

Of course you were on Lando’s yacht and of course you didn’t even know who he was, but of course he had to be a millionaire F1 driver.

You both laughed until you had tears in your eyes. Lando even had to use his shirt sleeve to dab the tears from under his eyes.

“On second thought.” He said after he’d caught his breath.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe I’m thankful to your friend’s friend for bringing you here, because I feel grateful to have met you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He smiled and it suddenly didn’t feel like it was ridiculous being here at all.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando x you #lando imagine #lando fanfic #lando fluff #lando x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic rec #lando norris angst

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abbotjack · 2 days ago

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Ok this might seem super random but I feel like jack and the reader from the life we grew would be watching love island . Like I see all these couples watching them online and I just kept imagining them doing it . Like bam as soon as baby is down it’s time for love island . 😂 and jack can’t help himself making commentary at everything they’re doing . Jk this was just super random I felt like I had to share . You’re amazing and I love your blog it’s such a welcoming space , hope you’re doing well !

This idea made my whole day, it’s so perfect?? Jack Abbot, post night shift, fake hating love island while absolutely needing to know who got dumped?? You waiting to watch it until he’s up because you’re both secretly obsessed?? It’s so them. Also, thank you for being so kind. Your message was the sweetest and genuinely means so much to me. You made this space feel exactly how I hope it feels. 🤍

₊˚⊹ ୨୧ THE LIFE WE GREW SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s 4:53 PM and the house is quiet.

Not the peaceful morning coffee kind of quiet. The other kind. The Bean is down for her nap, Duck is missing an eye again, and the twins have finally stopped treating your ribcage like a conga drum kind of quiet. The kind that only happens in a house that’s run on toddler chaos, shredded cheese, and the sacred 7PM–7AM shift rotation of Dr. Jack Abbot.

You’re on the couch, legs propped up, belly stretched tight under one of Jack’s old shirts. Your back hurts. You’re eighty five percent sure you dropped your phone somewhere between the couch cushions.

The TV’s paused on Love Island... waiting.

Jack’s finally up, the weight of another brutal night shift still clinging to him. This morning, he barely managed to kiss you, kiss Bean, and do his usual fridge check before crashing into bed like someone hit his off switch. You never wake him, unless the house is on fire. And even then, you’d probably just close the door and handle it yourself.

When he wakes on days like this, it’s always slow. Hair rumpled, eyes half lidded, moving like gravity’s still a little too heavy. Hungry in that very specific, I worked a trauma bay last night and now I’m eating shredded cheese straight from the bag kind of way.

Which is exactly what he’s doing now.

You hear the fridge open. Then the unmistakable rustle of the cheddar bag. A beat of silence. Then a tiny voice from the hallway.

“Dada… can I have some feelings cheese too?”

You smile.

Bean appears, Duck in hand. Jack comes closer to her, already holding out a fresh pinch of shredded cheddar like a holy offering.

“You promised Duck could have two pieces today,” Bean says solemnly.

“I did,” Jack nods. “And you held me accountable. That’s integrity, Bean.”

You watch them from the couch, heart already melting. This is how it started, the cheese thing. Not from you. You keep snacks in matching containers and label leftovers with the date. You were a federal compliance accountant, for God’s sake. Precision is your love language. But then Bean caught Jack one morning... half dead from back to back shifts, crouched in front of the fridge in his scrubs, eating shredded cheese straight from the bag. He didn’t even pretend to hide it. He just looked her in the eye and said: It’s feelings cheese. Helps with brain. She nodded like he’d told her a sacred truth.

And now here you are, living in a house where cheese is currency, comfort, and spiritual practice.

Jack finally plops down beside you on the couch, balancing the bag between you like it belongs there. “Tell me you didn’t watch it without me,” he says.

“I didn’t.”

He exhales. “Good. Because that would be emotional cheating.”

You grin. “You literally pretend to hate this show.”

He grabs the remote, unpauses it. “I do hate it. I also need to know if that one girl cried in the Beach Hut or just dramatically stared into the ocean again.”

You glance at him. “You know their names.”

He doesn’t look away from the screen. “I remember who’s dangerous.”

You laugh so hard your stomach aches. Onscreen, two new contestants make their entrance: one in overly crisp linen, the other introduced as a “crypto investor,” like that’s supposed to be reassuring. Jack squints. Then his voice softens. Still teasing. But quieter. More personal.

“I wonder what you were like then.”

You glance over.

“When?”

He nods toward the TV. “When you were that age. Twenty one. Just starting out. Probably had three highlighters in your bag and a five year plan on your desktop. Corrected people’s grammar in group projects. Said things like, ‘I just function better with a routine.’”

“I was insufferable.”

“You were dazzling and beautiful.”

You pause.

He looks at you, eyes gentle but tired. Like he’s still halfway in that night shift fog but would still find you in a crowd. “I think about it sometimes,” he continues. “What it would’ve been like. You back then. Me, too messed up to stay still. I wouldn’t have known how to love you yet. But I would’ve tried.”

You lean into his shoulder. “I think I would’ve scared you.”

“Oh, no doubt. You would've ruined me with your beautiful brain.”

You laugh into his clothes.

“But I would’ve shown up,” he says. “Even back then. Even if I didn’t know what to say. I think I would’ve made a mess of it. But I would’ve meant it.”

You curl your hand around his. His calluses. His pulse. The way he still smells like the hospital and somehow like home. “I would’ve followed you,” he adds, “even if I didn’t know why yet.”

You don’t say anything. You just rest your hand on your belly, and he places his over yours. There’s a kick. A shift. The twins are listening. On screen, someone shouts, I just want to be loved for me! and Jack doesn’t even look.

“She’s absolutely texted ‘lol okay’ as a breakup.”

You giggle. “You’re so mean.”

“I’m literally exhausted and emotionally available. That’s what women say they want.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth. Bean appears again, “Can Duck have one more sprinkle?”

Jack tosses her a pinch of cheese. “Only if Duck agrees to take responsibility for their actions in the villa.”

Bean nods. Confused, but serious. A deal’s a deal.

The living room smells faintly of baby shampoo and cheddar. A terrible dating show hums in the background. You’re very pregnant, sore in places you didn’t even know existed during your last pregnancy, and completely undone by this man who treats shredded cheese like currency and still looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room worth noticing.

And honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

#hey anon this was super fun and im happy you shared it!!#cause yes this is totally them #NEW TLWG lore just dropped #no one move #tlwg #the life we grew #x reader #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot fanfiction

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citrustan · 2 days ago

Text

killah (jjk) [5]

pairing: managing partner lawyer!jungkook x spoiled brat!reader x senior partner! redacted

genre: strangers/lowkey one sided enemies to ?? idk bec you irk him, angst, smut, like slight fluff, infidelity (jungkook has a girlfriend)

warnings: please read the other parts before this one! soooo in this chapter, you'll see a little emotional and the slightest bit more of physical cheating, descriptions of nudity, accidental flashing, umm foot 😵 and no i'm not explaining myself, hand holding 😋 good luck 👍 extra note: this is LOng btw. i will edit it soon, i think it needs a little refining but not too much! but yes it'll be done a bit later because im scared to read through this again it's edited! !!ATTENTION!! even though this story features another member as a main character, this is still a jungkook x reader fic.

Nobody should be waking up this early on a Saturday. But you had a very important and hopefully fruitful day ahead.

Kim Namjoon had promised to take you to the gym. Unfortunately, he didn’t plan for a separate event, instead, he just wrote you into his regular schedule. You preferred that though. That was the only way you’d get to see Jeon Jungkook in action.

You had been pretty passive about courting him lately. Joining Logan’s team was a lot more demanding than you had imagined. Nobody would let you slack off.

Initially, they were quite understanding about your incompetence but once it began actively affecting their work, they weren’t shy to let you know it.

Logan wouldn’t defend you either. So you had to suck it up and win them over through hard work.

All the hard work was starting to pay off too.

Logan had put you on a personal payroll. The amount wasn’t as much as the other employees earned (which was alright with you since you had no idea how big of a difference there was between yours and their pay cheques.)

You were being taught how to use Excel and some calendar app to set meetings up for people.

You also learnt that these were public and everyone could see everyone's calendars.

Apologies to the sixty people who saw the bikini laser and dick appointments on yours.

Speaking of dick appointments; none of yours had been successful with Namjoon.

It’s like the universe was keeping you apart.

There were three separate occasions where you were this close to finally getting laid. But the world was working against you, trying to enforce abstinence.

The first time was the day you met Namjoon, your first day at work. Had Jungkook not walked in, you’d probably have fucked right there.

The second time was a lot more humiliating. You were at his apartment and it was the first time you had seen each other completely nude. You were certain you were about to have the best sex of your life.

The two of you were fully naked, making out on his expensive couch. His cock was rubbing and prodding against your wet and puffy lips. Everything was just right.

And then his parents came in.

It happened too fast for you to react in time.

So, yeah. His parents had seen… everything.

Instead of staying on top of you (because it kept the two of you covered,) the idiot hopped off of you, almost hitting his head on his coffee table, putting both himself and you on display for his parents.

This pattern could not keep going.

First Jeon Jungkook, now Mr. and Mrs. Kim.

And then it happened once again with Jungkook.

Except, this time, he wasn’t physically present to break you up but he kept blowing Namjoon’s phone up.

You don’t know what it was about but since Namjoon made you leave in a haste, you assumed it was work.

After that, you had given up.

Namjoon probably got his relief elsewhere because he didn’t seem half as frustrated as you, but it was whatever.

Anywayyyy....

Today though, you HAD to make a move on Jeon Jungkook. This is what the universe had been trying to do!

Probably.

But you NEEDED that man. He could fix you.

You couldn’t find his Instagram and had to stalk through Namjoon’s instead for more intel on him. You don’t remember the last time you were this invested in something, or someone.

A loud bell finally forces you completely awake.

You groan, burying your face in your silk pillowcase, as it kept ringing incessantly.

“I swear to God…” You threw your blanket off and padded barefoot across your carpeted room, then down the stairs to the main door.

Where the hell was Logan?

When you opened the door, something bright , loud and flashy jumped at you making you wince--- “Mornin’, Pumpkin!”

Fucking Kim Seokjin.

It was followed by a ‘Hello, my kitty.’ from your mother who breezes past you into your apartment.

But her lackey, sorry, husband waits for an invitation that you don’t verbalise.

Instead, you complain, “Stop calling me that, Seokjin.”

Seokjin was only a decade older than you and was always trying to parent you and Logan. It was... New. Logan entertained it but you're fine without a father figure.

All you needed was Jeon Jungkook. He could be your daddy. :D

“Come into the kitchen, dear.” You don’t know if your mother’s talking to you or Jin. You let him in anyway.

As expected, breakfast was already prepared and displayed on the island: buffet style.

Ryujin, your private chef, had already left.

Logan emerged from the den, instantly latching on to your mother.

You wondered if her day usually began this early or if it was just today. It’s like 6 A.M. (It was 8.)

Seokjin grabbed you a plate and served you half a grapefruit and a large bowl of tofu pudding while you waited at the table.

You were still a tad delirious.

Your hair was a tangled mess that you’d need help combing out.

The three adults joined you at the breakfast table a few minutes later.

Logan presented you with your iPad to check your schedule, this time it was hidden from his employees. But of course, you played Candy Crush instead.

Your brother made small talk about work and about how well you’re adjusting. Something about Seokjin’s new venture capitalist phase was discussed.

Then your mother turned her attention towards her favourite daughter.

You ignore her gaze and continue shoving chocolate pudding into your mouth.

“Are you seeing anyone new lately?” She asked hopefully.

You took extra long to respond, still chewing on the grapefruit-pudding combo. So, Logan answers for you--- “Kim Namjoon.”

At that, your mother’s eyes lit up, “Ahh, him. I have known his father for a while. Such a polite kid.” She then adds, “Very eligible.”

Eligible = marriage material.

But you knew damn well he wasn't thr type to even think about marriage.

Unbothered, you lean back. “He’s OK. Not seeing him.”

You stretched your arms and legs. “I’m interested in someone else though.”

That made your mother pause mid-bite, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Your mother blinked, now intrigued. She definitely knew that name.

“Namjoon’s… boss?” She tries to find the right word.

“Mhm.”

Wasn’t he with someone already? Your mother makes a strange face but keeps her thoughts to herself. She has had enough of your bullshit. Ignorance is bliss.

At least you’re aiming high.

The topic's forgotten just as fast as it was brought up.

Seokjin takes over, enthusiastically talking about some game show he was going to go on.

You still didn't know what exactly it was that he did. Not that you cared either.

A few minutes later, you excuse yourself from the table.

You hadn’t realised it was already half past 8.

Namjoon would be here in an hour. There wasn’t enough time to get a hairwash in but you’re going to risk it anyway.

You ask for Seokjin’s help with your hair and he ditches his breakfast to follow you upstairs.

He really does try very hard to connect with you and Logan. You pity him.

Only fifty minutes later, Namjoon texts you just as you finish tying the last strap on your wrap top.

At the lobby! Is visitor parking free?

It wasn't, but you don't reply because you'd have been downstairs soon anyway.

You had washed your hair, showered, dried your hair and lotioned up in record time.

You swipe some more gloss on, adjust your cami and mini ruffle skirt, and kiss your mirror.

You weren’t sure if you’d need a proper gym bag. You could just take Logan’s but it’s ugly.

A towel and your Stanley was all you were carrying anyway. Apart from your phone and cards, of course. Namjoon could store those for you.

By the time you make it to the lobby, your insides began to vibrate in excitement.

You briefly wonder if Jungkook would be there as well.

You move through the lobby and finally see your date.

Namjoon was waiting near the entrance, scrolling through his phone.

No Jungkook.

When he looks up, his eyes do a quick sweep of your outfit before settling back on your face.

“Wow?” He says, pushing his sunnies up to his head, “That’s your gym look?”

“This is activewear,” you reply dryly, stepping closer and adding, “Technically.”

It’s what you wore for pilates. The skirt had shorts attached to it underneath. But your breasts were a bit… under secured? A tinge risqué for the gym, but you weren’t planning on doing any heavy lifting.

Namjoon lets out a soft laugh and opens the door for you. "Noted. I’ll go easy on you anyway."

The sunlight hits you, blinding you instantly. You wanna fight it but tilt your face up, pretending to enjoy it.

Maybe you could gaslight yourself into believing it was about to be a lovely day ahead.

You wonder if Jungkook was at the gym yet.

Namjoon opens the door to the passenger seat for you and buckles you in, just so he has an excuse to get closer to your face and steal a kiss.

Bless his heart.

This gym isn’t what you expected.

Namjoon guides you inside and the two of you stop at the front desk.

Natural light streams in through tall windows. The gym is well lit and ventilated, tucked away from the street. It smells… good? Not like sweat, wet cardboard and disinfectant. It’s got, like, hints of oud, amber, something cologne-y and maybe eucalyptus.

Quite inviting.

The front desk lady smiles at you prettily. You return it.

Namjoon’s signing you in as his guest. You silently warn him against giving any of your personal information away.

There’s a hydration station to your left, stocked with little shot glasses filled with vibrant green liquid and large glass jars of veggie-infused water.

Your eyes flit around the room.

The walls were pale and the machines looked shiny and clean. Even the music was just instrumental and low enough for it to not feel like a club.

There were maybe fifteen to twenty people there.

But you’re looking for a very specific people.

Jeon Jungkook, of course.

You were about to wonder if he was there at all when you finally spotted him.

He was straight across from where you stood, knelt and leaning on this terrifying looking contraption. It truly looked crazy.

But more than his stance, what caught your eye was his arms. Your jaw is slightly ajar.

Then bringing your lips together, you furrow your brows.

His entire sleeve of ink, which you had only caught glimpses of otherwise, was on display. In person, it’s almost cinematic.

You hadn’t expected to see him like this. Your stomach tightens out of nervousness.

You bounce once on the balls of your feet without realizing it.

When Namjoon’s finally done, he leads you inside with your pale pink tumbler in hand.

You wordlessly, eagerly follow a few inches behind him.

It had been a while since you last saw Jungkook up close. Like, too long of a while.

You couldn't wait to---

Your eyes fall on another figure.

No.

Nooooo.

Of course, like a slap in the face, there she was.

On the machine right next to him was Hyewon. With her hair tied up neatly, face flushed from the physical exertion, she wore a fitted, black zip-up jacket and matching leggings.

Your face falls. You’re not sure you recover by the time she sees you and Namjoon.

Her face lit up with surprise, “_____! Hi!”

That’s when Jungkook stumbles.

You return a strained smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

You see Jungkook's legs drop a second too early from the machine as he glances over, following his girlfriend’s gaze.

His eyes land on Namjoon first, then on you. His eyes travel over your figure--- slowly. You’re certain it stalls somewhere around your chest for half a second too long before snapping back up to your face.

But you’re frozen, already feeling the burn in your cheeks.

Because Jeon Jungkook’s got fucking piercings.

Could he get any hotter? Oh, my God.

A small barbell at his brow, a silver ring at the corner of his lower lip, silver rings up his ears. What the fuck…

Where had this man been all your life?

You needed a second.

Jeon Jungkook had no right being this hot.

You’re still recovering from the visual assault when Namjoon casually announces, “This is _____’s first time in a gym.”

Hyewon lets out a little sound of surprise. Jungkook doesn’t react at all.

You want him to not react with his dick down your throat.

You blink a few times and rearrange your head, finally managing to roll your eyes and shake the Jungkook-induced haze out of your mind.

"So we're just gonna be over there." Namjoon points to another area, not too far away from the couple. "Let’s start you off with something easy…" Namjoon's already steering you gently by your waist, toward the cardio section. "Treadmill, maybe ten minutes?"

Cardio???

Uh, he was taking you to the wittle baby machines. No thank you.

“Nuh uh!” You interrupt, suddenly digging your heels in. “I wanna do what he’s doing.” You point straight at Jungkook like a toddler choosing their favorite toy.

Hyewon and Jungkook look at each other. Then back at you.

Jungkook immediately shakes his head, straightening up next to the Roman chair. “No way.” He says flatly. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

If only he knew you’d been doing reformer pilates for the past few months. You think you can handle it. Sort of.

But also, it’s kinda hot of him to be so… protective? Like the idea of you straining yourself worries him.

So you lean in a little, voice dropping just enough. “Oh…” You pout. “But won’t you help me?” There’s a glint of mischief in your eyes.

He doesn’t even blink. “No.” He says, firm.

Then he turns away and gets back on the machine, leaving you and Namjoon a bit dumbfounded.

Pfft. Whatever.

You bite back a smile.

He was annoyed.

How shameless were you? Were you actually flirting with him in front of his own girlfriend; your friend?

Hyewon deserved better than you.

(And him.)

Hyewon breaths a smile through her nose, “Well, if you need anything, let me know, okay?”

You look at her with a genuine smile. “Thanks, Wony. I think I’ll probably just go with what Joon’s doing first.” Insinuating that you’d seek her later.

Namjoon smiles at her as well.

He then tugs you away, still feeling entertained by you and Jungkook. “Let’s start with the treadmill, come on.”

You sigh dramatically, casting one last look over your shoulder.

Jungkook’s full focus was on whatever activity he was carrying out. Hyewon’s beside him, adjusting her gloves.

You drag your feet after Namjoon reluctantly.

The treadmill was whatever. Namjoon inclined it for you but it was still just whatever. Namjoon swore he thought you’d enjoy it. Most newbies did.

After fifteen minutes of that, Namjoon coaxes you into doing a few warm-up stretches.

You generally didn’t enjoy doing these in public but you obliged anyway. He took the lead and you followed.

The fucker would purposely try to make you bend over so he could ogle your tits.

Of course, you weren't going to give him that satisfaction. You're still annoyed at Namjoon for not finding time to fuck you.

Then he puts you on a machine where you stand and cycle; an elliptical.

Only fifteen minutes of it turned your legs into jelly.

It was so embarrassing to fall straight into Namjoon after getting off.

More so when you noticed Jungkook watching.

You wanted to cry. You were better than this.

Namjoon then patted your face a little, offering you a sip of his fruit juice.

Then he gestures toward another one of the beginner-friendly machines--- something with a padded bench and two handlebars. A seated chest press machine? You can't remember what it's called.

But you take one look at the bench and recoil.

No way you were sitting on that, nuh uh.

You protest. “Ugh, Namjoon, I’m not sitting on that.”

He looks at you incredulously, “Why not?”

You mirror his expression, “Think about how many butts have been on it and then ask me that again.”

As if he knew what you were going to say, he sighs, already pulling a pack of sanitizing wipes from his gym bag.

He had done this twice for the handles on the other two machines you’d been on.

He gives the whole thing a thorough wipe-down--- handles, bench, even the adjustment knobs.

You watch him with the faintest smirk.

At least he’s learning.

“There,” he says, stepping back.

You inch closer.

Then wrinkle your nose. “Still looks gross.”

Namjoon stares at you for a second, then gives in with a groan.

He shrugs off his jacket, folds it neatly, and lays it over the bench like it’s a cushion.

That was more like it!

You finally plop down on the jacket dramatically, crossing one leg over the other. "Ok, tell me what to do now."

You shrug a loose pigtail over your shoulder. An impractical hairstyle for the gym but you didn't want to compromise on your personal style.

Also, your hair had been super soft and silky that day.

♡

From across the room, Jungkook’s watching you struggle with the chest press.

He’s taking a break, a protein shake in hand, towel slung around his neck.

He’s still in disbelief a little. He had watched you wait around as his friend cleaned all the machines for you.

He even briefly heard you whine about something. Your voice was so irritating to him.

There’s no way you were that high maintenance.

Such a goddamn princess.

Thank goodness Hyewon wasn’t like that. He got lucky.

Almost on cue, Hyewon jogs up beside him, breathless and glowing, “Ok, ready!”

Jungkook sets down his bottle and adjusts the 25kg barbell for her with a small smile, checking the weight settings and spotting her like he usually did when they worked out together.

It wasn’t often but enough times for them to have their own little routine.

Jungkook watches out for signs of discomfort on his girlfriend's face. “Good job. You’re doing perfect, babe.”

Hyewon giggles breathily.

You see all of it.

And you’re instantly peeved.

Their whole… dynamic. Relationship, whatever. You didn't get it. They’re so basic it pisses you off.

Jungkook was so nice to her but he wouldn’t even smile at you.

Like so what if that’s his girlfriend?

Does he just never look at other people? You can't seem to fathom that.

Was Hyewon controlling?

Yeah, no. Even the thought of that seemed ridiculous.

You watched him hold her waist and glide his hand up and down her back.

Ugh. This wasn’t what you signed up for.

You weren’t gonna sit here and watch Jungkook feel his girlfriend up in public.

That should've been you!!

You let out a huff and look up at Namjoon. “I’m done.”

You sigh, standing abruptly. “I wanna go.”

Namjoon blinks. Now? “Wait, already?”

It had only been a bit over forty minutes. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to start his own, proper work out.

“I’m bored. This isn’t fun anymore.” You pout, blowing your hair out of your face.

Anymore. So you were enjoying it?

Maybe he could make you wait a while for him to finish up.

“Why don’t you go get a steam with Hyewon? I’ll finish up here by the time you’re done.” Namjoon bribes you with something he knew you'd like, hopeful.

But you don’t even entertain the idea. “No… it’s okay. I don’t want foot fungus.”

You sneak another glance at the couple, feigning a stretch.

They’re still engaged with each other.

Ughghdgh.

You were done for the day.

“I think I’m just gonna head home. Then maybe call for a massage.” You think a relaxing Thai massage would be perfect right now. “You can finish up here. I’ll see myself out!”

He sighs, wipes his hands on his shorts, and grabs his gym bag. He wasn't about to let you leave like this.

“Wait. I promised you a meal anyway. Let’s get brunch instead?” Namjoon offers.

Oh, right. You hadn’t even cared for that bit.

You blink owlishly. “I forgot about that. You really don’t have to-” - “No, I want to.” He smiles, hopeful.

You look unconvinced.

Namjoon’s staring you down.

He’s so persistent.

You’re mid performing your eye-roll-flirting combo when a shadow appears beside you.

Hyewon.

She looks curious, a little concerned even. “Everything okay?”

She noticed you and Namjoon having a bit of a disagreement so she had to check in on you.

Namjoon turns to her with a friendly smile, “Oh, yeah. _____’s over the gym. So we’re gonna head out actually.” He nods at the exit.

Hyewon’s lips form an ‘o’ and she nods slowly. She had hoped to spend some time with you.

Then, as if it suddenly occurs to him, Namjoon exclaims, "Oh!" You don't like the sound of that. "We’re just going to this little cafe nearby. You and Kook should join us. It’s not even ten minutes from here, he knows which one."

W-

Wait a damn minute.

When did this become a group activity? You hadn’t agreed to this!!

Why did Namjoon always have the wOrst ideas?

You turn your head sharply to glare at him. Neither of them catch on.

But Hyewon lights up instantly. “That sounds great!” She doesn't bother confirming with her boyfriend, knowing he’d agree to it if she asked nicely.

Hyewon had been meaning to find a way to sit down with you one of these days. Maybe get to know you better.

What better opportunity was she going to get than this?

Since her work lunches had never happened with you, she thinks this brunch may be an opening to more like these.

And just like that, your simple date with Namjoon… becomes something else entirely.

You tap your foot impatiently.

The three of you were forced to wait for fifteen more minutes for His Highness to finish his post-workout steam session.

Hyewon had tried to start conversations with you the entire time. Ones that you just couldn't care to follow up on. You can't do small talk.

You prayed Jungkook got a foot fungus.

Who did he think he was making you wait around for him like some lap dog?

Jungkook finally reemerged from the changing room dressed in a white button down, dark grey trousers and dress shoes.

You squint for a second. Was this just his regular getup?

No, you’ve seen photos of him in regular people clothes.

You shake it off. Maybe he was gonna return to the office. Did he ever rest?

As if you weren't already agitated. On top of waiting on Jungkook for so long, Namjoon makes you walk ten minutes to the eatery.

Namjoon walks beside you, holding both his gym bag and your Stanley Cup like a true gentleman. You hear Hyewon yapping behind you, attached to Jungkook’s arm like an accessory.

You can’t help it. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder. As does Namjoon, but for a totally different reason. He’s making sure they were all close together and you’re only sneaking peeks at Jeon Jungkook.

It pisses you off when Jungkook doesn’t even return your gaze.

What you don’t realise is that his eyes stayed glued to you when you weren’t looking.

But in his defence, you're in his line of vision whether he wants it or not.

So... Yeah.

When you got to the cafe, you were able to cut the line and get a table instantly because Jungkook and Namjoon knew the owners.

It's a pretty little place with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. It's a bit too brown for you but you get the appeal.

You think you read about this place in Vogue or something.

Inside, the host greets Namjoon by name and guides your party to a circular table. It had two pairs of stools placed on opposite sides, facing each other.

You take your seat beside Namjoon before anyone else could.

Jungkook and Hyewon sit across from you.

There’s not a lot of space--- your thigh is just barely touching Namjoon’s.

You weren't down with this arrangement.

“Joon, would you mind switching seats with me?” You ask sweetly, tugging lightly on his sleeve. “There’s a draft blowing right on my neck and it’s already beginning to give me a headache.”

“Yeah, of course,” Namjoon says without hesitation, already rising from his seat. He even offers you his jacket which you decline.

Uh, yeah, so there was no draft.

You just didn’t want to spend the next hour, or whatever, staring at Hyewon’s face when you could stare at Jungkook's instead.

Jungkook raises a brow. He, too, knew there was no draft. And if there was, were you really just about to put Namjoon through that discomfort?

It seemed so typical of you.

But you're a little happier now.

You were finally directly across Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook’s arms are folded; elbows on the table, muscles flexed. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Yet you could see his muscles through the white fabric.

His brow piercing glints under the sunlight streaming in from the massive window behind you.

He still refused to look you in the eye.

Was he shy or something?

He was crazy gorgeous.

You loved piercings on men.

Jungkook's muscles were so hot.

Namjoon was plenty muscular too but Jungkook’s were more toned and defined. And you like that a lot.

Ideally you didn't prefer muscular people but Jungkook's were perfect.

For the first time, you find yourself being jealous of another woman.

You couldn’t believe Hyewon’s luck. She really gets to have Jeon Jungkook to herself and call him hers.

You almost scoff.

Well... You would just have to change that.

Hyewon is already leading the conversation.

“I’ve been dying to try this place!” She exclaims, flipping the menu even though she clearly knows what she wants. “I’ve always heard them talk about it.” She directs at you.

You smile at her, but your eyes bat to Jungkook.

His face is unreadable.

His eyes flicker from the menu to his girlfriend. And then to you.

He stares at the side of your head when you’re looking at the menu in Namjoon’s hand.

Your hair fell beautifully on your eyes.

You don’t notice because you’re focused on Namjoon. He’s describing each drink to you and Hyewon.

The two of you then end up picking the same citrus raspberry hibiscus iced tea.

Namjoon leans toward you and points to one of the drinks in the smoothie section. “You’d like this one actually.” He explains, "It has like five kinds of berries."

You liked berries but you weren’t in the mood for anything heavy so you shook your head at his suggestion.

When the waiter arrives, Jungkook orders for everyone.

Taking charge. Nice.

Before he concludes, he looks at you, “Are you sure you don’t want the berry smoothie? It’s sweet.”

You almost startle because this was the first time he had initiated a conversation with you in weeks.

If Jungkook wanted you to try a berry smoothie, you were going to do just that.

It's psychology. You knew it'd inflate his ego and then maybe he'd give you a little more attention.

Smiling sweetly, you oblige. “Ok, I’ll try some.”

Namjoon raises a brow in fake-offence but lets it slide.

Jungkook nods and adds it to the order. He then smiles at the waiter.

You couldn’t look away. His smile was so attractive. Especially with the lip ring.

What was going on here in this place right now?

Namjoon briefly excused himself to take a work call outside.

You wave him off, asking him to hurry back.

Internally, you swore you were going to walk out if Jungkook and Hyewon started talking amongst themselves.

Jungkook sighs deeply and leans back in his stool.

As he relaxes, his shoe accidentally knocks against yours.

At that, he suddenly straightens up and throws you a quick apology. “Sorry.”

You simply smile at him as an 'It's okay.'

An awkward minute passes.

"By the way..." Thinking quick, you use this chance to open a conversation with him now that you had his attention. "I really like your piercings. I have them too."

Jungkook has always loved receiving compliments on his piercings and body art.

So he couldn't help but tell you about them.

He purposely ignores the comment about your own piercings though. He did not need to think about that right now.

He leans forward, flattered. "Thanks... I got my ears done in my late teens. Along with my first few tats on my fingers actually."

You gasp. Finger tats???

Without asking, you reach across the table and grab his hand with both of yours, bringing it closer. "Lemme see!"

Jungkook doesn't even flinch. Instead exhales a muted laugh.

He had to admit that was kinda cute of you.

You run your fingertips gently over the small designs on his knuckles and sides of his fingers.

They were a bit faded. Except for an emoji that you absolutely did not expect. It's the crazy looking one. 🥴.

So silly.

"Do you have to keep refilling them?" You asked out of genuine curiousity.

Jungkook nods. "Yeah. These tend to fade a lot faster because your hands are always in use and exposed to the elements. And the kind of tattoos I chose are called fine line tattoos, they'd fade anywhere on your body since they're made using just one thin needle."

He later adds, "But I prefer it."

You hum, tracing the patterns with a kind of reverence that makes Hyewon stiffen.

You tilt your head. "Hmm... Like if you get bored of it, you'd just need to wait for it to go away on its own rather than get it lasered off!"

"Exactly." Jungkook slightly smirked at you.

You’re quiet for a second, focused on his fingers, then look up at him with a grin. "These are so hot. Like criminally hot."

You also shoot his girlfriend a smile so you wouldn't seem too forward or predatory.

Jungkook huffs a little laugh but doesn’t pull away.

His hand stays in yours.

It gives you butterflies. It's like you don't know what to do with his hand. It's... There.

Hyewon’s voice cuts through, sounding casual but pointed. "That’s actually the first thing I noticed too!"

With her eyes only briefly on you before settling on Jungkook, she continued, "When we reconnected last year. He had the eyebrow and lip, and I was like, wow."

Hyewon then places a hand on his bicep. Staking her claim.

You wait for more but it never comes. What the hell kinda anecdote was that?

But it made sense for her to approach him instead of the other way around.

Then you echo, still holding her boyfriend's hand, "Reconnected?"

"Yes. We were in the same uni. He's older." Hyewon smiles tightly. "And we met again at Choi Soobin's party." She adds at the end, "Last October."

Wait, Soobin? Now your attention was on her.

That man was your first friend in uni. He's two years older though, so you only spent a year with him closely. He taught you how to drink. And you stayed in touch ever since.

But he'd only had one public party last year. That had to be it. You were there!

How had you not seen Jungkook then? (You were super drunk the entire time so... It makes sense.)

"Soobin's rooftop thing, right? I was there!!" You squeak.

Hyewon smiles wider now, nodding. "You were! You wore that white Chanel t-shirt. I loved that top. It's still my favourite look of yours."

It was like the most basic look you could've pulled together, but you don't say that. Maybe it was the lilies in your hair that gratified her.

You beam, resting your elbows on the table. "Thank you, Wony."

God, you'd always remember how you acquired that top.

"That outfit almost cost me my life." You exaggerate with a phew.

Sensing a story there, Hyewon stared at you questioningly.

Finally, you exaggeratingly roll yours eyes (not at her) and release her boyfriend's hand, preparing to narrate this thing that happened to you.

Undoing your wrap top for absolutely no reason, you begin with some background--- "OK, so, there's a little boutique in Troye. Like two hours from Paris, maybe? It's an 'unofficial official' discount store for Chanel. You can only access it if you regularly spend a certain amount of money at Chanel though."

You explain. "They don't like to advertise sales because that'll break the illusion of a luxury brand."

You didn't shop Chanel often, but your mother met the mark. That's how you gained access to it.

You were more of a Miu Miu and Sandy Liang girl.

Hyewon was now very intrigued. You had just given her some crazy insider info. Something only someone like you could offer. Something she could use to her benefit.

"Anyway, this lady really wanted to play tug of war with that top. She was such a tiny woman but she actually flung me across the room!"

You had only gotten to buy that top because she got kicked out.

Hyewon was thoroughly immersed, even getting over the fact that you had been playing with her boyfriends hand nonchalantly just a minute ago. And that he had LET you.

Either way, she felt herself slowly growing a friendship with you. Like, a genuine one.

It was either super easy to impress Hyewon or she was just deluded.

Namjoon returns just as finish the tale about your wrestling match in France.

You spot him first and sit up straighten in your seat.

Jungkook looks up too, eyes flicking to his friend in silent question.

Namjoon shrugs, muttering under his breath as he drags himself back into his seat, “Handled.”

Jungkook nods once, accepting the vague answer.

You grin at Namjoon and gloat, “You just missed a really fun story.”

He plays along, amused. "Yeah?" - "Mhm." You nod, with your nose up.

Hyewon was just about to complain about the service when three plates appear in front of you seemingly out of nowhere.

It even startles the two of you. Goodness. Whatever that was all about.

Jungkook's stack of protein pancakes looked weird to you. But the whipped cream was a good choice. He also got himself a cup of coffee, without sugar or cream or anything.

So bitter.

Namjoon got a bagel sandwich. It's stuff in a bagel, it's whatever. But it was huge. The portion size seems to match the price range.

So far, Hyewon had the best looking order.

A pretty bowl of shrimp with other healthy looking stuff.

You ask if you could take a picture of it.

She just nods excitedly, asking you to tag her if you post. You do.

(Somin is side-eyeing you, BTW.)

Your smoothie looked a bit menacing though. It was scarily red. But only a sip told you otherwise. "Mmm!! Yum!" This was aimed at Jungkook who just nodded satisfyingly, and then you turn to Namjoon who shot you a smug smile.

You hum in content and reach out for the iced tea drink next.

The tea tasted like soap.

Disappointed, you frown at your straw.

The flavours of the smoothie had overpowered the tea.

You pout a little, and feel a little annoyed when nobody notices or says anything.

Jungkook did though.

Jungkook almost shook his head. Like, what did you expect?

Namjoon and Hyewon start talking about some high profile client who recently left Hyewon's firm to join J, K & K.

You hear the name in passing, some tech company whose CEO allegedly had a meth addiction.

When Namjoon mentions something about a prenup, hinting that this CEO was getting married, you see Jungkook freeze for just a breath, his fork pausing mid air.

His jaw flexes for a second before he resumes chewing.

He was clearly upset. You don't know why.

Jungkook was irritated by Namjoon's tendency to ignore confidentiality clauses. This could've been troublesome had you been someone else and listened to their conversations.

You snuck peeks at him, pretending to pay attention to Namjoon.

Jungkook's such a cutie.

You doubt he even realises it.

Sometimes, he looks so round. You bit your lip to hold back a smile.

Generally, a lunch date like this, where people had co-conversations away from you, would've bored you. But simply watching Jeon Jungkook was really fun. You don't know if he noticed you were.

(He did.)

Your legs are crossed under the table, and on impulse, you decide to do something. Just to see what happens. You uncross them slowly.

Slipping a shoe off, you inch your sock clad foot toward Jungkook’s.

A second later, you slowly slide it next to Jungkook’s foot.

He feels it.

But doesn’t react.

You take it a little further and rest your foot on his shoe for a minute, just to test the waters.

And nothing.

Jungkook doesn't seem to care.

Hm… interesting.

You blink at him slowly like a cat. He was trying hard not to look at you directly. But, his eyes did involuntarily wander to you.

When he still doesn’t shake you off, you move up his ankle. You hold eye contact and watch his reaction closely.

Jungkook goes stiff.

Letting a shaky breath out, he takes a sip of his coffee.

And at the exact same time, you drag your foot up his calf.

His eyes widen and he chokes on his coffee, nearly breaking into a coughing fit.

Namjoon and Hyewon abruptly turn to Jungkook, startled.

Hyewon, alarmed, starts patting his back. “Are you okay, baby?”

You snatch your foot back, innocently watching him with wide, doll-like eyes.

Jungkook furrows his brows, trying to hold his coughs in and shakes his head, reassuring his girlfriend, “Mm. Yeah, it’s- I’m ok now.” He nodded.

When he recovers, like barely, Hyewon continues with her story, not wanting to lose her train of thought. But she still glances at her boyfriend from time to time.

This was funnn. You smile cheekily.

Jungkook gives you a warning look, thinking, 'You better not act up again.'

You study him through your lashes as you suck on your straw.

And only a few beats later, you strike again.

This time, you’re bolder. Slower. Higher. Sliding your foot from his calf to his knee. Making circular, rubbing motions on it gently.

Your core tingles a little, making you clench around nothing.

You stare into Jungkook’s eyes, giving him a blank expression.

But he could clearly see the mischief dancing behind your irises.

And then, you make the most tender move.

You aim and press your foot directly on his thigh.

In one swift move, he suddenly grabs your foot under the table, startling you.

You almost squeak but somehow manage to hold your shock in. Your eyes widened and fall to the plate in front of him.

Fuck.

This was exhilarating.

He’s staring you down now, unbeknownst to Hyewon and Namjoon who were looking at something on her phone.

Jungkook holds your foot firmly on his thigh. He doesn’t let go.

Your lips part a little, unsure of what to say or do.

You glance up at Jungkook through your lashes--- and he’s still looking right at you. Eyes narrow and sharp.

You gulp visibly and your chest heaves faintly. You bite your cheek.

He squeezes the top of your foot ever so slightly and your stomach flips. You press on to him harder.

This. Was. So. Hot.

His hand covered almost your entire foot.

Jungkook could probably manhandle you way better than Namjoon. Joon was strong but pretty clumsy. Jungkook though… He seems to know how to use his strength.

Involuntarily, you moan a little at the thought, accidentally drawing everyone's attention to you.

Oops.

“You okay?” Namjoon asks you. You were more than okay.

You snap your head at him and blink. “Mhm!”

Eventually, Jungkook lets go of your foot.

You behave for the rest of the meal. Still peering at Jungkook every so often.

You don’t know how Hyewon hadn’t noticed. And if she had, she didn't say anything.

You're relatively silent, only responding when spoken to. Something Jungkook secretly seemed to find delight in.

He had managed to shut you up. That's a win in his book.

When the bill comes, Jungkook grabs it before Namjoon could.

Also hot.

But before he pays, he turns to you with a raised brow, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? You barely ate.”

You’re caught off guard by this.

Was he displaying... concern?

You tilt your head. “I’m okay... I had breakfast with my family earlier.”

“They have really good chicken salad.” Unconvinced, he suggests. “You could get a takeaway.”

You pause. The softness in his voice disarms you. You clench your toes in your shoes.

“I’m okay.” You affirm softly, hoping nobody notices your reddening cheeks. You squirm in your seat a little.

He nods and proceeds to hand his card over to the server, sneaking one final glance at you.

Although you initially dreaded it, this joint lunch had been... so, so fruitful.

More than that, you now know your advances toward Jungkook were indeed approved.

It was weird though.

You sort of felt like a school girl with a crush on her teacher.

Very strange.

note: sorry it's so goddamn long once again, i thought i could break it into two parts but i didn't want to make you wait any longer

i skipped sleep for this so please tell me if that was worth it or not, ok? lovely

also do you guys think jks gonna tell hyewon about this or nah

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link-the-feral-anon · 3 days ago

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That Cloying Feeling Part Three

(Head's up, we're going into Virgil's room. It's gonna be sad. Felt really good to flex my angst muscles again mwahahahaha >:3)

"Dammit, Logic, I am telling you, I haven't seen him like this since-" Janus groaned, pinching his nose. "You know what? Fine!"

"Fine? As in, you're going to-" Logic started, glancing at Janus with a scowl. He stopped, however, when he saw him taking off one of his gloves. "Oh." He gestured for him to continue.

He held up a single, bard hand. "Please. I am asking you to help me."

"Help you? Hah! Why would we help a villain such as yourself?" Roman asked. He was clearly ready for bed, judging by his fluffy robe. "No matter how flattering you are, Deceit, we all know you're also a liar."

"Roman-" Logic started, but the prince kept going.

"Honestly, it's no wonder that Anxiety is hanging out around us more often." He said, waving around his toothbrush. "With you and... my twin as company."

"Roman!" Logic shouted. Roman had the decency to look sheepish. "We don't even know what he's asking of-"

"Forget it." Janus spat, putting his glove back on. "I'll fix it. Just like I fixed it last time."

That had been a day ago. Now Janus was sat outside Virgil's room. He couldn't get in. He got in last time when the door was locked, but this time? This time Gil had locked him out specifically.

"Why are you just sitting there, Janus?" Remus yelled at him. The teary glare caused him to hang his head in shame.

"Re... he locked us out. He's dipping out, and he won't let us save him." Janus said, watching the floor. "We can't do anything."

"Says you!" It tried to spit the words at him, but they caught in its throat as it tried to choke back a sob. It went back to trying to knock the door down.

Logan had reprimanded Roman for interrupting the only time Deceit had ever been genuinely honest with him. He wished now that he'd gone after Deceit instead.

Was this what he meant by last time? Had this happened before, without any of them knowing? How could they have been so dismissive of him all this time?

"How did you get into my room?"

"We-" Roman started, fists clenched at his sides. "We came to- to res-" His voice almost cut out, but he managed to stutter through. "To rescue you." He was trembling.

"Rescue me?" Anxiety scoffed. "There's no need. I swear, this time, Thomas won't be effected."

"Who cares!" Logan hated how his voice sounded, raw and wounded. Roman might say he sounded like he'd been gargling broken glass. "I don't care if it won't effect Thomas! I'm being affected by it! I-"

"Yeah, that's because you're in my room."

"No, it's-" Logan felt his throat closing, and his eyes started to burn.

"Anxiety, we don't want to lose you." Patton said. How he was able to get through a whole sentence with his voice steady, Logan didn't know.

"Mor-" He sighed at the look Patton gave him. "Patton, I'm not helping anything."

"Yes, Anxiety, you are."

Logan could hear Patton going on about how, ever since Anxiety joined in on their debates, things have been better. That he helps their productivity. Keeps present dangers top of mind. Roman interrupts there to express that he loves the nervous feeling, right before Thomas goes on stage, and how Anxiety pulls back as he walks on.

But all Logan can think about... is that none of that matters.

"Who cares about all of that?" His voice still felt like sandpaper. He could feel hot tears burning down his cheeks. He's been hanging out with Roman far too much, clearly. "I don't care. I don't care if you never once helped Thomas."

"Logan!" Patton cried, his resolve finally breaking.

"How can you say that, Pointdexter?"

Logan's hands were fists and his close closed shut. "Well, I don't care! I want him to stay no matter what! I don't want him to go, and I don't care if him being here helps or not! I want Anxiety to stay!"

Silence reigned for a time. Logan didn't know if it was minutes or hours. Anxiety's words were playing in his head, his own logic trying to fight the- well, anxiety threatening to drown him. He was barely aware of the sound of crying. Was it Patton? Roman?

Was it him?

He didn't know.

@logan-bear-bear

Pre-AA Virgil: I bet you're one of those fools who hates bats for no reason.

Logan, slamming his note cards down on the table: How dare you! I love bats! They play a vital role in our ecosystem, and have been villainized for years by the media because of the existence of the vampire bat! WHO!! Is still valid and necessary, despite it's scary name and appearance! Bats are beautiful and they deserve to be loved!

Virgil: ...

Roman, leaning over to whisper to Patton: Are we sure that this is even about bats anymore??

Patton, whispering back: I don't know...

Virgil, softly but with feeling: You.

Logan, quieting down a little: Huh?

Virgil, feeling too many pleasant emotions: You're the exception.

#analogical #andy writes #ohhh #I was gonna continue but man #that's such a solid line to end it on #>:3c

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lemonanddeepspace · 18 hours ago

Text

𝐓𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐨 𝐔𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭

Sylus

[Chapter 1] No Way Out

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Sylus x f!Reader

Story Warnings: Angst, Smut, Arranged Marriage, Second Chances, Infidelity

Chapter Warnings: None

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

Your husband doesn’t care if you live or die, it’s all the same to him. You’re no one of importance to him, he’s made it clear. After nearly five years of marriage, he barely remembers your name. Sylus has never, and will never care about you– It hurt a little at first, you won’t lie, but now you’ve grown indifferent to his treatment.

Since the beginning you knew the marriage was out of convenience. Sylus sought power that only your family could bring to him so he made a deal that they couldn’t refuse. You never got the details about it, you just knew you were the bargaining chip. You were thrown in the middle even though you aren’t allowed to know what’s going on.

You were upset at first. You threw tantrums, demanding an answer from someone. Anyone. Yet no one spoke up. However, the marriage didn’t upset you as much as it should’ve. You were finally free from the birdcage, given a false sense of freedom as Sylus took you under his wing.

Freedom. You almost scoff at the mere thought of it. Your prison just grew in size, but you are in no way free. He doesn’t care if you live or die but he does care if you escape. There’s someone constantly watching you, no matter where you’re at.

Sylus controls everything and everyone in the perimeter. You can’t even have a proper conversation with a stranger because they know who you are, and they want to maintain their distance. Sylus can’t even look you in the eye but he still manages to control everything in your life.

When you first got married to him, you thought you could handle it, but your patience has grown thin over the years. It’s gotten to the point where you can’t handle it. You seek freedom, and you’ll do just about anything to get a taste of it. Which is why you plan to leave Sylus, one way or another.

Tonight will be the night that you ask Sylus for a divorce. Even if he won’t grant it to you, you’ll still lay the concrete and make it clear that you want out. Even if it’s his sole decision. You have no say in a marriage you were forced into, but you hope that maybe luck will be on your side. Maybe by introducing the idea, Sylus will let you go.

There’s only one thing that feels nearly impossible: getting a moment alone with Sylus.

Lighting doesn’t strike twice in the same place, and neither does Sylus. You see him once a week, and he’s never alone. It’s always at a different time, a different day– Never consistent.

“Luke, will Sylus come around tonight?” You question as you watch the twin slouch on your couch, playing a video game. You stay out of his way, not blocking his view of the television, allowing him to remain focused on his game. That’s your first mistake, Luke barely even acknowledges you’re there because he’s too occupied with his game.

“Luke.” You call out to him again, and he glances at you for a moment before his eyes land on the television again.

“Online game, can’t pause.” He informs you, making you click your tongue.

“Is Sylus coming yes or no?” You repeat your question, knowing that he doesn’t need to look at you to answer. Either he knows or he doesn’t.

“Boss man? I don’t know.” You’re not sure if he’s lying through his teeth or being honest, but you don’t care enough to look into it. The twins are always covering up for Sylus, asking them anything is useless.

“Luke.” Your voice gets stern as your eyes land on the electrical cord. He can ignore you all he wants, but he’ll definitely change his mind once you realize you have the upper hand. When he looks at you again, he sees a threat. He freezes, and he sighs. You don’t have to keep exchanging words.

“He’ll come around tonight. He’s going to be late though.” He panics as he sees your hand get dangerously to the cord. He knows better.

“How late?” You ask, and he shrugs. You end up giving him a subtle nod before turning on your heel and leaving him alone. You’ll just stay up, no matter how late he is. If you don’t tell him tonight, the courage might leave your body the next time you have a chance.

Your eyes are shutting on their own as you wait for your husband. You’re trying your best to fight your sleep, but it’s winning. Luke must’ve warned Sylus to not come home tonight because you’d be waiting. To think a man his size is scared of you– You also are just getting into your head about it when Luke could’ve just lied to you.

You think about giving in until the loud sound of footsteps begin to approach your room. Your eyes are knocked wide awake, and you adjust your posture. You try to look lively, as if you weren’t about to fall asleep. You stand up from the couch, reaching for your class of wine and bringing it up to your lips. You try your best to look nonchalant.

“Heard you wanted to speak to me.” His voice sends a chill down your spine. You want to say that you’ve gotten used to it, but it’s rare to actually hear it.

Your breath is caught up in your chest before you turn around to finally face him. Sylus glares down at you with tired eyes, exhausted from the day– Already tired from what you have to say. He looks the same as always. Sylus never really changes; in five years you haven’t noticed a single hair out of place. Maybe you don’t notice a change because you barely see him, but by a simple comparison with your wedding photos, he still looks the same.

He perks up his brow, waiting for you to finally respond. He can’t idly stand by for hours as he waits for you to answer. He tries to give you some leeway, noting that you’re nervous. It’s hard not to notice when the nerves radiate from your body, even if you’re trying your best to suppress them. Your body gives subtle hints. No matter how stoic you try to be, there’s a tremor that you can’t get rid of.

“Well then, what is it? I don’t have all day.” Sylus is getting annoyed. He’s trying not to yawn as he waits for you to speak.

Except that the courage that you had earlier has faded and now you’re trying your best to come up with the right words. You take a deep breath as you stare at your husband. He’s looking into your soul, trying to decipher what you’re up to.

You can’t back down now, even if your heart is racing. He knows you want to talk about something, and it’s clearly something important since you’ve waited for him. He watches your every move, waiting for you to get something out.

“Well?” He insists.

“I want a divorce.” You finally spit out, eyes looking anywhere but at him. You aren’t brave enough to actually look at him to watch his reaction. Even though you know he won’t care, there’s a twinge of hope in you that he’ll care– And that hope controls your actions, forcing you to look away.

“I beg your pardon?” He responds, making you look up at him. His brows are furrowed in confusion, as he tries to decipher what you just said to him. He takes a moment to think about it, as if his ears are deceiving him. But no, he heard you right.

“Sylus, I think it’s time for me– For us to end this. There’s no point in this, and I’m tired.” You admit, nervously rambling. Your feelings get the best of you, and the confidence you had imagined during this moment is nowhere to be found. “I just feel like that’s the best thing for us. We’re not like an actual married couple–”

The words stop flowing out of your mouth the moment you hear a cold laugh leave his lips. You bite your tongue as you wait for him to say something. You look at him with hopeful eyes, hoping that he’ll agree to your request. But you know better.

“A divorce?” He questions with a mocking tone in his voice. He looks at you with contempt, almost feeling pity for you. “Sweetie, what do you think a divorce is?”

“I’m not stupid.” You answer, rolling your eyes at his response. “I want out of whatever we have–”

“You don’t get to decide that you want a divorce, the same way you didn’t get a choice in marrying me.” He interrupts you, his words getting under your skin. You should’ve expected it. You know that getting out of your situation isn’t easy. But hearing the words leave his lips makes your blood boil.

“It’s unfair!” You raise your voice as Sylus laughs. He turns around and begins to walk away, putting an end to the conversation. Unluckily for him, you aren’t quite done and you won’t let him leave so fast. You follow after him, nearly yelling, “Sylus, I’m speaking to you!”

“Life’s unfair, kitten. Get used to it.” You roll your eyes at his response, and you almost curse yourself for continuing the conversation. The nickname he gives you makes you seethe.

“Kitten? Seriously?” You scoff, almost getting sidetracked. Until you remember that there’s bigger issues at hand. “I feel like a prisoner, Sylus!”

“I believe that’s what they call marriage.” He argues, amused by his own response. He wants to get you off his tail before moving any farther, so he stops in his tracks.

“We’re not a married couple! We don’t have dinner together, we don’t speak to each other, we don’t sleep in the same bed– We don’t have sex! We haven’t had sex!” You raise your voice, making a fuss over something he finds utterly amusing.

“Sex?” He raises a brow, fighting back a smirk.

“Yes, sex!” You shout, making him let out a chuckle. He grabs your wrist, forcing your hand on his chest.

“You want sex? Is that it, kitten?” He leans down, making your face get warm out of pure embarrassment. Your words click as he repeats them.

“No!” You shake your head, jerking your hand out of his grasp. You look at the ground in shame as he laughs.

“What is it then, sweetie? You complain we don’t have sex, but when I ask if that’s what you desire, you tell me no. So?” He responds, and you feel your face burn up. You want to crawl in a hole and hide away forever. Perhaps you shouldn’t have brought that aspect of marriage up, but it’s a little too late to take back your words.

“I just mean that–” You stammer, unsure how to proceed. He’s caught you with your tail between your legs. You bite your tongue before nodding in defeat. “I just want a divorce, Sylus. I deserve romance, love, consideration– And the most basic thing of all, respect.”

“I respect you.” He argues, making you laugh for once.

“Respect? Your response to me asking for a divorce was undermining me. You asked me if I knew what a divorce is.” You point out, and he clicks his tongue. He doesn’t have the energy for this.

“I’m not in the mood, sweetie.” He sighs, turning around to leave you once again. Only this time, he doesn’t care if you keep chasing him. He’ll shut the door in your face, forcing you to go away.

“Of course you aren’t. Whatever helps you, Sylus.” You keep your heels on the ground, refusing to step any further. You can’t keep arguing with him when it’s clear that you want different things, at least tonight. Maybe tonight he’ll sleep on it and reflect on what he truly wants. Hopefully when he wakes up tomorrow, he’ll grant you liberty.

But you know things won’t be so easy, especially not with Sylus.

#lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus qin #lads

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masked-daydream · 3 days ago

Text

DATE EVERYTHING! SELF-AWARE AU

Unhinged! Player x Self-Aware! Dateables

Another version of the Self-Aware Au by writing-munchies but the Player is like @kingtism1 aka Antonio from TikTok who says the most unholy stuff to every dateable.

like I said I will quote some of the unhinged stuff that the guy says and also add some of my own. I really recommend you guys watching his interactions but only if you are 🔞 like this fic.

I WANT TO... (Pt. 2)

Crossposted on Ao3

Part 1, Part 2

⚠️ 🔞 Content Incoming ⚠️

'What in the absolute hell was that?!'

You say to yourself while resting in bed after you immediately shut down your computer after the most weirdest thing that has happened to you.

'Is it possible that it's just part of the game?'

You wonder remembering the moment when Keith the bastard Key manages to call your name perfectly like his voice actor literally pronounced your name as the character looked at you with his gray eyes.

You keep thinking about that moment as tossing and turning in your bed then you immediately sat up staring at your desk where your computer lies.

As much as you are spooked by that interaction, you remember your research about the Keith on the net on how he was a Content-Aware character meaning there was a chance that interaction was part of his creation.

'Yeah.. maybe that's why...'

You try to convince yourself, as you stared towards your computer you begin to feel a weird pulling sensation like an urge to go and play the game again.

I mean even with that odd interaction you still really love the game, the characters, the voices, hell you really miss the way some characters blush while you're flirting with them. Which is probably the reason why you cannot hold your tongue and start saying your deepest desires.

You begin to sit up from your bed looking at your computer for a moment and for a few minutes you begin to think for a bit.

'It's just one creepy interaction, what's the worse that could happen?'

Then you finally sat on your gaming chair preparing to open your computer to play the game. Promising yourself to just play for an hour after all it's the middle of the night and you just want to confirm if what happened is just another glitch in the game, maybe it will only happen on one character...

As time passes...

As you begin another playthrough of the game you can't help but admire the characters once again

Each treble of their voice went through your skin and through your heart as you interacted with another flirty character.

Volt one of the two personifications of electricity is currently making your heart rate spike a little too fast with his deep-accented voice you can't help but let your impulsive thoughts win.

"How about you explore my holes you stud, I want you inside my pussy and my ass - Get Eddie too I need you both to double penetrate the fuck out of me- Eiffel tower me! Please get active and fill me with your cum!"

You say with no shame to the currently blushing character. Not knowing about the dirty thoughts also going around the Electricity personified's head after hearing your confession.

Volt knew about your dirty habit on telling your deepest desires from the other objects from the household. He just didn't expect that your desperation not only applies to him but to Eddie as well.

He then licked his lips knowing that you won't notice his actions. As he has quite a strong control over his sprite that you won't notice any difference from his character unless...

He then changed his character sprite to the one where his holding his hand out to the player as his light-blue eyes stare at you and his other hand settles on his chest. As he goes out of script for one line.

"Well now let's not get ahead of ourselves livewire, I'm sure that me and Eddie will have time to fulfill anything you desire~ ;)" Volt declares his voice getting a bit more deeper as he speaks.

Your face gets more redder as you hear Volt's next line not knowing that he went out of script. But you feel his electric eyes stare into your soul making you grow a bit hotter.

"Damn. This fucking game..." You say to yourself as you cover your flustered face with your other hand, as you click again his sprite changing back to his normal one as Volt continues his usual lines.

You didn't notice Volt smirking at your reaction. As he plans to get you to love Him and Eddie more as you interact with them.

As more time passes as you play the game you get a bit more tired slowly closing your eyes hearing Volt and Eddie's voice as you nearly accomplished their love ending... You then lay your head on the side of your desk, closing your eyes as sleep finally took you.

You didn't notice the arms slowly going around you, carrying you to your bed.

You also didn't notice someone touching your face gently as you sleep and you also didn't notice the kiss given to your lips like a promise they plan to fulfill.

And you also didn't notice your game saving by itself and you're computer turning off by itself as well.

You didn't notice as you slept deeply feeling the touch of someone who wants you inside and out.

The Next Day...

As you begin another playthrough you notice some characters getting a bit more flirty than usual.

Infact those who are not normally as Flirty are having lines that clearly imply that they're very interested in your character (or just probably you in general).

Making you get more flustered than usual you couldn't help but get more and more redder as every character say's a line that clearly imply something more dirtier than usual.

You didn't really think much of those lines as it fits the current scenario I. What's happening for each character. So you clearly didn't mind.

Infact you were quite happy that you managed to get a lot of the love endings. So you have decided to go through the harder ones to romance to see if lady luck is shining on you today.

As you aimed your dateviators to the vacuum you then mentally prepare yourself for the Vacuum personified as you have already saw him during Eddie and Volt's route and also reading some comments about the game on him being one the hardest ones to romance to the point that others say they needed a guide.

You finally decided to just see the route for yourself and play without the guide, you might as well challenge yourself instead of doing things the easy way.

Your eyes then widened at the handsome face who for some reason is already blushing, appear on your screen. You then let the first words that come to your mind out without thinking

"Yeah...He may be the vacuum but I'm the one that's doing the sucking." You move closer to the screen admiring the beauty in red and white.

"Whip out your penis- I'm gonna suck and blow you - you beautiful fine piece of ass."

Henry Hoove know's what to expect from you infact everyone in the household knew what to expect from you every time you open that sinful mouth.

He just truly wasn't ready for it. As you approach the laundry room where he and other dateables are located he thought you picked someone else.

Imagine his suprise when you open the closet door and with no hesitation immediately aimed the dateviators at him. He didn't have time to prepare himself as he hears your dirty confessions about him.

He feels his pants getting more tighter as you offer to blow him. As he tries to control his character sprite to change into his first pose.

As he finally changes his sprite into a normal one and say his intended lines. He can't help but observe you as your eyes keep staring at him intently, very willing to pay attention to your choices so you can get the Love ending with him.

He knows he's a hard one to romance but maybe he would try to make your interaction with him a little easier. After all he really wanted you to hold on to your words and also get a piece of you as well. ❤️

'Oh~ how bold'

Ben-Hwa thought to themselves as they hear your extremely unholy confession. Every word you say makes every part of their body shiver with excitement as they also imagine doing the things you say as she observes you from your head to your hips.

They feel a bit disappointed that they cannot see your bottom half from this angle, but they just settle in hearing more about how you want to be dominated by them.

"-want you to use any type of sex toy you have on your body right now on me as I beg for you for more as you tease my holes till I break an-" You rambled as more words come out of your mouth getting more dirtier by the second.

If Ben-Hwa had a type of music they like, it'll definitely be your voice as you confess your sins or in the future probably you whimpering and moaning underneath them.

"-od I want you to to just use me as your sex toy- right now!"

They just smile, already planning the ways to make your dreams come true~

As you click Mac's screen you hear their cheery voice through the screen of your own computer.

You sigh dreamily remembering their interactions with you before you achieved their love ending.

"I want this computer so fucking bad, I will literally lay it on the floor and start rubbing my pussy lips- up and down the screen, leaving trails all across it - I need it so fucking bad- I'm taking e-sex to a whole new level with this computer- You don't even understand-" you stop yourself getting a bit aroused as you move your character away from the computer.

God you are getting way to desperate for the characters on this game.

You didn't even notice the computer themselves breathing heavily as they imagine you doing that to them, as Mac feels their insides purr with want.

As they hear your character move away from them, they immediately touch themselves through their pants and begins to try and relieve themselves just with their imagination of you and the scenario you gave them.

As Tyrell begins to talk more about his towel buddies he hears you talk in an urgent tone then he immediately went silent as he realizes, on what you just said

"Tyrell, you're making my pussy wet- so get down there with your towel. And when by towel I mean your dick and get to drying my pussy!" You demanded licking your lips as you stared at Tyrell.

Tyrell's shocked face turned red as your words finally register into his mind as he begins to stutter as you click on him.

"Th-th-th-th-those w-w-ere...." Tyrell tries to say his next line.

But as your words begin to settle on his mind and the redness on his face moved to his lower half, he immediately ran away-

Cutting of your interaction with him as your screen begins to freeze and turn black.

Your eyes widen in confusion as you clicked your mouse urgently, just as you stopped and decided to check the screen.

Your computer opens again with the game still on but you're character is just looking at the towel where your last interaction with Tyrell is supposed to be.

"What the hell just happened?" You ask knowing that no one will answer, as you begin to wonder again.

'Maybe it's another glitch' You think to yourself but as your mind wanders on why-

A text box pop out of your screen. Your eyes widened bewilderment but you couldn't help but let curiosity get the best of you as you click the text box.

Your shock turned to fear as you hear the narrator read the text as your heart skipped a beat.

(They want you as much as you do, If given a chance. Would you let them fulfill your desires?)

(Yes.)

(No.)

Choose Wisely...

#date everything #date everything au #date everything self aware au #homeowner x dateables #volt the electricity #henry hoove #ben hwa #mac the computer #tyrell the towel #date everything x reader #date everything nsft

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nadvs · 3 days ago

Text

escapism . * part four

pairing rafe cameron x socialite! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you live a turbulent life in the public eye as an unruly heiress from a controlling family. you thought you had your future all planned out, until you learn that your trust fund hinges on marrying a stranger.

» masterlist

People are falling for it.

Your appearance at the art gallery was convincing enough to make the tabloids again, with commentary swirling around you being seen with the same unknown man as last weekend.

Hours have passed since the date, and you’re sunk into your bed sheets, restless and scrolling on your phone. The feedback, as expected, is mostly negative. After all, it’s about you.

Some people are praising your looks, but the majority are making digs about how quickly you rotate through boyfriends. And one particular comment has been digging at you.

He’s either brave or has no idea what he’s getting into with her.

You thought you were immune to public scrutiny. That the noise of gossip was easy to brush off by now. But this one cuts deep. Because it carries truth.

All your life, you’ve been a misstep. A risk. Something to endure. And people believe that Rafe is walking into a storm by dating you. In their eyes, you’re the villain, when the truth is that Rafe is the one pulling the strings, calculating and cruel.

The implication is unspoken, but loud: no one would choose you if they truly knew you. And after you’ve spent years pretending that the idea that you’re difficult to love doesn’t sting, that a stranger who knows nothing about you saying it holds no merit, it still hits the nerve you’ve never managed to numb.

Your thumbs are moving before you can stop them, replying: or he likes a girl with a spine and you’re just an idiot.

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“Damn it,” you angrily mutter to yourself, failing to adjust the straps on your heels.

“What are you whinin’ about now?”

You look over your shoulder, rising from your crouched position by the front door. Your ankles sting in the shoes Celeste sent over for another appearance as Rafe’s plus-one to a social dinner for local businesses.

“You get to wear whatever you want,” you say to Rafe, noticing how his tailored shirt stretches perfectly to show his breadth. You hate that he has this effect on you. “And I’m forced to wear shoes that I can barely walk in.”

He scoffs. The night hasn’t even begun and you’re already irritating him.

“Get over it,” he says passively, brushing past you to open the door. “You’ll just be sitting tonight anyway.”

As you step out of the condo to make your way to the car waiting for you, you mutter loud enough for him to hear, “Asshole.”

▰��▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The passing cars on the highway blur together. Rafe sits in the backseat of the SUV with you, the partition rolled up. Celeste surely requested it when she ordered the car, not trusting you to keep appearances up, refusing to risk the wrong person hearing the wrong thing.

As if your passing thought of her manifested it, your phone vibrates with a text from her. In a group chat with Rafe, she’s sent a link to a gossip article.

You skim over the article, noticing Rafe bringing his phone closer to his face, surely reading the same thing. Your impulsive comment last night made the news cycle.

Fired back… Never one to bite her tongue…

Then, you read on to see that your PR team provided a comment, saying you’re simply making a statement about how strength and sensitivity aren’t mutually exclusive, but that you regret your delivery.

You snort a laugh.

“How is this funny?” Rafe grumbles beside you. He’s seething, pissed off that his attempt to get you to work together didn’t pan out. You’re clearly still acting out with no concern for the consequences.

You glance up at him, the glow of his phone lighting the sharp planes of his face in the dimness.

“Because it’s complete bullshit,” you reply.

Another text from Celeste comes into the group: Stay off social media if you can’t reign yourself in. If anyone mentions anything about this tonight, follow what I said in the article. And you both need to be convincing. Event photographers will be there. Remember: you’ve been dating for a couple weeks now. Act like it.

“She’s so annoying,” you murmur under your breath, locking your screen.

For once, Rafe agrees with you.

You go back to staring out the window, crossing your legs, allowing the slit of your dress to expose your thigh just to torture him.

After just barely pulling his eyes off of you, Rafe scrolls through the article to find what you responded to.

He’s either brave or has no idea what he’s getting into with her.

Even though none of this is real, both are true. When he realized how hard being around you was going to be, and how much was really on the line, it took some push to keep going with it, even though he didn’t have a choice.

But the worst of it is that he has no idea what’s in store. You’re a wildcard, always doing things on impulse, and now you’re minutes away from this event, where most of his colleagues will be, seated with his dad and business partners.

Rafe had half a mind to ask you to actually try tonight. Ward will be watching, judging how well Rafe is handling this. But he knows that any sort of request backfires with you. You’d fuck things up just to spite him.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You hear your father’s voice in the crowd once you step into the event on Rafe’s arm. Typical. He loves to go on about how wise he thinks he is and people eat it up, starstruck and infatuated. You figured he’d be here. You just hoped you’d be wrong.

You push your attention into the opposite direction, eyes travelling over the interior of the historic estate, an old home repurposed into an event space. The ceiling soars above you, but the dark wallpaper, heavy chandelier, and murmuring crowds are suffocating.

Rafe gazes over the seating plan perched on an easel, finding your names.

“I’ll get us drinks,” he murmurs. “Go sit.”

“Go sit?” you repeat with disdain. “What am I, a dog?”

“Please sit down,” he replies through gritted teeth. “That good enough for you?”

You glare at him, then release him, eager to get off your feet anyway.

Rafe finds the closest bar, ordering you a water. The longer he can keep you sober, the better.

He looks over his shoulder as you cross the room. Heads turn as you pass. It could be because people recognize you, that they’re aware of the name attached to you. But he’s sure it’s not that.

It’s a reminder of what he tries not to think about every time he’s around you. You’re beautiful. You know it. And you wield it like a threat.

You keep your eyes on your phone once you sit down, the other seats at your table empty as people float around to network. Rafe settles next to you a minute later, placing a glass in front of you. You take a sip.

“Water?” you say quietly. “Are you kidding me? I can’t get through tonight on water.”

“Try,” he replies cuttingly.

Your brows furrow. He’s just like your father the other night, trying to control your drinking, trying to force you to behave. You keep your eyes on him in defiance as you push your chair back, perfectly fine with getting your own drink.

“Stop,” Rafe says under his breath, his hand suddenly on your knee. You’re about to tell him to fuck off, but a voice interrupts you.

“You made it.”

You look up to see a man leaning over the table, offering you his hand, saying your name like it’s a question.

“Ward,” he adds.

You nod and briefly shake his hand only for the optics, responding with nothing else. He’s just another part of this set-up, another man controlling you by placing you into a marriage as a punishment for the sake of his profit margin.

“Are we late?” Rafe asks his dad.

“Like you give a shit about manners,” you reply, echoing what he’d said to you on your first date.

Rafe’s pissed off, but not surprised. He meets his father’s gaze to find sympathy mixed with disappointment.

A moment later, you meet Rose, cluing in that she must be Ward’s wife and Rafe’s mother. Then, another man sits at the table, followed by another.

Seats quickly fill and you stay silent as conversations overlap around you, small talk falling on your ears.

You did the math last night. You have 140 days until you have to walk down the aisle. Around 30 after that. Then, you can put your life into a suitcase and leave.

You pick up on a few things as dinner is served. Ward built his own business, unlike how your dad had inherited his. And people seem to genuinely like him; they’re schmoozing, but it’s not all that forced.

And most of the things he says to Rafe sound casual, maybe even like reassurance, but you sense the cut in them.

In the middle of dinner, Ward mentions another company’s development project, led by someone’s son, surely a corporate heir like Rafe. He explains that investors pulled out this week because he didn’t plan well enough ahead, and when he looks at Rafe, he says, “Anyway. That won’t be you.”

It’s veiled, but it’s there. A quiet, pointed threat.

Ward isn’t what you expected. He’s humble. Social. Maybe even warm. But as much as you hate to give Rafe the benefit of the doubt, you know firsthand that most people can do a great job lying about who they are. And after hearing that shrouded criticism, it’s possible that Rafe didn’t try to trick you - maybe his father did push him into this.

Still, if it’s true that Rafe tried to back out, then it’s just pathetic that he allowed himself to be talked into it. He’s the complete opposite of you - obsessed with duty, living in a world that was carved out for him, spinelessly tolerating his father’s muted threats.

Too many eyes are on you. Rafe wouldn’t dare try to keep you seated. So, you stand up to head to the bar. When you come back with a stiff drink, you wince from the pain in your feet, leaning over, slipping the back of your heels off beneath the table.

Rafe notices. And he’s not convinced that you’re just being dramatic anymore. Still, he’s pissed off at you for being so damn single-minded, for still making no effort to hide your disinterest in being here.

“Was the walk to the bar worth it?” he asks sharply.

“Anything that helps me tolerate you is worth it,” you retort.

A photographer appears a moment later, asking for a photo. You meet Rafe’s frigid eyes, a silent exchange, telling each other, Look the part.

You stiffen as you lean into him, catching the crisp scent of soft soap and sharp mint, pasting on a smile and angling your chin towards him.

Rafe’s arm circles around you, resting on the back of your chair, heat crawling up his spine as he remembers the way you’d stood just inches from him the other night, half-naked, challenging him.

He doesn’t want to want you. But his heart’s quickening doesn’t care to try to deny it; even though you’re impulsive, difficult, irritatingly aware of the power you hold, his body craves yours.

The flash goes off. And your smiles drop.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

“That was hard to watch,” you say once the car door shuts. “Do you even notice it?”

“What?” Rafe sighs tiredly, not even looking at you.

The driver pulls forward into the night, following the estate’s tree-lined driveway, taking you home. The partition is still up and sealing you and Rafe into complete privacy in the backseat.

“Your dad’s digs at you,” you reply, eager to get a rise out of him. “You let him make you look weak. It’s pathetic.”

“I’m the pathetic one here?” he snaps.

A slow smirk pulls at your mouth. You’re getting to him.

“I wouldn’t let anyone talk to me like that,” you say.

“Look where that got you.”

“Look where it got you,” you reply. “You know what? I believe you. Your dad totally made you do this. I can see that whatever he says, goes. Does he tell you what to think, too?”

Rafe snarls. Maybe his father is domineering, maybe his affection is conditional, but it’s what he deserves. He doesn’t like to think about those years, the ones after his mother died, but he knows his pattern of self-destruction embarrassed him.

Falling apart made him lose the already sparse love he once had, but if he works hard enough, he might get it back.

Praise is given out only when Rafe delivers with good work. And that’s fine. Even after everything, his dad accepted him into the family business. Ward never directly insults, never outright orders, but the cold, clipped comments he dishes out are just debts Rafe owes. He’ll pay them for as long as he needs to.

“You don’t know him,” Rafe says sternly, defensive.

“I know what passive aggression looks like,” you taunt.

Rafe runs his hand over his buzzed hair. Something he buries deep simmers beneath the surface. Sadness. It stings that he has to keep working, keep winning, keep hoping that eventually, he’ll be enough.

“You’re not as smart as you think you are,” he retorts.

“Did I hit a nerve?” you reply mockingly, picking up your phone to turn your attention to anything other than the man sitting beside you.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You frustratingly kick off your heels the second you step into the condo, your feet aching. You cling onto your purse as you head towards your side of the penthouse, telling yourself that you’re gotten another date over with, that you’ll never have to do tonight again.

“You were right.”

Your forehead crinkles in confusion, turning to meet Rafe’s gaze. He’s still by the front door, wearing an expression you haven’t seen before. It’s tough, guarded, but not as angry as you’re used to.

“What?” you mumble in annoyance.

Rafe looks down. Tonight was a harsh reminder of how much is on the line. Cameron Development has a reputation any other business would kill for. It has so far to fall. His father worked for that, and if Rafe can do this and get them out of Kal’s debt, he’ll be a hero.

He already considered how this will damage his own personal reputation a little bit, a sudden marriage that ends in an annulment, but that’s a small price to pay to open doors and wipe the company’s slate clean.

He needs you on his side. He needs you to know he’s doing this for his family, and that he genuinely detests your dad. He’d never tell you the whole truth, but he’ll confess something he’s sure you can already see.

This is a risk. But he has to take it.

“Your dad told me to keep tabs on you,” he admits.

You cross your arms, letting out a huff, no crack in your armor whatsoever.

“What have you told him?”

Rafe scratches the back of his neck.

“Today would be nice,” you demand. “I’m dying to get off my feet.”

“Not much,” he replies, clipped. “Our first meeting, I saw that you… took a call from a law office.”

You nod, your smile nothing but contemptuous. Your father screamed at you over that. Nice to know the information came from Rafe’s lips.

“And I said that you asked me to back out,” he continues. “And that you and Celeste fought. That’s all.”

“I knew it,” you say. “You’re not the first person my dad sent to spy on me. Not so loyal to him anymore?”

“Listen, I… don’t give a shit about Kal, okay? I’m here for my family.”

“You’re using me for your family?” you say. “Oh, that makes it so much better.”

“For fuck’s sake.” His tone is terse, almost defeated. “I’m trying to be honest with you right now, but you’re so hellbent on being pissed off all the time.”

You scoff. The audacity he has to think he deserves gratitude for admitting to lying to you is laughable.

“Thank you so much for your honesty,” you say mockingly. “I had you figured out right away. When I met you, I knew you were just another guy my dad got to do his bidding. I thought you were a bodyguard, but you turned out to be way worse.”

His features pinch in frustration, looking at you like most people do. Like you’re a disappointment.

“Yeah, well, when I met you, it took about a second to realize how fucking impossible you are,” he mutters.

“You mean you don’t like me?” you whine, voice thick with sarcasm. “Ouch. I’ll go cry myself to sleep now.”

You huff as you turn around. He probably thought this was going to be a moment of mutual agreement, that you’d feel for him, that you’d agree to fall in line because he’s doing this for his family. As if family means anything.

Rafe’s heartbeat pounds in his ears. He’d told you the truth, something risky and uncomfortable, and you’re still too stubborn to see it’s better that you just go along with this.

“When you pull that crap you pulled tonight-”

“What crap?” you interrupt, whirling around to meet his eyes again.

“You didn’t even try to look like you wanted to be there,” he says. “Cut the shit. We’re on the same side here.”

“No, we’re not,” you say. “We never were. You’re here because you obviously live to impress your parents. It’s a joke.”

Rafe doesn’t correct you, doesn’t tell you that your father’s blackmail is why he’s here, doesn’t tell you that he has only one parent to make proud and a step-mom he doesn’t care for. Like always, you’re poking at a wound, smug while you do it, and his rage bubbles over.

“Stop fucking fighting me on everything!” he shouts, his voice echoing through the hallway.

“You know what you signed up for!” you shout louder.

“This? You think I want this?” he says, gesturing to you. “Who the fuck would want you?”

His words hit like a slap, stinging and sore. You stare at him for a beat, your pulse quickening, your breaths shortening.

“I’ve dealt with a lot of really, really shitty people,” you say evenly. “You’re easily the worst.”

“And what?” he spits. “You’re some kind of angel?”

“At least I have a spine. It’s fucking insane to agree to marry a stranger just so your dad will like you,” you snap, itching to hurt him harder. “What, does he not tell you he’s proud of you enough?”

You said it just to twist the knife. And it worked. For once, Rafe doesn’t have anger laced in his tone. He just says, stone-faced, “He doesn’t have to.”

You cross your arms. He doesn’t have to. Because Rafe knows he’s proud? Or because he knows he isn’t? You decide to go with the latter.

“Maybe it’s time you give up,” you say. “Eventually, you have to accept the fact that your parents are never going to love you.”

You wait for him to retaliate. But he doesn’t. He just stares at you. It’s like he’s rooted there.

And in the silence, broken softly by the ticking clock, you see his ache for approval. He’s not free, either, but he’s in a cage he built himself. And you will never feel bad for someone who made their own prison, who forced you into this arrangement because he’s obsessed with getting a pat on the back.

Rafe’s body is blazing hot, your words slicing through his silent grief. His mother is gone, and with her, her love, and his father makes him work for affection, but it’s only fair that he has to earn it after what he put him through.

He forces a breath out, jaw clenched so tight it aches. He won’t give you the satisfaction of seeing him break. He’ll just cut you deeper.

“What, because yours don’t love you?” he asks.

You glare at him. You refuse to let him see the girl who used to try to be enough just to learn that she was never something her parents would cherish. Because once a person is told that they were a mistake, their self-worth takes a hit it can never fully come back from.

Your eyes narrow. Your inhale is sharp. And you leave.

Rafe watches you walk down the hallway, punctuated by the slam of your bedroom door. For once, you didn’t try to have the last word. Your quiet exit was the closest thing he could get to confirmation that he hit you where it hurts.

He runs a hand over his jaw, heart thudding against ribs that suddenly feel tight. Yet again, what started off as an attempt to find some common ground turned into an explosive argument.

Did he just make you hate him more? Or did he find something you’ve been trying to hide?

His gut tells him it’s both.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

It’s been days since your fight. You and Rafe have ignored each other at every turn.

You didn’t think he had the power to hurt you, to really hurt you, but his every word quietly validated all your fears. He’s had a front-row seat to your family’s toxicity, witnessing the way they treat you, and he still acts like you deserve it.

You know you don’t. But having someone this close to the chaos, watching your pain and not doing anything about it, invites whispers that maybe you should think otherwise. That maybe you earned your parents’ cruelty.

After all, like he said, who would want you?

It’s Saturday morning when Rafe gets a text from Celeste that she needs to speak on the phone with both of you.

It’s inevitable. He’d have to talk to you at some point. But it doesn’t make crossing the line you drew between each other any more unnerving.

Nobody has ever gotten under his skin like you do. You taunt him for his sense of responsibility towards his father, as if it’s crazy that he wants to make the man who raised him proud.

And then, when you said the word parents, it was a harrowing remark of how he only has one, a reminder of how his mind constantly slips into possibilities of what kind of man he’d be today if his mom were around.

Maybe she’d think he’s bad, like you do. He doesn’t know why he can’t forget that you said he’s the worst person you’ve ever met, as if your opinion of him matters.

On top of the chaos, he’s been wondering if you’ll use what he told you against him. You could vindictively tell your dad that you know Rafe was told to keep tabs on you.

Whenever he thinks he’ll get you on the same page, this whole thing tangles itself into a tighter knot.

He reaches your bedroom, his phone to his ear, still not sure how to navigate all this in a way that’ll make him win in the end.

“Celeste is on the phone,” he says, roughly tapping on the closed door.

You eventually swing open your door, your eyes downcast. This is the first time you’re standing in front of him since your argument.

Just to add to the clutter in his mind, his skin goes hot when he notices the way you bite your lip.

You’re such a storm of a woman, rebellious and spiteful and stubborn, and he shouldn’t have snapped and asked who the fuck would want you. He wants you, and it might just be physical, but it’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing it.

You keep your gaze low, off of Rafe as he puts his phone on speaker, holding it between you. You’ve been studying without breaks, stressed out as you inch closer to your final exams.

“What?” you cut the silence, crossing your arms.

“I’ll be tipping off the paparazzi tonight,” Celeste says on the other end. “You both need to look like you enjoy each other’s company, okay?”

“Fine,” you answer. Rafe watches you, your eyelashes fluttering with gentle blinks as you stare at his phone. Celeste says your name sternly, making you exhale in frustration.

“What?” you sigh.

“You’re sitting by the window, so be ready for cameras outside at any point,” she says to you. “Your clothes will be delivered in an hour.”

“How are you dressing me this time?” you ask, disdain woven into your tone.

“You’ll be wearing what a respectable woman meeting her boyfriend for dinner would wear,” she says matter-of-factly. “Rafe already told me you need more comfortable shoes. Hopefully tonight’s will be up to your standards.”

For the first time in days, your eyes meet Rafe’s, moving by their own volition. His lips are in a firm line, his gaze cold. His expression gives you nothing, while you’re sure yours is pure confusion.

“Good,” you finally say, wavering a little.

“We’ll be in touch,” Celeste concludes.

The phone gives off a muted ding when she ends the call. Rafe steps back with a tight jaw and pockets his phone.

“Don’t be late,” he says, his voice a deep rumble.

He turns to go back to his side of the condo.

“Why did you tell her that?” you ask, suddenly in a fog that you need to clear.

Rafe stops, just barely facing you.

“Had enough of your whining,” he answers.

You scoff. But then, he says something else just as he turns the corner.

“And she won’t listen if you ask.”

That’s what throws you off. He used his voice because he knows that yours isn’t heard.

You already know that Rafe is the farthest thing from nice. It was a manipulation tactic. A selfish move. It had to be.

Either way, you’re left standing still in your doorway for a moment, not naive enough to read into it as kindness, but not fully convinced there wasn’t something behind the gesture.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The restaurant is intimate, the table so small that your legs keep bumping Rafe’s. You couldn’t be any closer to the image your parents want; you’re modestly dressed, with man they approve of, sitting in an upscale establishment instead of stumbling out of a club.

It won’t let go of you, the anger that you’re doing what they want just by being here, the man across from you helping them pull the strings.

Rafe watches you as you gaze out the window. That same frustrated crease in your features is on your face. He could draw it from memory at this point.

You didn’t speak on the way here, to what’s technically your fourth date. You just ordered your food and went back to silence. He’s been wondering what happened behind your closed door the other night, after you stormed off.

Your argument suddenly halted after he returned what you threw in his face. You have to accept the fact that your parents are never going to love you.

And your leg keeps pressing against his, making goosebumps bloom across his skin, adding tension to your already tense proximity.

You sigh when you brush against Rafe once more, frustrated that you keep touching him, and frustrated that you keep wanting to.

“You’re still complaining?” he grumbles, breaking the silence.

You realize he thinks you’re sighing from discomfort. You are, but not for the reason he thinks.

“The shoes are fine,” you reply. “When did you tell her?”

Rafe takes a slow sip of his drink, eyes fixed ahead. It’s strange, this sudden, quiet urge to look out for you.

He expected satisfaction when he found a crack in your facade. He thought he’d enjoy it. But when you walked away after what he said, the triumph felt hollow.

Exposing your weakness didn’t feel like winning. And he can’t figure out why.

“This morning,” he answers.

You nod slightly, not sure what to do with the information. Either way, the fact that he did it at all is odd, but knowing he did it after your fight stirs something in you.

You stung him with your words. He stung you. And then he secretly did something to help you.

“She takes her job too seriously,” you mutter.

The words sit on his tongue, urging to point out how she does it because she has to, because all you do is cause trouble and leave people to clean up your messes.

But that damned fight keeps playing in his head. Maybe beneath all your bullshit is someone who just wants people to care. He knows what that’s like.

So, he settles for a tense, “Yeah.”

You nod softly, looking down. You see him as something standing in your way. You’re certain he feels the same way about you. But you’re in this, no matter what.

And with that, a fragile truce settles between you.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The first month is over. You and Rafe have done your parents’ bidding, and the public are eating it up, the photos from your dinner all over the media.

You’re sitting close to each other in a dimly lit restaurant, seemingly in deep, intimate conversation. You’re leaving hand-in-hand, as if you’re unable to go a second without touching.

But the cameras didn’t catch how you let go of each other the moment you were in the car. How the whole drive back, you didn’t speak. How you made it home and went to separate rooms.

They don’t capture that you’re just two people who see each other as nothing but obstacles.

You won’t risk Rafe seeing you take any medical visits at the condo, so you’re back at your family home for your monthly appointment, sitting in the same front room, awaiting your nurse.

It’s a relief how with Iris, you don’t have to pretend. She doesn’t follow the gossip rags, and you don’t have to keep up appearances. You ask her about her family and stay quiet about yours.

As you head down the grand hallway to leave, laughter echoes from the other side of the front door. You try to rush away through the kitchen, but it’s too late.

Before you can turn the corner, the door clicks open, and your mother catches you. She says your name, thin and terse.

You sigh, turning to see that she’s just coming back from what looks to be a shopping trip with your brothers’ wives. The daughters she always wished she had.

They step into the lobby with the audacity to look tired as butlers carry in their massive paper bags, carved with designer names.

“What?” you say.

“I’m glad I caught you,” she says.

You shake your head with impatience, loathing that her words make a tiny piece of you spark with hope. It’s like the little girl inside you comes out from hiding sometimes, wondering if finally, her mother will want her.

“Stay out of the headlines tomorrow,” she says. “I always get nervous about what I’m going to see on the tabloids after your birthday.”

You swallow hard, saying nothing as you continue on your way to exit through the back door.

It’d be better if she forgot.

But she remembers, and it’s a cutting reminder that tomorrow would’ve been the day that you got your trust fund if you weren’t forced into a farce of a marriage, and more painfully, that the woman that gave birth to you doesn’t care to do anything to celebrate. Because you’ve never been something to celebrate.

You made it clear long ago that you want nothing to do with your family. That doesn’t make the fact that they don’t fight you on it hurt any less.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The next night, you find your friends at a small restaurant on campus.

Bea, Mara, and Travis have been with you since high school. They come from the same background, born into wealth and prestigious surnames, and since you typically party with them, they were surprised to hear that you didn’t want to go somewhere loud for your birthday.

You were honest, saying you needed something quiet this year. While you typically drink yourself into oblivion, masking it as a way to have fun while it’s really a way to forget, you decided to do something small. You’re not that far off tradition, though, already nursing your third drink of the night in the middle of your meal.

You catch up with each other and they ask about where the guy you’ve been seeing is. You lie and say you’re celebrating your birthday with him on the weekend. Then, they ask what he’s like, to which you reply, He’s quiet. Which he most definitely isn’t.

When the night wraps up, you give each of them a hug before you leave. It gives you a sense of normalcy, which these days, is impossible to find.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Your temples are aching as a loud bang pulls you out of your sleep.

“What the fuck is this?”

You clutch your head, eyes fluttering open to see Rafe standing in your bedroom, the door slowly drifting back into its frame after he angrily shoved it open.

“What?” you say in a tired mumble, blinking as you look at his phone. Your name is in the bolded headline on the screen, followed by Onto Another Guy Already?

There’s a photo of you from last night, your arms wrapped around Travis in the dark restaurant, clearly taken from a distance, through the window.

It doesn’t show the two women with you, that you hugged them, too, that you’re innocently saying goodbye to your friends.

Your eyes slowly travel over the words, and once you see that apparently, you were caught in a cozy embrace with a man who’s not your boyfriend, you pull the duvet over your head.

If you weren’t experiencing the hangover from hell, you’d scream at Rafe.

“Get out,” you snap.

“You just fucked everything up,” he says through an angry chuckle.

“Leave me alone,” you mutter, still hidden in the dark of your covers, shutting your eyes, as if wishing hard enough that none of this is real can make it come true.

to be continued

smut finally coming in the next part 🙂‍↕️ my update account is @xorafe-library if you want post notifications!

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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sweetverine · 2 days ago

Text

MR. HOWLETT | professor!logan

warnings: MDNI (+18), smut, porn with a bit of plot, student-professor relationship dynamics, power relationship, age gap, afab reader, pet names, cockwarming, no use of protection, pulling out, dirty talk, praise too)?

a/n : it's been a long time, i know, prof!lo has just been on my mind 24/7 i needed to do something about it, idk what to think about this, it's purely filth so........ also this pic of hugh????🫠 yall can imagine the logan you want for this one 𖹭 hope you enjoy it

When you entered university, the subjects were somewhat difficult, but you managed them. The first semester was fine, without too many problems, and even good grades. You were good at what you did, earning the occasional compliment from professors for your good performance.

But, when your parents were unable to pay your college tuition, things got complicated, forcing you to get a job if you wanted to keep studying. You had to divide your time, one day working, another studying, other days half work and half study.

This routine began to affect you, the subjects became somewhat difficult each time, meaning that you had to pay more attention, more time that you didn't have. Your concentration was zero, every time you tried to sit down to study you found yourself unable to do so.

and worse? You had started failing in a particular class, mostly the most unbearable and hated one; History. It was a heavy class, boring. You yawned every two minutes at the matters discussed in the two weekly hours.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ *⁠.⁠✧∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

At this particular hour You held his cheek against your elbow, resting on the table, looking in a boring way at the professor, you sigh. Your gaze slid towards his arms while you didn't listen to his senseless words, Mr. Howlett was never an ugly guy. In fact, he's Quite the opposite; Handsome, Tall, smart, nice hair, flattering glasses and an athlete's body. Every girl's dream.

That white shirt folded up to his forearms really pleased your sight. You could feel the heat rising from your neck to his ears as your mind plotted all the things professor logan could do with those arms, or the things he could do with his big hands, even the things that mouth — besides not stopping talking about history — gives fantastic kisses, capable of making some legs tremble.

Your eyes went further down, meeting with his jeans and his somewhat extravagant leather belt. You could notice how big his legs were, even though he was already big, those jeans just flattered him, you also found a normal bulge that any man has. And there you question about it, How big is it? I'm sure it's bigger when it gets hard, is it thick? Oh god. Why are you thinking about this?

you licked your lips, closing your eyes before going back to his boring lecture. He's too handsome to be talking about boring matters, even though it makes him hotter. This was the real reason for your bad grades, being distracted on the clouds thinking about Mr. howlett. You could feel something heavy in you, which led you to look at him, meeting his gaze, speaking while he didn't take his eyes off yours. Your cheeks burn and you decide to break the totally awkward exchange.

“read the entire unit for next class.” He said, ending the class. As soon as the hour was up, you rushed to try to escape, quickly putting away your notebook, your pencil case and water too, you put on your backpack, feeling a little relieved to finally be free, everyone was doing the same thing as you, others already leaving.

You put on your backpack, Now calm down, you had to worry about other things now, but surviving this class was the goal of your day. You were getting closer and closer to the desired classroom door. There weren't many people, just a few girls along with boys leaving, including the professor who hadn't left yet, who was sitting at his desk, reading some papers that were displaced on his desk.

you reached for the door, almost feeling free but a deep, masculine voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, Miss, I have to talk to you about some things. don't leave yet.” Logan said, looking towards your back.

‘Fuck’ You whispered, slowly turning around and walking towards his desk, watching the other students leave, achieving your desired freedom.

“I wanted to know if you are aware of your grades.” He says, looking at you with those hazel green eyes, your pulse drummed on your chest at the mention of your grades.

“u-uh.. yeah, I know I'm not doing too well in this subject..” You looked away, avoiding his gaze, respectfully.

“That is true, You also have work to hand in, this is the second one you haven't given to me.” His voice makes you shiver, and nervousness begins to take hold of you. “Is there any reason for that?”

The awkwardness in the room was more than palpable, You swallow dryly.

“I started working full time, paying for college is becoming a little difficult for me.” you say, being honest with him and your situation.

He nodded slowly, hearing you sincerely. You were afraid of what he was going to say next, the silence made you more anxious.

“Your situation is not really an excuse,” He says, leaning back, his voice is firm but not cruel

“but… I can't not give you a chance when life kicks you in the ass.” He says, his face serious, grabbing a pen.

“I'll make time, come to see me tomorrow.” He writes something on a piece of paper on his desk.

“I'll tutor you.”

Your cheeks turned red, “R-really?..” That was too fast, Since when is he so considerate?

“Don't make me repeat myself, Miss.”

His voice echoed in your ears, almost leaving you dumbfounded. you hum softly.

“Goodbye, Mr Howlett, thank you.” you mutter, Giving him a little smile before starting to walk away from the classroom, sighing when you finally step out of it.

These are going to be long private classes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ*⁠.∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

After 4 tutoring classes, your grades got slightly better. Mr Howlett was more than a good teacher, you handed in the work you were missing and he was patient enough for you, explaining everything slowly and easier.

Now you're 10 minutes late to his tutoring class. With nervousness you knock the door twice, You don't think he'll have mercy on you this time. Your sweaty hands grabbed the knob and entered the office. The only light was a lamp that he kept on his desk, illuminating the desk with a warm tone.

“You're late.” Logan was eyeing some history book, with the glasses fitted on the bridge of his nose and shirt sleeves rolled up. The room seems to get smaller as you walk towards the chair, sitting in front of him.

“I'm sorry.. I came straight from work.” You say, opening your backpack, Swallowing saliva. The cold wood chilled your thighs, making you shiver a little.

“Open to page 203.” His voice deep, His hands Reached slowly to close the book he was reading, with his attention fully on you now, he places it beneath a little drawer on the desk.

His orders were simple and concise, in a tone that brooks no resistance.

You tried to concentrate, you really tried, but his fingers brushed against the paper, the watch on his wrist ticking away at the minutes, like a countdown. Your body was tense without any logical reason.

Well, deep in you, you knew why, and who was making you this way.

“What does Marx mean by class struggle?” He asks, looking at the text.

You stayed silent, you didn't even read the first paragraph.

“Well?” His voice raised a little, almost demanding. “You didn't read it, did you?” His brow furrowed.

“I–I'm trying. I swear.. I just…”

The silence felt like a slap in the face, and for a moment the weight of the room was heavier. Logan slammed the book down on the desk, making you jump slightly. His eyes stare into yours.

“you said you wanted my help, you wanted to pass.” His hands kept on the book.

“I do.. I really do.” You start, trying to convince him, you didn't want to fail his subject.

“Then why don't you commit to this?”

“I have too many things in my mind, work.. other subjects” You explain, sighing, avoiding his eye contact now.

“And isn't history a subject you have to commit to as well?” He kept going, every time more intense.

You are feeling so frustrated now, almost wanting to cry for the raising of his voice, and how angry he seemed to be at you. Logan lays back on his chair, sighing deeply. His hand taking off his glasses and letting them fall on the wooden desk.

After a while he speaks again, rejoining again. “We'll try something new.” Something dirty in his tone that made you tremble slightly.

“Get up.” He says, although he's more calm down, the annoyance doesn't let go of him yet.

And you did.

“desk.”

“What?” your brow furrowed, looking at him.

“Up. On. The. Desk.” His raspy voice quickened your pulse again, and you could see him move his chair aside, making room for you. You obey with a blush on your face. Then he gets closer, His big hands explore, starting to caress your waist.

“Mr. Howlett–” Your voice sounds quite breathy, but not doing anything to pull away. as the touches begin to heat up everything, his fingers unbutton your pants. He didn't say a word until he left you in your underwear.

“you better try.”

You hate that this situation makes you wet.

Without much ceremony, he sat you on his lap, it was a situation worse than embarrassing, and it is worse that you let him do it. His warm hand never left your waist, keeping you in place. You listen to his belt clicking behind you, it is going to happen.

Silently he accommodates you slowly. His cock, as far as you could see, was big and thick, almost like in your imagination.

“Sit, take it all the way down.” He whispered in your ear.

You swallow. Your legs were shaking as you settled on top of him, your knees on the sides of the chair, next to his thighs. You felt his tip gently brush against you, making you shudder.

“L-logan..” You bite your lower lip, his hands wrapped around your waist, caressing the skin softly.

“Shh.. not a word. Sit.” He guides you again, his tone more gentle.

You slowly sat up, feeling him fill you inch by inch. It was difficult not to moan when he was all the way in. you could feel how thick he was, opening you up mercilessly. you were already getting agitated and unconsciously, your hips moved by reflex but his hand kept you still.

“No.” His voice firm as his hand.

“You're going to stay still.”

“But, Logan–”

“No, you listen to me.” He says, squeezing your hip roughly. “You're going to stay here, quiet, paying attention and reading out loud.”

He leaned forward onto the desk, his chest pressed against your back. His hands left your hips, grabbing the book he had left on the table. not taking you off him, as if he weren't hard inside you. As if you weren't dripping wet, pulsing around him.

“start with paragraph two.”

You bit your lip, your voice only managed to come out shaky. “S–social classes… for m-marxism are defined by the relations o-of…production, that is—”

“Slower.” He whispered in your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to concentrate with all your might. But he was still there, inside, hard and heavy. every inch of him makes it difficult to think straight.

“Do you want to pass this class, Miss?” His gruff voice almost made you melt around him.

“I do.” You mutter.

“Then show me.”

You tried to move your hips again, only to be stopped by him again. “Did I say you could move?”

“N-no..” You whisper, already feeling frustrated.

“Exactly.” He kept you steady on his cock, not letting you move, not even squirm on him.

So you keep going, Reading slowly and out loud, with a broken voice, your nipples aching beneath your shirt and his cock throbbing inside of you. It takes you a few minutes more than normal to finish one. single. paragraph. it's pure torture .

“It wasn't that hard, wasn't it?” He whispers. “See? you just needed a little motivation.”

His hand goes a little lower, finding your puffy clit His thick fingers starting to rub it gently, You tremble, letting out a breathy moan. “L-logan..” Your eyes go shut, enjoying the stimulation he was giving you, your hips move towards his hand, and it pulls away quickly just as it began.

“concentrate.” He says as you whine.

You sigh, hating his teasing and how wet it makes you when he toys with you. His hands go to your hips, caressing you softly, almost soothingly for being so cruel with you. you start a new paragraph, only to be cut off a few lines later by him.

“Then what will be the goal of the revolution?” He whispered, his nose buried on your neck.

“T–the revolution will aim to achieve a perfect society where there is neither ... .exploiters nor exploited…” You answered correctly, making him smirk.

“That's my good girl. that's what you needed, hmm?” He praised you, feeling you clench around him when he said a pet name to your ear.

“Just one more paragraph, angel.” He whispered, his hands Going up to your boobs, squeezing them gently underneath your shirt. You started reading it, still somewhat stumbling and shaky, but faster than before.

Reading the last sentence, you simply relax against him, biting your lower lip. “G-god..”

“You're tired already?” He whispered. “Just a short page, I still have many more things to explain to you..” you whine in response, completely refused to read more with this torture. “I didn't say we're finished.”

“No please.. i-i can't do this anymore” You moan breathly.

“you're such a needy thing.” He groaned, feeling how you squeeze him again. “cant even fucking read something and staying obedient.” His hand finds your clit again, toying with it gently, Your hips move, rubbing yourself against his calloused fingers.

You whimper, bouncing softly on his thick cock, His groans just makes you wetter, the tip brushes that sweet spot that makes you fold every time. But as quickly as it started, you started to get tired within minutes.

“Now what, bunny? Have you sung yet?” He huffs.

With a little force, he gets up from the chair, without leaving you yet, pressing you down onto the cold desk. You moaned, arching your back.

“You're going to take it now, I've been wanting this since I saw you looking at me with those eyes in class, don't think I didn't notice.” He mutters as he slowly starts to move, slowly getting in and out, The sound of skins clashing, your low moans and Logan's grunts provided the soundtrack for the moment.

“Are you like this with all the teachers? huh?”

“Answer when I talk to you.” He says, Expecting an answer, You were too caught up in the moment, too dumb to think straight.

“No! fuck.. I-i'm sorry..” You whisper, closing your eyes.

Your knuckles turned white as you held on to the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood. Logan's pace was brutal now, dragging moans from your lips with each thrust, his hips slamming into you with growing urgency.

“Dirty girl, feel what you do to me.”

Your walls clench around him as he talks to you, you only nodding, your legs tremble, His hand reaches around to rub your clit again, this time without mercy. Fast. Intentional.

"Logan..please! 'm close, I need—”

"Then come," he growled, slamming into you. "Show me how much you've learned, angel. fuck come on”

That was all it took. Your body trembled with the intensity of your climax, clenching around him so tight he groaned your name, fucking you through it.

“Fuck–baby…” He groaned, almost losing it as it came out of you, without wasting time it began to stroke himself. hot, white spurts of cum spilled over on your back. warm and messy as he groaned deep and low, collapsing forward, panting against your shoulder.

A beat of silence. Just you and him, both tired.

“Read everything for the next lesson.” He said breathlessly.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #jo writes 💌#wolverine x reader #wolverine one shot #hugh jackman #i ⁠♡ logan #logan howlett x you #logan howlet smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine

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kotonoba · 3 days ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Zoro x fem reader, where Chopper accidentally gives Zoro a sleeping tonic that's maybe too strong for him, Reader ends up getting stuck babysitting the world’s most dangerous napping swordsman. So, from dragging him out of the kitchen fire he caused to keeping Luffy from drawing on his face, she becomes the swordsman's unofficial caretaker. Though, through all the shenanigans, what she didn't expect was the way he murmurs her name even while asleep, or how his head always ends up resting in her lap? You can fill in the rest... maybe a slow-burning romance?

The Tired One (Zoro/F!Reader)

Summary: An accidental sleep tonic turned deadly? Emotions are running high on a ship that only has three females to share.

a/n: This took me three days. It's not that it was hard, I was catching up on my sleep debt. Also, been watching too much analog horror, sorry for the title.

Warning(s): none

Posted on AO3

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Recently, you have heard Zoro complain that the booze hasn’t been strong enough; he has been complaining about it ever since, well, forever. The complaining has gotten so bad that Chopper took it into his own hands to create a potent tonic for Zoro. But, what no one expected was that it wasn’t alcoholic, it was a sleep tonic, a sleep potion to be exact. At the same time, you’re aware of everything regarding the ship and the people living on it. What you weren’t expecting after leaving the Crow’s Nest from your training was to smell smoke and the cook raging at Zoro.

You rush in to see half the kitchen on fire, Sanji attacking Zoro, Zoro defending, but… asleep. You rubbed your eyes before squinting a little harder to check if your eyes were playing tricks on you. And, lo and behold, they were not. The swordsman was fast asleep. You moved over to separate the two from attacking, “I’ll look after Zoro, okay?” Sanji seemed to agree to that, as you turned around, Zoro was gone. Out the door and gone with the wind. You hurried after him, leaving the chaos of the kitchen fire to Sanji to deal with.

You see him trying to jump into the ocean; he was already taking off his shirt. Sometimes, you think he’s just acting when he’s asleep, but you forget who you’re taking care of as you run over, calling his name in attempts to catch his attention despite being asleep. You pull him back by his waistband, where he fumbles and falls on–almost–you, but with your quick reflexes, you manage to push him to the side before he falls on you like a sack of potatoes. You drag him into the shadier parts of the Thousand Sunny. Seeing as he had calmed down, you decided to grab yourself a book to keep yourself entertained.

By the time you had returned, Luffy was drawing on Zoro’s face, of course. As if your day can’t get any worse, don’t jinx that. You rush over to stop Luffy, “Luffy! You need to go help Sanji with the kitchen fire that Zoro caused because you…” You pulled an excuse out of someone’s ass. Just not yours, “you drew on his face, and now it’s your problem.” You tried to reason. It was outrageous, no one was going to fall for that–

“Aw, okay,” Luffy pouts, dropping the marker and walking into the kitchen.

Dumbfounded by him even agreeing to such an outrageous excuse, you sigh and sit beside the sleeping swordsman. Wiping off the marker print to the best of your ability with your shirt. You couldn’t risk going over to pick up his shirt and Luffy coming back to draw, or he had run off elsewhere.

While you began reading your book Be Bold with Bananas, you had a taste for strange books. The crew found it hilarious that you even have a collection of weirdly titled books. Occasionally, Chopper would request that you read something to him from your collection out of curiosity; you sometimes find Robin reading your books because she thought it was interesting.

Now that you think about it, Zoro had been suspiciously eyeing your books too, not reading them, but he does watch you read in between his training time. As you begin reading, you hear Zoro mumble in his sleep. You didn’t take anything a sleepwalking danger sign said to heart. Of course, what caught your attention was when he whispered your name in the most obscure, low growl, as if you stole something from him.

Offended, you closed your book, a hand to your chest as if he had just insulted your taste in books, “...adorable,” you tilted your head at his choice of words. Unsure if he would put your name and the word adorable in the same sentence, as you had harassed him as much as Sanji had about his inability to find directions. “You’re,” you listen intently. “Adorable when you talk…” You felt your body heat up from the sudden confession. “But your taste in books is stranger than Chopper hiding the wrong way.” You hit him over the head, not that he flinched at anything. You didn’t think your taste in books was strange at all. How dare he?

As you turn away from him to read again, you find him inching closer to you. You check under him to see Robin’s hands playing a trick on your mind by pushing him closer to you. Instead, there was nothing. So, you go back to your book, but by the time you notice him way too close, his head is already in your lap.

Shocked, you pushed him off. However, it persists until you give up trying to push him away. He may need a pillow. You see Chopper running around trying to create new medicine, “Chopper, would you be a dear and grab me a pillow for Zoro?”

Chopper nodded and grabbed a pillow from the infirmary for you to put underneath Zoro’s head, but he lingered and didn’t leave. You turn back to look at him with a smile. “I’m sorry,” he pouts. “I was going to make an alcoholic tonic for him that’s potent enough that he doesn’t drink so much to feel something, instead I made him into a sleeping demon.”

Oh, so that’s the story behind this walking disaster. You laughed and cupped Chopper’s face gently, “It’s okay, we didn’t know he was going to tear the ship apart, you’re working on an antidote, right?” Chopper nodded, “That’s good enough then, keep up the good work, I’m rooting for you.” Fired up, Chopper runs into the infirmary to make an antidote for Zoro.

Even after the pillow was given to Zoro, he still managed to put his head on your lap instead. His sleep-talking tirade continues; everything he says is about you and for you. Maybe you haunt his dreams. “I didn’t know I haunt your dreams,” you grinned, talking to the sleeping swordsman like he was going to respond to you.

Zoro didn’t respond. Why would he? He’s asleep. You continued to listen to him talk, sometimes, it was to tease you about the small things you did in life. Sometimes, it’s to tell you to be careful. Sometimes, the line between crewmate was blurry when he spoke; it warmed your heart, even if he didn’t mean it.

“He’s gotten comfy there.” You tilt your head back to see Nami talk. You smile at her as she sits beneath the umbrella for better shading.

“You think?” Nami nodded, pointing out that he usually doesn’t talk about one person on the crew; he typically discusses fighting or training techniques. “Maybe I’m special,” you tease.

“Maybe you are, have you seen the way he looks at you sometimes?” You hummed at Nami’s words, you don’t pay attention because someone is always on fire on the ship. “Or how, when you talk, he stops training completely just to listen to what you say?” You did notice that, but you thought he was just nosy. “Or how he even offers to share his booze with you?”

“Maybe you’re thinking too much into this, I would rather hear it from him,” you smiled. Nami gave you a look of defeat and shrugged.

“I made it! It’s potent too!” Chopper calls out, running over to you with a small blue vial of liquid. It looks suspicious because it was still bubbling. “We just have to feed it to him.” Chopper says, trying to pour some in his mouth, but it just rolls back out. “I didn’t think that far.”

“Here, I got it,” you smiled, taking the vial in your hand. If what Nami said was true, then you should test the theory. He is rather attractive, and you couldn’t know you hadn’t thought about it on several occasions. You see Sanji jump out in joy to see the three girls on the ship, all sitting outside, as he goes back in to retrieve some refreshments. You pour the liquid in your mouth, and it tastes a little spicy. As the cook came out with refreshments, all color was drained from his face as if someone had told him a friend of his had died. He watched you kiss the sleeping swordsman, but didn’t notice that you were giving him the liquid by mouth.

As you’re about to pull away, Zoro pulls you back onto him, deepening the kiss. Too shocked to move, you let him. You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, and you see Zoro open his eyes. He gets flustered, but you weren’t going to let him go that easily. Pulling him into another kiss boldly, the two of you break away when Nami cheers and claps that the two of you seemingly confessed, and Sanji had grown fungus in the corner of the ship.

“You have something to tell me, sleep demon swordsman?” You tease, straddling his waist as he cups your face.

He brings you down to kiss again before whispering, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I don’t know when I started paying attention, but I’ve been thinking about you, about us. I want us to be an item.” He eyes you, seeing you wait for him to continue. He grunts, a pink dusts across his features, “Please be mine? I want to be exclusive.”

You laughed, kissing him back softly. “Sorry, Sanji,” you said, looking up from the swordsman to the cook. A soft smile graces your features, “I’m going to be exclusive with the swordsman, someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t get lost.” You glanced down at the swordsman with a brighter smile, “I would love to.”

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#zoro roronoa x reader #one piece roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece x female reader #one piece x you #one piece x reader #op x female reader #op x you #op x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro

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prlssprfctn · 3 days ago

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There's this small rat in my head that is always like what if they actually killed Jason at the end of UTRH.

The irony of Bruce proclaiming how he can't kill no matter what. That everyone deserves another chance and he wants to help Jason heal. Only in a moment with emotions and stress running haywire the only solution he sees is to throw the Batarang. He wants to assume Jason will dodge but that doesn't happen and when Joker activates the bomb he can only assume Jason gets out. Escaping the explosion only to have a choice of capturing the Joker before he can flee or checking on Jason. It's all an illusion at the end of the day because the Joker will always find a way out. And well for Jason, much like that dreaded day years ago is found dead. He carries his son who is so much bigger than the last time he held him. His hands drenched in blood that he drew. If it wasn't his fault last time it certainly is now.

Even more angst is if you do some version of immortal!Jason. Imagine waking up after your dad choose your murdered over you again. He could've killed him long ago, you gave him another chance, you even gave him the out of letting you get revenge (no matter how depressing that is) but he choose to attack you.

How does Batman show more grace and empathy to his rogues who have committed crime after crime then to the son he is supposed to love? Maybe he doesn't love him at all, he isn't exactly the boy who died.

Oh well he's back alive at the end of the day. Much like Dick, that absolves Bruce of all the guilt of killing someone right? And Jason understands, no one is going to act rationally under those circumstances.

-🐳

i love, love, and i repeat, LOVE the possibility that Jason did die after receiving a batarang in his throat, he just never told Bruce about that — managed to crawl away, and then woke up in a few days.

but the idea that Bruce witnesses it just hits differently. i do believe on some degree that this could make him put his cape away, especially knowing that his sons are here to take care of the city, but then again—

the horror episode, where Bruce prepares Jason for his funerals — again — and while Dick and Bruce argue in the Batcave, and Tim is left to fix suit Bruce put on dead Jason, Jason just sits down slowly. scares the shit out of everyone. eyes glowing. lips moving. his voice is a scratched vinyl record, since his throat is still recovering. and he just Blinks at them.

"didn't stick. the third time charm might work."

and no one knows what to say.

or, or, OR! do you all remember that old tale about a girl, who had a green ribbon tied around her neck all the time? and her husband seemed fascinated because she never took it off at all, refusing to tell him why? and then he took it off, and her head fell? this with Jason, but when they take it off, it is just an open cut on his throat that keeps spilling his blood out, even though he is not actively dying.

#jason todd #red hood #batman #dcu #dcu comics #dc universe #batfamily #bruce wayne #batfam #— lie answering #i love creepy aus w Jason's immortality. tbh.

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asthroophile · 2 days ago

Text

bubblegum: bonfire — SAJA BOYS

WC: 4k+

SUMMARY: a forgotten bond, fated to endure.

PART: I. SEASONS, II. LOVE, III. LILY

It’s been ten days since they started crashing at your apartment, and in those ten days, the public somehow figured out that you are their manager.

Every time you tried to go out alone, one of them would tag along—sometimes all of them. The result? A public frenzy, a storm of online theories, and a very unwanted spotlight on your life.

Now you're viral.

Fanfic versions of you are floating all over the internet. Some fans love the idea of you; they romanticize everything, shipping you with different members depending on the day. Others… not so much. They say you're unfit to manage them, unprofessional, unworthy.

Oh please, they don’t know what it’s like wrangling overgrown children in adult form. And the worst part? You won’t admit it out loud— but you’ve grown fond of them.

They made your once-quiet apartment feel less like a space and more like a home. The mess, the noise, the endless ramen packets… somehow, you didn’t hate it.

Currently, you're sitting in the living room, laptop open, working together on a new song titled "Your Idol", an idea Jinu brought up while chewing instant noodles at 3 a.m.

"Alright, alright. What if the lyric goes ‘I will love you more when it all burns down’? That could be Mystery’s part—his voice is soft, it'd really land with impact,” you suggest.

Mystery hums a bit, testing the line. The others nod in approval.

“Kay what about the concept for the outfit?” you ask.

“Jinu said he’d take care of that,” Mystery replies casually, flopped sideways on the couch.

Just then, Jinu walks out of your bedroom wearing your oversized hoodie again like he owns the place. “Heard my name,” he says with a lazy grin. “Don’t worry about the costumes— I have a vision.”

You squint at him, "Is it a good vision or a fever dream?”

He shrugs, “Why not both?”

You sigh. “This group is going to be the death of me.”

But still, you keep typing until finally the lyrics were done— mostly because Jinu insisted you wrap it up quickly, and honestly, you didn’t protest. You wanted a break too.

“Why does it feel like this song is for someone, though? Especially the part, ‘You know I’m the only one who’ll love your sins / Feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin,’” you said, raising a brow.

Jinu, who was now lounging nearby, turned his head as if you were accusing him directly, looking genuinely confused.

“It’s for his lover, duh,” Baby chimed in, leaning against you while scrolling on his brand new phone—the one you bought for him after you finally got paid by Jinu, thanks to their soda sponsorship deal.

“We’re not dating,” Jinu replied flatly, already strumming your acoustic guitar like he wasn’t just dragged into a minor interrogation.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you muttered before shifting your attention. “Abby, come sing your part.”

Abby, who had been sketching out stylized abs in your notebook looked up. “Which part?”

“The opening lines—‘Keeping you in check’ and after that, Mystery comes in, then Romance, followed by Jinu, and Baby with the rap,” you instructed, going through the lineup mentally.

Abby nodded and set aside your notebook before starting to rehearse. Ever since the public found out you were the manager of Saja Boys, your social media had been flooded with sponsorship offers—probably because no one had ever figured out the boys' accounts. You were even offered an official building just for the group. You didn’t turn it down, but you did feel a bit sad at the idea of leaving your cozy apartment.

“Okay, rehearsal’s over. Everyone, go rest at your official building now,” you said while gathering all the lyric sheets scattered around the room.

“You kicking us out?” Romance raised a brow.

“No? I mean, you guys already have your own building, your own lightsticks, your own brand, so...?”

“We’re already comfortable here,” Mystery cut in calmly.

“Oh come on, don’t say things like that. If you all insist on crashing on my apartment’s tiny couch, you're just asking for back problems. Right, Jinu?”

Jinu, who had been quietly tuning the guitar, gave a nod. “She’s right, guys. We should appreciate the people who offered us the space. Besides, (Name) will visit us whenever she wants. She’ll even watch us during practice.”

“Yup—and Jinu, stop sneaking out every night,” you added, shooting him a look. “Are you secretly dating someone and hoping we won’t find out?”

The room went dead silent.

Jinu paused mid-strum on your guitar, one brow lifting ever so slightly. “Sneaking out? I was just… taking walks.”

“Walks at midnight wearing sunglasses and a hoodie?” Romance quipped, tossing a pillow at him.

“Ooooh, sus,” Abby grinned while making exaggerated detective noises. “What are you hiding, Jinu?”

“Maybe he’s got a secret girlfriend,” Mystery added in a deadpan tone.

Baby, still leaning lazily against you with a lollipop in his mouth, made a casual but deadly assumption, “What if that girl’s one of the Huntrix members?”

“WHAT? WHO?” you stared at him in disbelief. Baby always sounded unserious—but somehow, his wild guesses tended to hit close to the truth.

“I mean, think about it,” Baby shrugged. “Since we first met Huntrix, he’s been, like, laser-focused on their leader… what’s her name again?”

“Rumi?” you echoed in shock. “WAIT, RUMI? Seriously, Jinu? You had the guts to get close to her? She’s literally an A-lister!”

You turned to Jinu like you’d just discovered a criminal in your own house. He looked cornered— eyes darting, caught mid-breath like a deer in headlights.

“Wow,” Abby gasped dramatically. “Are we witnessing an idol crossover scandal in real time?”

Romance leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “If there’s a dispatch article tomorrow, I’m sending the link to everyone in our group chat.”

Mystery raised a single eyebrow. “This explains the sudden effort you’re putting into your skin care routine.”

Jinu groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Guys, we’re not dating. Yes, I’ve been spending time with her, but it’s not what you think. We’re just… meeting up.”

You crossed your arms. “Meeting up? Like a secret project? Or a secret relationship?”

"We talk music and deep talk but not romantically.” Jinu finally confessed. There was a beat of silence. Then—

“Sounds exactly like dating,” Baby mumbled around his candy.

“Yep, that’s a date,” Abby nodded.

“Romance confirmed,” Romance added.

“You guys are impossible,” Jinu muttered, flopping backward onto the couch and dramatically throwing a throw pillow over his face.

“Alright, that’s enough, all of you,” you said firmly. “Let’s go, back to your official base— because officially, you guys have your own place now.”

Romance let out an over-dramatic sigh. “So we’re getting kicked out again.”

“You were never supposed to live here in the first place,” you retorted.

“But your place is homey,” Abby said, already sprawled across the couch like a cat refusing to be moved.

“Cozy,” Mystery added, sipping his drink without looking at you. “The light hits better here.”

Baby leaned into your shoulder and mumbled, “I vote stay.”

You rolled your eyes. “You literally have your own dorm now. Free meals, game room, gym, real beds. And you're choosing my creaky couch?”

Jinu finally pulled the pillow off his face and sat up. “Let’s just go, guys. She's right. We need to start treating this seriously, we’re idols now. Public image and all.”

The rest of the boys groaned in unison like you’d just announced their summer was canceled.

“But…” Baby pouted. “Can we come back sometimes? Like… for dinner?”

You sighed, trying not to smile. “Only if you bring dessert.” They cheered like you’d just given them an encore stage.

You regularly visited their new base to monitor the progress of their latest song. Day by day, you found yourselves growing closer—and with that, the chaos only intensified. Now that they had their own official space, things had somehow gotten wilder. Rooms that staff had just cleaned would turn into disaster zones in a matter of hours.

“You’re making progress faster than I expected,” you admitted, flipping through your notes and nodding. “Good, let’s call it a day.” The boys let out a chorus of cheers.

Romance tossed himself dramatically onto the couch. “Finally, my brain was starting to melt.”

“You're doing nothing,” Mystery deadpanned, already scrolling through something on his tablet.

“I was providing emotional support!” Romance argued, pointing at you. “Right, Manager?”

“Don’t drag me into this,” you muttered.

Jinu stretched his arms behind his head, his usual calm demeanor cracking slightly into a tired grin. “We deserved this break though, yeah?”

Before you could reply, a loud crash echoed from down the hall.

“…What now?”

“I think that was the sound of Baby trying to microwave bubblegum again,” Abby offered nonchalantly.

You stared at him. “Again?!”

He shrugged with a guilty smile. “It’s for science.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled. “I swear, one day I’m going to handcuff you all to your beds just so I can have a single peaceful visit.”

“Sounds kinda intense, Manager,” Abby smirked. “Not that I’m judging.”

“Out! Everyone, out of the studio! Now!”

They scrambled like school kids, laughing as they disappeared down the hall—except baby, who returned with a sticky piece of melted gum stuck to his sleeve.

"Baby, what the hell were you thinking microwaving bubblegum again?" you snapped as you marched toward him, taking in his disheveled appearance and the half-melted gum clinging to his sleeve.

"I just wanted to know what warm bubblegum tastes like," he replied with zero shame, licking a bit off his thumb.

You grimaced. "Stop this madness."

Grabbing his arm, you dragged him out of the studio before he could argue. "Go change. Now. I’m not letting melted gum be your signature look on the next livestream."

“But I think it’s fashion-forward,” he pouted.

“Do it before I tape a ‘Do Not Microwave’ sign on your forehead.”

As you shoved him gently toward his room, Abby passed by, eyeing Baby’s state with an amused snort. “Is this what you call creative expression?”

“I call it a hazard,” you muttered.

You turned back toward the kitchen just in time to see Mystery stuffing something suspiciously shiny into his pocket.

“Mystery.”

He froze.

“What did you take?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, “Hand. It. Over.”

Mystery sighed and pulled out a half-melted silver spoon. “I wanted to see what else the microwave could handle.”

“WHY are all of you obsessed with microwaving things today?!”

Romance peeked his head in from behind the door. “For the record, I was reading a romance novel this whole time and didn’t commit any crimes against appliances.”

"Congratulations, you're the only one with brain cells left today."

“Thank you, I try.”

You sighed deeply. “I need a vacation or a therapist or both.”

As you turned away, Jinu leaned against the wall with that unreadable look again. “You sure you don’t need a hug?”

You stared at him. “I need peace.”

He just smiled faintly. “Same thing, right?”

"Shut up."

Now everyone was busy minding their own business, but you still had to monitor things—anything could happen because of them. Even tasks that were supposed to be handled by staff were being dumped on you, since they claimed they couldn’t handle the job anymore. Thankfully, none of them had quit yet.

You were scrolling through your social media, seeing how your account was getting more crowded with interactions, as well as the official Saja Boys account you created. You felt bad for your phone, which wouldn’t stop buzzing with notifications—until Jinu came over and sat beside you.

"What now?" you ask without looking up from your phone.

"Do you think I'm a good person?"

"In what sense of 'good'?"

"Like… understanding someone, caring about someone."

"You are good. It depends on how you define it. You can’t force someone to be good— it’s a choice they make," you say, finally turning to look at him. "Why are you asking this out of nowhere?"

Jinu shakes his head. His somber expression fades briefly, replaced with his usual annoying smirk.

"Can you touch me again?"

You're clearly shocked by the sudden request. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm perfectly sane, I just want to know if it still works."

"If what works—" Before you can finish, Jinu grabs your hand and places it on his cheek. A strange sensation rushes through you at the contact.

“Do that again and I'll punch you,” you mutter, pulling your hand away and scooting back a bit.

Jinu doesn’t answer. He stares at his own hand for a while, and you start to wonder if there’s something genuinely wrong with him.

"I didn’t mean to bring up the topic again, but… the pattern weakens when you touch me. It comes back soon after, though— because of Gwi-ma."

"So you’re saying that because I’m his daughter, I can somehow suppress the pattern? Jinu, honestly, I can’t accept that I’m his daughter. It just doesn’t make sense. Gwi-ma’s just a story from my grandma. If he really was my father, why’d he leave? Who was he really? What did he do that made my mom die? My grandma never even told me the reason."

“If you remember the story, honmoon can be sealed with the voice of the chosen hunters. The chosen were Huntrix, and Rumi... she’s a half-demon hunter—"

"Wait, what? Rumi's a hunter? Mira and Zoe too?" you ask, stunned. Jinu nods.

You still can’t believe it. “Okay, I know your sense of humor sucks, but this? This is insane. And what do you mean she’s a half-demon hunter?"

“Remember the hot spring incident? I fought her… I tore her sleeve, and I saw the pattern on her arm.”

You go silent. Just when you hoped your brain could rest from all the madness.

“Look, Jinu, it’s not like I see you guys as weird just because you’re demons. But the idea itself— of you being demons— I can’t accept it even though I’m trying to. How is that even possible? Rumi is a Hunter who's part of demon and I’m Gwi-ma’s daughter? It’s all insane. How could I be a demon’s child? He abandoned me and my mom, and my mom died because of me—and he didn’t care. Not even a little.”

You pause your words, "Please promise me, just stop dealing with Gwi-ma. Even if I keep being stubborn, even if I keep denying it— denying that all of you are demons…” your voice trails off for a moment, your eyes searching his face, desperate for any hint of guilt or regret.

“…I’m still trying to understand you. So stop doing things behind my back, stop risking everything like none of this matters.”

Jinu doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes dim slightly, as if your words hit a place he’d buried deep.

“I mean, come on—look at you guys,” you say, attempting a smile despite the weight of everything. “You look like normal people. Since when do demons have faces that attractive?”

It’s a weak joke, a desperate one. But it works—just a little. Jinu blinks at you.

“You think we’re attractive?” Jinu teases, “So you have been staring.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, glowstick. I was talking about them,” you jab your thumb toward the rest.

“Right,” he says, expression unreadable.

You let out a long sigh after your words, the air still heavy between you two. Neither of you said anything more—until Abby appeared, casually slinging both arms over your shoulders.

“You two are way too tense. Idol Awards are around the corner, so how about not acting like you’re in a cold war?”

“We’re not,” you both replied at the same time—awkwardly, of course.

“Tch, exactly what someone fighting would say,” Romance teased from behind the door, clearly eavesdropping. One by one, the others started to gather, watching you like hawks. Wait, why were you the one getting stared down.

“What’s with you guys? Chill!” you blurted out, trying to deflect the attention. “I just… need time to process some crazy info, that’s all. Anyway! Let’s focus—tomorrow’s gonna be chaos, and don’t even think about starting anything. My kitchen pans miss smacking some of you in the head.”

They all exchanged glances, some grinning like guilty kids, others wisely keeping their mouths shut.

Mystery raised a brow. “Should we be concerned that you have multiple pans dedicated to violence?”

“Ask yourself why I even needed to in the first place.”

Baby gasped in mock offense. “I’m the picture of peace!”

“You’re the reason the microwave cried.”

Baby looked annoyed at your response, clearly not amused. You stood from your seat and faced them all, clapping your hands lightly.

“Alright, give it your best tomorrow, okay? I’m really looking forward to your performance.” You flashed them a thumbs-up.

Your watch beeped right then, signaling the end of visiting hours—you had to head back to your apartment.

“You leaving already?” Romance asked.

“I have work outside of babysitting you guys, you know,” you replied. But the way Romance narrowed his eyes, clearly not satisfied with the answer, made you second-guess saying that.

“Well, see you all tomorrow.” You grabbed your sling bag from the table and turned to leave—only to feel a tug on your shirt.

You looked back. “What is it now?”

Baby didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at you with unreadable eyes before asking softly,

“Do you think… you’d be okay with it?”

“Okay with what?”

“A hug.”

You blinked. For once, Baby wasn’t joking. His tone was gentle—not his usual cheeky self, not the chaos-bringer everyone knew. It was… vulnerable?

Your first instinct was to laugh it off. But something about the way he asked made your breath hitch just slightly. His hand still gripped the edge of your shirt, like he was afraid you’d leave without answering.

You stared at him for a beat longer.

“Well…” You exhaled, your voice caught between teasing and softness. “…You’re asking for permission now? That’s new.”

Baby didn’t say anything, just tilted his head slightly like he was waiting—nervous, maybe. It wasn’t like him at all, and maybe that’s what made you pause.

You glanced over your shoulder. The others were pretending not to watch but were definitely eavesdropping from the couch—Romance leaning dramatically behind the cushions, Jinu pretending to check his phone upside down, Abby munching on chips way too loudly to be casual, and Mystery not even bothering to hide the way he was observing you like a hawk.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, just one, a short one.” The moment the words left your lips, Baby stepped forward and pulled you into a quiet hug. Not too tight, just… warm.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your cheek lightly brushed his shoulder. For someone usually sticky with melted candy or chaotic ideas, Baby felt oddly calm in that moment. Like he just needed this. Like you maybe needed it too.

“…You smell like bubblegum,” you muttered against him.

“I am bubblegum,” he mumbled back, tone dry.

You snorted, patting his back. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“That wasn’t even a full minute.”

“Baby.” You gave him a warning tone, and he pulled away, albeit reluctantly.

Then your gaze flicked to the four other boys, who were definitely watching you now—like kids who saw someone get a cookie and were waiting for theirs.

You sighed. “Okay, alright. Come on, all of you. One at a time."

Romance lit up like a firework. “I knew being annoying would pay off!”

He bounced over dramatically and wrapped you in a theatrical embrace, even spinning you a little.

“Put me down before I revoke this!” you scolded through laughter. He obeyed—barely—then stepped aside for Mystery, who was already standing silently in front of you.

You braced for something awkward, but to your surprise, Mystery’s hug was firm and quiet, solid like a wall of quiet reassurance. No words exchanged—just understanding.

Next was Jinu, who gave a small chuckle. “I thought you’d never offer.” His hug was easy, familiar, and warm in that quiet, grounding way that only Jinu could manage.

Abby was last, but he didn’t hesitate. “Bet you saved the best for last,” he joked, squeezing you a bit tighter than expected and grinning against your shoulder. “We’re gonna do great tomorrow.”

You smiled, pulling away and giving them all a final look. “I know you will. Just… try not to set anything on fire. Emotionally or literally.”

Romance saluted. “No promises.”

You rolled your eyes, finally walking toward the exit. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Rest well, okay?”

“Goodnight, Manager!” they called in chaotic unison.

And as you stepped out the door, you couldn’t help but smile. They really were a mess—but they were your mess. A hug, such a simple thing and yet it felt like something shifted tonight.

You shook your head, laughing under your breath, "Boys."

You came home from their base feeling genuinely happy—thankfully, they hadn’t caused chaos this time. You relished the rare peace until a sudden, deafening sound pierced your ears. It was so loud it felt like your eardrums might burst. You clenched your eyes shut, hands flying up to your ears in pain.

Then, everything went silent.

When you opened your eyes… you were no longer in your room. You stood in a pitch-black place.

“You’re just as stubborn as your mother,” a deep voice said.

“…Gwi-ma?”

“Yes, it’s me… my child. Didn’t I warn you not to grow attached to anything? In the end, it only brings you suffering.”

“What do you mean? If you’re talking about them—”

“Your little boyband?” Gwi-ma sneered, having caught on to what you were saying. “What you’re doing is a grave mistake. Supporting them at that final event will only weaken the seal on Honmoon. And then, I will finally conquer this world.”

“You’re insane,” you spat. “I don’t care if you’re immortal or what—but you’re a lunatic and a horrible father.”

“You don’t bear my mark,” he said darkly, “but you carry half of what I am. I should have destroyed you. But your mother… she was too stubborn. She chose to die in your place.”

“YOU’RE THE REASON SHE’S DEAD?” you shouted, your voice trembling with rage. The weight of guilt—of knowing she died because of you—turned to fire in your chest.

“For five lifetimes,” Gwi-ma said calmly. “Think how foolish we’ve been. Your mother, trying to keep you untainted… and me, letting you roam free. In the end, all you’ve done is bring me closer to victory. Just watch, my child—those boys you care for? They’ll forget you. Once Honmoon shatters, I’ll erase the voices—and with it, their memories of you.”

You stood frozen. As much as you wanted to scream at him, every word he spoke sank into your bones like poison. It was true—he was your father. But hearing him say he was the reason your mother died… was unbearable.

“Choose,” he said. “Give in… and become one with me. Or die, like your mother, because of that foolish attachment inside you.”

You clenched your fists.

“I’d rather die,” you growled, “than become anything like you—selfish, cruel, and drunk on power.”

Gwi-ma laughed—a deep, echoing roar that shook the void around you.

“The hunters will never seal me, (Name). Your defiance means nothing. I am this close to victory.”

“Then if they can’t stop you,” you snapped, "I will. As your child— I’ll be the one who destroys you.”

His laughter stopped. He growled, voice now filled with rage, and in the next second—he hurled you out of the darkness.

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, heart pounding violently in your chest. You were back in your bed.

“…What the hell was that…?” you muttered, your head throbbing from the force of being thrown.

Your hands were trembling. You could still feel his presence. Still hear his voice.

You threw yourself onto the bed, unable to handle the truth that had just been forced upon you. You were Gwi-ma’s child. No matter how many times you tried to deny it, there was no escaping it now.

Your chest felt heavy. Suffocating.

"How did Mom ever fall for something like him... for five lifetimes?" Your voice trembled. Then, a terrifying thought clawed its way into your mind.

"Wait..." your eyes widened. "Baby once asked me if I had forgotten him... Does that mean—what Gwi-ma meant by five lifetimes... is them? All five of them?"

It all started to click, like puzzle pieces snapping into place. Your past lives, the boys, Gwi-ma’s sudden return. There was something ancient tied to all of you.

You let out a long, exhausted breath.

"How the hell am I supposed to erase Gwi-ma from existence..." you muttered, dragging your hand down your face. "No one deserves a father like him. World's worst dad, no competition."

Your gaze shifts toward your closet, something glinting from a narrow gap like it was calling out to you. You squinted suspiciously. "What now..." you stepped closer, slowly pulling the door open.

“…A bow?” you muttered in disbelief, blinking at the object leaning neatly against the back wall.

You picked it up, brow furrowed. “Why the hell do I even have this?”

Then it clicked. “Oh—right. This was from Grandma… before she left for good.” Your voice softened at the memory.

As soon as your fingers fully curled around the bow's shaft, a strange sensation rushed through you—like something ancient had just reconnected. A sudden weight pressed behind your eyes. You gasped as a soft voice, smooth and steady, echoed faintly in your ears:

"We’ve waited so long for this moment, (Name)… Please use it. Use my bow. Forgive me for the burden I’ve passed onto you, but when it ends, you’ll be free. Truly free—and at peace.”

Your breath hitched. That voice—gentle, low, almost sorrowful— it felt like the kind of voice ghosts have when they’ve waited centuries.

You swallowed hard. “Oh God, what kind of mess do I have to clean up this time..."

You dragged your hand down your face, tired and annoyed, then looked back down at the glowing bow in your hand.

You? With a bow? You didn’t even know how to use a bow, let alone how to fight with one. And now what? You were expected to wield this like some chosen warrior?

“…God help me,” you muttered. "If what that voice meant was killing Gwi-ma… with this weapon, with my own hands," you groaned, staring down at the bow in your grip. It felt heavy—not in weight, but in meaning.

"I don’t even know what he looks like… but does this count as premeditated murder?" you muttered sarcastically, joking with yourself to take the edge off your spiraling thoughts.. But your laugh faded quickly, because deep down, you knew it wasn’t a joke.

The bow vibrated faintly in your grasp—like it understood everything you just said. Like it was agreeing.

You stood there in silence, the weight of what you were being asked to do crashing in. You were just a manager. A tired, overworked, slightly underpaid human being. And now apparently chosen to end something ancient, something no one dared name out loud.

You exhaled sharply.

“Right, sure. Because this is normal, totally something people go through on a Tuesday night.”

You stare at the bow in your hands for a full minute before exhaling sharply through your nose. “Okay. Let’s say I believe all this, let’s say I really am supposed to kill some ancient demon-father-monster thing. What then? Am I supposed to just know how to use this?”

You hold the bow up, awkwardly, turning it in your grip.

"...Right. The string goes this way, I think?"

It creaks slightly, like it’s been asleep for a long time. You frown, then spot the lone arrow still lying on the closet floor, half-glowing with a soft gradient of violet and pale blue. Its pointed tip gleams faintly with a pink shimmer, casting a subtle glow on the floor. The moment you pick it up, a strange warmth buzzes up your arm—not hot, but like the feeling of being seen.

"Okay, arrow, bow, me. Yeah, just like a video game, right? How hard can it be?"

You walk to the center of your living room, push aside your laundry pile with your foot, and hold up the bow in front of your body.

Your arms shake just from pulling the string back. The bow resists you—not in a violent way, but like it’s measuring you. Testing you.

"Ugh, this is embarrassing," you mutter. "If someone walks in on me right now I swear—"

Your fingers slip. The arrow looses itself—not at a target, not even close.

It sings through the air, crashing into your favorite bookshelf with a loud thud. A few dusty pieces of old fanmerch tumble down in its wake.

You stand there, jaw dropped, arrow humming where it's now impaled halfway into the wall.

"Holy sh—"

The crack still echoes in the air, sharp and violent. You stare at your poor wall, the arrow now buried halfway into the plaster, humming like it’s laughing at you. A hairline fracture spread from the impact, dust trailing down like snowflakes.

You stepped back, examining your handiwork—or lack thereof. The arrow hummed faintly where it had embedded itself, as if pleased with the damage it caused. Of course, the wall hadn’t done anything to deserve that.

You’re just about to try pulling the arrow out when—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You flinched. Another knock, louder this time.

“Miss? Everything alright in there?”

Oh no.

You rush toward the door and crack it open just a bit. Outside stands your neighbor from 5B—the old man who always waters his plants three times a day and glares at everyone like they’re walking sins.

His eyes squint at you. “Did something fall? It sounded like an earthquake just hit your unit. Again.”

You force a smile. “Oh! No, no! Everything’s fine! Just, uh… trying a new stretching routine!”

“…That sounded like a wall cracking in half.”

“Well, I’m very dedicated to my fitness,” you say, still blocking the open door with your body like it’s some kind of crime scene. "Cardio. With style."

The old man doesn’t buy it. You can tell by how his nose twitches, like he can smell your lies through the door.

He sniffed the air, eyes narrowing further. “Smells like something’s burning, metal?”

You blinked. Crap. That must’ve been the bow—or the arrow. Or maybe the strange magic binding them together. Whatever it was, it wasn’t scented candles.

“Essential oils,” you blurted. “Helps with stress.”

A long pause.

“…Kids these days,” he muttered before turning away, shaking his head. “If you burn the place down, I’m not helping carry your furniture."

You quickly shut the door behind him, heart pounding.

“…Note to self,” you say aloud, turning back to the mess. “No more practicing indoors unless I want to be exorcised by the building committee.”

You turned back to the wall. The arrow was still there, but the glow around it had faded. You stepped closer, fingers brushing the shaft—and the moment your fingers graze it, the glow surges—light coils around the shaft, twisting upward like ivy, and then poof—it vanishes, leaving nothing behind but a neat hole in your wall and the strange echo of a voice in your head.

“Better aim next time.”

You blink.

“…Did I just get mocked by a weapon?”

The bow, resting innocently nearby, vibrated faintly. As if laughing.

You sigh and drag a hand down your face. "I’m losing it, completely. I just got roasted by a medieval stick.”

Still, something inside you is shifting. The bow feels lighter now, and you didn’t feel as unsure holding it.

Even if the idea still terrified you.

“If I’m dreaming and all of this is just some fantasy hallucination, please—God—wake me up. I don’t want to live in a fantasy world,” you muttered under your breath, dragging your feet toward your room.

You set the bow down gently, right where you found it—half-hidden in that strange crevice in your wardrobe. It didn’t glow this time. Didn’t vibrate. Just rested there, quietly, as if pretending it hadn’t just sent a crack through your apartment wall five minutes ago.

You stepped back, staring at it like it might come to life again.

“…Stay,” you told it, like it was a disobedient pet.

Then, with a tired sigh, you turned off your light and collapsed onto your bed face-first.

Everything felt surreal. The kind of weird that clung to your skin and refused to be washed off. The voice in your head. The glowing arrow. The magical explosion. And now, a bow that mocked your aim and vanished arrows into nothingness.

Maybe it was a dream, or maybe you were losing your mind.

PART: I. SEASONS, II. LOVE, III. LILY

🧘🏻‍♀️ ALRIGHT better get yourselves ready for the next chapter XDD🐈‍⬛

tag list XD : @luluprincess230lp, @snowy-violet, @brights-place, @kashasenpai , @nubyeol

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