#another ask that made me pace the room and stare at it for several days because i didn't know how to respond

[coriihanniee]

TELL ME, WILL WE SURVIVE? ⋆˚࿔

۶ৎ SYNOPSIS : you're the 4th member of Huntrix, tasked to eliminate the Saja Boys, five powerful demons disguised as idols. However, encountering them face to face brings an achingly familiar pain to your chest.

۶ৎ PAIRING : reincarnated 4th member huntrix!reader x saja boys ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : romance, reincarnation, angst ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of death, use of weapons, slight emotional manipulation, sexy hot fictional men

۶ৎ A/N : asked if I should write this fic with a poll and 434 votes is crazy... so here it is! This will probably be my only kpdh fic 🥹 I hope this satisfies you~ It was tough to come up what to write apart from Jinu's considering the fact we don't have more information about the others T^T

The tension in the Huntrix dorm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I still can't believe it," Zoey muttered, pacing back and forth across the living room while clutching her notebook. "A new boy group that just debuted... and they're actual demons."

Mira sat cross-legged on the floor. Her usually perfect hair was tied back in a messy bun. "The way everyone was completely fascinated by them..." She shuddered. "Like they couldn't look away or think of anything else."

"Five guys who came out of nowhere and had everyone mesmerized on their very first performance," Rumi said grimly, her voice still hoarse from the throat issues that had sent them to the doctor in the first place. "That's not normal idol talent, that's demonic influence."

You looked up from lacing your combat boots, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread. While your three groupmates had discovered the Saja Boys' true nature during their trip to the clinic, you'd been stuck in back-to-back variety show recordings. Part of you felt guilty for missing such a crucial moment, but another part was almost grateful. Something about facing demons, especially these particular demons, made your chest tight with an emotion you couldn't name.

"So what's the plan?" you asked, trying to push away the odd nervousness in your stomach.

Rumi stood up, her leader instincts taking over despite her vocal strain. "Intelligence suggests they're operating out of several locations around the city. We need to track them down and neutralize the threat before their next public appearance."

"Five of them, four of us," Mira noted. "Not impossible odds, but we'll need to be smart about this."

Zoey stopped pacing and looked at you with concerned eyes. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I mean, this is our first time facing demons this powerful. The Saja Boys aren't like the lower-level creatures we usually hunt."

You nodded, though your heart was racing for reasons you couldn't explain. "I've trained for this. We all have."

"We don't know much about their individual abilities yet," Rumi warned, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "But we know they're organized and powerful enough to steal our fans and mess with the Honmoon. They've been systematically targeting our fans, hypnotising them with some kind of influence we don't understand yet.”

"We split up," Rumi continued. "Cover more ground that way. But nobody engages alone unless absolutely necessary. These aren't ordinary demons, they're organized, intelligent, and extremely dangerous."

As your groupmates continued planning, you found yourself staring out the window at the Seoul skyline, a dozen city lights twinkling like stars. Somewhere out there, five demons who had quickly become the nation's beloved idol group in less than a day were hiding, planning, hunting.

So why did the thought of facing them feel less like preparing for battle and more like... coming home?

"Ready?" Rumi's voice snapped you back to reality.

You grabbed your weapon and stood up, pushing down the strange emotions swirling in your chest. You were a member of Huntrix. You had a job to do.

Even if something deep inside you whispered that this mission would change everything.

JINU ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Three hours after the briefing, you crouched behind a concrete pillar in an abandoned office building, your heart hammering against your ribs for reasons that had nothing to do with the mission. You had tracked Jinu here alone, separated from his group members, conducting what appeared to be private business on the fifteenth floor.

The elevator had been deliberately disabled, forcing you to climb the emergency stairwell. Each step upwards felt heavier than the last, as if your body fought against an invisible current. When you finally reached the target floor, the silence was deafening.

You pressed your ear to the stairwell door, listening for voices, footsteps, any sign of demonic activity. Your weapon felt foreign in your grip, a silver-blessed blade that had never failed you in past hunts, yet now trembled with your uncertainty.

The hallway beyond stretched like a mouth waiting to swallow you whole. Fluorescent lights flickered sporadically, casting dancing shadows that made your vision blur. You moved silently, checking each empty office as you passed, until you reached the corner suite at the end of the corridor.

The door stood ajar.

Through the gap, you could see him.

Jinu sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his profile illuminated by the pale glow of Seoul's skyline through the windows. Even in the dim light, his features were sharp and aristocratic, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, dark hair that fell perfectly across his forehead. 

"The contract is simple," his voice carried through the crack in the door, smooth as silk yet cold as steel. "Your daughter's medical bills disappear. Her surgery is guaranteed successful. All I ask in return is a small favour down the line."

"What kind of favour?" The other voice was desperate, broken, a father's voice.

"Nothing that will harm your family directly. You have my word."

You should have burst through that door immediately and struck while Jinu was distracted, before he could complete whatever twisted bargain he was weaving. But the moment your eyes found his face, your entire world tilted off its axis.

Inexplicable pain lanced through your chest. Your vision blurred from the tears suddenly sliding down your cheeks. Images surged and vanished too quickly to grasp : a child's laugh, the strum of a bipa, a soft voice humming, arms wrapping around you beneath a threadbare blanket.

"I'll take care of everything. You'll never have to worry again."

You gasped, stumbling backwards and nearly dropping your weapon. The sound echoed in the empty hallway like a gunshot.

The conversation inside the office stopped abruptly.

"I believe our business here is concluded," Jinu's voice had changed, taking on an edge that made your spine stiffen. "You know how to contact me when you've made your decision."

The desperate father's voice slowly faded as he was presumably escorted out through another exit.

You pressed yourself against the wall, mind racing. You had lost the element of surprise, but the mission remained the same. Jinu was alone now. This was your chance to strike before he could reunite with the other Saja Boys.

You kicked the door open and rushed inside, blade raised and ready.

Jinu stood by the window with his back to you, hands clasped behind him as if he had been expecting your arrival. The moonlight turned his silhouette into an ethereal and angelic vision, a cruel irony given what you knew him to be.

"You're faster than I anticipated," he said without turning around. "Though not as quiet as you think."

"Turn around." Your voice came out steadier than you felt.

He complied slowly. However, when his eyes met yours, your soul cracked down the middle.

You could see a brief flicker of recognition cross his face, perhaps even mourning, or maybe grief worn thin over centuries.

You raised your blade higher, just enough to hide how much your hands were shaking.

"You've grown beautiful," he said softly.

Your breath caught in your throat, forcing down a wave of emotions that threatened to break free. You gritted your teeth. "Don't."

He stepped forward. 

"I said don't."

He moved closer.

You slashed by reflex. Jinu blocked it with his arm. He didn't exactly attack back. But he parried, blocked, dodged with the ease of someone who'd trained lifetimes for this.

It happened before you could think. Your body moved, like it already knew what to do. Your chest rose and fell too fast, ears buzzing with the rush of your heartbeat. Jinu barely fought back, annoyingly and effortlessly dodging your attacks. However, you refused to stop until the hurt had somewhere to land.

Until he disarmed you, your blade clattering across the floor.

Jinu didn't press the advantage or move to strike.

Instead, he stepped back. 

You froze for half a second. Why isn't he fighting back? Was this pity? Mercy? Did he think you couldn’t handle it?

"You don't remember." It wasn't a question.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Four hundred years ago," he said quietly, "I had a mother and a sister. We were starving. I played the bipa on street corners, until I found you, you were the only light we had left. You kept us together, even when everything fell apart."

Images tore at your mind again : your hands mending a child's robe. Jinu's fingers brushing yours. The bipa's music cutting through the dark.

"You were there," you whispered, not understanding why you knew it was true.

"I was." His voice cracked. "And I failed all of you."

"But… you're a demon now. You manipulate people. Steal their souls."

"I offer what they ask for. I offered it then, too. I was desperate and hungry. My family and you were dying in front of my eyes. Gwi-Ma found me and promised me a life of comfort and power. I thought if I accepted it, I could bring you all with me."

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

"But the gates closed behind me," he said, barely audible. "I turned around and they wouldn't let you through. I left you in the cold while I slept on silk."

You shook your head, but the memories were surfacing now,

"I searched for you after. But you died, didn't you? Alone. Like the rest of them. While I lived in luxury with blood on my hands."

The truth settled like ice in your lungs. Your memories were fractured, broken by time and pain, but you remembered enough. Remembered waiting put in the cold and the hunger that ate you alive while he feasted in hell.

"I waited for you," you whispered.

Jinu closed his eyes as if the words were a blade through his chest. "I know."

The admission ignited a fury so pure it burned through your veins like poison. He knew. While you were wasted away in that freezing hovel, praying for his return until your throat was raw. While you'd begged strangers for scraps, sold every precious thing you owned just to buy another day of life, he was feasting in warmth and safety. He knew, and he'd done nothing.

"You knew," you snarled, and the rage in your voice made him flinch. "You knew we were dying and you left us there to rot."

Your hands clenched into fists. Every cell in your body screamed for violence, for justice, for him to feel even a fraction of the agony he'd caused.

You lunged for your weapon again. He didn't stop you.

"I'm going to kill you," you said, raising it with trembling hands.

"Then do it."

However, you hesitated, the blade wavering above his heart. Tears blurred your vision as you stared down at him, this man who had once been your entire world. Your arm shook with the effort of holding the weapon steady, but your body refused to obey. Every instinct screamed at you to drive the silver through his chest, to end his suffering and yours, but your heart betrayed you.

Even after everything, you couldn't bring yourself to destroy him. The realization broke you more than his abandonment ever had.

"Why aren't you fighting back?"

"Because I loved you more than my own soul. And letting you end it is the only way I can repent for what I've done."

Your eyes widened at his words, the blade slipping from your nerveless fingers. It hit the floor with a sharp clang that echoed through the empty office.

Jinu's breath caught in his throat. He stared at the fallen weapon, in disbelief at what had just happened. His composure finally cracked, and tears spilled down his cheeks, the first real emotion you'd seen from him since you'd entered this room.

Why?" he whispered. "After everything I've done to you... why can't you do it?”

"I-I don't know…’ you said, voice cracking. “But… this doesn't mean I forgive you…”

"I wouldn't dare ask."

"And I'm not letting you walk away."

He nodded, tears tracking down his cheeks.

You stepped closer, your heart shattering with every breath.

"This time, we need to talk, about the four hundred years you stole from us."

ABBY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The underground fight club pulsed with sweat, blood, and money changing hands. You pressed your earpiece, static crackling back at you as you tried to reach Rumi. 

"Rumi, do you copy? I lost visual on the target."

Nothing but interference.

Intel had tracked two Saja Boys to this district, Abby and Mystery had split from the main group. Following a thorough discussion, you and the other girls decided to split into duos to ensure greater safety. You and Rumi were supposed to stay together, but the crowds and maze-like underground tunnels had separated you. Now you were alone in the bowels of Seoul's illegal fighting scene.

The roar of the crowd guided you deeper into the complex. Through a doorway marked with graffiti, you found the main arena, a concrete pit surrounded by screaming spectators waving fistfuls of cash. 

In the center of the ring stood Abby.

He moved like violence incarnate, all muscle and controlled fury as he circled his opponent. Abby was shirtless, his body a map of scars and fresh bruises, sweat making his skin gleam under the harsh lights. 

The expression that you caught on his face made your breath catch. Pure, undiluted joy. He was having the time of his life.

His opponent lunged. Abby sidestepped with fluid grace, then drove his fist into the man's ribs with a wet crack that echoed over the crowd's cheers as the man fell to the ground hard. 

"Next!" Abby called out, not even breathing heavily. His grin was sharp enough to cut glass. "Who else wants to dance?"

Three men climbed into the ring together as the crowd grew wild.

You should have taken the shot then, but watching him move was hypnotic. Every punch and dodge was precise and calculated. 

Two opponents were quickly taken down, and the third hesitated to swing.

"Come on," Abby taunted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Don't tell me you're scared now."

The man reluctantly charged. Abby caught him mid-lunge and slammed him into the concrete so hard the ground cracked.

The crowd erupted as money flew. Abby raised his arms in victory, basking in the adoration.

You waited until the chaos died down, until the crowd dispersed and the arena emptied. Abby was collecting his winnings from the promoter when you finally made your move.

"Good fights tonight," you said, stepping out of the shadows.

He went completely still for a second, so brief you almost missed it. Then he turned around with that cocky grin already sliding into place. 

"Well, well. What do we have here?" He looked you up and down, but it wasn't the casual appreciation of a stranger. It was recognition wrapped in careful performance. "You don't look like the usual groupies. Too pretty. Too dangerous."

"I'm not a groupie."

"No kidding." He stuffed the money in his back pocket and grabbed his shirt from where he'd thrown it, but didn't put it on. Still showing off, but his movements were more deliberate now, as if he was buying time to think.

 "So what are you? Reporter? Cop? Or just someone who likes watching sweaty men beat the hell out of each other?"

"I'm here for you."

His grin widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, that's direct. Though I gotta say, most people who want me specifically don't usually start with small talk."

The arena was empty now except for the two of you and the lingering smell of violence.

Perfect.

"You're coming with me," you said, hand moving to your weapon.

"Am I?" He stepped closer, and the playful mask slipped just slightly. "And here I was thinking you might be here for something else entirely."

"This isn't a game."

"Everything's a game, sweetheart. The trick is figuring out if we're playing by the same rules." He was circling you now, but it felt less predatory and more like he was trying to get a different angle, trying to see something in your face. "Though I gotta ask, do you even know who I am?"

You drew your blade. His expression shifted, resignation mixed with anticipation.

"There it is," he said quietly, flexing his fingers. "Was wondering when we'd get to this part."

He moved faster than you'd expected, still testing you. Every move of his was calculated, like he was trying to figure out how much you remembered about fighting. 

About fighting him specifically.

"Come on," he said, dodging your blade with familiar ease. "I know you're better than this. You always were."

The words slipped out before he could catch them. You saw the moment he realized his mistake, saw him try to cover it with that cocky grin.

"Always were what?" you demanded, pressing your attack.

"Always were too careful," he said, but his voice was strained now. "Stop holding back."

"I'm trying not to kill you."

"How thoughtful." His voice was softer now, almost fond. "Always looking out for everyone else."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he caught your wrist and pulled you against his chest. For a moment, you were close enough to see the conflict in his eyes.

"Got you," he said, but it sounded more like a prayer than a taunt.

You drove your elbow back into his ribs and spun free. He let you go reluctantly.

"There we go," he said, rubbing his side. "That's more like it."

You came at him again, blade swinging through the air. This time when he grabbed your wrist and twisted until you had to drop the weapon, his grip was careful, like he'd done this exact move with you before.

"How do you know how I fight?" you asked.

The question made him freeze. His grip loosened just enough for you to break free, but instead of reaching for another weapon, you just stared at him.

"Have we met before?" you asked.

All the pretense drained out of his expression at your question, replaced by rawness and desperation.

"Every day for a hundred and twenty three years," he whispered.

"What are you talking about?"

His hands came up to frame your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones like he was memorizing them all over again.

"You really don't remember," he said, and his voice cracked on the words. "God, I hoped... I thought maybe..."

His touch was so gentle, and his voice was softer now. 

"How do you know my name?" you whispered.

"Because I've been saying it every day for over a century." He laughed bitterly "Because it was the last thing you heard before you died."

Images flashed through your mind : rain-soaked streets, a thin boy with kind eyes, the sound of your own scream echoing off alley walls.

You stumbled backward, hand pressed to your temple. "What's happening to me?"

"Hey." He reached for you, movements careful now, gentle. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

"I'm not okay. I'm seeing things that aren't real."

"What kind of things?"

"A boy. Someone I loved." The words came out before you could stop them. "Someone who died because of me."

Abby went very still. "How did he die?"

"I don't know. I can't—the memories aren't mine." You looked up at him desperately. "This is crazy. I don't even know you."

"Yes you do." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You do know me. You just can't remember because dying screws with your head."

"I didn't die."

"Yeah, you did." He was close enough to touch now, hands hovering just shy of your skin. "Hundred and twenty three years ago. In an alley. They put a knife in your back while I watched, too weak to do anything about it."

The memories hit like a tsunami : cobblestones slick with rain, rough hands dragging you away from a thin boy who was calling your name, the burn of steel between your ribs.

"Oh god," you whispered.

"I made you a promise," Abby continued, his voice thick with a century's worth of grief. "On your grave. That if I ever got the chance to see you again, I'd be strong enough to protect you."

You looked at him, and saw past the muscle and scars to the boy underneath. The boy who'd loved you. The boy who'd become a monster for the chance to keep you safe.

"You became a demon for me?"

"I became whatever I had to become." His hands finally made contact, cupping your face gently, as if any more pressure might shatter you into a million pieces. "I don't care what that makes me. I care about keeping you alive."

Footsteps echoed from the tunnel behind you. Rumi's voice called out your name, worried.

"Shit," you whispered. "My partner's coming."

Abby's expression hardened instantly, all the vulnerability vanishing behind that familiar cocky mask. "Right. Back to reality."

"Abby, wait—"

"No, it's fine." He stepped back, putting distance between you, but his eyes never left your face. "You've got a job to do. I get it."

"I can't just—"

"What? Kill me? We both know you're not going to do that." He grinned. "So what's the play here, sweetheart? You gonna tell your partner you found me and just... let me walk away?”

The footsteps were getting closer. You had maybe thirty seconds before Rumi found you.

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Well, you better figure it out fast." Despite his words, he wasn't moving towards the exits. He was just standing there, waiting for you to decide his fate again.

"There's another exit through the back," you said quickly. "Behind the equipment room."

His eyebrows shot up. "You're letting me go?"

"I'm giving you a head start."

"Why?"

Because somewhere in your fractured memories, you remembered loving him. Because he'd spent over a century becoming strong enough to protect you, and maybe you could be strong enough to protect him too.

"Because I remember enough," you said simply.

His mask cracked just for a moment. "This isn't over."

"I know."

"I'll find you again."

"I know."

He started towards the back exit, then paused. "Hey, sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to die before I see you again. I'm getting really tired of that particular tragedy."

In a blink of an eye, he was gone, vanishing into the shadows just as Rumi's voice echoed closer.

ROMANCE ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The rooftop overlooked the glittering chaos of Seoul's entertainment district, where neon signs blazed advertisements for idol groups and concert venues stretched towards the horizon. You crouched behind the air conditioning unit, silver blade steady in your grip as you surveyed the empty space. 

Wind carried the distant sound of traffic and late-night revelers, but here, twenty stories above the city's pulse, silence reigned.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?"

You tensed, weapon raised when you heard his voice, achingly familiar despite being impossible to place. It wrapped around your ribs like phantom fingers, squeezing until your chest felt tight with inexplicable longing.

Romance emerged from behind the rooftop access door with fluid grace, hands tucked casually into his pockets. Under the city's electric glow, his features appeared sharp and ethereal, pink hair catching the wind as he regarded you with calm amusement.

"Though I suspect you're not here for sightseeing," he continued, taking measured steps forward. "Hello, hunter."

Your blade remained steady despite the tremor in your voice. "You know what I am."

"Of course I know exactly what you are." His smile held no malice, only a strange sadness that made your throat constrict. "The question is, do you know what I am?"

Without warning, you lunged.

Romance flowed backwards like water, your strike cutting through empty air as he spun away from your advance. He moved with practiced precision, dodging rather than retaliating, speaking in that same measured tone even as you pressed your attack.

"You fight beautifully," he observed, sidestepping another slash. "Trained well. Committed."

You snarled in frustration, spinning to catch him with a backhand strike that he avoided by millimeters. "Shut up and fight back."

"Why would I want to hurt you?"

The question threw off your rhythm, long enough for Romance to close the distance between you. His hand found your wrist with gentle firmness, and your weapon clattered across the concrete.

You struck out with your free hand, but he caught that too, holding both your wrists as you struggled against his grip. His touch burned with unnatural warmth, sending sparks up your arms that had nothing to do with his demonic nature.

"Let me go," you hissed.

"In a moment." Romance's eyes searched your face with desperate intensity. "I need you to see—"

He shifted, a small and bright object tumbled from his pocket, a ring that caught the neon light as it fell. Simple silver band, modest stone, nothing extraordinary except for the way it made your heart stop.

Pain lanced through your chest. Your knees buckled as emotion crashed over you in waves, grief so profound it stole your breath, love so pure it felt like drowning, loss that cut deeper than any blade. You didn't understand where these feelings originated, only that they threatened to tear you apart from the inside.

Romance released you immediately, crouching to retrieve the ring with reverent care. "You feel it too," he whispered.

"I don't—" You stumbled backward, pressing a hand to your chest where the ache pulsed with each heartbeat. "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing. This is yours." He held up the ring, and the sight of it made tears spring to your eyes without explanation. "It was meant for you."

"What—that's impossible."

"You taught me what love felt like, centuries ago." Romance said quietly, his mask of casual amusement finally cracking. "Before you, I was nothing. A shadow in my own house, invisible to parents who saw only disappointment when they looked at me. You were the first person to show me kindness, love me without expecting anything in return."

He cradled the ring like it held his entire world. "I saved for months to buy this. Worked every odd job I could find, skipped meals. I practiced the proposal speech until I could recite it in my sleep."

His confession struck a place you didn’t know could still hurt. Your eyes flickered back to the ring again, breath hitching.

"You fell ill a few weeks before I planned to propose." His voice cracked, centuries of grief pouring through the fractures. "I held your hand for seventy two hours straight. I didn't eat or sleep, just sat there begging you to stay with me."

"Y-You're lying." But your voice had no strength behind it.

"Your last coherent words were asking me to promise I'd love someone else after you were gone. You were so worried about me being alone." Tears tracked down his perfect cheeks, and seeing them made your own eyes burn. "I lied and said yes because I thought it would help you let go peacefully."

The pain in your chest intensified, spreading through your ribs like poison. "That's not—"

"I tried to keep that promise as a human. I spent years searching for someone who could make me feel what you had.” Romance's voice dropped to a whisper. “But no one came close to you.”

"You became a demon because you couldn't move on..."

"I made a pact with Gwi-Ma after years of failing to love anyone else. I became something that could create love, manufacture and distribute it to anyone desperate enough to want it." His smile was self-loathing incarnate. "If I couldn't feel real love, at least I could give others a taste of what you gave me."

"You're feeding on people and hurting them."

"I'm keeping my promise to you." His eyes blazed with centuries of accumulated pain and twisted devotion. "Every heart I touch and every moment of artificial bliss I create is all for you. You asked me to love someone else, and this is the only way I know how."

The logic was twisted, but the raw anguish in his voice made your chest tighten with sympathy you couldn't afford. "You're manipulating innocent people."

"I give them what they desperately need. The feeling of being cherished, desired, worthy of devotion. When the illusion breaks, yes, they're disappointed. But at least they got to experience something transcendent." Romance stood slowly, the ring disappearing back into his coat. "Tell me that's not better than the emptiness they had before."

"It's a love built on lies."

"All love is lies in the end." His smile returned, but it held no warmth. "The difference is I'm honest about the illusion I create."

You backed towards the rooftop edge, every instinct screaming at you to flee. The mission was clear, eliminate the demon. However, your hands shook as you reached for a backup blade, and the pain in your chest made it difficult to breathe. Each word he'd spoken felt like a knife twisting deeper.

"This isn't over," you managed, but the words came out weak.

"I know." Romance made no move to stop you as you retreated. "But I won't fight you anymore. I've caused enough damage to someone I—"

He cut himself off, the unfinished words hung in the air between you.

"Someone you what?" The question escaped before you could stop it.

"Someone I loved more than my own existence." His voice was barely audible above the wind. "Someone I'm still failing, even now."

The words crashed over you like a tidal wave. Ring. Proposal. Seventy two hours. Promise. Death. Demon. Love. The pieces swirled in your mind, too many fragments to assemble together, each one cutting deeper than the last. Your training screamed at you to stay, but your heart couldn't bear another second of his confessions.

You turned and ran.

The fire escape blurred past as you descended, taking stairs three at a time until your legs gave out two floors from the bottom. You collapsed on the landing, gasping for air that wouldn't come, pressing your palms against your eyes as if you could physically force back the tears threatening to spill.

His voice echoed in your mind : I practiced the proposal speech until I could recite it in my sleep.

Why did that hurt? You were a hunter trained to kill demons, not sympathize with their tragic backstories.

You forced yourself to continue down the fire escape, your movements mechanical and disconnected. 

Seventy two hours straight. I didn't eat or sleep, just sat there begging you to stay.

Your back hit the alley wall and you slid down until you were sitting on the cold concrete, arms wrapped around your knees. Hot tears streamed down your face as you grieved for reasons you couldn't name.

This couldn't have happened before. You would remember dying. You would remember being loved with that kind of desperate devotion. You would remember someone saving money for months to buy you a ring.

...

Wouldn't you?

MYSTERY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You lean against the Huntrix dorm balcony railing, watching Seoul pulse beneath you like a neon heartbeat. The city sprawls endless and electric, towers of glass catching streetlight, traffic threading through concrete arteries. Behind you, voices clash over mission prep.

"We should split up and handle each demon individually," Rumi insisted. "Pick them off one by one."

"That's suicide," Mira counters. "We stick together, overwhelm them with combined firepower. Safety in numbers."

"Okay, okay!" Zoey jumps between them with enthusiastic gestures. "What if we compromise? Split into pairs? Best of both worlds, right? Right?"

There are weak spots in the Honmoon barrier scattered across Seoul like broken bones. You've memorized their coordinates, trained for this until your muscles know the patterns by heart. So why won't your pulse settle tonight? 

The argument behind you fades to background noise as you stare at the skyline. 

Suddenly, a soft and delicate melody drifts across the night air.

It felt like a tune you hum when your hands are full of flowers, when you're dizzy with new love. It shouldn't reach you from this height. Seoul's chaos should swallow such fragile notes whole, but the song finds you anyway.

Your breathing stops. You've heard this melody before in dreams that leave you gasping at dawn. 

Across the urban maze, movement flickers near a crumbling rooftop. A shadow that doesn't belong.

You don't hesitate one second. 

The balcony railing becomes your launching point. Rooftop to rooftop, your feet find purchase on surfaces that shouldn't hold human weight. The melody grows stronger with each leap, pulling you forward like a current.

Seoul blurs beneath you, kaleidoscope light and shadow, lives stacked in vertical towers. You follow the song through this maze, breath controlled, heart pounding against your ribs.

The tune leads you to an abandoned building that time forgot. Dark windows, cracked facade, studio spaces that once housed art but now hold only dust. You slip through a broken skylight, landing silent on debris-covered floors.

The music comes to a stop.

Mystery stands beside a shattered mirror, fingers turning over what looks like an old locket. He doesn't startle when you drop in. Instead, his mouth curves into a smile that holds too many secrets.

"You've always been good at finding me."

Your weapon clears its holster, barrel trained on his chest, and his smile deepens.

Ice floods your veins. Your grip tightens on the weapon. "Who are you?"

He laughs softly, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "I would tell you now, but where's the fun in that?"

"This isn't a game." Your voice comes out sharper than intended.

“Are you sure?” He tilts his head, studying you with eyes that hold starlight and shadows. "You followed my song across half the city. Left your friends mid-mission. That sounds like playing to me."

Heat rises in your cheeks. He's right, and you hate that he's right. "Answer me. Why do you know me?"

He steps closer curiously, like he's watching a flower bloom in real time. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

"All those summer nights when you'd sneak out just to hear me play." His voice drops to a whisper. "The way you'd fall asleep in my arms while I hummed that exact melody."

Your heart stutters. The exact melody that's been haunting your dreams for months. "That's impossible. I would remember—"

"You would remember me, wouldn’t you?" He reaches out, fingers barely grazing your cheek. 

You should pull away, you know you should put distance between you and this stranger who claims to know your past. But his touch feels familiar, like coming home after a long journey.

"You haven't changed. Well, except for the blade." His gaze drops to the weapon still trained on him. "You never needed those before."

"Before what? Before when?" Desperation creeps into your voice.

He smiles again, stepping back. "Don't remember me yet. It's more fun this way."

"Fun?" The word explodes from you. "You think this is fun? I'm losing my mind trying to figure out who you are, and you think it's entertaining?"

"I think," he says, moving towards the broken window, "that some things are worth waiting for. Some mysteries are sweeter when they unfold slowly."

Moonlight catches in his dark hair as he pauses at the window's edge. "Besides, you always did love puzzles. You used to spend hours on them when you couldn't sleep."

Another piece of impossible knowledge. Another fragment that feels true but shouldn't exist. "How do you know that?"

"I know lots of things about you." His grin turns wicked. "You bite your lip when you're thinking too hard. You always eat the corners of sandwiches first. You used to trace constellations on my back with your fingertips."

Your weapon wavers. "Stop."

"Why? Does it hurt to remember what you've forgotten?"

"I haven't forgotten anything. I don't even know who you are." But even as you say it, phantom sensations ghost across your fingertips.

"Liar." He says it fondly. "You remember pieces. Little fragments that visit you in dreams. That's why you followed the melody tonight."

He's right again. You hate that he's right again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, preparing to slip through the window.

"Wait—" The word tears from your throat. "At least tell me your name."

He pauses, half-silhouetted against the night sky. "You'll remember it when you're ready."

"What if I'm never ready? What if I never remember?"

For a moment, his smile falters. Vulnerability flickers across his features. "You will. You have to."

He turns to leave, but moonlight catches his profile at just the right angle. Your breath hitches. Along his temple, barely visible unless you know what to look for, the faint outline of demonic markings. Intricate patterns that shimmer like oil on water, there one second and gone the next.

Your training kicks in before your heart can catch up. The weapon in your hands shifts, finger finding the trigger. He's a demon. You're a hunter. The math is simple.

His hair shifts slightly, and for just a moment, you catch a glimpse of his eyes through the strands.

"You see it now," he says quietly. "The monster I am.”

Your finger hovers over the trigger. This is what you've trained for. What you've dedicated your life to. But something deep inside you hesitates.

Your hand trembles. The weapon feels impossibly heavy.

"Tomorrow," he says again, stepping towards the window. "When you remember who we were, you'll understand why I can't fight you. Why I'll never fight you."

In the blink of an eye, he's gone, leaving you alone with the echo of his voice, that phantom melody, and the terrible knowledge that you just let a demon walk away.

You land back on the balcony, chest heaving. The sliding door opens before you can compose yourself. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey spill out, eyes wide with panic.

"Where were you?! We've been searching everywhere—"

"Can we go tomorrow instead?" Your voice sounds foreign. "I don't feel great."

They exchange loaded glances. Eventually Rumi nods. "Of course. Rest is part of prep too."

You turn away before they can see the cracks spreading across your composure and witness how your hands shake.

That night, your bed feels like a battleground. The melody plays on repeat behind your closed eyes. Each note carries weight you can't name and memories you can't quite grasp.

The mystery of it all pressed against your mind. What past did you share? Why couldn't you remember? 

Mystery himself seemed to revel in the unknowing, content to watch you struggle with fragments of what you'd once been to each other. 

BABY ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Something was wrong with your hands.

They'd been trembling since you left the dorm, and no amount of clenching your fists or pressing them against your thighs could make it stop. Rumi's words echoed in your head like a mantra you couldn't shake, "Don't let his face fool you. They're still dangerous demons working for Gwi-Ma nevertheless."

Pictures of the Saja Boys were already circulating online in less than a day. Five demons who'd seemingly appeared overnight, stealing the hearts and souls of your fans.

"Ugh, I’m going to beat their stupid pretty little faces," Zoey had said, tapping the images with her pen. "Seriously, look at them! Acting all mysterious and brooding like they're in some kind of boy band. I mean—they are… but look! The internet's already making fan edits—fan edits! Of demons!" She'd gestured wildly at her tablet, where countless social media posts were flooding in by the minute. "Half the comments are people asking where they can meet them. It's insane!”

You'd barely heard her. Your eyes had been drawn to one face among the five, sharp features that still held traces of boyish softness.

His face had made your chest tighten with recognition, like looking at a stranger who wore the face of someone from a half-remembered dream.

Why did he feel familiar?

The neighbourhood around you was a study in urban decay, half the buildings scheduled for demolition, the other half already hollow shells. You decided to turn a corner and came across an abandoned playground.

You knew this place.

You stopped mid-step at the chain-link gate. The monkey bars where someone had scraped their knee. The slide with the chip in the yellow paint. The bike rack, now empty and listing to one side like a broken rib.

This was from your dreams. Or maybe...

"Didn't expect you to come."

The voice drifted from somewhere behind the playground equipment with an edge that made your hand move instinctively to your weapon. You'd heard that voice before, in fragments that scattered whenever you tried to grasp them.

"Show yourself," you called, stepping through the gate. The metal squealed in protest, the sound echoing off empty buildings like a warning.

He laughed mockingly. "Still giving orders, I see."

He emerged from behind the slide, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the chill of the night. He looked barely out of his teens, with features that still held traces of boyish softness despite the hard set of his jaw.

"You always had a thing for chasing monsters," he said, tilting his head as he studied you with uncomfortable intensity. Those dark eyes flickered, darting away from your face as if looking directly at you caused him physical pain.

"How do you know me?"

Baby shrugged with affected indifference. "Lucky guess."

The way he held himself like he was trying very hard not to care, made anger flare in your chest. "That's not an answer."

He kicked at a piece of broken glass, sending it skittering across the asphalt. "Maybe you're just forgettable."

The casual cruelty in his voice should have stung. You drew your blade, silver gleaming in the late afternoon light.

"Are you going to come quietly, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Baby looked at the weapon, then back at your face. For a moment, vulnerability flickered across his features before he crushed it down.

"Do what the hard way?" He stepped closer, invading your personal space with  reckless confidence. "Fight me? Kill me?" His voice dropped, a hint of intimacy laced inside, bitter amusement threading through each word. "You wouldn't be the first to try."

You raised the blade between you, but instead of stopping, he knocked it aside with casual violence, the metal ringing as it struck the nearby swing set. Before you could recover, he was on you, crowding you back against the chain-link fence with predatory grace.

"I waited for you, you know," he said, one hand braced against the fence beside your head, effectively trapping you. "Stupid thing to do when you're a kid."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. "What?"

His free hand came up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. The touch was rough, but not enough to hurt.

"You really don't remember," he said, his laugh sharp enough to cut. "How convenient."

"Remember what?" The desperation in your voice made you flinch, but you couldn't take it back.

"Us." The single word fell between you, sending ripples through memories you couldn't quite grasp. "This place. The promises you made."

You tried to push him away, but he caught your wrists, pinning them against the fence. His grip was careful despite his aggression, strong enough to hold you, gentle enough not to bruise.

"You died," he said, voice flat and matter-of-fact. "And I had to grow up. Happy now?"

The world tilted sideways. Images flashed through your mind like broken film, a boy with tears streaming down his face, small hands clutching yours, a voice promising forever, all turned into ashes now.

"I'll never leave you."

The words rose from deep in your throat. Baby's eyes snapped to yours, wide with… hope, if hope weren't such a dangerous thing for creatures like him to carry.

"You broke your promise first," he whispered, and the accusation send a chill down your spine. 

You stumbled when he finally released you, pressing a hand to your chest where the ache was spreading like cracks in ice. Baby stepped back, flexing his fingers, trying to forget the feel of your skin.

"I don't—" You shook your head, struggling to make sense of the fragments flashing through your mind. "I don't understand."

"No," Baby said, his mask completely slipping. "You never did understand. You were always too good for this world."

He kicked your fallen blade across the asphalt, the metal scraping against concrete. "That's why you had to die, isn't it? Pure things don't last in places like this."

The words were bitter, but his voice cracked on the last syllable. He turned away quickly, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Next time we meet, I won't be nice," he said without looking back.

"Please, wait—"

He froze at the sound of your plea, shoulders going rigid. You thought he might turn around. Instead, he let out a short and humourless laugh.

"Begging now? Huh, pathetic."

H walked away, each step deliberate and final. Just as he reached the edge of the playground, he stopped.

"The songs," he said quietly, not turning around. "Those stupid lullabies you used to sing when I had nightmares. I still—"

He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Forget it. Forget everything."

He simply walked away down the empty street like any other person with anywhere else to be. You watched until he turned the corner and vanished from sight, leaving you alone with your forgotten blade and the sound of wind through rusted swings.

You picked up your weapon with trembling hands, but the silver felt cold and foreign now, it now felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist : @lvlyhiyyih @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @kjwluvr @arieslucy @permanenceimp @arienic

[fisheito]

If you ever feel insecure about your yapping just know that I binged your entire account for the past few hours and I was hooked. Like your account to me is what cocomelon is to toddlers you have no idea how happy you make my overly stressed student heart 😔❤ (Anon because I have anxiety (for now))

??!?!? i have enough stuff on here to entertain you for HOURS??

....huh. guess i've amassed quite a hoard. porntime surely does fly....swim.move fast

[witherby]

hey 😏

just wondering if you have anymore mer reader in the works 😏

also! i hope that your doing well!!

and can i be 🌕 anon? :)

You can absolutely be 🌕 anon! And, I do! Here's the final installment of:

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Part 9

Masterlist is Here!

"I'll need everyone's attention before we continue into the next exhibit, please."

Damian's voice is clear but firm, no room for argument in his tone, and his tour group all quickly quiet down to watch him. He rewards them with his well-practiced Customer Service Smile, nodding once.

"Thank you," he says. "This final exhibit is the pride and joy of Gotham Aquarium: the Mer tank. I can already see hands raised, and I'll open the floor up to questions in a minute. We're going to cover the rules first."

He holds up one hand, raising a finger as he goes.

"Rule number one: absolutely no flash photography. Take as many pictures and videos you want, but you have to leave the flash off. Our mer's eyes are sensitive to highly-focused levels of light, and you could temporarily blind them. Rule number two: do not knock or beat on the glass. It is several inches thick and reinforced, but you can still startle and disturb the mer. Rule number three: please...please stop flipping off our mer. They've learned to mimic their handlers and some of the guests, and it took weeks to make them quit it. If I see a bird, notice a flash, or catch you banging on the glass, everyone will be asked to leave."

He drops his hand, looking at every guest expectantly.

"Got it? Everyone say yes, Damian."

"Yes, Damian," the crowd echoes back, a mixture of amusement from the adults and excitement from the children reaching his ears. He gives them another practiced smile and reaches for the door.

"Great. Then step right in. Fan out and look around as much as you want. You can ask any questions now."

"How long has Gotham Aquarium had the mer?" One adult immediately asks, examining the seaweed on the bottom of your tank.

"Almost two years," Damian replies. "The anniversary of their arrival is in a month. We've got a small party planned to celebrate."

"What's the mer's favorite color?" A child asks him, gently tugging on Damian's pant leg to get his attention. His smile becomes more genuine.

"Green," he replies. "They love green things. I see your hair clip is green. They'll probably stare at you when they come out."

The little girl gasps, eyes wide. "Really!?" She turns and runs to her dad. "Hey daddy! The mer likes green, and my hair clip is green! The mer will like me!"

More questions come that Damian answers with ease. He paces along the floor and casts his gaze upward, examining all the little ways your tank has been changing overtime.

Your rock collection has grown substantially since Damian started painting more for you. He gives you a new one every day, and you have them proudly scattered all along the floor to decorate your enclosure. You've also taken to moving your seaweed around; instead of one, big stretch of it to hide and sleep in, you've uprooted it and made it into a series of little hiding places. He can also see some weighted toys lying around that one visitor asks about, happy to explain how you use them for enrichment.

"When's the mer come out?" Another one asks, leaning against the glass. His eyes are practically glazed over from disinterest. "Is it sleeping or something? These tickets were like forty bucks and I'm just staring at rocks and water."

There's a loud thud against the glass behind him. The man yelps and whips around to find you with your hands pressed against the wall, eyes wide and teeth bared as you stare right at him.

"Oh, shit!"

Damian sighs, but he's smirking. You love startling unsuspecting guests; it's your second favorite activity. He watches the others flock to you once they realize what happened, and you perk up and examine them all with a much more pleasant smile.

"Daddy, I can't see," the girl from before complains. Her father gently hoists her up onto his shoulders, and you immediately take notice.

You push off from the glass and swim around the edge of the tunnel to examine her as closely as possible. You tap one claw on the glass, then gesture to your head, and the little girl gasps and beams.

"They see it!!! They see my hair clip daddy!!" She chirps. She tugs it off of her head and holds it up for you to see better. Your pupils widen and your tail swishes gently back and forth, deeply intrigued.

"Obviously, this is our mer," Damian speaks up, and he tells them your name. "Their breed is found in shallow, fresh water. They thrive in warmer temperatures, and they're very rarely alone. You can typically expect them to travel in pods of at least three, though more commonly up to six or seven."

"But Gotham Aquarium only has one mer?" A guest asks, while you make playful grabs for the clip to no avail. "Aren't they lonely, then?"

"There was a big adjustment period for them when we first acquired our mer," Damian nods, "but they have a dedicated team of caregivers that ensure they aren't lonely or bored. They've bonded with several of us very well. Even though they recognize that we don't live underwater, they still see us as pod-mates."

"How long did it take to bond with them?"

"Great question," Damian says. He watches you give up on snatching the clip and start swimming around the tunnel to examine the other visitors. "It took them about ten months after arriving to learn to trust me. We started off slow: I would use a remote-controlled robot to deliver their buckets of food and then dump it into the water. Then I would enter the room where the top of the tank is, and hand it to them with a long pole. Then I got rid of the pole and set the bucket on the lip of the tank, and stood back while they retrieved it. When they got used to me being around, we started working on small tricks."

Damian lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers to catch your attention. You lock eyes with him and give a knowing nod, swimming up until you're positioned directly above him. He waves his left hand clockwise, and you swim in slow, clockwise circles. He waves his right arm next, and you switch and start spinning counter-clockwise.

"This is all done humanely and voluntarily, of course," Damian explains while the guests watch on with rapt attention. "If there's a trick they don't want to perform, they simply won't do it. We don't force them into doing anything, including coming out during tours if that's not what they want. Some days they just aren't up to saying hello, and that's fine."

He drops one arm and uses the other to make a broad waving motion. You mimic the action. He points at one of your toys, gesturing for you to grab it and bring it over. You glance at the one he wants, then ignore him and decide to go back over to the little girl and admire her hair clip some more.

"As you can see, they like shiny objects, especially if they're green. They've got a small collection of aquatic-safe objects in their hideaway. All breeds of mer tend to have hoarding tendencies, and ours is no different."

Damian gives the group a few more facts about you and your general behaviors, answers some more questions, and then inevitably has to call it when the same guy complaining about ticket prices decides to photograph you with the flash on. You flinch and rub your eyes, then dart away out of sight.

"All right, everyone, please come this way," he calls, in that cordial but no-nonsense tone again, and holds open the door. "This concludes your tour of Gotham Aquarium. Please exit this way in an orderly fashion."

"Aww.."

"Nice job, jackass. We were supposed to be in here for at least twenty more minutes."

"I didn't think he was serious! I forgot to turn the flash off, so what!"

"That was kinda cool. Sucks we couldn't stay, though."

There's a tug on his pants again. Damian looks down at the little girl, who fidgets nervously.

"Um...is the mer gonna be okay? Are their eyes hurting a lot?" She asks. Damian knees down to her height and offers her another smile.

"They'll be fine," he promises. "I personally check on them every day. What's your name? I'll tell them you said hi."

"Um!" The girl blushes, eyes wide. "It's Rosie! Thank you mister!"

"You're welcome, Rosie. I hope you had fun today."

"So much fun!" She agrees, then turns to her dad and reaches up to take his hand, walking out of the tunnel. "Daddy, daddy! When I grow up I wanna take care of mers, too!"

"Okay, honey," her dad chuckles, "but you're gonna have to do your homework if that dream is gonna come true."

"Aw, man!....okay. I'll do my math sheets for the mers..."

Once the room is cleared, Damian closes and locks the doors. He hangs around just long enough to ensure no stragglers try to swing back around, then drops the Polite Tour Guide persona and heads for the staff elevators with a scowl. It's a matter of minutes before he's in the locker room, swapping out the Aquarium polo and khakis for his wetsuit and then trudging into your tank entrance.

"Rule one!" He complains to Jon, who is already sitting on the lip of the tank and filling a puzzle cube with treats for you. "No flash! It's the first rule, and someone breaks it almost every single day we're open! One day I'm going to hit my limit for these witless miscreants and start punching people."

"So, tours didn't go super well I take it," Jon says, not even sparing him a glance. He's heard different versions of this rant at least five times and doesn't react to it anymore, having quickly come to understand that Damian is just Like That. "You gonna go do the eye exam already or should I call my dad? Y'know, the actual vet?"

"He's never as thorough as I prefer. You know that. Also: shut up, who asked you?"

"You're a joy and a delight to work with, Wayne."

Damian ignores him and grabs a rebreather and situates it over his mouth, ties the bag of eye equipment around his waist, steps up onto the edge of the tank, then dives. The water swirls around him, an all-encompassing and welcoming pressure. He starts pedaling his arms and legs, headed for the direction you sped off at the end of the tour.

He finds you in the middle level of your tank, about a floor down, curled around an underwater tree limb and rubbing your eyes. You squint at him when you notice his presence and trill, the water vibrating slightly around you.

Damian quickly goes to work, pulling out one tool at a time to check on your eyes and how well you can see. You're perfectly fine, just annoyed, but he considers having his father enact a total ban on any cameras in the tunnel when tours come by. Just because you're fine now doesn't mean it'll stay that way every time.

He points upwards, to the surface, and you nod. You take his hand and pull him along, your powerful tail carrying him faster than he ever could on his own, and soon you're both above the water and treading it calmly.

"Welcome back!" Jon grins, waving your puzzle toy at you. "Refilled this for ya. Your record for getting all the treats out is six minutes. Think you can break that today?"

Your eyes narrow and you reach for it eagerly. You can smell the squid and shrimp tucked into each compartment, which are your favorites; absolutely you will be getting those out in six minutes or less.

Damian pulls himself up to the lip of the tank and both boys watch you poke, pull, and prod at the components of the puzzle box. It's not long before you're collecting your spoils and eating them triumphantly. Jon checks his timer and notes that you beat your previous record by over a minute and a half.

"Are you surprised?" Damian huffs. "They're brilliant. They could learn to do just about anything with enough time and practice."

You preen, chittering your agreement. That's why Damian is your favorite caretaker; he's never doubted you since getting to know you, not ever.

He did forget something, though. You toss the puzzle box back at Jon and make grabby hands, face expectant.

Damian immediately clears his throat and looks at Jon, cheeks turning the barest shade of pink. "I need you to go and fetch the shears. The vine growth on the middle level of the tank is beginning to obscure vision and easy travel."

"You didn't bring them with you?" Jon frowns. "Dude. They're all the way on the bottom floor in the maintenance closet. It's gonna take me like twenty minutes to get back here."

"Then you'd better make haste."

"Why can't you do it?"

Damian scowls at him. Jon throws his hands up and climbs to his feet.

"Fine! Haven't gotten my ten thousand steps yet anyway," he grumbles, heading for the door. "Don't play hide and seek without me! I've just gotten good at finding spots I can fit in!"

You chitter and chirp, amused, then focus on Damian again once the doors go your enclosure snap shut.

Damian faces you, the pink in his cheeks worsening. He fiddles with the bag tied to his waist and avoids your gaze.

"I, ah..." He starts, working his jaw in thought. "The girl whose clip you liked. She says hello. Her name is Rosie."

You blink, waiting patiently for him to get to the point.

"I was asked about how you've adjusted to life here without pod-mates. I told them you have a pod in us. That you're not alone here despite being the only one of your kind in Gotham Aquarium." Damian swishes his feet slowly in the water, following the same rhythm as your tail. You drift a little closer.

"And you've adjusted very well, Princess," he continues, voice turning soft. "I can't thank you enough for giving me a second chance to care for you. I want you to know that it means everything to me."

Damian meets your gaze again, and there it is. There's that pair of gorgeous, emerald eyes you adore. You drift even closer, resting your palms on the backs of his calves, and smile up at him. He smiles right back.

"You noticed I don't have another rock for you," he says. You nod. "It's because I didn't bring you a rock this time."

You frown, huffing. Damian chuckles.

"You know I kept the scales you gave me," he admits, recapturing your attention. Your eyes widen, heart starting to pound in your chest. Was he about to give them back? You didn't want them back. "They're beautiful, Princess. I keep them in a jar in my bedroom, and I look at them all the time. They make me happy every time I see them. I wanted to give you something like that in return."

Your heart pounds faster. It sounds like he's about to do what you've wanted from him for what feels like forever. Your grip on his calves tightens, wide eyes searching his own.

"I don't ever want you to doubt how much I care about you again," Damian says, pulling your gift out of the pouch on his waist.

It's a beautiful, emerald pendant on a gold chain, the jewel the same shade as his eyes. You're immediately captivated, reaching up with a trembling hand to cradle the necklace to your chest and admire it more closely. The gentle, rippling water of your tank reflects against the surface and makes the shine of it seem to undulate all around you. It's the most wonderful gift you've ever gotten.

"I hope... I hope that you'll accept this token of courtship," Damian finishes quietly.

You look up at him with tears in your eyes and trill loudly enough to make his ears ring. You tug frantically at his legs and he obediently slips back into the water, letting you wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight, tight, tight. He squeezes you right back, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I love you," he mumbles into your hair. You warble it back as best as you can, nuzzling into him, then lean up and gently press your lips against his. He presses right back, shivering but not from the chill of the water.

Jon finds the two of you like that when he returns with the shears twenty minutes later. He just sighs and rolls his eyes.

"First of all, finally. The will-they-won't-they drama was killing me. Second of all, you could have just said you wanted a moment alone, dude. It took me forever to find these! Do the vines even need trimmed down?"

Damian just smiles and hides his face in your shoulder. They don't.

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

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TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[annarobszombies]

The Early Days

StanXeno x Fem!Reader as high school friends turned lovers.

I have no regrets

Content warning: bullying, harassment, mild violence, smoking, suggestive

"Oh my God, have you seen the new girl?" It's almost cliche, the way the group of girls giggle over the latest hot school gossip.

"Right? I mean, come on with that outfit!"

They quiet when Stanley walks by, giggling for a whole new reason now. One girl twirls her hair around her finger, batting her eyelashes, but he just keeps moving. He had no interest in people like that, but that only seems to make them swoon over him more once he passes.

He makes a hard left, the school chemistry lab just ahead, with Xeno likely already inside.

"Yo," He says, throwing the door open. Several other science club students startle, but Xeno doesn't budge. He stands calmly, carefully mixing chemicals and noting the reactions.

"Stanley," Xeno says. "You made it."

"Uh-huh." Stanley kicks out a chair from a nearby table and drops himself into it.

The lab returns to its quiet bustle, the other students focusing again on their experiments and reports. Stanley idly glances around the room, watching each and every one of them for a moment before letting his gaze settle on Xeno.

Xeno's eyebrows are knitted tightly, his eyes entirely focused on the delicate chemicals. His gaze never wavers, his attention never strays.

"You see the new student today?" Stanley asks once he finally gets bored of watching Xeno drop one chemical into another at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Indeed. She and I share our third period computer science class together," Xeno says, voice soft as if he worried being too loud could ruin his experiment.

"Mm."

"And you, Stanley?"

"American Lit. Fifth period. She sits next to me."

"How lucky for her."

Stanley chuckles and rolls his eyes. He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, toying with the lighter he hid within one of them. He was itching for a smoke, but the last time he got caught on campus he was threatened with suspension, which he couldn't afford right now.

The two fall once again into silence, but that wasn't uncommon. They'd known each other for so long that they rarely needed to talk too much about little nothings anymore. At most, Xeno may make a few idle comments about whatever he was testing, but any real conversation would likely wait until they were in Stanley's car on the way home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Um..."

Xeno's eyes lift, finding the source of the voice standing in front of him, anxiously gripping a notebook.

"Yes?" He asks. You shift your weight from foot to foot, the tips of your ears a cute pink.

"The teacher...said to work with a partner on the, uh, project she assigned?" You say it like a question, as if you weren't totally sure you were correct in what you'd been told.

"Ah, did she? I apologize, I wasn't listening." It was a lie, of course, he'd heard the instructions perfectly clearly. He was used to working mostly alone, so he was a bit surprised that you had approached him.

"Do...do you mind?" You ask, cheeks turning pink now. He can hear the sounds of some other girls giggling, the weight of their stares heavy on his shoulders. So, you'd been denied by everyone else, it seems.

"Of course not," He says, gesturing for you to take a seat by him. You let out a relieved sigh, grabbing a chair from a nearby desk and settling it across from him, gingerly setting your notebook down on the top of his desk. "We haven't yet met officially, my name is Xeno."

You tell him your name, smiling sheepishly when he repeats it carefully back to you.

"I look forward to working with you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You dust your hands over your shirt, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Xeno had said to meet him in his club's classroom after school so that the two of you could go home together and work on your project, but you couldn't help feeling nervous.

Making friends in this new school had been really difficult, but he had been very nice to you the past few days, so you felt hopeful that you might be able to come out of this assignment with someone you could continue to talk to and maybe hang out with on weekends. But that relied on you not totally fucking this up and making him hate you on accident.

You start to reach for the door, jumping a little when it swings open from the inside.

"Oh," The young man who looks down at you is downright stunning. You'd seen him before, of course, he was your desk neighbor in your American Literature class. But this was the first time you'd heard his voice, the first time he'd actually paid you any attention. "Hey."

"Hi," You say softly. "I'm...looking for Xeno?"

"Inside," He says, brushing by you and heading down the hall, hands stuffed in his leather jacket pockets. He didn't strike you as the kind of person to be in the science club, but anything was possible.

Stepping inside the room, it's exactly what you expected. There are are several students inside, some in groups while some worked individually. Xeno stood at a desk in the front right corner, his back to you as you walk further in. He turns to glance at you when you softly call his name upon approach, offering you a kind smile.

"Give me one moment to finish this and we will leave shortly," He says, waving for you to come closer and sit in the chair that rested at his side. You decide to work on some homework while you wait, carefully balancing both a textbook and your notebook on your lap.

It takes about an hour for Xeno to finish what he's working on and clean his station, but soon enough he's giving you a gentle nudge and telling you it was time to go. He smiles when you scramble to pack your things up and throw your backpack over your shoulders.

"My friend Stanley will be driving us," He says, leading you from the room. "I hope you don't mind, he'll be sticking around for the rest of the day."

"That's fine!" You say, perhaps a little too eagerly. Xeno smiles again at you.

"Excellent," He says. You follow him through the halls, pausing at his locker long enough for him to transfer a few items to and from his bag, then out into the parking lot. He walks slightly ahead of you once you exit the doors, his pace picking up the moment you both hit fresh air.

He pauses at the edge of the sidewalk where parents would pick up students who didn't drive yet or ride the bus, but the two of you only wait about a minute and a half before a car whips around, stopping just in front of you. The passenger window slides down, and in the driver's seat, you see the beautiful boy from earlier leaning over the middle console to look at the two of you.

"Get in," He says. You note the cigarette between his teeth, wondering now if that was the reason he'd left in such a hurry.

Xeno opens the back door to deposit his bag, taking yours from you to do the same before telling you to sit up front.

"Don't worry," He says when you hesitate. "Stan doesn't bite."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stanley Snyder does, in fact, bite. He just doesn't bare his teeth until he has to.

You get comfortable around him pretty quickly, which seems to drive every girl in the school totally insane. Not that you could blame them, Stanley was objectively beautiful and ignored just about everyone.

On a typical day, he's calm-if not a bit lazy-and generally collected. He sticks close to Xeno, which means that as you and the young scientist get closer, he begins sticking to you as well. He talks to you in class now, leaning over to mumble bad jokes that make you laugh too hard to be ignored by the teacher.

But today was not your typical day.

You'd been on you way to meet Xeno and Stanley for your after school hangout and homework time, when you were cornered by a senior guy by your locker. He'd leaned against the lockers, grinning and proud at the way you startled at the sight of him. You tied to go around, but he moved to purposefully block you, keeping himself in front of you so that you couldn't break and run.

"I just wanna talk to you," He says.

"I really don't want to talk to you," You say, trying to scoot around him, only to fail yet again. You were getting frustrated and a little scared. Xeno and Stanley were waiting for you, you didn't want them to leave you behind just because some asshole wanted to make himself feel big.

"C'mon, you hang out with that science club freak and his pretty faced boytoy all the time, why don't you spend your day with someone else, huh?" He asks, reaching to make a grab for you. His words make you flush a bit in anger. Sure, you knew Stanley and Xeno were something (they weren't exactly subtle), but to have it thrown at your face as if it's a bad thing made you absolutely livid.

Who was this guy to talk about your friends that way? He didn't know them! How dare he!

"Don't talk about them like that!" You snap, just barely too slow to avoid the hand that clasps around your forearm. The boy in front of you scowls, his grip on your arm tightening to a bruising hold.

"Come hang with me, and I'll show you what a real man is," He sneers, making your face flush even hotter.

"I said no!"

"Don't be such a little prude-"

What happens next happens so fast that it takes far longer than it should for you to process. The boy holding to you is jerked backwards hard enough to force him to release you, though you also stumble forward a few steps at the sudden movement. Then, before you can blink, Stanley has him slammed into the floor. He stands over him, frighteningly calm despite the hard glare his golden eyes burn into your harasser.

"Pretty sure when a lady tells you no, you're supposed to back the fuck off," Stanley hisses, his voice dripping with sarcasm and anger.

You can't help jumping a little when those sharp eyes flit up to look at you, though you note how they soften at the sight of you're slightly shaking figure.

"You alright?" He asks. You nod quickly.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Can we go?" You ask, taking a tentative step towards him.

"Course we can," He says, stepping back from the other boy and lifting an arm for you to tuck yourself under. He holds you against his side, escorting you without further issue outside to where Xeno had been left waiting.

You don't question where he goes after he and Xeno discover the hand-shaped bruise on your arm, nor do you question why that same boy comes to school several days later with two broken hands and a black eye.

Something inside you already knows that Stanley did it for you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your relationship shifts suddenly one night after graduation.

The three of you are in your room, Xeno leaning against your pillows with a book in his hand while you sit in the middle of you bed, makeup strewn around you, and Stanley sits on the edge, leaned forward so you can paint his face as you see fit.

"Open," You say. Stanley huffs in amusement, parting his lips so that you can press the lipstick against his waiting mouth, swiping your favorite deep purple across his surprisingly soft looking lips.

"Now rub."

He hums, doing as instructed. You pick up a little pocket mirror and open it, handing it to him so that he can look at your handiwork.

"Not bad," He says, turning his head left and right to fully inspect his new face.

"The dark lips suit you, Stan," Xeno says, peering over his book to take a look for himself, earning an amused hum from Stanley.

Its in this moment that you realize how close Stanley had gotten. His face mere inches from yours, eyes heavy with...something. Something heavy, something wanting. It makes you flush and shuffle backwards on instinct alone.

Stanley follows, crawling after you, backing you up even further. He doesn't stop until you're literally in Xeno's lap, the other young man letting out a noise of annoyance and frustration.

"Must we do this now?" Xeno asks, letting his book fall to his side, his arms wrapping around your middle as if to guard you from Stanley, who pouts. It was always quite the sight to see, when his lower lip stuck out and his eyebrows furrowed like that.

"Don't act all innocent right now, Xee," Stanley says, smirking when both he and you notice that one of Xeno's hands has snuck under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips gingerly brushing over the soft skin of your side.

Your whole body feels warm, heart hammering in your chest. Weren't they partners? What was happening right now?

Stanley creeps closer, effectively sandwiching you between the two.

"Hey," He says, voice low. "Wanna make out?" His question flusters you just as much as Xeno's continuing touch. It felt so out of character for him, yet he still sounded so like himself.

You must nod, or agree in some other way, because before you know it, Stanley's lips are on yours, smearing his freshly done lipstick all over you. His tongue ends up in your mouth, and you suddenly become very aware of how much more experience he has.

He pulls back slightly, lips drifting from yours to press kisses to your cheeks and jaw while you pant softly. Both of Xeno's hands are up your shirt now, his wicked fingers making you shiver.

"What's the verdict?" Xeno murmus, pressing his own lips the soft spot between your neck and shoulder.

"Perfect," Stanley hums, sinking his teeth into your other shoulder, kissing the spot when you wince.

"Quite the conclusion you've come to," Xeno says, one hand sliding from your torso to your chin, turning your head as far as it would comfortably go to look back at him. "I think I'd like to give my own opinion, if I may."

"Okay," You breathe, drunk on all the attention.

Xeno's kiss is slower, more exploratory. He doesn't devour you, like Stanley had, but that doesn't change how good it was.

Both of them kissed you like they wanted you, like they'd wanted you for a while, and by the time the night ends, all three of you are covered in lipstick.

[trippinsorrows]

Girl where is part two???????

"is he by you?"

a frantic question from a frantic woman. a woman still living in between the valley of disbelief and concern, a permanent residence for over the past hour and a half. the scene replaying in her head like a form of torture. unthinkable. unimaginable. unbelievable.

dwayne sighs on the other end. "yeah, he's here."

at that, solana's eyes shut, her emotions settling just the slightest. not knowing where her children are has always been one of her greatest fears. among other things. and tonight, that's exactly what happened. tamasa not only left the house, but he left the house without his phone, leaving solana with no way to contact him.

how he managed to leave without security following him, she hasn't a clue, but that's an issue for another day. she has much more important, heavier things to tackle.

"sol, what the hell happened over there?" dwayne's question brings her back to the conversation at hand. "kid has barely said a word and looks like he saw a fucking ghost." for some reason, that makes the weight sitting at the bottom of her stomach sink even deeper. no mother wants to know or see their child upset, and knowing tamasa must be all over the place and her not being there to help him is crushing. "i know roman said the boy's been off lately, but this...."

she closes her eyes. he has no idea.

"we, umm—" she sniffles, wiping at her nose as she paces tamasa's room. "we got into....an argument."

a pause on the other end. "what kind of argument, solana?"

right then and there, she knows, knows that there's no use in lying to him. in trying to downplay what occurred. doesn't stop her from trying though. "it's nothing."

"solana, my nephew is sitting in my guest room just staring at the wall, and you're holding back tears." failing to hold back tears, solana unable to stop them from cascading down her face. "what happened?"

she doesn't want to. doesn't want to tell him. doesn't want to have to deal with any of this, but she also knows that delaying the inevitable has never helped anyone in life. especially her.

"please don't tell roman," she croaks.

"solana, i'm getting conc—"

"he pushed me."

a pause. long. longer. and then—

"what?"

and right away, despite her own mixed bag of emotions regarding what occurred, she slips right back into mama mode. "don't say anything to him. don't even tell him i told you."

"he pushed you?" disbelief forms a marriage with anger that seeps through his tone. "has he lost—"

"something's going on with him. i know it. i just....." she stops herself, blowing out a breath, hand over her chest, regulating her emotions.

"you have to tell rom—"

"i know, i will. i just..." another sniffle. "i had to make sure my baby was okay first." because what happened doesn't change the fact that her children's safety will always come first, hence why she's been on the phone with several family members trying to track down and see where her eldest son is. "and, dwayne, i mean it, don't say anything to him."

another loud sigh. "you know we don't play that shit in this family, solana."

she knows that very well. "and, so does he." even if she, for the life of her, can't understand just what made him do it. "let me....let me talk to roman first."

"you gon call him now?"

i don't want to. "yeah."

and finally, the question she was both waiting and dreading. "you're okay though, right? physically, i mean? he didn't hu—"

"no." there's something about him even asking that that upsets her. her son would never hurt her.

and yet...

"please just keep him there with you. for....for now." because solana still needs to sit down and talk with koa and kai, her younger boys who are somewhere in the house blowing off steam from what occurred.

"i will," he promises. "just let me know when you want me to bring him back home."

"thank you," she murmurs, voice dipping once more from the heaviness of it all. "and, dwayne?"

"yeah?"

a broken gasp. "tell him i love him."

because nothing, nothing at all in the entire universe could ever change that. period.

"i will, sol," he agrees, offering with all the sincerity, "let me know if you need anything."

she nods. "okay." disconnecting the call reminds solana of where she stands, still in her son's room, the tv still on revealing a paused game. the bed still unmade and unkempt, an empty water bottle on the floor beside his desk. she closes her eyes and places her hands over her heart, taking another deep, shaky breath.

that was difficult.

this will be devastating.

solana lifts up the phone, shaking fingers ready to navigate to roman's contact when something catches the corner of her eye. something on tama's dresser, another place and space of unorganized mess.

how she sees it, she hasn't a clue, but she does, and it makes her frown.

solana places her cell phone in her back pocket and walks over to the dresser, reaching for the manilla envelope with a strange bulge. shaped like something familiar. like a bottle.

and, that's exactly what she pulls out. a pill bottle. a large one, too.

but, it's when she pulls out said bottle, reads the label of said bottle that an already dire situation skyrockets from bad to horrific.

tears brew in her eyes, her hand over her mouth. "oh my God...." she can't stop reading it, not the description or the other writing, but the name. something most familiar to her given her profession. something she knows all about through various teachings and experience in her field. but, something she never would have thought to find in her fourteen year-old son's room.

trenbolone.

a name that might mean nothing to some but everything to her, because she recognizes it for what it is.

a anabolic-androgenic steroid

tama is using steroids.

------

ya'll gon have to wait for part 3 until tomorrow or something. it's late, and my head hurts. 😭

[inkmonster21]

Falling in Faith

Gideon Gemstone x Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Warnings: swearing

5. It’s just Snapchat

Gideon paced around his room, his mind racing. He'd been texting you for days, but the conversation felt too surface level. He wanted more, to see you. The thought of asking for your Snapchat crossed his mind, but it sent his nervousness soaring through the roof.

He knew it was just a silly social media app, but the idea of having more access to you, of potentially seeing your face through snaps, made his heart race. However, the thought of asking you for your Snapchat made his nerves skyrocket. How could he possibly bring it up without coming off as desperate or awkward?

He groaned in frustration, running his hand through his hair as he continued pacing. This shouldn't be this hard, but his fear of being rejected or mocked held him back.

He sat down on his bed, phone in hand, and typed out the words. He had lost count of how many times he had attempted to form the words on the screen, only to immediately delete them.

He let out a sigh as he read over the words on his screen. He typed out, "I was wondering..." but instantly deleted it, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "Come on," he muttered to himself, "it's just asking for her damn Snapchat." He attempted to type it once more, only to delete the words again.

You lay in your bed and stared at the screen as the chat bubble continued to appear and disappear. After a few minutes, your curiosity piqued, and you typed out, "Are you writing me a book?"

Gideon saw your message and his heart sank. He realized how stupid he must seem, constantly starting and deleting messages. He quickly typed back, "No… Sorry. I was trying to ask something, but it just kept coming out wrong 😑 ."

You quirked an eyebrow at his response and replied curiously, "Just say it. I'm not gonna bite."

Gideon took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't keep dancing around it. "I was wondering if I could have your snap," he finally managed to type out, hitting send before he could talk himself out of it.

You smiled at his request and replied, "That’s all? Sure, I don't mind. I’ll put it below and you can add me ☺️”

Gideon felt a wave of relief wash over him. Your easy acceptance softened his nerves, and he couldn't help but grin. He quickly typed, "Thank you," and added your snapchat, excitement replacing his previous anxiety.

He switched apps, quickly searching for your Snapchat username. As he typed in your name, a flutter of excitement filled his chest. He waited for the results to appear, eager to see your account pop up on his screen. And there it was. The moment he saw your profile pop up, his heart skipped a beat. He took a deep breath and hit the add button, his anticipation growing.

You noticed Gideon’s username under notifications and accepted it quickly, a smile crossing your face.

Gideon’s heart raced as he saw the notification that you accepted his request. He felt a mix of excitement and nervousness.

He kept taking selfies, only to delete them, feeling silly each time. He tried different angles and expressions, but nothing seemed right. After several attempts, he sighed, growing more frustrated with each failed attempt.

"I look so dumb," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He tried again, capturing another selfie, only to shake his head and delete it again.

As he continued struggling to find the perfect selfie, you had already snapped a photo and sent it off without hesitation.

He opened your snap and his heart raced. Your photo filled his screen, a beautiful smile that made his heart skip a beat. The words, “Hey there, preacher man,” across the screen. He couldn't help but admire it, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiousness.

He finally captured a photo he was satisfied with, a genuine smile on his face. He added a caption, “Hey there, pretty girl,” before sending it off to you.

The moment you saw his picture, your heart skipped a beat. He was hands down handsome, with a charming smile that made your cheeks flush. The photo was simple yet held a certain allure.

You took a moment to find the perfect spot, ensuring the lighting and background looked just right. You adjusted your hair and posed, capturing a snapshot of you sitting up in bed. The lighting was just right, highlighting the natural glow of your features. With a contented sigh, you added the caption, "What’s up?," and sent it off. The camera caught the essence of your casual moment, lending a cozy atmosphere.

The simplicity of your pose and the cozy atmosphere in the background made it a comfortable sight. He smiled, “Nothing much, just sitting here bored 🥱.”

You chuckled as his message appeared, appreciating the playfulness of his emoji. “Yeah me too 😒,” you replied.

He noticed something that caught his eye in your photo. The small, subtle hint of ink on your arm peeked into the frame, catching his attention. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He quickly typed back, "Wait, do I see a tattoo?"

You looked at his response and chuckled, realizing he had noticed the tattoo peeking from the edge of the photo. You typed back, "Good eye, preacher man. I have a few tattoos. Keep them covered most of the time.”

He couldn't help but smirk at your response, amused by the fact that you'd been hiding something interesting like tattoos. "I had no idea," he replied, his interest piqued. "How many do you have?"

You chuckled, finding amusement in his curiosity. “Just a few,” you replied vaguely with a playful tone, leaving him wanting to know more.

“Just a few?” he shot back, feigning nonchalance but secretly itching to know more. “You can’t drop that bomb and then not give me details.”

You chuckled again, enjoying the banter. “And what details do you need, preacher man?” you replied a hint of cheekiness in your text.

He played along with a smirk on his face. "Oh, you know, just the basic details – what they look like, how many, where they're placed... that sort of thing."

You smirked, “ohh you want ALL the details, huh? 😉”

He chuckled, amused by your response. "What can I say? I have a curiosity, especially when it comes to unexpected surprises," he replied with a playful tone, his eagerness evident in his words.

You grinned as you typed, “I’d say the bigger unexpected surprise was finding out you were a stuntman!”

Gideon's brows raised in surprise, caught off guard by your knowledge. "How do you know about that?" he typed back, curiosity mixing with a hint of disbelief.

You chuckled to yourself, feeling a bit mischievous, but also impressed by how genuinely surprised he seemed. "I have my sources 😏," you replied, keeping it cryptic, wanting to test his reaction.

Gideon's curiosity deepened as he read your response. "Sources? 😂” he inquired, unable to hide his eagerness to know more.

You giggled snapping back, “Your mom told me 😂. I saw her at the park.”

Gideon's curiosity piqued even more. "Oh yeah? What all did she say?" he wrote back, his interest now heightened, wondering what other tidbits his mother had shared.

“That you just can’t stop talking about me 😉💛”

Gideon let out a sigh, slightly embarrassed but amused at the same time. "Of course she did," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He couldn't deny that he had been talking about you quite a bit, but it still felt a bit awkward coming from his mom. He replied with a hint of humor, "Yeah, my mom's a blabbermouth, isn't she?"

You chuckled at his response, finding the whole situation amusing. "I’m sure you’d rather her blabber about me being your crush than your baby pics 🤷🏻‍♀️😉" you quipped back.

Gideon's cheeks flushed red at your comment. He couldn't deny that he did have a crush on you, but hearing it out loud, even through text, made him feel a bit embarrassed. He quickly replied, trying to play it cool, "Yeah, I guess I should be thankful for that. Baby pics would be way worse."

You chuckled, enjoying how easy it seemed to be to get a rise out of him. "Oh, I don’t know, I think little baby Gideon would be just adorable 🥰 ," you teased, imagining him as a baby.

Gideon couldn't help but roll his eyes, feeling embarrassed but still entertained. "Oh god, please don't bring up baby pictures," he typed back, even the thought of you seeing his baby pictures was enough to make him blush.

You laughed, picturing a little baby Gideon in your head. "Too late now. Too late. Now I’m picturing it. Oh my GOSH! Baby Gideon with big eyes in a tiny suit 😍. Definitely going to have to ask your mom.”

Gideon groaned, burying his face in his hands at the thought. "Please, for the love of all things holy, do not go asking for my baby pictures," he implored, a mix of embarrassment and mock pleading in his text.

"Fine, fine," you conceded with a playful tone, not wanting to push his boundaries too much. "I'll refrain from asking for your baby pictures... for now."

Gideon couldn’t hold back anymore. The words just spilled out, driven by his growing admiration. “You’re so beautiful,” he wrote, his honesty spilling onto the screen.

You felt your cheeks flush at his unexpected compliment. Even through the phone, his words carried weight, making your heart flutter. You responded with a mix of gratitude and playfulness, "You're pretty handsome yourself."

The night wore on, hours passing as you both shared snaps, photos, and even videos. From silly faces to playful banter, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It was easy, almost as if you'd known each other for years.

Gideon took a moment to compose himself before asking, hoping he didn't come off as too desperate. "Will I see you at Wednesday service tomorrow?" he typed out cautiously, a hint of hope in his words.

You smiled as you replied, not wanting to leave him hanging. "Of course. I'll be there. I wouldn’t miss it. There’s this really cute preacher that delivers the sermons."

Gideon couldn't help but chuckle at your response, his heart fluttering a bit. "Oh really? This guy must be something special to get your attention," he responded a hint of playful sarcasm in his words.

You played along, not missing a beat. "Oh, he's something alright. He's got a great personality, and he's pretty easy on the eyes," you replied a subtle hint of flirtation in your words.

Gideon's heart skipped a beat at your response, his cheeks flushing a bit. He didn't expect you to be so openly charming, but he couldn't deny that he loved it. Flattered but trying to play it cool, he responded with a hint of sly humor, "Oh really? Sounds like you've been paying extra attention during his sermons, huh?"

You grinned at his response, amused by his attempt to play it cool while clearly being affected by your words. "Guilty as charged," you quipped back, "It's hard not to pay attention when there's something worth looking at on the podium every Wednesday night."

Gideon felt his heart skip another beat, his cheeks now a soft pink. He tried to keep up his cool demeanor, but it was tough when your words had such a strong effect on him. He found himself struggling to come up with a witty response, so he simply responded with a hint of nervousness, "Well, I hope you're also paying attention to the message."

You chuckled at his response, enjoying how easily flustered he seemed to get. "Oh, don’t worry, I’m listening, preacher man," you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

Gideon chuckled softly, finding your playful banter endearing. "As long as you're paying attention to the message and not just to the messenger," he countered, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and flattery.

You couldn't help but admit that you were growing quite fond of Gideon. His dedication to his goals and relationship with the lord was incredibly attractive to you. He was so different from any guy you had known before - focused, responsible, and driven. This combination made him even more endearing in your eyes.

Your mind drifted to thoughts about the future, wondering how things would unfold. You hoped that once he discovered more about who you truly were, and what you had been through, he would still be intrigued and fascinated. It was a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty of life.

You couldn't help but worry that as an ex-addict, you might not fit the image of an ideal partner in the eyes of many church guys, especially Gideon Gemstone. It was a nagging concern that often lingered in the back of your mind.

Gideon couldn't sleep, his mind restless as thoughts of you consumed his thoughts. He couldn't resist the urge to look through your Facebook, admiring your photos with a smile plastered across his face.

You were a mesmerizing sight to Gideon. Your personality exuded an air of tranquility and grace, yet beneath the surface lurked a quiet confidence that drew him in like a siren's call. It was a captivating mix of allure and assurance that made you all the more enticing.

He furrowed his brow as he noticed a notable absence in your history – hardly anything from before six months ago. It seemed you had performed a significant profile purge, leaving only the recent snippets of your life visible. Gideon delved deeper into his virtual exploration, tapping on the 'tagged photos' section of your Facebook profile.

His eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up as he scrolled through the tagged photos. Despite the sparse collection of your past life on your private profile, there was an overload of old photos others had taken of you in the tagged section. Was there a reason you had purged your profile from these images? His curiosity deepened, leading him to delve even further.

His eyes were glued to the screen, unable to look away from the pictures of your past. He saw you in short, tight dresses, smoking, dancing, and surrounded by a vibrant nightlife. The sight clashed wildly with the image he had created in his mind of you being wholesome and innocent.

Gideon couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions as he scrolled through the pictures of your past. It wasn't a feeling of disappointment, but rather a sense of surprise. Despite the stark contrast between the current you and the girl in these photos, he found himself intrigued, his curiosity outweighing any negativity.

Gideon found himself zooming in on a photo of you standing on a rock above a lake, wearing a bikini. His smirk widened as he counted the tattoos visible on your body. "Seven tattoos," he murmured to himself, his gaze fixated on the intricate ink adorning your skin. It was a sight that left him both intrigued and undeniably attracted.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to onlyhereforangst

This has been a long time coming! I tried. Motivation has been poor lately so if this sucks, then I'm sorry. This is also poorly edited. It's midnight so please bear with me. Might edit at a later date.

Warnings: bullying

James Beaufort x Tailor!reader

PART 3

------

It had been awhile since James or his father had heard from Y/N. James had been particularly nasty as he complained in frustration for her leaving so abruptly in the middle of his session. His father only listened, but had barely provided any insight into the matter. It was as if he didn't care, or maybe he just didn't care in the manner that James had expected, or maybe even hoped. The only sign of life that they had recieved from Y/N was an email apologizing for her behavior and that she would be out of office for several weeks, with all sessions being pushed back.

This had only upset James even more, and finally, some slight frustration from his father. James had hoped that maybe his father would finally act out and find a different tailor. But instead, he never did, and had only kept his patience while he waited to hear from Y/N, and James didn't even know how to feel in regards to that. Even Lydia was shocked, and neither twin could figure out their father's reasoning and change in attitude. Mortimer had always been used to getting what he wanted when he wanted, and right now, Y/N being MIA was a block in the road for their next line of clothing. But there was nothing James could do it about, no matter what he had to say.

How his father was even allowing Y/N to stay employed underneath them as one of their tailors still went unknown to James. Anyone else would have fired her and sent her packing, yet she still kept her job and with each passing say, it only continued to infuriate James more and more.

Nothing made any sense. His father wasn't making sense.

Y/N, definitely, wasn't making any sense.

Lydia had tried to conversate with James and get him to have the benefit of the doubt and to have patience. But when all he wanted was to have this suits tailored and get it all done and over with, he couldn't help but not have any patience. He couldn't help his frustrations as he waited day in and day out for a reply from Y/N.

Even when they finally heard from her, after what seemed like forever, it had only somehow pissed him off even more. James held grudges, and Y/N was no exception. He planned on showing her just how much of an inconvenience she has been to them.

----

Y/N was sitting in a chair when James had all but burst through the doors to the room. She had jumped in the chair, staring up in alarm at James as he walked in at a brisk pace, the door slamming shut behind him as he entered the room. His eyes found her almost instantaneously, narrowing to slits as he stopped, as if even taking another step towards her would fill him with a feeling of revulsion.

"Barely back to your job and you're already sitting. Didn't have a long enough vacation?" He sneered.

She frowned, almost shrinking in on herself as she took everything James gave her. Her eyes were dull, bloodshot eyes, cheeks red and eyes puffy. Y/N was the epitome of a disaster.

"There could have been more communication from you. Instead we all sat in the fucking dark waiting for you to move your ass so that we can finish this session. Your email back setting up this session was surprise enough, we all almost had a heart attack." James threw his hands up in irritation as Y/N kept her gaze to the floor. "What? Can't look me in the face because you know I'm right?" He asked. James finally walked around the room until he stood in front of Y/N, now forcing her to look at him.

She turned her eyes up to look at him. Her face portrayed no emotion as she stared at him, but anyone looking at her could tell something was off about her. James noticed it, of course, but he was so blinded by his frustrations that he couldn't find it in him to care, not that he probably would have either before she went and did what she did.

James watched she stood up, holding his furious gaze as he waited for her to say something. Anything. The tension in the air was thick, palpable, as they drowned in the silence between the two of them, waiting for one of them to say something. And yet he still couldn't get over the fact of how tired she looked as she finally opened her mouth to say something.

"Let's get started." Her voice was quiet, empty sounding as she turned away from him to get ready. He watched as she grabbed a suit and held it out for him, waiting expectantly for him to take it without uttering another word.

Somehow, that had only made him more frustrated.

"You don't get it, do you?" He exclaimed. Y/N stopped, the suit lowering slightly towards the floor, the pant legs threatening to touch the floor. James let out an angered puff. "You ignored us for several weeks with nothing else but a poorly explained apology. And even after that, nothing! You were radio silent, and how is that fair towards your customers?" Y/N took the scolding. She knew she could have handled it all better. She knew she could have explained it better to all of her clients, but most of them were actually very considerate, even without having to go too much into detail. "How is that fair to us? When we are probably one of your biggest customers to date? When we probably bring in most of your income?In yet I find it real fucking strange that my father is not angry and demanded for someone else."

"Careful. Your ego is showing." Y/N mumbled, but it was loud enough that James heard. She had turned and put the suit back on the rack. When she turned back to James, he had somehow appeared even angrier. How it was even possible, she wasn't sure, but he managed it quite well. "Listen. I do get it. But I'm not required by law to tell you all about my personal life." He went to open his mouth to say something, but she held up a hand, silencing him. "No. Its my turn to talk. You can tell yell at me for our entire session and we can not get stuff done. Or you can let me do my job, because I do have more clients to attend to after you if I'm going to be able to take up your father's invitation for dinner."

Now James was shocked, and she had taken a little bit of pride in doing so.

Dinner?

Her?

In their home?

Y/N caught on to his facial expression and let out an annoyed huff.

"Let me do my damn job." James looked at her and realized that not was she only tired now, but she was also angry. Good. He sneered at her before finally listening, and he had known then that if looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

-----

If James was being honest with himself, and he was, he was still angry with Y/N. That much was evident as he glared at her from across the table. Lydia had exchanged a raised eyebrow with him before deciding to ignore him and go back to her food.

But the glares had helped hide something deeper down. When he first met her, Y/N had piqued an interest from him, and that despite him being a bit of an hard ass towards her, he was curious. And that curiosity had led to a bit more.

Seeing her earlier during their appointment, she had been tired, that much was evident. He had thought that there might have been something else though, and whereas he had told himself earlier that he didn't quite care, he had later found that to not be the case.

Upon leaving once they were done earlier, he couldn't help but think back to her, no matter how pissed off he had been at her. He really wanted to know she had been gone for as long as she was. What had happened? Dare he admit that a part of him wanted to know if she was okay.

Even at dinner, she looked tired. Exhausted. Bags hung below her eyes and she spoke a tad quieter than she did earlier, but no one had seemed to mind. In fact, they seemed to welcome it.

The dinner, for the most part, was going well. Mortimer and his wife had opted to talk to Y/N about her progress and future projects. James watched, and despite her being tired, she had also talked to his parents with a bit of enthusiasm. Maybe it was all for show though, considering who they were.

"I would also like to do something small for you. It was actually my wife's idea." Mortimer looked at Cordelia briefly before at Y/N. "After we heard about your father a few months ago." James watched as Y/N froze, her body tensing up. His gaze moved around the room, from her to his father, to his mother, and back to Y/N before it repeated. Lydia was just as confused.

Y/N's eyes moved slowly to Mortimer, her food now forgotten, and she looked as if she would be sick. Just then, the anger left James, and concern replaced it. His gaze focused on her, surprised when she looked at him briefly, her eyes showing every emotion without a single action. Sadness. Fear. Anxiousness.

She looked back at Mortimer and swallowed.

"He was a very well trained tailor, and he definitely trained you to be one of the best, just as he was." It was James turn as he looked at his father, shock in his expression. His tailor? Was her father? The cogs started to work in his mind as he looked between his father and Y/N. Her father. His tailor. Her emotions. Abruptly leaving during their session all that time ago.

His heart stopped.

"After we heard he had passed due to complications with cancer."

The confirmation.

James drowned out the words as he looked back at Y/N. She looked as if she was going to cry, hearing it all again, like she wasn't quite ready for any just yet after her father's death. But then again, who would be?

James had watched as Y/N barely held herself through dinner. She looked like she wanted to run, but refrained from doing so as she didn't want to be rude to her hosts. The news had explained so much, and now, even more so after hearing all that, he felt like an ass.

James felt like an ass for treating her in the way that she did earlier. He should had known something serious had happened for her to be gone as long as she was, but was too blinded to even think straight. He hadn't been fair to her, and now everything in him wanted to make it up to her.

So when Mortimer and Cordelia offered Percy to take her home, James jumped at the offer of potentially going with her, surprising everyone in the room, but as he turned to her, his facial expression told her that everything would be alright.

------

Taglist:

taglist: @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @uniquexusposts @sillyfreakfanparty

[gaysforbyler]

Silly little unrealistic Byler ficlet, ft Mike welcoming Will home from the upside down, gay style

Mike paces the distance between Hopper’s kitchen and living room for the umpteenth time since Will left earlier this afternoon. He’s received— and pointedly ignored— several annoyed looks, most of which from Nancy. Let her stare. He can’t be expected to sit still at a time like this.

“They should be back by now.”

“We got it, Mike. Thank you,” Nancy says sarcastically, huffing a breath of air. Clearly they don’t get it, or they wouldn’t be sitting there like sacks of potatoes. They’d be doing what he is: wearing down the floor and biting his fingernails into oblivion.

“Yeah? Then what are you planning to do about it? They should be here, and they aren’t. We should go after them.”

“You want to go into the Upside Down?” Nancy asks doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” he exclaims, finally stopping his pacing to face her, so his yelling can have full effect. “If they’re in trouble, yes! I’m not letting him get stuck in that hellhole again.”

Mike made a promise to him late last night, when Will had broken down in his arms. He’d told Mike all of his fears— the ones he kept safely locked inside, behind the brave mask he’d put on for the sake of the others. He’s terrified of that place— rightfully so. He’s so scared of being trapped there again. Mike promised him that he’d make sure he returns, no matter what.

“Look,” she sighs, clearly tired. Judging by the eyebags on her face, Mike doesn’t think she’s slept in days. He hasn’t either. “We’re all worried, okay? But they’re fine. They’re barely behind schedule, and you’ve been making me dizzy for hours before they were supposed to return. Just— chill out for a minute. Joyce isn’t even panicking yet, there’s no reason for you to be.”

Mike knows she means well by it, but that annoys him to no end. He has plenty of reason to panic. Will might not be his son, but he means more to Mike than they could ever understand. He’s well aware that he must look crazy to them— he’s worrying more than a friend ever should— but Will has never been just a friend to him. Not that they have any clue about that.

Mike rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath. He resumes his pacing.

Nancy makes sure to let him know of her disapproval with another sigh, and a similar mutter of her own.

“Ten minutes,” Mike says. “Ten minutes and I’m going after them.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” she warns, but ultimately doesn’t put up a fight. Good. He’d do anything to get Will back, no matter the cost.

When Mike says ten minutes, he means ten minutes. He watches the clock as he walks, counting down the seconds. 4:47. 4:48. 4:49.

At 5:02, there’s a thud outside the door. Mike freezes. The curtains aren’t drawn, but it’s too dark outside to see anything but vague movement. It could be a demogorgon. Or it could be—

The handle turns, and the front door opens to reveal four figures. Will is leading the pack, followed by Hopper, Jonathan, and El. Mike can only see Will. He’s covered in black gunk that could either be mud or monster guts. It’s all over— in his hair, along his face, on his clothes…

Mike thinks he looks stunning.

Will barely has time to let go of the door handle before Mike is rushing up to him, grabbing his face and crashing into him for a kiss. Will is motionless for only a moment before he grabs the sides of Mike’s jacket, pulling him closer. Mike pushes in further, further, and further still, until Will is forced to pull away with a light laugh, nearly bent over backwards.

Mike rests his forehead against Will’s, enjoying their shared breath between them, and the twinkle of happiness in his eyes. His live eyes. “I missed you,” Mike mumbles, so low he’s not sure Will hears it.

Apparently he does. “Clearly,” he says, his beautiful lips turning up in amusement.

Mike can’t help but smile along, leaning in for another quick peck. And then another, and another, and another.

Will leans back, laughing. “Okay! Okay, I think they get it.”

They? Mike turns around, suddenly remembering that they have an audience. They all share similar looks of bewilderment and surprise, some more so than others. Dustin. Dustin more so than others.

Some are surprisingly unsurprised. Robin, for one, though she seems pretty excited. Joyce looks downright over the moon, which fares pretty well for Mike, dating her son and all. Nancy just looks done with their bullshit.

“Ahem,” a hand lands on Mike’s shoulder, and when he glances up, Hopper is standing directly in front of him with a raised eyebrow. Mike is expecting a lecture, or to get punched, but Hopper just gestures his head to the side.

Right. They’re blocking the doorway.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling himself and Will further into the house.

“Well,” Will announces loudly in the awkward silence, clasping his hands in front of him. “I called first dibs on the shower. Have fun with them.” Will pats his shoulder— as if they’re bros and were not making out mere seconds ago— and begins to walk away.

“Wha— Will!” Mike yells after him. Will just sends him a mischievous smile over his shoulder, making a break for the bathroom. Asshole. Why did Mike want him back again?

[lovesuhng]

thanks, neighbor

couple: jeno x fem!reader genre: fluff; neighbors to ? synopsis: your neighbor helps you in an unpleasant situation, and you gain a new friend (or maybe something more). warning: the protagonist is pursued by a strange guy, so it may trigger some discomfort.

Why did these classes have to end so late?

Returning to your apartment late at night after a tiring day was horrible, especially along the path you had to take to get home as quickly as possible. A section of it was poorly lit, and you had heard stories of robberies and even worse things happening in that area.

On that night, as usual, you were passing through that area normally, as you always did, when you heard footsteps, as if someone was following you. Glancing back, you saw a man with hands in his coat pockets, wearing a cap and a mask. All you could do was grip the straps of your backpack and walk even faster, as there was no way to change your route. Because the man was taller, he could take larger steps, getting closer to you. Panic set in; sweat formed on your forehead, and an overwhelming urge to cry emerged because you were sure something bad was about to happen. The man was getting closer and closer until you heard someone calling you. Both you and the man stopped, he was a bit behind, realizing the voice's owner was running towards you.

"My love, I was looking for you," he said. At first, you were puzzled, but you soon recognized him. Jeno, your next-door neighbor. You had exchanged only a few words with him. "Didn't I tell you to wait for me? I hate it when you go out alone," he said while holding your shoulders, making you look into his eyes. You were so bewildered that it took a while to realize what he was doing. Suddenly, he looked at the guy following you and said, "Did you lose something? If I see you following my girlfriend or any other woman, I swear I won't hesitate to take you down." Even you were frightened by the way Jeno spoke to the man, who just stared at him in shock. Jeno hugged you and escorted you away, finally taking you to a brighter and safer place away from that man.

"Are you okay?" Jeno asked softly as you walked toward the building where you both lived, still embraced. You were very tense, unsure if it was because of what had just happened or the fact that you were still in your neighbor's arms.

"I think so. Um... I think we're far enough away from him now," you said as a signal that he could let you go. Jeno gave a shy smile and apologized. You were already in the building, in front of your respective apartments. "Thank you for helping me."

"No need to thank me... but, aren't you afraid to walk around there alone?"

"Well, I'm scared, but I don't have another option."

"So, anything, just call me, and I'll accompany you. I'm always around there," the man in front of you, even though embarrassed, said as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"You don't have to bother, Jeno."

"But it's no bother. Give me your number and when I'm nearby, I'll let you know." You exchanged numbers, and you kept insisting he didn't have to do that, but he didn't mind.

"It seems I have a very persistent neighbor. Okay, but know that I'll do something to repay you."

"And I will wait for it."

In the following days, your messages with Jeno became more frequent, as did your meetings and conversations about various things, such as your love for romantic comedy, how many hours a day Jeno spent playing Overwatch in his room and the small arguments about whether Jeno should get a shoulder tattoo. It was clear that, aside from being neighbors, you were becoming good friends.

Weeks after the incident, you decided to make brownies as a thank-you gesture. After the huge mess you had made and despite being a bit disheveled, you went to the apartment across from yours. You rang the doorbell several times since Jeno was taking a while to open and you waited a bit more after hearing a "coming." For some reason, you were nervous, pacing back and forth, fearing he wouldn't like the brownies you had made. You stopped when you saw the door opening, facing Jeno wearing black sweatpants, wet hair, and no shirt – clearly, he had just taken a shower. Water droplets ran along the defined abs, and the veins seemed to decorate the muscular arms of the man. The little smile with almost disappearing eyes contrasted with the sculpted body your neighbor hid by always wearing loose clothes.

"Uh, hi. I made brownies and thought it would be a good idea to bring some for you," you finally said, avoiding looking at your neighbor's body and focusing on something unimportant inside his apartment.

"Oh, really? You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did. Let's say it's a gift for helping me that day."

"Are you okay? You seem a bit pale." Jeno approached a bit to see how you were since you seemed very nervous, but he stopped as soon as you pushed the brownie container into his chest.

"I'm fine! Great! I've never been better. Now, I have to go," you said and turned to go towards your apartment.

"Wait! Don't you want to eat with me?" You closed your eyes, not understanding why you were so affected by seeing your newest friend like that. You turned slowly and saw the pleading look Jeno was giving. "These brownies will go perfectly with the cream ice cream I bought this morning." Jeno gave a little smile that melted your heart inside your chest. You couldn't deny his request.

"So, let me just grab the hot chocolate fudge and leave this apron there." Before entering your apartment, you said, "Oh, and put on a shirt, please. Thank you."

Minutes later, with Jeno properly dressed, you were in his apartment, organizing things to eat the brownies.

"The first positive point: I'm able to cut, so that means you got the texture right," you slapped the boy's shoulder, who laughed at the indignant look you gave. After tasting the first piece, Jeno widened his eyes. "This is the best brownie I've ever had in my entire life."

"I told you I'm a great cook!" "But you never told me that..."

"But now you know. I'm glad you liked it! Just don't get used to it because I won't be bringing them often to avoid disrupting your diet."

"I don't diet."

"No? And this?" You pointed to the boy's body, which you had seen earlier and regretted immediately, as Jeno seemed very confused by what you had said (and a little embarrassed). "Sorry, I shouldn't have commented on that."

"It's okay. That means you liked what you saw," it was your turn to widen the eyes and draw more laughs from the boy. You filled your spoon with another bite of brownie and ice cream and put it in Jeno's mouth.

"You better keep eating. You being silent is a poet."

When they finished eating, amidst many laughs and lame jokes, you saw that Jeno's mouth was dirty with chocolate sauce. "Wait, Jeno, there's something dirty on your mouth." So, you simply wiped the corner of the boy's mouth, who could swear he held his breath because of the sudden touch and how close you were to him. You didn't know when you started a contest to see who broke the eye contact first, you just knew your heart started beating much faster as you analyzed your neighbor's perfect features. The intense eye contact only broke when you felt Jeno's lips on yours, in a quick but sweet kiss, after all, it still tasted like chocolate and had a slight chill from the ice cream.

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself."

"No need to apologize, Jeno. I... liked it," you said shyly but it brought a huge smile to Jeno's face.

"So, how about I forget these brownies and ask for something else as your apology attempt?"

Even a bit nervous, you nodded, asking him to continue.

"A date. You and me on a date to show how much I like you."

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmm," you made a face, as if seriously considering the request. "All right, but only if you give me a better kiss than this one."

"So, I'll be counting the seconds until our first date."

[gayoung-lover]

hug me, please? ๋࣭⭑ chocol

gayoung had gone on a business trip, leaving you alone within your home, longing for the warmth of her presence.

| wc: 650 🫶 | writing this made me realize how badly i want a kiss 🥹

Each sound from the outside sparked the hope it was Gayoung—after a week, this was the day she finally came home, a time that might seem brief, but for you—it felt like an eternity. While she was away on a business trip, she left you alone in your home—making the familiar space feel lonely. The jingle of keys reached your ears, and instantly, your heart quickened its pace, prompting an involuntary smile to appear on your face. As Gayoung stepped into your home, she gripped her suitcases firmly in both hands.

"Hi, honey." She greeted you with a smile, making her way to your bedroom, seemingly oblivious to your open hands that signaled a desire for a hug.

Following her, you stepped out of your shared room, leaning against the door frame. "Gayoung." You called her name—not using a pet name, slightly pouting. 

The older girl left her suitcases in a corner and settled onto the bed, immediately untying her shoelaces. Exhausted, she had forgotten to remove her shoes at the entrance. Peeking at you, she softly asked. "Yes?"

Choosing silence as a response, you mirrored her ignoring you. From the moment she entered your home, you craved her arms wrapping around your waist and the touch of her lips against yours, yet she appeared oblivious to your silent pleas—sighing, you crossed your arms. As Gayoung put on her slippers and turned around, a chuckle escaped her lips, noticing your attitude. 

"What's bothering you, baby?" She inquired, although she was well aware of the answer. "Talk to me, pretty." Gayoung said, patting the bed.

You did not move toward the bed. "What do you mean, 'what's wrong?' huh?" You retorted, locking eyes with Gayoung as she rose from the bed, heading in your direction.

Approaching you, she stood in front of you—smiling. As she flashed that pretty smile, the urge to hug her surged within you, but you resisted, wanting her to be the one to do it first. 

"Don't you want to talk about it?" She asked, tilting her head. "I'm not sure what you want." Gayoung lied, shrugging her shoulders. Yet, inside, she desired to kiss you, but she was curious to see how long you would maintain your act until surrendering.

Unsure whether she was teasing or sincere, you hesitated. "I want hugs and kisses." You admitted—a slight whine emphasizing your needs. It felt awkward to explicitly ask for these simple things, even after dating Gayoung for several years. "Please?"

"Really, baby?" She chuckled. "You do?"

You nodded, and she gently brushed your hair from your face, drawing closer. She planted a soft kiss on your cheek, then another on your jaw. "Stop playing around, Gayoung." You said, smiling like a fool. "Give me a kiss."

"Where?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. You pout your lips, gesturing with your fingers towards your lips. "Ah, I see." Gayoung replied, her voice teasing. 

Her lips grazed yours, and your cheeks instantly flushed a bright pink. Gayoung leaned in, pressing her lips firmly against yours—while her other hand wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer. Your hands found their place on her back, and in that kiss, you melted, enjoying the fulfillment of your week-long craving. As Gayoung pulled away, she giggled, planting another kiss on your lips—shorter but just as sweet.

"You've been really craving that, huh?" Gayoung teased, and you laughed. "I've been thinking about this all week, too." She confessed.

Closing the distance once more, Gayoung softly kissed you, pouring all her love into that simple gesture. You smiled against her lips, experiencing the same flutter in your stomach as you did during your first kiss, savoring every second of it. 

As you pulled apart, you smiled. "I love you so much." You said, staring at Gayoung's now red cheeks.

"I love you too, baby." She replied, giving you a kiss on your forehead.

[silvercran3]

Rockey Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Since my disastrous date, Raffa and I haven’t spoken to each other. The level of pettiness we have towards each other deserves an award. I walked past his office, and slammed open the door without knocking. To Raffa, that is probably the most annoying thing I could do to him, not to mention I would badly scuff his wall. I would run before he got a chance to catch up to me, and do something. The neighbors could probably hear us cursing each other out on a regular basis.

Raffa had also made the habit of putting salt in my coffee, putting as much as half a cup! Do you know what half a cup of salt tastes like? ABSOLUTE HORSE SHIT! 

To get back at him, I once (I only had a chance to say it once) called him Elmo in front of everyone. To be honest, I only managed the “El” before he gave me the meanest death glare.

“You don’t scare me!” I screamed at him. He dropped everything he was doing, and chased after me with a knife. I could hear Celia and Antonio chase after Raffa.

As a result of that, he left me outside one morning while it was raining. I was sick for three days! I did get him back, and used his toothbrush. He got sick, and spent the next two days sending me mean texts, which I gladly returned.

This all happened in a matter of a week and a half. At this very moment, Nicoló and Antonio called for an intervention. It was in the middle of the day, when I was dragged out of my room and into the office. Antonio managed to keep Raffa in the office, while Nicoló pushed me inside. I could tell Raffa was pissed when he saw me.

“Look, listen you two. We need to act like adults and resolve whatever issue you both have.” Antonio started. I stuck my tongue at Raffa, who responded with a middle finger.

“Come on you guys, that date was several days ago. And to be honest, none of us believed he was good enough for you.” Nicoló said honestly. 

“We didn’t even go on our first date! Whether he was good enough or not, it was up to me to decide.”I replied. I can understand feeling protective of me, but I never had a chance to figure it out on my own. “Not to mention, I highly doubt the jerk-off over there felt the same way. He just wanted to ruin my date.”

“If you knew whether a guy was good for you or not, you wouldn’t have been engaged to a dumbass…” Raffa said under his breath. I quickly shot him the stank eye, but his focus remained on some useless document he had on his desk. This man was pissing me off to no end.

Just as I made the resolve to leave the room, my phone began going off. I recognized the number immediately, and felt my heart drop.

“Hello?” I said, using my professional voice. I had all three guys staring at me, waiting to see what the call was about. My face and voice quickly morphed into panic.

“WHAT!? What the hell happened!? Is he hurt?!” I asked, pacing around the room. “Fine, I’m on my way!” I quickly hung up, and made my way to the door.

“What’s wrong?!” Raffa asked, getting up from his desk, and walking up to me.

“Matteo was in a fight.” I quickly said. Without asking another question, Raffa grabbed a pair of car keys, and ran out of the office with me. Antonio and Nicoló followed suit.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Matteo’s school, St. George Preparatory Academy, was a three stoned building that took about a block and a half of space. They had archery, horseback riding lessons, swimming, and Robotics and Engineering courses, among other things. With the strict limit of 150 students in the entire school (grades 3-6), the school board emphasizes the desire to “cultivate, and widen our student’s education, to help shape the world into a better place.” 

Well, they were about to add another phrase to their motto. “WHOEVER TOUCHED MY KID IS GOING TO DEAL WITH ME. I DON’T CARE IF IT WAS ANOTHER KID; MY HANDS ARE RATED E FOR EVERYBODY!” I was hellbent on finding Matteo, and ringing the neck of whoever touched him.

Raffa led the way into the school, as the four of us ran straight to the main office. This was my first time inside the school since I started working. It wasn’t Raffa’s first time though...he didn’t even bother waiting for a school rep to greet us.

Down the recently waxed floors, with dozens of school photos of past alumni that looked like they followed you wherever you went, Matteo sat on a hard bench, eyes glued to  the floor. I wasn’t close enough, but I could tell almost immediately that he was hurt. There were several band aids along both arms, and upon closer inspection, he had a black and blue eye. Though it could’ve easily been worse, in my head, leaving so much as a scratch on my child meant death.

“Matteo, what happened?!” Raffa and I asked at the same time. I ran up to him and began inspecting his wounds. He looked scared, and incredibly sad. Whoever did this to him was going to pay!

“Some kids were messing with a little girl, so I stepped in…” Matteo said. “It got out of hand, and even one of the kid’s nannies got involved.”

Something inside me snapped. ‘A grown adult touched my kid?! OH HELL NO!’

Raffa, Antonio, and Nicoló were all on the same page as me, though they didn’t confirm it verbally. 

The area we found ourselves in was in front of the principal’s office. The door was a beautiful mahogany, that seemed to reflect everything. Even the door knob looked extravagant; it looked like the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen.

“Should we wait here to be escorted in?” Nicoló asked, putting a steady hand on Matteo’s shoulder. “We need to make sure to not escalate the situation any further.”

“Agreed, we do not need to stir the pot.” Antonio added. Their words fell on deaf ears though; Raffa and I were already opening the principal’s door.

“WHO THE FUCK TOUCHED MY KID?!” I yelled, startling everyone in the room.

[saintship]

Hey I just wanted to request something real quick and if your not comfortable with doing so don't worry about it 🫶🫶

I've been having so much dysphoria lately and I was thinking about an idea where Price had kept in contact with a trans/non-binary teenager they saved a while back and for when in times they needed help with anything Price gave them his number. So reader has been having a huge dysphoric dip and the stress of school has just been way to much on them lately so they called him up and asked for help. (Assuming reader now lives close to their base.) He drives over and just comforts them and let's them know it's okay and he'll always be their biggest supporter.

I've just been craving some good fluffy comfort with Price and again if you're not comfortable with writing this don't worry its absolutely fine. Have a great day/night 🫶

I’m back!

HI IM SORRRYYYYYYY I PROMISE IM NOT ABANDONING THIS BLOG

And to this anon, I hope you’re alright and just know my blog is a place to be you and you're so cool and rad and awesome :)

I just need you

platonic!Price & trans!reader

Some things just don’t go away. The tugging at your skin, stretching as far up and away from your body as you can, the pacing, the staring. It subsides and returns like a rough coastline, traveling everywhere all at once and yet never reaching anything at all.

It was the night you almost died, fittingly, that you truly started appreciating your own. Trapped in a dead end, several figures closing in fast. You heard their radio crackle with a message to capture instead of kill, and couldn’t process which was worse. It all seemed to blur together from then, until you were tucked into yourself, your head between your knees. You felt a hand at your shoulder, which you scrambled away from.

“Woah, hey..”

A gentle voice made you lift your head ever so slightly, seeing a face you didn’t recognize. The shapes lying still behind him proved he’d taken care of your problem.

“Are you hurt?”

Your words felt caught in your ribcage, a fluttering swarm gathering where your courage should be. You shook your head for the negative.

You simply continued to study him, his gentle eyes, the thread of his beanie, his flag patch.

“Right..” He adjusted his feet, now kneeling down fully on one knee. “It would really help me if you could come to the base so I can get you home, okay? It’s not safe here.”

His eyes searched yours with a reverence that confused you to no end. But you nodded.

“Okay..”

“Okay.” His lips twitched gently into a momentary smile before he helped you to your feet.

The base was cold inside, the walls blank and halls narrow, but he kept a hand on your shoulder from the car to his office, the warmth of his palm soothing.

He'd gotten you home safe, talked with your folks, and given you his office number after many attempts of you refusing.

"Call me. Anytime."

So you did. Most of the time, it was you who wanted to know about his life. Military propaganda be damned, with every phone call you were more inclined to hear more about him and his team, which you were both intimidated by and dying to see in person. The first time you called him for a different reason, you couldn't breathe.

"Hey, kid."

"Price.." His name caught in your throat, another wave of adrenaline shooting up your spine. Your room seemed too small, the floor too abrasive, the air too thick.

"Hey, what's wrong? Do I need to come get you?"

"No..no, I.." You huff, angry at your inability to speak. The frustration only built into the trembling of your hands.

"It's too much..everything...I'm going fucking crazy, I can't take this anymore.." Your voice cracked, and embarrassment flashed over your expression. "Price.."

"You need to breathe. Please. Open your eyes, listen to me."

You hadn't realized your eyes were screwed shut until his words encouraged you to open them gingerly, small spots dotting your vision from the strain.

"I know. I know.. listen, you don't have it easy, no question. But your life's only just started. Do your hear me?"

"Yes.."

"Good. Breathe just like that. It's going to be okay, kid, I've got you."

You breathe shakily, nodding even though he can't see you.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Come outside."

You blinked for a moment before hanging up, forcing your legs to carry you to and out the front door. There he was. Sitting against one of those company-issued trucks that he definitely shouldn't be using for this. For you. But he did.

You don't bother with shoes, your socks largely protecting you from the cold pavement as you walk briskly to him. Before you can bother asking permission, he's got you in his arms, rocking you slowly.

"S'alright.." His voice is softer than it's ever been.

"I didn't mean to bother you, I just-"

"Oi. None of that." He replies immediately, pulling back to rest a hand at the side of your head. "I stayed in touch for a reason. You're a good kid, you deserve someone to call when you get like this, you hear me?"

You nod, too emotional at his words to speak without more tears flowing, before collapsing back into his arms.

"Oh, kid.." he hugs you tightly, letting you take the time to hold onto him.

"I'll always support you. With everything you want to be, and everything you go through. I'm here."

[morbidlyhumorous]

Protector (Loki Laufeyson)

TW: blood and beating

I grunted as another kick landed against my ribcage. The man standing above me chuckled menacingly as he began to pace again. "So, Y/n, do you want to tell me about that little secret serum you're working on?" I raised myself up despite the agonizing pain that shot through my body and said "Fuck you." The man's demeanor quickly changed and he glowered down at me before reaching down and wrapping his hand around my throat. He lifted me up and smacked me against the wall. I let out a groan and said "That's gonna leave a mark in the morning." "Believe me, you're not going to see the morning." Then the man punched me in the face and stars began to fill my vision. I felt blood flowing down my face and before I could ready myself, he landed another blow to my gut. This was repeated for several minutes and I was fighting to stay awake. The man stopped for a moment and asked "any last words?" I sighed and spat a bloody stream of saliva at his face. He howled in disgust before raising his fist to deliver the final blow, but a loud thud outside caused him to freeze.

All of a sudden the door was flung open and the man was grabbed from behind, which resulted in me being flung across the room. My back hit the stone wall hard and I crumpled to the ground. I couldn't find it in myself to move and as I stared back, I saw the broad frame of a man in green and gold uniform coming towards me. He dropped to my side and cradled my head in his lap and began to shout at some other people. He then picked me up and began to leave the room. As we hurried through the hallways, I began to heave up blood. I heard the man talking, probably to me, but it sounded very muffled and far away. Everything seemed to be swimming in front of me and I couldn't make out much. As we broke out of the underground bunker, I felt cold winter air hit my skin and saw a dim light before I blacked out.

I opened my eyes again to find myself lying on a very soft bed in a room I was very familiar with. My whole body ached and I could barely move my head, but I could move it enough to see my boyfriend, Loki, pacing the room silently but anxiously. His green and gold cloak was thrown haphazardly over a chair and he was left in his black shirt rolled up to his elbows and his pants. I groaned and Loki stopped. He rushed to my side and collapsed to his knees on the floor. "Darling, how are you feeling?" He asked, concern and tiredness evident in his voice. "I feel like shit." I croaked out. Loki chuckled softly to himself before gently resting his hand on my cheek. I could see that it made him upset to see all the injuries I had. "You were incredibly brave, my feisty little firecracker." I smiled at the nickname before my body was wracked by a coughing fit. When I wiped my mouth, blood could be seen on the back of my hand. Loki's face changed and I looked up at him with concern. "It's okay, Darling, Bruce will get you all fixed up. He didn't do it when you were out because we didn't know when you would wake up." I furrowed my brows at this comment and whispered "How long have I been out?" "3 days." "Have you left here at all?" Loki shook his head. I looked at him more closely and noticed the way his hair seemed to be in complete disarray and how tired his face was. He also looked like he hadn't showered since the rescue mission."Would you like me to tell Bruce you're awake?" I nodded my head and watched Loki hurriedly leave the room.

Fifteen minutes later I was being gently carried to the infirmary. I was laid on a table and given a numbing shot before a sheet was constructed between my head and the rest of me. Bruce began to get to work fixing the internal injuries and Loki stayed near my head, carefully stroking my hair and offering words of encouragement. When Bruce was done, he stitched me up and told Loki not to do anything to it for at least 12 hours. I was given pain medication before I was carefully carried back upstairs and back into Loki's bed. As he tucked me in, I asked "Why am I in your room?" He looked down at me and said "You're staying here until you're all better so I can protect you." I smiled up at him before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down to press a kiss to his lips. The rest of the evening was spent with Loki sitting on the bed next to me, reading in his soothing voice. I eventually fell asleep and Loki resigned himself to the floor, afraid to even sleep next to me for fear of somehow hurting me.

When I woke up in the morning, I felt absolutely disgusting and knew Loki must be feeling the same way. When he woke up, I suggested that we bathe. "Are you sure?" He asked as he picked himself up off of the floor. "I don't want you overexerting yourself." I rolled my eyes and pouted and Loki sighed and said "Fineeeeee." He quickly filled the tub with warm water before he came back into the room and picked me up. He carefully helped me undress and get in the tub before he got himself undressed and slipped in behind me. He began to gently wash my hair and body, which made me feel so much more at ease. When I was done, he quickly cleaned himself and got out and put clean clothes on. As he reached for me, I protested and said "I can stand up on my own. I'm not helpless y'know." "But Darling I don't want you to hurt myself." "Well I'm going to hurt myself by not moving at all. It's part of the process of healing." Loki looked at me dubiously before he sighed in defeat and offered me his hand. I accepted it and shakily began to rise from the tub. Loki wrapped his other arm around me to give me more support as I stepped onto the tile floor. I leaned myself against the wall, and with the help of my boyfriend, I began to slowly get my clothes on.

It was during this time that the pain medication began to wear off and I felt a wave of pain spread through my body. I bit my lip hard as I was getting my pants on and my grip on Loki's shoulder tightened. He looked up to see pain written across my face and quickly picked me up and placed me on the bathroom counter. "What is it, Darling?" "Pain" was all I could manage to gasp out. Loki reached behind me to grab the medicine Bruce gave him yesterday and a cup of water. I quickly downed it and held on tightly to Loki's extended hands as I rested my head on his massive shoulder. "It hurts so much" I whimpered. "I know, Darling, I know, but you are so incredibly strong." And so we sat there for fifteen minutes, me sitting on the edge of the sink, shirtless, while pressing Loki's hands down on either side of me and resting on him. Finally, the medicine kicked in enough that I only felt achey. I released my hold on him and put my shirt on before I was picked up and placed in bed. "I think it's time for a nap after all that fun." Loki said humorlessly as he wrapped the blankets around my body. My hand reached up to grab his wrist and I asked "Can you please sleep with me this time? You're not going to hurt me and it'll make me feel better." He looked down into my pleading e/c eyes before he climbed in beside me and hesitantly drew me into his side. I rested my hand on his chest and burried my head into his shoulder. As I drifted off to sleep, I muttered an "I love you" and received a kiss on my forehead in return.

[satansreadingglasses]

Pervert. pt 3

Belphegor x GN reader. 800 words.

Warnings- Belphie being jealous of other demons, pillow humping

a/n. I barely pay any attention to Belphie- so uh. hopefully I didn’t make him a total asshole?

Belphie would never admit it to you, but he had a serious crush on you. He would never admit it to anyone, besides Beel. Who has to put up with his brother going on and on and on about you every other second of the day.

And Beel has debated just telling you, several times. But he couldn’t do that to his brother.

Not that you would believe him.

Belphie was the closest thing to a bully you had. He’d glare at you in class, he’d talk shit about you to his brothers, and he’d refuse to talk to you unless he had to. You’d never figure that he, of all demons, liked you.

Today you were hanging out with Beel in his room, you were sat on his bed reading a book you’d borrowed from Satan. Beel was sitting on the floor eating a bag of chips, just staring into space while you read aloud.

“He was profoundly affected by-” Belphie burst into the room, his hands over his face.

“Damn it!” He flopped onto his bed and groaned loudly. You kept your mouth shut while Beel scooted over.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly.

“Y/N is what’s wrong!” Beel looked back at you, but didn’t say anything.

Belphie’s face was still buried in a pillow. And, somehow, he still hadn’t noticed you.

“I can’t believe I couldn’t find them! Out of the entire stupid house. They’re gone.” He huffed and turned to face the wall.

“Why do you care?” Beel looked at you again and made a face that made you smile.

“Because. I don’t want them with anyone-” He flipped over and laid eyes on you.

He looked surprised at first, then he looked terrified, then pissed. You shut the book and tossed it towards Beel’s pillow. “Out.” Belphie hissed and you slid off the bed and left the room as quickly as possible.

You could hear Belphie whining to Beel on the other side of the door, but he didn’t seem as mad as when you were in there. You went off to your room, and stayed there for the rest of the night.

Belphie felt bad.

Not too bad of course, because he’d spent so much time looking for you, and you were in his room. Even if it was also Beel’s.

But you looked so cute in Beel’s bed. Your shorts that hugged your thighs, your t-shirt that looked vaguely similar to one he owned, you were… cute.

He grabbed one of his pillows and hugged it to his chest. Beel was down in the kitchen, and he probably wouldn’t be back for another twenty minutes. Belphie squeezed the pillow tighter, he stared at the wall. Trying to think of anything but you.

But he couldn’t.

All he could think about was you.

He moved the pillow down, just a little bit. And started bucking his hips into it.

He bit down on his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck…S-stupid human. Makin’ me feel like this…” He mumbled.

Belphie dug his nails into the pillow and started to go faster. Just a little faster. He gasped and whined quietly, attempting to keep his voice down. “Ah… Y/N.” He mumbled and slowed his pace slightly.

He wanted it to last.

He pictured you lying on his bed instead of Beel’s, he’d have his lep over you. Gently rubbing against your thighs. He’d kiss you and hold you and admit that he loved you.

And he hated it, he hated that you could make him feel like this. This good.

He flipped over so the pillow was underneath him, he didn’t stop the thrusts for a second though. His hips were moving like they had a mind of their own.

Belphie rested his head on another one of his pillows, a small string of drool was dripping down from his mouth to the soft pillow. “Yeah… Oh shit.” He felt his legs start to shake a little bit, he felt dizzy already.

“I’m gonna cum.” His voice cracked and squeaked, like he was on the verge of tears. “‘M gonna… c-cum.” He whimpered and buried his face deeper into the pillow.

His hips stopped short as his underwear was filled with a familiar warmth. He stayed put for a few more seconds, panting and laying with his pillow close to him.

He cringed at the warm, wet feeling in his pants and slid out of bed. He opened the door, to come face to face with Beel.

Beel stared at him, then looked him up and down. “Did you piss yourself?” He asked.

Belphie mumbled a response, pushed by him and ran towards the bathroom to try and forget what had happened.

[herrscherrofyatta]

Splintered Heart

Chapter 6.5

Pairing: Kazuha x reader, Ayato x reader (could be both in a way?)

Genre: Arranged marriage, angst, multiple endings

✧ this a Fu Hua theme blog✧ art credits: Rafa on Twitter!!

Ayato arrived at the estate later that night, he spots Thoma pacing around the courtyard and he raises a brow at this as he walks in.

"Thoma, what seems to be the problem?" He asks him and Thoma quickly looks up upon hearing his voice. Relief on his face as he speed walks toward the blue-haired.

"My lord, it's about Lady Y/n." Ayato immediately becomes alert, "when I went to go check on her earlier, long after you left, she seemed to be crying in her sleep but since it would be improper of me to intrude on a married woman's room, I thought it would be best to wait and inform you when you returned." Thoma explain to Ayato and he knew that nightmares were a common thing for you, but it seems like they started up again.

"I see, thank you for telling me. I will go see if she is alright." Thoma smiles before watching the blue-haired walk by him and inside the home.

Greetings the guards at the door, he enters and sees that everything is clean and tidy, the books of work are piled next to the table. Taking off his coat, he places it on the table and walks toward the bedroom. His eyes soften as a small smile grows on his lips as he sees his wife sleeping on the bed, curled up in the blanket as her head rests against the pillows, strands of h/c hair spread against the sheets.

Sitting on the mattress, he pushes a couple of strands of hair behind her ear, and his brow furrows a bit upon seeing the look of distress on his wife's sleeping face as she slept.

Wiping away the tears that she weeps in her sleep, he gets in the bed and lays down beside her but leaves some space between them.

Stroking her head, he waits for her to wake up from her nightmare, he had hoped that she hadn't been dreaming of her old friend, he knew how devastated and traumatized she was when he happened. She was unable to function for a couple of months after a funeral was made for Tomo several days after his death.

'Come on, my dear, you need to eat something.'

He looks over at his wife but feels a shiver go down his spine at the sight of the h/c haired having this dead, blank stare in her eyes.

Closing his eyes at these horrible memories, he feels Y/n beginning to stir in her sleep. Hie eyes met with her teary ones as she stares up at him before another tear rolls down her face.

Not saying anything, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close while muttering, "it's okay, I'm here."

She whispers a few words to him before going back to sleep, resting her head on his chest as she drifts off to sleep, no longer dreaming of horrible events, but rather happier ones.

—

Ayato could feel how nervous she was despite not showing it, Y/n fiddles with her ring as they step outside the estate.

Ayaka and Thoma were out busy that morning since there were two days before the start of the Irodori festival. Ayato and Y/n had made plans to see if everything was going well, the decorations and such for the people of Inazuma but also for the visitors, one of which happened to be an illustrator for a popular series in Inazuma.

Although the woman was more interested in the drawings rather than the story, she had hoped to commission a work for him if possible.

Resting a hand on her waist, she looks up at him, her worried expression visible on her face.

"Rest easy, everything is going to go as planned."

She smiles at this before the two make their way to Ritou.

"About last night," Ayato starts, his wife glances up at this, wanting to hear what he had to say, "are you sure you're alright? You don't have to go with me, you can rest at the estate." He says but Y/n shakes her head at this, looking back ahead.

"I'm fine, just nightmares and I can't just rest while you're busy with the festival, it would stain your reputation if people do not see us together in such an important event plus..."

She takes a deep breath, "....this will be the first public event I attend since Tomo's death, it will do me some good getting some fresh air." There's a sad tone in her voice at the mention of her best friend.

Ayato looks at her for a moment before sighing softly, "of course, if this is what you want to do, I won't stop you."

She smiles at this, "by the way, what happened with Chisato's wedding?"

"Oh, that. I think everything will work out well for the couple, I have a feeling they will come directly to us later today."

She hums at this, "I see, well, it seems like my vision was of help this time."

Ayato looks at her upon hearing, Y/n never did acknowledge the fact that her vision was any use to anyone due to how she got in the first place but that's a story for another day, he hoped that she would realize the potential of her vision someday.

Sighing, he looks back ahead before feeling one of her fingers grabbing ahold of his pinky and he's surprised. His eyes widen as he looks at her, her cheeks are flustered with the color red as she refuses to look at him.

Smiling even brighter, he doesn't say anything to her about this, just holding onto her finger as well through their small walk to Ritou.

For the next few days, you and Ayato were busy, while the traveler and Paimon had been asking around about you and well, some of those who were jealous have begun to plot against you without Ayato or you noticing.

'The wife of the Yashiro Commissioner? Do you want to know more about her? I could tell you all the things she has done since the start of the Vision Hunt Decree and even before!'

'I heard she had personally helped begin the Decree and karma got to her by killing her friend.'

'She's a pushy and controlling person, I heard she threaten Ayato into marrying her a couple of years ago.'

'She's an unfaithful wife, I heard she had an affair when they were engaged and said to run away during the day of their wedding which led to it being rescheduled.'

'In the end, she's not someone you want to be around if you want her nagging at you for every small detail.'

Paimon and the traveler look at each other, feeling a bit disgusted upon hearing about Ayato's wife, Y/n, from these women, had she acted so nice when they saw her because that was their first meeting?

"Now that they mentioned it, Ayato said a similar thing about their marriage when we were done talking with the groom. He said that, unlike Chisato and Kamaji's wedding, his wasn't so fortunate." Paimon gasps, putting the pieces together, (no, in fact, she did not put them together) "poor Ayato, having someone like that as a wife."

The traveler looks at her, not saying anything but staying quiet.

"I know, how about we go pay her a visit and put her in her place!"

The traveler knew this was not going to end well.

A/n: I'll be busy this week so I probably won't have time to update, but I'll try to have the next chapter to post when I have free time!

Masterlist

Tag list: (I hope I didn't forget anyone)

@thetwinkims

@aurressence

@woncafe

@loveknows (it doesn't let me tag you for some reason)

@aixaingela

@suzuyamitsuki