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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 months

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Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 5

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!gyu, dom!reader, choking, cunnilingus, fingering, riding, mentions of previous noncon

“Oh my god.” Are the words that stir you awake in the morning.

Beomgyu returns to the apartment to find you in the same position you had fallen in last night, and he freaks out.

“Fuck, did you stay there all night?” He asks, and tries to scoop you up off the floor but you push him away.

“Don't touch me. Isn't that what you wanted?” The raspiness of your voice from sleep adds to the harshness of your words, and Beomgyu frowns. “It's not what I wanted. It's what you wanted.”

“Look at me! What part of this exactly did I want?” You indicate towards your disheveled and miserable state angrily, his reply pissing you off. Was it disingenuous to be mad at him for his ridiculous statement despite you making the very same equally absurd one before him? Maybe, but you’re too bitter and upset that he left you last night to care. “I told you I'm trying to fix it.”

But Beomgyu is not one to let your hypocrisy go unnoticed. “Wow, that makes me feel so much better. I suddenly don’t care that my girlfriend thinks I’m a disgusting piece of shit.”

You have no comeback to that because you know there is nothing you can say that would justify your recent behavior, even if unintended, towards him, so you run away, knowing he would chase after you.

“Whatever.” You push yourself off the ground with great difficulty. It turns out that sleeping on the hard floor curled up in a ball and crying your heart out takes a toll on your body, and your screaming bones and muscles make sure you know that.

“What, are you giving me the silent treatment now?” He scoffs and you stay silent, proving his point as you make your way to your bathroom.

Are you using anger to push down the guilt you feel at what you've put him through? Yes, but he shouldn't have left you to your thoughts last night because despite his reassurance that he wouldn't leave, you still couldn't help but spend the long tortuous hours until you fell asleep imagining that his small break away from you would allow him to reconsider everything and lead him to dump the crazy, toxic girlfriend he has that is treating him like a criminal over something he never did. What if he decided it was all too much after all and left you to find someone else who he wouldn't fight so much with–whose friends didn't hate–who wasn't insistent on being friends with a guy he clearly feels insecure about?

“Come on, just fucking talk to me.”

Now he wants to talk when he made you go through needless hours of torture in the dead of the night by yourself?

“I don't have time. I have to get to work.” You tell him, voice almost inaudible from all the shouting and crying you did last night. Honestly you don't know how you're even going to speak to customers like this but you're intent on paying Beomgyu back for what he did to you.

“Are you fucking serious?” He asks, but you don't reply, just turning on the shower and stepping inside.

You can see Beomgyu is still outside through the fogged up glass pacing up and down the small bathroom and it brings your heart a sick sense of satisfaction that he's waiting for you–that he's atoning in some way for what he did.

You take your time, not just because the hot water feels heavenly against your aching limbs, but also so you’d make Beomgyu wait. You can’t make him wait hours like he did to you but this small punishment does slightly placate your resentful heart.

When you step out of the shower, he's immediately back into it, trying to convince you to stop and talk to him but you ignore him, keeping your mouth shut all through getting ready while he talks your head off.

“This is ridiculous. Why am I the one begging you to talk to me?” He finally asks and you hold back your flinch as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. You have to speak up now. You can’t rebuff him for too long or he might leave again. You cringe inwardly at all these manipulative thoughts filling your mind and prompting you to act in this underhanded way that you never thought you’d behave like before, but you can’t help yourself, finding yourself falling into this toxic way of thinking as if it was something that had always been embedded in a rotten part of your brain you didn’t know existed until it had been unearthed by the stress and pain of everything that has been happening lately.

“I tried to talk last night but you fucking abandoned me.” You finally shout, shifting the blame onto him again.

“I didn't abandon you.” He defends himself heatedly. “I needed time to wrap my head around what you're fucking accusing me of!”

“I wasn't accusing you of anything! I know it's just a dream.” You scream as if you could drown out the voice in your head trying to convince you that it was more than that.

“If you know that then why are you treating me like it's true?” It was his turn to throw out accusations, and this one hit a nerve.

“Because I can't fucking help it, okay!” Your lips tremble as you tear up. You really don’t know why these absurd dreams and images are affecting you to this extent. “I can't fucking control what my mind choses to spring on me and I can't control what that makes me feel.”

“Then what the fuck do you expect me to do about it?” He asks, frustrated. You completely understand his reaction. You would be furious and heartbroken if you were in his shoes. He might even be handling it much better than you would have.

“I don't know, okay? But you leaving me in the middle of the night to deal with this shit on my own is not helping.” You break down, voice turning pathetic and whiny as you cry. Unlike your previous actions and words, this wasn’t intended to sway him into giving into you. You truly don’t know what to do. You don’t want to be having these awful thoughts but you can’t stop them. Still your tears get to him anyway.

“I'm sorry.” He relents right away, always weak when it comes to seeing you cry. “I just needed some time to process it all.”

You scoff through your tears, softer too. “Who are you and what have you done to the Beomgyu I know?”

He cracks a half-hearted smile. “I guess even he has a breaking point.”

That is exactly what you’re so scared of–of him reaching that breaking point and leaving you. You give him an equally unenthusiastic smile. “Well, where do we go from here?”

“Wherever. Doesn't matter as long as we're together.” He says as if he could hear your fearful thoughts and you nod eagerly before he can change his mind. “Together, always.”

__________________________________

Taehyun knows better than to approach you but he can’t stop himself, not when you look like shit and sound like it too. Due to your rough state, your manager has relegated you to working in the back where you're out of the customers' sight, and that's where Taehyun corners you.

“What happened to you? And don't give me that bullshit you gave the manager about laryngitis.”

“I don't owe you an explanation.” You sneer, which is useless since he can't see it when your back is towards him. You doubt it would have dissuaded him anyway given his next question. He is like a dog with a bone. He won’t leave well alone.

“Did he hurt you?”

You whip around to face him, the sneer now turned to a full on scowl. “He didn't. He would never hurt me.”

“You sound defensive.” You almost want to smack the know-it-all look off his face. “God, Taehyun, sometimes it feels like you wish he was abusing me so you have the chance to swoop in and act like the hero.”

That gets him to frown a little. “I don't need to wish for it when I know he is.”

“He isn't. He would never hurt me. I am the one hurting him. I am the one…” You stop yourself as you feel the tears building up again. You shouldn’t say more anyway. He would just use it against you and Beomgyu. “Whatever. You wouldn’t get it.”

But Taehyun doesn’t give up that easily. “Maybe I already know.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure you do.

“He forced himself on you, didn't he?” He says lowly and you’re glad you weren’t holding anything fragile in your hand because suddenly all the strength goes out of your body as an icy grip wraps around your heart.

“W-What?” You stutter, staring at him with a deer-in-headlight look that speaks volumes.

“I knew it.” His jaw clenches and his hands ball into fists by his sides. “I am going to smash his face in.”

“No. No!” You cry, shaking your head wildly. “He didn't do that, I swear. It's all in my head.”

Taehyun looks at you like you're lost your mind, so you quickly clarify before he misunderstands even further. “It's the dreams. I dreamt he… did that, but he didn't! Not in real life. And when I told him about what he did in those terrible dreams, he was so upset and hurt that I would dream up something so vile about him that he left for the night and I just didn’t handle that too well. That’s all. He didn’t lay a finger on me. He didn’t.”

You were doing your best to clear your boyfriend's name. It was the least you could do now that your stupid dreams have leaked out into the real world to threaten your relationship with Beomgyu and to infect even Taehyun. Yes, you’re responsible for leading Taehyun to come to these revolting conclusions, but even you could never in a million years have been prepared for what he says next.

“You had a dream about that too?” He asks and you look at him in utter confusion and apprehension, dread building up in your stomach until you feel you won’t be able to contain it anymore. “Too? You had the same dream?”

He nods slowly, his mind visibly working to try to make sense of what he’s saying. “That's why I was worried about that. The dream felt so real, just like the ones you told me about before, the prince dreams. Prince Beomgyu raped you in my dream.”

The world spins nauseatingly around you. How is this possible? How could he have had the same dream you did? You insanity can’t have rubbed off on him to this extent.

“That's impossible. It must be a coincidence.” You shake your head violently, trying to dispel this insanity before it gets forever entrenched into your mind. “Yes, it's a coincidence because I put the image of prince Beomgyu in your head and you hate him so of course you'd dream of something so terrible about him.” You attempt to convince yourself as much as him.

“Then why did you also have that same dream?” He asks and you shake your head more, making the nausea worse. “Do you also hate him?”

“It's a coincidence.” You repeat weakly but Taehyun appears to believe your weak excuse even less than you do. “Is it?”

You look up at him, and try to conjure up some conviction to defend your love, the love you find yourself hurting once again even in his absence. What the hell is wrong with you? Have you gone insane? You need to get a grip. “Don't tell me you believe the prince dreams are real. I didn't take you for the type to be so superstitious.”

Taehyuns's upper lip curls in disdain at the clear mockery in your voice.“I don't believe they are real but I believe in the psychology behind them. If you truly believe that your boyfriend would never hurt you then why are you having these awful dreams about him? If you truly believe he would never hurt you then why are they affecting you so much?”

“I can't control it.” You cry out, at your wit's end. How do they expect you to answer these questions for them when you can't even answer them for yourself? “It's not my fault.”

Taehyun's sharp face softens slightly. It appears he too is affected by your distress, though he's less lenient on you than Beomgyu. “It's not your fault, it's his. He makes you feel unsafe, that's why you’re having those thoughts.”

You shake your head, denying his accusation weakly. You're so tired. You don't want to talk about this anymore. You just want it all to go away. “Beomgyu wouldn't do that.”

“Do you truly believe that or are you just saying that because you want to believe it?”

“I–I…” You should believe it. You want to believe it, but something deep inside you is preventing you from doing that and if you could, you swear you'd tear yourself apart to get to it and crush it with your bare hands so you can return to the blissful love you once shared with Beomgyu and never have to think about it again.

Your gorey fantasy is interrupted by the warm feel of a hand cupping your cheek, and your look up to see that Taehyun had snuck up on you and is now standing right in front of you.

“Don't hide from it. There is something in there that your mind is trying so hard to tell you but you won't let it because it scares you.” He whispers, his thumb softly caressing your cheek, giving the opportunity for that strange feeling of yearning and affection you hold for him to reignite. How are these men able to so easily look right through you and read you like an open book? “I get it. It's hard to think such things of the person you fell in love with. It feels like a betrayal. It feels like you're doing something wrong, but you’re not. You're just protecting yourself.”

“He's not–he would never…” You stumble, your thoughts a bloody and mangled mess you can't untangle, but he shushes you with a finger to your lips.

“Listen to that voice deep in the back of your mind telling you the truth. I know you hear it.” He bends down, pressing his forehead against yours, his lips centimeters away from your own.

This is dangerous. This is wrong.

“Taehyun?” You ask, noticing the way his gaze is transfixed on your lips. You see it coming a long time before it happens, and you do nothing to stop it. You do nothing to stop him from pressing his lips against yours.

In fact, you don't just do nothing, you actively respond to his kiss, pushing your lips against his own, seeking out the alternative he was so clearly offering you.

He's right. There is something there. You can't even deny it and that scares you. There is something between you as inexplicable as those wretched dreams, and they're all threatening to tear you apart from Beomgyu.

But you're just as helpless against Taehyun as you are against the dreams, your treacherous body responding to his kisses despite your best efforts--your lips tingling against his slightly chapped ones, your heart clenching around every little hum and moan he breathes into your mouth.

When he finally pulls back, you're both in a daze.

"Angel.” He murmurs softly and that triggers something in you–and like muscle memory, you suddenly jump back, freaking out and in turn freaking him out. You seem to have that effect on the men in your life.

No. No. There are no men in your life, only one man. Beomgyu.

“What?” He asks, trying to reach out to you but you step further away, and you can't miss the flicker of hurt flashing across his eyes.

“Why did you call me that?” You ask and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I don't know. It felt right. Do you not like it?”

No, you most certainly don't like it. You realize it's a very common pet name but this was all just too many coincidences for your liking, and you can't stand it anymore. None of this makes sense and it's making your head hurt.

"I have to go." You tell him and his face falls. “What? You're just leaving like that?”

Whatever ghost of hurt was there on his face is replaced by stark and jagged betrayal.

“Yes. This was wrong. You shouldn’t have kissed me. You fucking know I have a boyfriend.” Your voice rises, more at yourself than him. You've really fucked up now. “You know we're having trouble and you're fucking using that to get with me. You're a scumbag, Taehyun.”

And you’re a stupid whore. This is exactly why Beomgyu wanted you to stay away from Taehyun but you were arrogant and thought you knew better than him and now look where that led you.

“If you hated it so much then why did you kiss me back? Don't fucking pretend there is nothing between us. I know you felt it too.” Taehyun will not take the blame lying down but it doesn't matter. He's not the one you have to explain yourself to.

“What I felt was shame and guilt for cheating on my boyfriend. I feel nothing for you.” You lie through your teeth. You don't know if Taehyun believes you or not but you know you're hurting him either way and he deserves it. He shouldn't have come onto you during your weak moment. “Go find another girl to fix your intimacy issues.”

You take off your apron and make your way out of the coffee house, ignoring the way your manager is yelling at you to get back or you'll be fired.

“I quit.” You shout back at him. You don't care. Let him fire you. It's not like you can go back and work with Taehyun after this anyway. One of you has to leave and you’re making it easier for the both of you.

You have to get back to Beomgyu. You have to atone for all you've done.

____________________

Beomgyu knows that something is off with you immediately. You look worse than you did when you left in the morning and he's asking about it as soon as you come through the door. You know it's useless to lie to him so you just confess, hoping that the faster you come clean, the faster you can move on.

“You were right about Taehyun.” You say and he immediately becomes angry. “What did he do?”

“I quit my job. I won't see him anymore.” You quickly supply, hoping that would at least placate him a little bit. “You don't have to worry about him anymore.”

But Beomgyu will not fall for such easy tricks.

“What did he do?” Beomgyu asks gravely and it scares you. Not for yourself but for Taehyun. Yes, Beomgyu would never hurt you but would he hurt Taehyun?

“Beomgyu, you’re scaring me.” You tell him, once again hoping he'd soften just a little bit but it's to no avail.

“You're only making me angrier.” He tells you and you can clearly tell, so you make a last ditch effort to protect Taehyun. “I'll tell you if you promise not to hurt him.”

“He touched you.” He states and you shake your head, wide-eyed. Are you really that easy to read? “It was just one kiss.”

“I’m going to fucking gut him.” He rages, storming off towards the door, but you throw yourself in front of him, begging and pleading with him to calm down. “No, no, please, baby. It's over. I will never see him again. It will only be me and you. I swear.”

“That's not enough. He has to pay.” He growls, his fury rolling off him in waves and scorching your skin.

“If you hurt him, they'll lock you up. They'll take you away from me.” You try another angle, anything to get him to back down.

“When I'm done with him, there won't be a piece of him left to find.” His words almost make your heart stop, and the look on his face makes you think he might actually be capable of doing that, so you try even harder to protect Taehyun.

Despite the hostility you treated Taehyun with, you do not wish Beomgyu to hurt him. You care for him beyond what makes sense and you won't be able to live with yourself if Beomgyu lays a hand on him.

“Please, Beomgyu, I'll do anything you want.” You desperately plead, tugging on his shirt like a little child begging their parent not to punish them. “I will never see him again. It will just be you and me, just like you wanted.”

You recognize how insane you sound. If you had seen another woman behaving the way you are right now and saying the same things to her boyfriend as she tries to justify her cheating, tries to prevent her boyfriend from retaliating, tries to convince him he has nothing to worry about by promising to completely and fully devote herself to him… you would shake your head in pity for the poor girl stuck in this tumultuous and frankly scary situation. No, the gravity of what is happening doesn’t escape your notice but you find yourself falling into it no less severely. You just want this nightmare to be over. You want to protect Taehyun and give into Beomgyu and just do whatever the hell he wants so it would stop hurting.

And you find what you desire when the vengeful look in Beomgyu eyes falters a little bit, and you know you’ve got him. He’s got you. “You'll listen to me when I tell you to stay away from these types of men?”

“Yes.” Your answer is ready on your tongue. You are so tired. “You were right. I shouldn't have doubted you.”

The tension in his shoulders eases a little bit. “You'll forget about those disgusting dreams?”

“I will. I just need you to help me.” You pull harder on his shirt and he takes your hands in his and kisses them. His touch is warm, doesn’t burn as hotly from anger as it did a moment ago. “Of course, I will, baby. I will do anything for you.”

You nod. “I know.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders and wraps his own hands around your waist, engulfing you, his touch firm but gentle, slightly hesitant as he watches your reaction to his words closely. “You won't hide away from me anymore?”

“No. I'm all yours.” Once again your answer comes readily despite your trepidation. And to prove yourself, you use your hold on him to pull him into a kiss which he happily reciprocates. You can taste the sigh of relief on his lips, feel the rage slowly seep out under your touch as the kiss deepens.

Beomgyu is horribly lost in the kiss, his tongue chasing your own and his lips desperately latching onto you as if he’d stop breathing if he lets you go. You have a feeling he would stand there for hours, days, weeks, kissing you until you both perish if you don’t intervene.

He also won’t do anything more, the scare you gave him before having apparently done quite a number on him. So despite you very clearly feeling his need against your tummy, you know he won’t make a move to push things any further.

So you make the move for him. You let your hand make its way between your bodies to take a hold of his hard member, and immediately he is pulling back with a groan, his head thrown back for a second as a shiver racks through his body from the sudden burst of pleasure after being deprived for so long, before he quickly whips his head back down and gasps out.

“You don't have to.” He says as if he wasn't giving you the neediest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen. As if he literally wasn’t gasping for air at that small touch.

You scoff. “If I take my hand off your cock right now, you’re gonna cry.”

He gulps. “So make me cry. Better me than you.”

A sharp pang pierces through your heart. Despite how weak he is, how desperate, he still would rather hurt himself than hurt you again. You’re overwhelmed. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just push him to the ground and say, “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you.” He whispers as he watches you take your pants and underwear off.

“See what you’ve done?” You sling one leg over his shoulder, bringing your pussy inches away from his face and letting him see how wet and puffy you’ve gotten for him.

He gulps and asks in a shaky voice, “Can I?”

You cock your head down at him as you play with his hair. “What are you going to do if I say no?”

Is it cruel to mess with him when he’s this needy? You don’t care. You just want to revel in everything he is giving you.

“Whatever you want me to do.” Comes his perfect reply and you reward him for it, unceremoniously pushing his face in your pussy. Beomgyu responds immediately–whether he wanted it so much that he was ready for it or he knew that what he would say would get him what he wants, you don’t know and you don’t care to figure out when his wet tongue was prying your pussy lips apart to seek out your dripping entrance, his entire lower face getting covered in your juices in seconds.

“Fuck, baby, how are you so good at this?” You groan, looking down to see him eat you out just as hungrily as he always does. Every time you’re with Beomgyu, it’s always full of passion and love and lust. He treats it like the first and last time he will ever be with you and his fervor is infectious. A sprawling fire licks up your body, sprouting up from where he was devouring your cunt, his kisses and licks so fractic and yet so deliberate.

Beomgyu doesn’t reply, he just mewls and nuzzles his face into your pussy more.

“Finger me open for your cock, baby.”

You swear you felt him almost cum on the spot at the command, but he holds himself back, one of his hands snaking around your body to grab a handful of your ass and spread it open while the other goes under you to press two of his fingers against your entrance. You feel the pads of his fingers swirling around it for a little bit, probably gathering enough of your arousal to easily breach your hole but you were so turned on, you didn’t really need it.

“Don’t fucking teas–” You don’t get to finish your irritated demand before his fingers plow into you in one go. It takes you by surprise so much so you almost fall, but with his hold on your ass, he is able to keep you in your place, pushing you further against his lewd tongue while his fingers work you open.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You moan, pulling harshly at his hair as he sends you barreling towards your orgasm, his finger pumping in and out of you ruthlessly, repeatedly hitting that spot inside you that has you turning to goo in his hold. “I’m going to cum, Gyu. Don’t fucking stop.”

As if Beomgyu would even consider it. He fucks you as if he could cum from it, and you think he very well could if you asked him to. But you have other plans for him.

“Oh shit, right there! Fuck!” You cry out, finally going over the edge and coming over your darling’s face. Beomgyu happily lets you hump his face, getting those last shocks of pleasure before your punishing hold on his hair loosens and your breathing goes from fast and shallow to slow and deep, your eyelids fluttering to a half-closed position while his shines widely up at you.

He is like a dog begging for his treat, and you’ll be damned if you don’t give it to him. You take your leg off his shoulder, but you don’t put it back down. Instead you press your foot against his chest and push him to the floor. He quickly realizes what you want and compliantly lays down flat for you to lower yourself on him.

“Do you need it, Gyu?” You ask, shuddering as his clothed cock rubs against your sensitive pussy.

He nods quickly. “Uh-huh. Need it to survive.”

You laugh, breathless. He's ridiculous. “Need my pussy to survive?”

“Y-Yeah.” He whimpers, struggling to hold himself back from just dry humping you. “Would die without it.”

“Poor puppy.” You take pity on him and finally reach down to pull him out of his pants, the weak gasp he lets out echoing in your own chest. He did so well for you. You’ve hurt him badly and yet he’s still willing to be so vulnerable for you. You can’t believe you almost messed this up and for what? Demented dreams that mean nothing and a guy who is hell-bent on separating you from the one guy who loves you more than anything in the world because of his deranged savior complex?

You focus on the anger you feel at that to hold the images that are creeping at the edges of your mind at bay as you take in Beomgyu’s cock, feeling it stretch you out even more than it usually does now that you haven’t fucked him in some time.

And it’s not just you who feels the difference. Beomgyu can clearly feel the way your tight walls drag over every inch of his cock as you dutifully take him up to the hilt. You feel his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he tries to stay grounded and not cum the moment he’s surrounded by your fluttering walls.

“You okay there, baby?” You tease, grinning at the way he’s holding his breath and the tense arch of his back. You feel bad that your distance has affected him this much, but not bad enough that you don’t start moving just to watch him scramble to keep from cumming.

“Fuck, fuck, slow down…” He pleads and you laugh. “I can’t possibly go any slower than this.”

You really can’t. You were basically just swiveling your hips over him. You weren’t even riding him yet and yet he looks like you’re fucking the life out of him.

It doesn't feel so scary like this, with him writhing under you helplessly. Images still bleed at the corner of your vision from that unknown source, images of Beomgyu decked in flowery silk and expensive jewels but still just as weak for you as he is right now, calling out for his princess as he struggles to hold himself back.

And as your pace starts to pick up and your defenses get weaker, those images creep closer and closer until they’re blending with the image of him under you right now and become indistinguishable from each other, until your Beomgyu is prince Beomgyu and prince Beomgyu is your Beomgyu. It scares you but it also feels right, and you don’t know what that means. Have you finally lost it?

But it’s hard to care about your expired sanity with the pleasure pumping through your veins and flooding your brain. As always, Beomgyu cock fits you so perfectly it feels like it was made for your pussy, a shock of electricity spreading from that point of contact to take hold of your entire body, gripping your muscles until you're bouncing on Beomgyu's cock, chasing it further and further.

“Please, please, slow down! I can't–”

It moves your arm so your hand is wrapped around Beomgyu's delicate throat, pressing firmly on it to quiet his pathetic cries.

“Shut up, Beomgyu. You can take it. You will hold yourself back and not pop in my pussy like a little virgin before I let you.”

Tears collect on his pretty lashes as he sniffles and tries to listen to your harsh commands. But you can see how difficult it is for him. Beogmyu is extremely sensitive at the best of times so you just know that he's about ready to combust at any moment right now and it just makes you even more turned on.

You've never been so rough with Beomgyu, or with anyone for that matter. You've never choked someone before and you probably shouldn't either but you can’t get yourself to let go. You're being so cruel to him but something deep inside you is telling you that he deserves it.

For what? You don't know. Maybe it comes from that same place where the dreams come from and the thought scares you because that is a place of evil and you shouldn't be acting on it but Beomgyu hasn't even batted an eye in alarm. It's as if he thinks he deserves it too.

“Princess!” His choked cry pulls you out of your thoughts and you can tell that he is right on the verge of falling.“Please say I can cum. Please? I r-really can't hold it any longer. God, please.”

He was openly crying now, his sobs partly cut off by your hand around his throat and tears heavily streaming down his face you're sure your image is probably swimming in vision right now from the tears and the low oxygen. He looks pathetic but more beautiful than anyone or anything you've seen in your entire life. How could you possibly be expected to resist God's most beautiful creation?

Still, you play the part.

“Whatever. If you cum I won't stop anyway.” You tell him, and he must have taken this as permission because next thing you know his mouth is hung open and you feel his warm seed burst inside you.

“Fuck.” You look down as you continue to ride him at the same pace, seeing his cum seeping out of your pussy and sticking to both your skin, making obscene squelching noises as you jump on his dick.

But Beomgyu doesn’t complain for a second.

You don’t know what is wrong with you. Why are you doing that? And why isn’t Beomgyu making any attempt to stop you? He just lays there and lets you do whatever you want to him.

“Is this what you wanted?” You ask, tone sharper than you intended. You don’t understand why you’re angry at him when all he wants is for you to love him.

“I–I… I love you.” He slurs incoherently, his words both not making sense and yet answering your question perfectly at the same time. Beomgyu doesn’t care what happens as long as you’re together.

“Fuck, Beomgyu…” You curse, your own orgasm not taking long to grab hold of your body, not with his seed filling your pussy and the raptured, devoted look on his face.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers, barely audible with your hand so tight around his throat as you finally succumb to your own end.

“I love you too.” Your voice surprises you, your own tears having caught up to you without you realizing it until you hear the pitiful garbled sound in your ears.

You don't know why you’re crying. Is it from pleasure? Stress? The combination of everything you've been through these past few months?

You don't know but you know that it feels good to let it all out, your tears getting swept up and washed away by the waves of pleasure battering your exhausted body.

This orgasm takes everything out of you. You enter a state of complete dissociation, the pleasure and strange but profound sorrow taking turns ravaging your body until you're left limp and spent.

When you finally regain awareness, you find yourself in Beomgyu's embrace once again. Always in Beomgyu’s embrace. And he is rocking you and whispering sweet gentle nothings in your ear.

“It's okay, my love. I'm here. I got you. I will never let go.”

_______________________________

A/N: decided to split the chapters after all since i have not finished the last scene yet and otherwise this chapter would've been very large. the last chapter shouldn't take too long to come out though. in any case, send me your thoughts as they keep me going and as always

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #beomgyu smut #yandere #dom!reader #sub!idol

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zombie-hickey · 8 months

Text

[Dead and Unburied]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Zombie!Ghost, Gore, Violence, Reader is a bit messed up, Angst, Hurt mostly without Comfort

Summary: Ghost is dead but you just can't let go.

You feel disgusting... Sick in the head some might say.

Your hands shake as you stare down at the rusted chains, wrapped around the man's ankles and wrists... Could you even call him a man anymore?

×🩷×

"Damn it. Get the fuck out of here- now."

A large chunk taken out of his arm, the stench of rotten flesh and the burn of fresh blood infects your senses, it's enough to choke you... You're no stranger to infected, you know how this all goes. You've watched it over and over...

You can't lose him too. He's all that's left in this shattered world. What's the point if you're completely alone?

"Live for me. Survive this."

It's a command and a plea all at once, pleading with you to go on in hopes of a better future... Maybe you're weak though. Too weak.

×🩷×

You know this is all wrong- nothing about this is logical. You can't help but imagine what the others would say if they could see you now.

"Ya gotta let him go."

"This ain't right. That isn't him anymore, lass."

"It's okay, Strawberry... Just breathe."

Price, Soap and Gaz... Their voices haunt you as well as the screams of so many others, you don't even know if they are out there somewhere or not.

Suddenly the sound of low gurgling disrupts your train of though, glancing over to see Ghost shifting against his restraints, clouded dead eyes meeting yours... Those beautiful eyes you used to get lost in now make a shiver run down your spine.

But it's still technically him, isn't it? It's still him. You have to believe that.

"Simon... It's okay. It's me."

His broken jaw shifts slightly and you'd like to imagine he'd be speaking right now if he was capable... However, something shocks you down to your core. There's a hint of recognition in him- like he has some form of humanity left, a shred of awareness of his past. Awareness of you.

You could just be imagining it though... After all, you were crazy enough to capture him to keep even though he's a zombie now. Just to chase off the loneliness.

×🩷×

Seeing him like that- walking the streets in aimless search of flesh... It broke you in a way you didn't know possible. Yet a part of you just needed him. Needed him back. Even if he can't speak to you any longer or can't recognize you as friend not food- you needed him.

You managed to sneak up on the giant of a man with a crowbar in hand, smacking him with it earning a low growling groan, part of you feels guilty as you restrain him... Especially guilty as it sounds as though he still experiences pain, his jaw dislodged from the harsh blow.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry... I'm so sorry."

×🩷×

Despite your better judgement you move a bit closer to him, he doesn't attempt to attack you which you take as a good sign, raising your hand to cautiously touch his cheek- feeling the cold flesh beneath your fingertips.

"You're still in there, aren't you...? Si... Please tell me you're still in there somehow."

You receive a grunt in reply- though much more hoarse and growly, it's still recognizable as Simon. An actual reply to you...

"Oh my god... You're still-"

Before you can continue cup his face lovingly in your hands, a maggot wiggles out and lands on your knuckle, you immediately scramble away and frantically shake the bits of rotten flesh and the hideous little critter off.

"Ew!!! Ew, ew, ew..."

Simon leans forward to watch what you're doing, he seems a bit apologetic for what just happened... This definitely can't be easy for him, having some form of consciousness trapped inside this zombified shell, rotting away while still walking... Does he still feel pain from it? Is he numb to the sensation of his flesh wasting away? Is he in mental and physical distress right now and can't tell you?

Part of you feels guilty now. Perhaps you should have killed him for his sake- you're being selfish.

"M'sorry, Si... I'm so sorry... I just... I need you."

×🩷×

"Shoot them in the head."

He knew he had to look out for you no matter what, he refused to let anything touch you. You're the one pure thing that found its way into his heart and life, saw past the Ghost and saw Simon. You'd listen to his puns for way too long at a time, never seeming to get sick of him.

The thought of anything happening to you made him sick inside, his guts twisting into multiple knots. He's known loss his whole life- even before the apocalypse... Now it's him and you against the world it appears.

"Stay behind me."

Putting himself in harm's way for you came so easily, however regret seeps into his bones when he's unable to shield you from his own demise, seeing that look in your eyes when you acknowledge he got bit. The pain in his arm couldn't possibly compare to the heartbreaking terror reflected in your gaze.

His final moments spent knowing he can't protect you anymore. There's nothing that can be done- only hoping you'll listen and carry on.

×🩷×

The sound of other voices scare you senseless, scrambling up off the safe house floor and grabbing your crowbar, all out of ammo at this point so your gun is useless. Simon growling lowly and wriggling against his restraints but you just shush him.

"Sh... Shhh... I've got this. You don't have to protect me, it's okay."

Your reassurance makes him settle slightly but he's still rightfully worried... Until you recognize one of the voices.

"Someone's definitely in here..."

His voice is low and smooth... Gaz. You're not alone. They're alive. They came back for you- they...

"Bloody hell!!!"

The door was pushed open to reveal a stunned Soap at the sight of a restrained zombie Ghost.

"I- I can explain..."

#mdni #zombie!ghost #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley angst #ghost x reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #vee's cod fics

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olsenmyolsen · 1 year

Text

Played around and made some moodboards for characters from my fic ✌️💛

Reader

Maxine “Max” Moore

Lizzie “Liz” Olsen

#lizzie olsen #fanfic #otiweo #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #y/n #elizabeth olsen x y/n #fluff #smut #so much angst it’s actually crazy and disgusting #coffee #moodboard #mood board #read on ao3 #wattpad

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mins-fins · 8 months

Text

all flights are delayed !

"i like to call myself a pretty man connoisseur.."

synopsis: your sad to say it, but you don't have much going on in your life. you have a very time consuming major, just a few friends, barely any time to go out, and spend most of your free time either a: working, or b: sleeping. so for once, when you finally have the friday off, and your dragged off to go watch a football game between a rival school of yours, you really do wish you were anywhere else. somehow though, it turns out to be one of the best things to happen to you, because a charming oreo–haired musical theater major from your rival school just happens to saunter his way into your life, you didn't expect to fall in love in your junior year, but your also not complaining!

pairing: xiao dejun x male!reader

genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, musical theater major!xiaojun x health science major!reader, fluff, like the lightest of angst, lowkey fast burn 😖

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing(?), gay people, a little miscommunication, reader having a crisis over oreo xiaojun, probably a lot of repetitive phrases, huang guanheng is EVERYWHERE

word count: 12.8k

notes: OKAAAAAAAY hello! now in the beginning i really did enjoy writing this but after like the fourth scene its all so disgusting and jumbled up but i am also very proud of myself because this is the longest ever fic i have ever written (it is all xiao dejuns fault), actually it is ALL of nct's fault because why do i have a bunch of 8k word fics of so many nct members..😢 anyway if this seems any rushed or makes absolutely no sense at times its because im tired and i worked extra today but it doesn't really matter because constructive criticism is good (i shouldn't even publish this tbh) but there is a first for everything! enjoy!

YOU'VE NEVER BEEN A FOOTBALL FAN. now you know that might be a little of a sour opinion, especially to the men in your family, but it's just never been a sport you enjoy. it is just a little fun to watch, especially when drunk, because the sight of men in tight ass clothes running around a field chasing a ball is possibly one of the funniest things you think your drunk mind has ever seen. which is why now— in the stands, listening to the loud shouts and screams from your schoolmates, and rival scholars, you feel as if your ears have just been popped.

after all the days of working, and doing nothing but schoolwork, you were glad to have the rest of the friday off. there was nothing else you wanted to do but put on an oversized sweater, make a bowl of ramen and rewatch gossip girl for the seventy fifth time already (yes, you keep count), but no— guanheng decided he was going to drag you out of the dorm to watch stupid football game, one about "school spirit" or whatever, you weren't paying attention to him when he decided to go on his ramble, and now he's abandoned you once again! probably off to go talk to one of his 1000 other friends or something.

you almost consider leaving, but then you witness the amount of people you'd have to maneuver through, the amount of excuse me's you'd have to utter, the amount of pushing you'd endure as you tried to make your way through the crowded stands, besides, you can't leave without guanheng, your pretty much the only person responsible for keeping him alive at this point.

so you somehow suck it up and manage to stick around. your ears are practically on fire right now, and you desperately want to take off your shoes because of how they are poking you at the moment. you almost feel like your being pressed together by all the people in the stands, as if walls are slowly pushing in and crushing every single bone in your body.

"that team is doing horribly.." you mutter to yourself in an attempt to calm your crazy mind.

"i know, we suck".

at first you think you've made up the voice, because in the past hour and a half all you've heard is shouting, cheering, and loud music blasting on your ears, no one has made any attempt to talk to you since guanheng up and left you alone in the stands, so the response almost seems like muddled up words created by your brain as a response—

but it's not.

someone actually did respond to you, and in a split second there is a completely new person standing beside you, also observing the game but not looking as pleased to be there. when you do glance to your left, you come across possibly the most beautiful boy— no, person, you come across the most beautiful person you think you've ever seen in your twenty years of living, for once it feels like everything stops.

you are not the kind of person that just.. does that. now you've met tons of pretty people, you've met so many people that you could definitely say are so beautiful they could be displayed in a museum as an art exhibit, but never in your twenty years of living have you ever seen yourself go silent at the sight of a beautiful person— your brain feels like it's malfunctioning, you're not exactly sure what to say, you open your mouth but no words come out, and you almost consider punching yourself because you probably look like a complete idiot right now.

"oh? you don't go here?"

that's what you decided to say? of all things you could've said, of course he doesn't go to your school, he just implied that the other team belonged to his school, why would that be the best thing to say out of everything else?

the stranger looks up, then he laughs, and your not sure how you keep your composure. "oh no, i go to vixsith" he replies, using his thumb to point backward, though he's not pointing at anything in specific, just pointing to point. you're not sure why you pick up on that, or why you're even watching where his hands are going anyway.

"your insulting your own team?" you inquire, and he laughs even harder at your question, covering his mouth with his hand. "this is about school spirit, have faith in them" you joke, and all he does is continue laughing, crossing his arms as he tries his best to calm himself down.

"i'm being honest, the only person on that team who knows how to play is mark, he deserves better" he remarks, eyes focused on the player he just named. he then seems to have a random realization and turns to you once again. "i'm dejun by the way" he holds out his hand for you to take, and you just blink at it like an idiot, before coming back to your senses and quickly shaking his head.

"y/n".

at the sound of your name, he seems to have yet another realization. he points at you and narrows his eyes. "we have a mutual friend don't we?"

at the question, you narrow your eyes, cogs turn in your brain as you think about who he could possibly be referring to, then it comes to you—

"guanheng".

the two of you say his name in unison, and the two of you both try to stifle your laughs as the realization dawns on you. "he knows everyone i swear" you mutter, and dejun snorts, looking away from you to laugh. "even from other schools.."

"oh we go way back" dejun responds, moving his hair out of his face. "middle school actually" he adds, and your eyes widen, as if your shocked, of course guanheng has friends from way back when, why are you surprised?

you don't feel as surprised as you do lucky..

"was he still as inhumanely flexible as he is now?"

dejun laughs again, he does that a lot. "yes, yes he was".

"he talks about you a lot.. you know" dejun comments out of the blue, tucking his hair behind his ear. "he basically lives with us, and if he's not sleeping over we always assume he's with you".

"oh so that's why he always just.. appears and disappears.."

"yeah that's kind of his thing" dejun scrunches his face, looking bored by the lack of action happening on the field. "i can never find him unless he directly comes to me first" he doesn't look at you as he says those words, but you're very much staring at him the whole time.

you almost feel like a creep in a way, you want to punch yourself in the face again for continuing to stare at him. you blink a couple times before turning your face away, trying to correctly articulate your thoughts.

"both teams suck".

you only say those words because you want him to continue talking, you want to hear him talk, it's nothing that crazy, having a conversation with him is just so intriguing to you for some reason..

"well yeah— but you guys get more training so you have an advantage" he comments, narrowing his eyes at the field, arms crossed over his chest. "the guys on our team have no idea what their doing".

"do you like football?" you ask, not sure why your so interested in his answer, you just are, you have no explanation for your sudden intrigue of this charming oreo–haired boy that goes to your rival school.

your much too distracted by how gorgeous he is to worry about giving yourself an explanation.

dejun laughs again, shaking his head. "not really, my dad does, so i just know things because of all his screaming and shouting" he replies, arms still crossed over his chest. "i'm not really a sports person, i do musical theater for pete's sake".

"oh so you sing?" you don't mean to ask another question, you're worried that you might be bothering dejun with your constant inquiries, but he actually seems glad, excited that someone is asking him about his major.

"well yeah" he responds, his smile growing. "all things theater, i write the songs, i act the parts, i play instruments, sometimes i even take offstage roles instead of my usual onstage ones".

he fiddles with his fingers, picking his nails. you assume, from his mannerisms, that he doesn't know what to say because most people don't really ask him about his major, or what he does, it's like he's elated that you even asked him.

"what about you?" dejun instead asks, veering away from the topic of his major and instead making yours the main topic of discussion. "what do you do?"

"health science" you say the words as if it pains you to, like it's the single most uninteresting thing you've said this whole interaction. "i know, it's boring".

dejun laughs again; "no no! i didn't say that!" he waves his hands in a disagreeing manner as he chuckles at your words. "i just don't meet a lot of people interested in pursuing science.."

"it's more of the health aspect than science actually" you mutter, and dejun just looks even more interested in what you have to say now. "but science is a big part of it so.."

"you must be very smart then" dejun remarks, smiling as the two of you make eye contact.

"i'm alright" you just say, finally pulling down your formerly rolled up sweater sleeves now that the air outside has begun cooling down. you only lightly shiver, and you glance back at dejun one more time..

"where do you think guanheng is?" he asks, clearing his throat as he scours the still full and lively bleachers, searching for your friend. "off doing whatever he does.."

you're currently very distracted, and you don't even realize what's going on when you snap out of whatever daze you were having and everyone is suddenly standing up and cheering like there's no tomorrow.

dejun looks over at you, and he can clearly see how confused you are because he laughs for one last time. "you guys won!" he somehow manages his voice over the roar of the crowd. "congrats!"

he's yelling, but he's not exactly loud, he still manages to sound so gentle whilst yelling at you.

"thanks!" you blurt out as a reply, and you feel like a complete idiot for that, but dejun smiles, so you don't feel all that embarrassed.

the game is over, and people are going to start to leave soon. dejun looks back, spotting a group he recognizes, then he looks over at you, a smile on his face. "i've gotta go now" he says, almost disappointed in a sense. "it was nice meeting you y/n!"

you nod, not knowing what to say. "yeah! you too!"

you too? you too?? is that what you say y/n!?

dejun gives one more beautiful smile before heading off, and you blink, having absolutely no idea what just transpired in those few minutes.

holy shit i forgot to ask—

but you couldn't— because he was gone, gone in such a flash you couldn't even spot his oreo hair in the crowd.

YOU FORGOT TO ASK FOR HIS NUMBER. YOU FEEL SO STUPID, your not even sure why you wanted to ask him that, but in the back of your mind that was the question you were preparing yourself to ask from the moment he told you his name, that he was friends with guanheng, the moment the two of you began laughing about your majors and stuff like that. the whole interaction with a pretty oreo–haired musical theater major at a football game is all that you were thinking about last night, as you tried to find pretty much anything else to think about as you struggled to sleep.

how did you forget to ask him for his number? you want to smash your face into your computer screen because of how stupid you are. you said "you too!" like a fucking idiot, but maybe you were just too distracted, he was smiling at you with that beautiful smile and staring at you with his absolutely gorgeous fucking eyes, how could you even think coherently whilst a beautiful man (from a whole other school but who cares?) was staring at you with his pretty brown eyes like you were the only person in the world?

okay your pushing it now..

but there is just something, something about him that drew you in, your not sure why you were so adamant on getting to know him, but he was just so— you can't explain it right now! you are currently very sleep deprived and also moody because of your disappearing roommate that always decides to appear at the worst times.

you don't remember the last time you ever got an actual eight hours of sleep, these days that seems like a dream more than a reality, but guangheng is just never tired. he's somehow always up, doing something, hanging out with people, he never sits down in once place and just stays still.

when he walks into the room, hands on his hips and gaze immediately focused on you, you barely bat an eye at him, just spare him a quick glance, noticing how pissed off he looks. you scour your mind for an explanation as to why he must be mad now, probably something someone said, or he got into yet another argument with one of his classmates, your not even sure anymore, you don't know where he is half the time.

"could you do me a favor?"

you almost laugh out loud, not at him, but at the idea that he wanted you to do him a favor. at this point, he probably owes you thousands of favors considering how many you do for him, but he seems upset, and you don't have any of that pettiness leftover to ignore him, so you move your eyes to look over at him.

"why should i?"

okay— you lied, your still just a little petty, but you totally have every right to be! guanheng deserves just some sass from you after disappearing each and every time he decides to take you out somewhere.

guanheng blinks, then he pulls out the signature guanheng frown, a sad stupid frown he always makes when he wants to persuade you into doing something. you're not sure how you've even ever fallen for that signature frown, maybe it's because he's just so great at looking sad, at looking upset, he somehow always manages to make you feel bad for him, and therefore, end up doing the favor for him.

"because i'm your best friend, your roommate, and you love me so much" guanheng smiles wide, like he just found out he won the lottery, and clasps his hands together as he rocks back and forth on his heels.

"i don't know.." you mumble, looking back at your computer screen. it's a saturday, you have no classes saturday, you can just sit down, relax, be the absolute lazy motherfucker you were put on this earth to be. "i don't feel like going out today".

guanheng huffs, crossing his arms. "one last favor! just one! then i'll get off your back!"

"your horrible at following your promises, heng" you comment absentmindedly, your tone is much meaner than you intended, and guanheng's gasp is enough to tell you that he indeed takes offense to those words. "what? i'm not lying".

"y/n!" oh great, he's whining now. "i will get you anything i can, anything! just this one favor! please?"

your about to say no again— but then it's like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you get a spectacular idea. anything? he did say anything, and he can give you something you want.

the number of a pretty boy preferably!

you let out a sigh, and guanheng knows what that sigh means, it means you agree. "fine, i'll do you this favor, but this is the last one".

guanheng's smile brightens, and he cheers like a kid that just got the best christmas present one can receive. "thank you! thank you! thank you! i love you!" he kisses your cheek, and skips off to another room.

"get your jacket!" he shouts, already rooms away from you, so he has to shout.

"what?"

"get your jacket! were leaving!"

you furrow your eyebrows at his words, but you don't say anymore, because you did agree to do this favor for him after all.

so, without questioning it more, you get up and go grab your jacket.

"SO WHEN YOU SAID A FAVOR..?" you don't continue on with your sentence, pausing to let out a breath as you shove your hands into the pockets of your jackets. guanheng looks over at you, and he just chuckles at the unreadable expression on your face. when you agreed to do this favor for him, you didn't know it included leaving your dorm and having to be dragged out to yet another unfamiliar place. "did you forget to mention the fact that we'd have to leave the school?" you finally finish, eyes focused and narrowed on your friend, who again, smiles at you with that signature guanheng smile.

"it's a saturday, most of us don't have classes anyway, they won't question it".

"is that supposed to make me feel better?" you ask to yourself more than to guanheng, but he hears you anyway, and that results in a snicker from him. despite that, he doesn't respond to your silent question, making you frown just the slightest.

"stop pouting".

"i'm not pouting" your quick to rebut, rolling your eyes at his words. you almost bump into him when he suddenly stops, and your about to yell at him again for being stupid when he places a finger on your mouth.

he knocks on the door in front of him, not paying attention to the burning glare your currently sending him.

"i'll bite off your finger" you threaten, moving forward and pretending your about to do that. guanheng squeaks and quickly moves his fingers away from your lips, a flash of true fear in his eyes. all you do is give him a menacing and totally not threatening smile.

"psycho.." he whispers, he looks like he's about to say more, but the door opens, so he closes his mouth and turns around.

"come on!"

he grabs your wrist and drags you into the dorm, and you felt your heart rate increase. maybe he knew these people, but you sure didn't! what if they thought you were weird? you want to pull him back and tell him that he shouldn't just drag you into some strangers dorm, but he is much too distracted to even notice your uneasiness.

"i've returned!" guanheng yells, letting go of your hand to place his hands on his hips, as if he was proud of himself.

"can you slam the door on him!?"

"ten! come to me!"

before you can ask him what the hell is going on, he sprints down the hallway, you assume to go after this ten person, you just blink, shoving your hands into your pockets as you begin to rock back and forth on your heels.

"hello stranger!" an unfamiliar voice exclaims, you look up and come face to face with a pink–haired boy with a bright smile.

"hello" you reply politely. "i like your hair" you immediately remark, pointing at his hair like an idiot because you don't want to touch it and make him uncomfortable.

his face lights up, as if you were a millionaire that just gifted him a life changing amount of money. it was as if no one ever told him that his hair was pretty before, or that they liked it. he jumps up and squeals, excited. "thank you! ten said it was stupid!"

you furrow your eyebrows, then chuckle. "what? no it's very pretty, pink suits you!"

"hah! i told you guanheng! pink does suit me!" he yells down the hall, and you can hear the small shout of rebuttal that guanheng responds with from all the way down the hall. "thanks! only a few people actually noticed that i dyed my hair".

you laugh again, okay he is very funny, you like him!

"oh! i'm yangyang! the nicest person who lives here!" he introduces himself in the same fashion a reality tv star would, and quickly grabs your hand to shake it. you don't complain, just laugh again as he vigorously shakes your hand.

"y/n, it's nice to meet you".

he gasps, recognizing your name. "oh you're the famous y/n! guanheng always talks about you, for a long time i was convinced he was in love with you!"

"why are you tarnishing my brand!?" guanheng shouts again, sounding even more pissed off than he did before. "huh!? liu yangyang!?"

yangyang shakes his head, ignoring guanheng's loud shouts and flapping his hand, mocking him. you laugh as you watch him mock the other, who has absolutely no idea what he's doing right now.

"you have a project to do!" another unfamiliar voice shouts.

yangyang gasps again, suddenly looking stressed. "fuck yeah— um!" he turns around and reaches over to grab his laptop, then he turns back to you and gives you a smile.

"yeah, my apologies" you just wave it off, urging him to keep going. "um i'm doing a project where i have to interview people on their majors.. trust me i don't know either, but! i've interviewed like the whole school already, and i need one more person.."

"and that person is me?" you ask, but you already know the answer to that question, yangyang nods, much more quickly than he seemed to intend to.

"yes!" he exclaims, but then he clears his throat. "but only if you want to, i don't want to force you into anything you don't want to do—"

"no no no it's fine!" you cut into his sentence, shaking your head. yangyang, again, looks elated that you agreed.

okay so this was the favor guanheng wanted you to for him! (not for him necessarily— but his friend). he could've just told you about this straight up instead of being vague about it, it wasn't even that burdening of a favor, not like the other ones you've done for him.

"guanheng! why don't you bring him around more often? he's better than you are!" yangyang yells again, probably for the nth time that hour.

guanheng doesn't answer, but you knows he's pouting, you can just sense it at this point, you call it your "roommate instincts".

"oh hi y/n".

now that's a voice you recognize, and you almost don't believe your eyes when the one person that kept you up all night walks into the room and smiles as he sees your figure. "dejun, hi" you smile back at him, hoping you don't sound as awkward as you feel.

dejun looks so so pretty, as he always does. he fiddles with the necklace hanging around his neck, his eyes lingering on you for an unspecified amount of time.

"ten hit me with his shoe" guanheng suddenly storms into the room, arms crossed over his chest. "asshole.." he mutters under his breath, huffing like some sort of baby.

dejun then laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and that causes you to laugh, turning your head to the side as to not make it obvious.

guanheng exchanges glances between the both of you, a prominent glare in his eyes, but then the look in his eyes changes, and he points at the two of you. "you two have met?" he asks.

dejun pauses, still humored by the previous words said by guanheng, and your brain almost malfunctions once again. "i— um" great, you just sound so natural and not awkward.

"we met at the game" dejun immediately says, saving you the awkwardness of having to collect your words in your brain. you thank whatever god or deity up there for dejun's quick response, and he just flashes you that familiar pretty smile. "yesterday, you know, while you were off doing who knows what.."

guanheng gasps, looking at dejun like he'd just cursed his entire bloodline. "you— your just such a bitch! you know!?"

"ow! don't punch me! i'm fragile!"

guanheng lands one more punch on his shoulder, and it gets one more squeak out of dejun, who jumps once again. "i don't care, your horrible".

yangyang blinks, probably already used to their little quarrels. he then turns to you, just shaking his head as they continue to whisper–argue. "so, what do you major in?"

it's almost like you totally forgot, his project, the thing that guanheng dragged you here to help him with. "health sciences, i take courses in everything related to healthcare and like— half actual science courses?"

"so your looking to work in healthcare?"

"yeah basically, i've already taken courses in emergency service's, becoming a paramedic is my top option!"

yangyang gasps at your words, he looks over at guanheng, then quickly back at you. "are you single?" he asks, again with the same quickness.

dejun snorts, hitting guanheng as begins laughing hard. guanheng scrunches his nose, staring at yangyang like he's crazy. "what kind of question is that!?"

"what? that is a totally valid question to ask!" he exclaims, crossing his arms. "it's for my project! clearly!" he lies.

"your— oh my god, unbelievable".

"so are you?" yangyang asks again, looking at you with suspenseful eyes. he is very much interested in your answer it seems.

your finally finished with your laughing fit, and nod, still very amused. "yes i am, i'm single".

"good, this is very important information".

yangyang gives you a giddy look, and dejun just continues to laugh.

you're not sure why your so focused on him though..

YOU AGAIN, HAVE NO LUCK SLEEPING that night, and after the first hour and a half of tossing and turning, you gave up on trying to chase slumber you knew you wouldn't be able to catch. you assumed that the longer you stared at your computer screen, the quicker you'd get tired and the quicker your eyes would become heavier, but no! it's now almost two in the morning and you still aren't sleepy in the tiniest bit, you didn't know insomnia got this bad, if you knew this prior to coming back to school this year, you would've bought more of those sleeping pills. you lean your chin onto your hand as your computer continues playing audio from a random episode of brooklyn nine–nine.

the millions of thoughts rampant in your mind were probably distracting you, rendering it impossible to sleep, and also rendering it impossible to focus, seeing as your just looking around your room, which is pretty much boring you considering all you've been doing for the past thirty minutes is looking around your own room.

you think your gonna bore yourself to death, you pretty much prepare to stay up for the next five hours until your alarm rings and startles you out of your daze (which has happened way too many times for your comfort), but then your phone rings.

it's almost two in the morning, who exactly is calling you at this time? who knows that you're awake at 1:56 in the morning and decided to call you? they probably knew you'd pick up..

and you know who it is— it's so obvious.

dejun.

you don't mean to pick up your ringing phone as fast as you do, you want to punch yourself in the face for how desperate you seem, and you almost don't answer the phone because you feel so embarrassed. "hello?"

"hi!" dejun sounds way too joyous for someone who is sleep deprived, and up at 1:57 am. "sorry? was that too loud?"

"no no your fine" you reply, even though the speaker is on, guanheng can quite literally sleep through anything, there was one time the fire alarm was going off for a good ten minutes and he didn't even budge. "guanheng is a pretty heavy sleeper".

"he's lucky, i can't sleep" the sound of shuffling on the other line resonates in your ears, and dejun huffs, sounding frustrated. "you were the only person i assumed would be awake".

you snicker. "why is that?" you inquire, he was right, of course, but you just wanted to hear his reasoning, and also wanted him to keep talking.

you really like dejun's voice for some reason, it just scratches the right part of your brain. in these past two days you realized that you like a lot of things about dejun, many more things than you thought you might.

"your major has the word 'science' in it so i just assumed the amount of sleep you get is slim to none".

now that gets another laugh out of you, you laugh much more than you intend to, but also— it's dejun, and you can't resist the loud laugh that escapes your lips.

oh your such a desperate little bitch—

"well you'd be correct" you respond, humming as you pick at your nails. "at this point sleeping is beginning to make me tired".

there's a long pause, and your worried you made everything more awkward, because you don't hear anything from the other line. for a moment, you're almost convinced dejun hung up on you, but before you can speak he beats you to it.

"i can keep you company until you get tired" he immediately suggests, and you almost choke on your spit when he says that. "i don't mind".

you go silent, feeling as if all logical thoughts in your mind have suddenly disappeared into the air. you might sound like a complete loser right now but that was just so sweet of him to suggest, you smile much too wide for your own comfort, but you don't even think about that, because your just so charmed by the words.

"you are.." you pause, clasping your hands together as you think about what words to say next. "yeah yeah, that's fine" you finally continue, your new words having no connection to the previous ones you previously said, you just hope dejun doesn't notice.

"good! it would've been awkward if you said no" dejun giggles, and you just can't get over how cute he sounds. "plus, i wouldn't want you to be tired in the morning, lord knows how much you do in a day.."

you feel an unfamiliar fluttering feeling in your stomach, because he is so considerate? he wants to help you, he's just being so nice to you at.. two! two in the morning! you bite down on your bottom lip, hoping it doesn't bleed from how hard your tooth drives into it.

"aww, you care about me that much?" you ask, just wanting to hear him talk again. you feel like a teenage girl giggling and kicking her feet over a high school crush, except you can't kick your feet and giggle because then dejun would know.

"okay, be quiet, don't make me hang up".

"okay okay don't do that!" you say, totally meaning to sound as desperate as possible this time. "if your not here i won't ever fall asleep".

you hear something similar to a squeal on the other line, as if dejun had heard your words and just freaked out.

the realization honestly boosted your ego.

"you— you suck!"

"you offered to help me jun, don't get like this now!"

you're not sure how long it goes on for, but you swear you two laugh all night while on the phone.

"SO WHOSE THE GUY?" the question is asked so abruptly that at first, you assume you heard your friend wrong. when you look up, he stares at you with that deadpanned gaze, and that's when you realize he's completely serious. you chuckle at the realization that your friend is sure that your in love with someone (well you are— your just surprised that he figured out so quickly). "what guy? there's a guy?" you tilt your head, acting as if you have no idea what he could possibly be talking about. you giggle as you watch him slowly get even more irritated by your answer.

"you always come in here looking a little less miserable each day" chenle observes, leaning forward as he narrows his eyes at you. "someone is making you excited to live life?"

"do i always come in here looking miserable?" you ask, completely diverting your attention from chenle's previously asked question, which makes him pout.

"yep!" renjun exclaims, sitting beside you, he crosses his legs in his chair and presses his lips into a thin line. "so! who is he?"

the two seem way too excited to know about your never talked about before crush on dejun. now— you didn't know it was so obvious that you were now smitten for this new guy, you're usually the friend that's known from straying the furthest away from love, you don't remember any people you've legitimately liked that weren't elementary school crushes..

so yeah, your friends totally had every right to be surprised, because your absolutely smitten for a man and they just want to know who this man that is making you so happy is!

you hate that you give in so easily. "he's one of guanheng's friends.." you mutter, picking at your nails, looking down to make sure you don't witness renjun and chenle's reactions with your own two eyes.

renjun gasps, sounding like those ladies at the hair salons that just heard the juiciest gossip. "ooh! who? does he go here? do we know him? is he pretty?"

chenle looks over at renjun like he's crazy, that familiar judging stare in his eyes as he watches renjun lean closer to you with a totally not creepy smile on his face. "don't you think your acting a little too interested in this?"

"i just want to know!" renjun shouts, playfully glaring at the younger. he then turns back to you, and you assume his cheeks must be hurting from how hard he seems to be smiling. "tell me please?"

"he's— he's just your run of the mill pretty guy who is nice, and smart, and absolutely adorable who tells horrible jokes that still end up being funny in some way and he has a pretty laugh and i just love his voice, and talking to him, and, i can't even explain it because it'll sound stupid!"

"you sound like a psycho" chenle immediately says, laughing at you like you just confessed to an atrocious crime against humanity. you sink into your chair, slumping towards the side.

"aww! the pessimistic y/n is in love!" renjun squeals, again, like those women at the hair salon who just heard the juiciest gossip. he grabs your arm and shakes you vigorously, causing you to get dizzy in the slightest bit. "i can't believe i've lived to see this day!" he shouts, continuing to shake you as you can't properly get out your cries for help.

"renjun you're gonna kill him" chenle pinches the older in the arm, making him yelp and jump, he giggles as he witnesses the glare the older male sends him, his crushing grip remains around your arm, but you don't even mention at this point, because at least he's not shaking you anymore.

"sorry" he remarks, definitely not sorry as he squeezes your arm once again, beginning to get overly excited. "it's just.. exciting you know?"

"it's exciting that i'm in love with someone?" you raise an eyebrow, and though you expect renjun to respond, chenle quickly does.

"yep! you'll finally be gone!"

his cheer results in a gasp of offense from you, and all chenle does is giggle in victory.

THE ONE THING YOU'VE LEARNED FROM THE now excessive amounts of times you've hung around guanheng's other friends is that they're loud, they are all really loud (even sicheng! who, for a good majority of the time, is always quietly staring at his friends with clear concern in his eyes), even if they don't mean to, they're somehow always either yelling, shouting, or making some sort of scene. they're all just naturally hilarious, like comedians that don't realize they're comedians because they're just being themselves. in the past few weeks, it's like you spend more time with these people that don't go to your school in comparison to people that actually go to your school and that you can see easily.

but if you're being honest, you don't really mind that your spending all your free time with them, because they are indeed very fun to be around (and you get to see dejun much more regularly, which is something you rather enjoy), and because life would be insanely boring if guanheng didn't decide to drag you out of the dorm every other day to go do stupid things with his friends that go to a whole other school.

"you are such a cheater! i won fair and square!"

"you did not! your the cheater! sicheng is my witness!"

sicheng, who was not listening to anything either ten or yangyang had to say, looked over at the younger with a look of concern washed over his features. he blinks as he's suddenly put on the spot, smiling nervously as the youngest stares intensely at him, waiting for his answer. "uh.. i— i don't know".

his delivery makes you burst out laughing, and you cover your mouth with your hand as to not make yourself look like an absolute fool. you don't even realize that you picked up on one of dejun's habits, you might be spending too much time around him..

actually, forget that! there is no such thing as spending too much time around dejun, and that might make you sound like a "simp" but you don't care.

you've fallen, and you've fallen hard.

"okay.." guanheng presses his lips into a thin line, ignoring the way ten and yangyang now begin discussing the logistics of cheating in card games, unfortunately dragging poor sicheng into their argument. he turns to dejun and scoots closer to him. "can you do me a favor?"

dejun groans, playfully rolling his eyes. you assume he's done as much favors for guanheng as you have, and you barely stifle the snicker that dares to escape your lips.

dejun hears the sound, and smacks your arm hard, making you jump. he only gives you a teasing smile before turning to guanheng, having to give him a response.

"at what lengths do i have to go for this favor?"

guanheng scoffs, crossing his arms. "it's nothing insane or anything, i just want you to get me something.."

"and you can't get it yourself because..?"

"i have no money on me" and there goes that signature guanheng frown, dejun opens his mouth to argue but then he shuts it so quickly it seems like he just got out in some sort of trance.

"fine fine" dejun rolls his eyes once again, surrendering much too quickly. "you owe me though—"

"take y/n with you".

there's a pause, both you and dejun go very silent for a moment. whilst dejun is just confused, you absolutely know what guanheng is doing, and you have to use every bit of patience in your body to restrain yourself instead of jumping over the table and tackling him right then and there.

dejun is clearly clueless, though, because he just raises an eyebrow. "why?" he inquires, somehow sounding so sweet even though his question is asked with so much confusion.

"y/n knows what i want".

what a smooth lie, dejun glances over at you, and you just shrug, having no idea what more to say. "he needs to take a walk anyway" guanheng lies again, wow, two in a row! he's on a roll.

"okay..?"

so that's how you find yourself on a walk with the person that you are very much in love with, a somehow comfortable silence spread between the two of you as dejun hums an unfamiliar tune to himself, hands in his pockets, eyes closed as he slowly sways back and forth.

he looks very peaceful, just doing what he does, being effortlessly pretty as he does so, and you observe his behavior, almost entranced by it in a sense.

you only stop when he speaks up—

"do you think they're still arguing?" he suddenly asks, and you snap out of whatever daze you were having, praying that he totally didn't notice you admiring him like a creep. "or are they just.. conversing calmly now?"

you don't want to seem like even much more of a weirdo, but you feel like he asked that question just as an excuse to talk to you, and maybe your thinking too much into it, but you've definitely done that before, so you know what it looks like.

"i hope they aren't still arguing" you answer, and dejun looks up at you, smiling. "that'd be a long ass time to argue".

"well they like arguing just to argue" dejun replies, fiddling with his necklace. "but they're harmless.. for the most part".

his delivery makes you laugh, and you look down at your shoes. "you're a very calm person, you know, the opposite of guanheng".

the sudden statement from dejun makes you look up at him once again, and this time, he's staring directly at you, as if he had been waiting to make eye contact with you the whole time. "calm?"

"well compared to my roommates you are" he giggles, and maybe he doesn't mean to, but he stares at so intensely that your legs feel shaky.

"who knows? maybe i'm a fraud" you tease, purposefully leaning closer to him so your words have an effect. dejun's eyes widen, and he lightly leans away from you, looking speechless. "you'd never know, though".

you don't know how you suddenly got so bold, or why you were so amused at the sight of dejun freaking out, you feel like some sort of genius for what you just did, and you snicker at yourself before leaning back.

dejun takes in a deep breath, looking like he's trying to fix himself. he clears his throat and stumbles through his next words. "i— uh.. you're such an idiot!" he decides to say, crossing his arms over his chest.

your not sure how the two of you became so casual in this amount of time, a few weeks ago, dejun wasn't such a regular figure in your life, and you were just any other college student doing their best to get by, not thinking about falling in love with a gorgeous oreo–haired man—

but you're also not complaining.

you aren't sure how you got so lucky, how it just happened that you could continue to spend time with the cute boy you met at a stupid football game simply because the two of you shared mutual friends, it's one of times guanheng's actually done you a favor, without even realizing it too!

"okay i'm sorry" you giggle, shoving your hands into your pockets, you once again begin taking from dejun's habits and sway back and forth. "seriously!"

"you're unbelievable" dejun exaggerates, rolling his eyes, but it wasn't serious, and you knew it wasn't serious. "but i meant what i said, your calm".

you raise an eyebrow at him, wanting to know more about the observations he has about you. "could you elaborate on that?" you don't mean to laugh, but you do, and it causes dejun to laugh too.

"you just.. seem content with what you have" he explains, but he doesn't explain it enough, so he continues. "like someone could get you a piece of paper as a birthday gift and you'd be pleased".

you laugh, hard, because he somehow managed to get you spot on. you almost feel like he is reading your mind, because he nailed you down with each word. "really? i guess i am like that".

"ah, so my prediction was right then!"

you laugh at how glad he is. "yeah, i am truly not that hard to please, gifts are gifts and if someone gets one for me, there's no use in being mad if the gift isn't something i like, at least they remembered to get me something!"

dejun stares at you for a specifically long time, looking you up and down. he stares at you with warm eyes, a gaze that seems so near and dear to his heart, a gaze so loving that it looked like he was about to get down on one knee and propose to you.

"i like any and all gifts" you continue.

"are there any specific kinds of gifts you like?"

dejun asks that question in a tone that makes it seem like he's totally not trying to sound suspicious, but he is totally asking you that question for a very specific reason.

guanheng must've told him something..

at least, that's what you assume, but dejun is patiently waiting for your answer, and you can't daydream the whole time about the true meaning of his words.

"i like books, plushies, music tapes, vinyl's, you know.. regular gifts that people like receiving".

dejun hums, as if he's noting down the information you're telling him in his mind, still, you don't say anything about his mannerisms, just keep it to yourself.

"are you noting down my reply?"

"i'm just keeping it in mind!" he says, smiling brightly at you. "just in case your special occasion comes up and i don't know what to get you".

oh! so guanheng definitely did tell him something..

"i mean— were friends! any gift from you will be a good gift".

at the word friends, dejun seems to pause, cogs in his brains turning as he tries to process your words. you don't understand why he would be trying to understand your words, because the two of you were clearly friends, did he think you two were something else?

you see the flash of disappointment on his face, but it quickly reverts back to a smile and he simply acts like nothing happened. "sorry, the word 'friends' just caught me off guard".

a lie..

how interesting.

"seriously though, i just want to get you a gift you'll appreciate forever".

but you're already enough for me— do you know how much you've changed my life?

your own thoughts manage to surprise you, because the words that you just told yourself in your own mind startle you enough that you make a judging face at yourself. luckily, dejun is turned away from you, so he doesn't notice.

"well that's thoughtful of you".

"i try my best.." he responds, finally looking back at you with that same loving stare, one that wants to lure you in and make you trip on your own feet.

for some reason, the two of you stop. there's an uncharacteristically long pause, like the world just decided to cease for a moment, and you both are completely stuck in place, just there, staring at each other.

dejun's eyes move, as if scanning your face like a camera, and they (of course) stop at your lips. he stares at them for what seems like forever, and it almost looks like he's restraining himself, but by the way he bites his bottom lip, it's clear—

he wants to kiss you.

and maybe there's a small voice at the back of his head that tells him to cut it out, because he almost immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was having, and clears his throat, his cheeks going a bright red.

"uh— sorry, yeah, um, we should get going" he says, shaking his head as he pulls his sleeves down.

"guanheng will yell at us if we're late".

okay, so he just decides to not talk about it? you want to ask him why he didn't just do it, because he clearly wanted to, but before you can even open your mouth, or get any words out, he grabs your hand and the two of you continue walking back to the group.

he doesn't say anything more, doesn't try to make anymore small talk, and while you do want to bring up what just happened there, you don't.

you just bask in the feeling of dejun's hands intertwined with your own.

it's a good feeling, you decide.

THAT MOMENT IS STUCK ON YOUR MIND for what seems like years. you can't get over it! how he was looking at you, how he clearly wanted to kiss you, but for some reason, decided to stop himself from doing so. you're not sure why you didn't just tell him that it was okay, that you would be completely fine with him kissing you, but you guess that you're just a complete idiot as well, because you just stayed silent throughout the whole thing, the two of you equally deciding in silence to not bring it up, just sitting next to each other in awkwardly for the rest of the night.

and yeah, it's become normal for dejun to constantly run through your mind these days, it's like he has his own subsection in your mind, dedicated to thoughts about him and him only, but it's like he's just become rampant in there ever since that.. thing he did (or should you say, didn't do, considering he decided to not kiss you when the opportunity was right there), maybe you should've pulled him in, maybe you should've (for once) been impulsive and done the first thing put to your mind.

and this crawls through your mind for days, then those days become a good week and a half. now— you and dejun aren't not talking or anything, it was just sort of difficult to look at him without thinking about that.

you're so into your thoughts these days, that you are much more spacey during your classes, at home, and somehow, guanheng picks up on your weird turn, which is crazy, because guanheng was the last person you expected to notice something like that, he usually never notices most things in front of him anyway.

"okay, what the fuck happened?" he decides to randomly drop it on you when he seems to have had enough, which is funny, because he's technically the person that started the whole thing.

you look up from your phone, blinking at him like he just said something out of this world. "hm?" he scoffs at your lack of a response, shoving your shoulder, which results in a glare from you.

"what happened?" he asks again, this time without the extra swear word, he makes himself comfortable on the other side of the couch. "you are acting weird" he points at you accusingly, like you'd just been accused of a crime and he was trying to figure out if you were truly suspicious.

"i don't know what your talking about.."

"stop stalling!" he complains, grabbing your arm and beginning to shake you back and forth. "tell me! you can't keep acting weird and just not tell me what's wrong".

now you want to tell him, but in your mind it sounds so stupid that you feel like guanheng would laugh at you the moment you uttered the first few words of your sentence. "you're going to laugh".

guanheng gasps, offended by your response, though it is true, he just wants to be dramatic. "i won't! i'm concerned! i'm being a good roommate and asking you what's wrong!"

so, you roll your eyes, taking a deep breath. "okay so hypothetically.." you begin, because you have no other idea how to start your sentence.

hypothetically just means = it was indeed not hypothetical!

"hypothetically, uh huh.." guanheng hums, understanding the true meaning your words have. "okay sorry, continue".

"let's just say that, hypothetically, i am totally in love with one of your best friends, and that friend totally wanted to kiss me but then chickened out last minute and like an idiot i didn't say anything and i have no idea how to go about it".

guanheng's eyes widen at your words, and his jaw almost drops. "hypothetically though" you add to the end of your sentence after a long pause.

"right right! hypothetically.." he nods, though he can't contain his look of excitement at the words. "and you didn't kiss him back!?"

you're almost knocked off the chair from how intense his yell is. you groan and cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and ashamed. "i didn't know how to bring it up and not be awkward!"

"just say 'hey dejun you could totally kiss me and it'd be fine because we are both mortifyingly in love with each other'!" guanheng shouts, louder than his previous words. he's always so straight up, and you almost wish you didn't tell him anything. "it's that easy!"

"it is not!" you shout in rebuttal, crossing your arms and frowning. your acting like guanheng at this point, but that's not what you're noticing at this very moment. "it's easy for you! you date people and you kiss people all the time! i don't do that!"

"excuses excuses!"

you're at a loss for words at his lackluster words, you once again, frown and turn away from him. "i'm sorry! i have never been hardcore in love with someone like this before! i don't know how to talk about it!"

guanheng looks like he's about to yell again, but he takes a deep breath and relaxes himself, leaning back in the couch. "okay, i'm sorry for yelling.."

"y/n, you really just need to tell him how you feel straight up, because if you keep stalling than none of you will end up confessing in the end and you'll both just be going through a loop of 'should we or should we not?'"

you blink, staring at guanheng for a good few minutes, honestly surprised. this is probably the best advice he's ever given you, usually, you’re the one that has to give him advice because he always ends up doing something stupid and has someone that wants to murder him because of that stupid thing he did.

"that was actually.. good advice" you reply, laughing at guanheng's eye roll. he just shoves you, making sure he does extra hard this time to get his point across.

"shut up! i always give good advice!"

"you usually don't give any advice at all.." you mutter, running a hand through your hair as you look away from your roommate, who just glares at you like you just committed a federal offense.

"say something again and i'm gatekeeping dejun from you!"

"your what!?"

at the sound of your shout, guanheng giggles as he scurries away, proud of himself for the words that escape his lips.

YOU'RE NOT SURE HOW YOU SOMEHOW LET guanheng drag you off to a party on a friday night where all you wanted to do is relax. parties have never truly been your thing, but that's because being surrounded by a bunch of drunk and high adults just isn't your idea of fun, you're also just not a big drinker, so the only reason you usually even end up at parties is to take guanheng home when he gets too drunk and can't fully articulate his thoughts. so, the fact that guanheng was somehow able to convince you to get out of the house and go to a party when you truly should've been at home, watching horrible sitcoms.

but no, you're here! and you can't leave without guanheng because if you did, he'd probably find a way to end up killing himself, or he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and would end up getting punched in the face.

so you find yourself in a familiar spot, your back against a wall as you stare at your phone, somehow able to ignore the hundreds of screaming drunk people that surround you, it's become a skill of yours, and you're not sure how exactly it developed, you've just become such a natural when it comes to ignoring others.

guanheng, of course, has already walked off to do his own thing, but not before reminding you of the advice he'd given you a few days prior, yelling at you to 'just tell the boy you like him!'

maybe his advice is burned into your brain, because now all you wish is that you were with dejun, talking about something stupid, or just talking.

and there must've been somebody listening in on your thoughts, because he suddenly walks around the corner, head whipping around like he's searching for someone.

your not trying to look at him, but he catches your gaze immediately, and he skips towards you like a kid in a candy store.

"hi" he greets, a little giggle to his words. his face is a shade of bright red as he giggles once again, though nothing's funny. "pretty".

he whispers the last word, with the intention of you not hearing it, but his mind must be too clouded for him to realize that he said it much louder than he thought he did, but you don't say anything, just hum.

"hello" you greet back, and he laughs once again, covering his hand with his mouth. "are you okay?"

a loud snicker leaves his lips, and he moves closer to you to link his arm with yours. he rests his head onto your arm, a content smile spreading across his face. "i'm drunk".

his honest answer makes you question his state for a moment, since when do drunk people admit that they're drunk? or maybe he's only just tipsy.. your not sure, but he's not acting like a totally sober person right now.

"are you sure?" you raise an eyebrow, dejun just responds with a small 'hmph', and he keeps your arm linked with his. "dejun".

"yes! i am!" he yells as rebuttal, shaking your arm a few times. "do you wanna smell my breath?"

"oh no no no" you reply, covering his mouth with your hand. he laughs at you, his cheeks as pink as yangyang's hair, he grabs your hands, and whilst yours are cold, his are burning hot. "okay you have energy".

"i'm sorry" he suddenly blurts, another snort escaping his lips as he leans his head against your chest. you give him a look, confused as to why he felt the need to apologize.

"for what?"

"for doing that thing" dejun responds, closing his eyes as he sways back and forth. "i probably made everything awkward, i didn't mean to".

that's what he thinks? he thinks that he made everything awkward? you feel your heart break at the realization, but all dejun does is laugh sadly.

"you didn't— you didn't make everything awkward, it's okay".

dejun laughs again, clearing his throat. "just tell the truth, y/n.."

you chuckle, not at dejun, just at his words. he wants you to tell the truth? fine.. you will!

"dejun" you begin, using your pointer finger to tilt his chin up so the two of you make eye contact, you watch as his eyes widen, but he doesn't move, just lets you do your thing. "you can kiss me, it's okay".

he blinks, as if trying to figure out if you were lying or not. he opens his mouth, but no words come out, so he closes it again. "it is?" he asks again, just wanting reassurance, you hear his voice crack, but he's getting impatient, he wants your answer.

"yeah it's fine".

that's all the conformation dejun seems to need, because he finally presses his lips to yours after what seems like years of waiting. your arms naturally rest on his waist, and there's just something, something about this that makes you smile.

there's an urgency in the way he kisses you, and his hand comes up to hold your face. he is just so desperate, and it would be a lie to say that you weren't just as desperate as he is. you'd been wanting this for so long, you don't even know how many times you thought about what it would be like to kiss dejun.

his fingers caress your cheek, and the contact feels like your skin was set ablaze. maybe this is what you needed, and you assume it's exactly what dejun needed to, because he pushes on your shoulder with a seemingly inhumane amount of force, which makes you gasp a little.

while your one arm is around his waist, the other one goes up to run your fingers through his hair, somehow causing the two of you to both smile, barely stifling your laughs.

after what seems like forever, dejun pulls away, and while you're standing there, breathless, he just smiles, relaxing as you play with his hair. "you like my hair?"

you aren't sure why out of all things, that's what he decides to ask, but you laugh, completely enamored by the boy in front of you. "yep, it's soft" you reply, biting your inner cheek. "the color suits you".

dejun tilts his head, looking up at you with his insanely pretty eyes. you just want to squish his cheeks, or wrap him in a blanket and hold him forever, you aren't sure why you just have this surge of loving emotions for absolutely no reason, maybe it's the way he's staring at you, or that he just left you breathless and did it so flawlessly.

he hums, not knowing how to respond to your compliment. he just suddenly gets shy, his ears turning red at your words.

"you're so stupid.."

that's probably his favorite phrase to say to you by now, but you don't mind, you just smile as he hides his face away from you.

"dejun" you call out despite him being right in front of you, and he looks up at you again, gaze warm as he gives you a small smile.

"yes?"

"i love you" you immediately spout, not even surprised by how high your voice has gotten. "like— in the i'm in love with you kinda way and not in a i just want you to kiss you but not call you my boyfriend kinda way".

dejun pauses, snickering at your words, he looks at you like you're the only person in the world.

what other way could there possibly be?

but you don't get any response, at least, not from him, because all he does is lean forward and press his lips to yours.

YOU'VE NEVER REALLY BEEN A FAN OF YOUR BIRTHDAY, and you aren't sure why. it used to be a fun thing up until you turned twelve and it suddenly felt like a switch had flipped, as if your birthday was making you miserable. now it's not like you always feel depressed on your birthday, it's just that sometimes you don't want to have a huge birthday celebration. most of the time— you only request for huge birthday bashes on specific days, like when you turned ten (you were very excited about becoming a double–figured age), or when you turned eighteen (you became an adult, not that exciting but it was definitely something, you could finally legally drink), but it's truly only specific days that you don't mind having large, people–filled birthday parties.

and not only were you not exactly anticipating your birthday, you already had something even bigger on your mind the whole time.

like dejun ghosting you! that's definitely one!

okay so you tell the guy you love him, you make out with him at a party (in the opposite order but oh well), he doesn't give you a response and then he decides to just ignore you?

maybe he just didn't know what to say, and that also lead to him just not picking up his phone for a good two weeks as he completely ignored your calls and texts and voicemails!

and with this being the only thing on your mind, your birthday seemed to be the least important event at the moment.

you didn't really want to think about it, and the campus was starting to make you feel sick, so this year you planned on visiting your parents after the day was over, considering your special day fell on a friday—

but guanheng, guanheng had other plans.

he practically begged you to let him throw the party for you, he wanted to do it so bad that he vowed to never ask you for a favor ever again (which is a lie! he never keeps his promises!), he was acting so desperate, it was like you'd just saved his life or something.

you're not sure what made guanheng so eager to throw a party for you, especially because you just didn't know what you would do with a bunch of people in your dorm.

but he insisted, he would throw you the best party in the world.

and after what seemed like forever, you two finally agreed on something—

you go visit your parents friday evening, and guanheng throws your party on saturday, easy!

"what do you mean strawberry isn't a good flavor!?"

you scoff at his question, nodding your head, as if confirming your words. "i don't like strawberry flavored things, you get me a strawberry cake and i'm making you sleep outside".

your threat results in a gasp from your roommate, who looks genuinely hurt by your words as he places a hand on his chest, horrified. "you are such a horrible roommate! threatening me when i'm throwing a party for you".

"it'll be a horrible party if you get me a horribly flavored cake".

you totally mean what you say as well— you truly dislike strawberry cake.

and when guanheng said party, you didn't exactly anticipate how many people he would decide to let into your dorm.

now you know a good chunk of these people, but most of these people probably decided to come just because they knew guanheng, all they did was utter some happy birthday's and then they ran off to do their own thing.

guanheng got most things right, he just invited a bunch of people that really didn't care for your birthday, just wanted to be around him.

so it's no surprise that you felt just a little disappointed about the people at your party that just didn't give two shits about your actual birthday.

and guanheng was off doing something else, though you could actually see him this time, he was telling people where to put the gifts they brought for you.

your beginning to feel suffocated in your own dorm, which is ironic to you, because this is quite literally the place you go to get away from a bunch of people, it's the only place of yours that isn't full of people.

so, you clear your throat, and push through people to get to the door, not wanting to stay inside with all these people, you'll probably end up throwing up everywhere if you stay inside even longer.

when you exit the dorm, you take a deep breath the moment you close the door, letting your back fall against it. you immediately jump as you see a person behind the door—

okay so dejun (who you confessed your love to by the way!), is pacing back and forth in front of your door, totally stressing. you blink, a look of confusion spreading across your face. "um.."

"are you okay?"

you aren't even sure why you opened your mouth, but if you didn't, this would just go on for a good twenty more minutes.

dejun jumps, clearing his throat as he smiles awkwardly. "you— scared the shit out of me".

he's acting so casually? after not talking to you for a good two weeks!?

"sorry—"

"i'm sorry!"

dejun immediately yells, covering his face with his hands. "i'm so sorry for not texting you! or calling you! or giving you a response! it was so stupid of me to not consider your feelings and instead of just telling you straight up how i felt i decided to ignore you but i was scared that i wouldn't be able to tell you without making it awkward and it—"

"dejun" you place your hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face you. "your rambling".

he sighs, eyes darting away from your face, he frowns. "but it's not okay, i didn't talk to you, i probably came off as such an asshole! you were probably so confused, and i just.. said nothing!"

you observe his features, and he looks even more anxious at your silence. his face goes red, and his leg begins bouncing up and down, whilst his hands look for something to hold.

"okay, calm down.." you mutter, reaching for his left hand and lacing it together with yours. "it's okay, there's no need to be worried".

"i'm sorry" he says again, finally looking up at you. "i get it if you don't forgive me—"

"dejun" you cut into his sentence, squeezing his left hand. "i forgive you.. i love you".

you repeat your confession once more, and dejun blinks, processing your words.

"i love you too".

and finally, after what seems like forever, after what was so long, he gave you a response.

before you could say anything more, dejun pulls you in for a hug, his arms circling around your waist. you're a bit taken aback by the sudden display of affection, but you also don't mind, because he squeezes you tighter.

"happy birthday" he mumbles, a small smile coming to his face as he feels your hand comb through his hair. "i'm sorry".

"stop apologizing" you say, lifting his chin up so you could look him in the eyes. "i forgive you, it's okay".

and it is, you're being completely honest, but dejun doesn't say more, immediately pulling you back into a warm hug

but suddenly, the door to your dorm swings open and guanheng peaks his head out, eyes widening as he witnesses the current thing. he has absolutely no context to anything which was happening at the moment, he just opened the door to witness a totally unaware dejun hugging you.

"uh.." he blinks, glancing between you two, but not asking anything, just clearing his throat. "it's time to cut the cake?" he laughs awkwardly, and you just smile, giving him a i'll be right there look.

"o...kay" he doesn't say anything more, just goes back inside and closes the door.

dejun giggles as guanheng closes the door, pulling away again to look up at you. "oh he is totally tired of us".

"we didn't do anything, though".

dejun snickers, lightly hitting your arm. "okay okay, you need to stop, it's your birthday, you have to go cut your cake".

"and.." he pauses, pulling a box out of nowhere and handing it over to you. "open your gifts".

you raise an eyebrow, confused. "where were you even hiding that?"

"that's irrelevant! it's your birthday, come on!"

and you let him drag you back into your dorm, smiling at him the whole time.

YOU ALMOST CONSIDER THE WAY YOU are acting to be absurd, and it's funny how much of another side dejun can just bring out of you. now you would never consider yourself to be a grumpy person, but people usually do describe you as having a 'natural frown'. you never really thought of yourself as being like that, but you guess that people don't see you look so happy much, because they continue to point out how it's like some glitch in the matrix to see you just a little less miserable as each day passes. chenle especially makes comments, talking about how you need to "put your smile away" because not seeing your resting face constantly freaks him out, renjun on the other hand, is elated, or maybe he's just glad he can finally be rid of you, you don't know.

but all that put aside, you are happy, and you have a cute oreo–haired man to thank for that.

and maybe this is all you really need, just dejun, the two of you don't even have to do anything, he can just lay his head down onto your shoulder and you'd be having a good time.

you like it when he sits down and paints your nails for you, or when he watches you bake over your shoulder, not knowing what to do but happy to watch you do your thing, or when he coerces you to win prizes from carnival games for him with his absolutely adorable eyes (he doesn't even need to try to coerce you, you'd do it either way).

"i'm pretty sure this is illegal".

"it's not!" you reply, though you mean to reassure dejun, your words seem to worry him more than anything. you take his hand, squeezing it. "dejun, i'm not getting you into any illegal activity".

"i can never tell with you" he retorts suspiciously, keeping your hand in his as you lead him up, he would have tripped if not for you holding your hand and guiding you up.

you clear your throat, patting the spot beside you as dejun immediately sits, so close to you that your legs are touching. "if i ever wanted to do something illegal, i'd know better than to bring you along".

he gasps, and you can't resist the urge to laugh at how offended he sounds. "what is that supposed to mean!?"

"you" your pointer finger touches his nose, and he doesn't even try to move. "are a snitch, you would be horrible to commit a crime with".

dejun slaps your hand away, and you laugh at the way he crosses his arms, a familiar pout gracing his absolutely beautiful features. "you— i.. take that back!"

"it's true! even yangyang would be a better option than you!"

dejun is even more offended by the words, and he slowly scoots away from you, arms still crossed as he pouts. you giggle as he remains scooted away from you, still angry about the words you said.

"uh— jun, i was just joking!"

"you suck".

dejun glares, but his glare is anything but serious, as you can see the way he slowly starts to break under your gaze, resisting the urge to burst into laughter. "i hate you".

"you love me".

he does, and he can't pretend he doesn't, because he almost immediately snickers, looking away from you as to not laugh more.

oh he is just so adorable.

you scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist, making him yelp. "you're so cute" you mutter into his shoulder, and at this point, dejun doesn't even try to pretend anymore.

"you're so corny" he says, patting your arms that currently circle around his waist. you lean your head down onto his shoulder, making yourself comfortable, and he just lets you, because at this point he can't really push you off him.

"don't fall asleep, i'm not going to carry you back to your place".

"you would be too weak to carry me anyway— ow!"

you yell loudly as dejun nudges you in the stomach with his elbow, and while he looks absolutely proud of himself, you just glare, absolutely done with him.

but you don't say anything, just lets your fingers run through his hair, probably your favorite thing to do with him. he just cups your face, and he just smiles at your face, giggling. "your just as cute as when we first met".

the statement makes you snicker, because you did not expect for him to say that out of all things he could've said. you get why he says it though, because you are at the place where it all began, the bleachers, the same bleachers where you two were standing when you shared your first interaction.

you tilt your head, wanting to tease him more. "so there were moments where i wasn't cute, then?"

dejun scoffs, turning away from you. he lightly pinches your arm, and you yelp once again, inching away from him. "why do you enjoy hurting me?"

he smiles innocently. "i don't, i have absolutely no idea what you're talking about!"

your face drops, and all dejun does is laugh, squeezing your cheeks. "don't be mad, babe, you know i love you".

and you do, you do know, he never fails to remind you of how much he does.

"i love you too.."

with your eye rolls, and tiny mutters, dejun knows, he knows that you're telling the truth.

#xiao dejun #xiaojun #nct #wayv #nct u #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #nct x reader #nct x male reader #wayv x reader #wayv x male reader #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x male reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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dreamcatcheratdawn · 5 months

Note

Can you write something about Shanks x reader? Like, the reader was teleported by Kuma, now she's on Shanks's ship and he offered himself to train her. (Can be fluffy with a little bit of angst. And slightly of age gap)

I loved the idea✨. Shanks is one of my favorite OP characters (after Luffy, Kid and Zoro, of course). And I wrote this while marathoning One Piece (I'm still in the Punk Hazard arc 😭) one eye was on the caption and the other eye was on the writing.

"Let me help you"

Pairing: Shanks x gn!reader

Warning: slight angst, fluff most of the time.

W/C: 18.1k

You, as a resident of the Sabaody Archipelago since birth, are good friends with Rayleigh and Shakky. Ever since you were 7 years old, you would sneak out of your house to visit Shakky's Rip-off Bar just so you could listen to Rayleigh tell several of his adventure stories from when he was still a pirate while Shakky prepared his favorite juice. It was like a hobby, and you loved it.

You just didn't expect that on another calm, sunny day, a seriously injured fish-man, a mermaid, a talking starfish and a group of very strange pirates would show up at Shakky's bar.

At the bar, as you sipped a beer, you watched the scene unfold in front of you, seeing what looked like a pet bandaging the fish-man.

"A raccoon?" You said, tilting your head to the side. The animal in question looked furious and turned its head towards you. "I AM NOT A RACCOON, I AM A REINDEER!" the reindeer exclaimed, blowing smoke out of its nostrils. He went back to what he was doing, muttering quietly.

Rayleigh, smiling, came to his side, taking a seat in front of the counter.

"What happened while you were out?" You asked Rayleigh, as Shakky offered him a glass of beer.

"Oh, I was almost sold into slavery," Rayleigh said, as calmly as if this happened to him often. "EHHHH?" You were shocked, not that enslaving humans shocked you, as much as you found it disgusting, but who in the world could capture Silvers Rayleigh to be sold! That didn't fit at all.

"How did they catch you? And how did you escape?" You kind of already knew the answer, just the use of the King's Haki was enough for Rayleigh to get away.

"I had the help of that little guy over there" He pointed his chin at the boy with a straw hat on his head who ate like a pig, if not worse. Rayleigh was now talking to Shakky, while you brought the glass of beer to your lips, feeling the bitter taste of the cheap drink. "Ah, did you know that he faced a Tenryuubito?"

Immediately, you choked on that information, beer coming out of your nose.

"Ahhhh, a lady!" A blond man came up to you with hearts in his eyes, offering you a handkerchief. "How could I not see you there? With this beauty that blinds a man, forgive me miss, you don't deserve such disgrace." You ignored the chatter of the blond man with the strange eyebrows and walked over to the boy in the straw hat.

"EI" You caught his eye and that of the rest of the people present. "Are you crazy? Do you want to attract the attention of the navy by taking on a Tenryuubito?" You snorted next to the boy. You, in your thirties, had never heard such an appalling event.

Swallowing the piece of meat he was eating, the straw hat said, "I'm not crazy! And I only did it because that idiot shot Hachi, so of course I'm going to fight back!" He exclaimed, looking at you with a kind of determination. That shocked you to some extent. You sighed heavily "Still, who are you to stand up to a protégé of the World Government?"

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be the King of the Pirates!" Luffy exclaimed once again, taking the large piece of meat into his mouth and swallowing.

"Ah, so you're that pirate with a 300 million berry bounty," you said, leaning against the counter. "But that won't solve anything, the navy will surely strike back."

"Actually, it's likely that they're already on their way here" Rayleigh said "Hey Shakky, I want some more beer" He said, indignant that his drink had run out.

You sighed once more, feeling the pangs of a headache when too many bad things were happening at once. After a while, the Straw Hat pirates left the bar, saying they were going to stay in the archipelago for another three days to throw off the Navy. The place was now silent, leaving only you, Shakky, Rayleigh, Hachi and his friends, whom you knew as Camie and Pappag. In your mind, the events of now were running wild.

A few hours later, Rayleigh stood up, heading for the door of the bar.

"Where are you going?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"I'm going to help Luffy" He left before you could say anything else. "Tch, what a stubborn old man" You exclaimed.

"Come on, he can take care of himself, you know that" Shakky said smiling as he cleaned the counter

Hours and hours passed and no news about Rayleigh or the Gang of Straw Hats.

You paced back and forth, anxiety running through your mind as you bit your nails. You stopped, looking at the door. Making up your mind, you headed for the exit, ignoring Shakky's protests for you to stay.

Running through the mangroves, you followed the sound of explosions, the smoke filling your lungs every time you got close. Arriving at your destination, you saw that the place was a zone, pirates everywhere, navy soldiers firing into the wind. Scanning around, you found Rayleigh fighting Kizaru, a navy admiral you knew only by face. Before you could get to Rayleigh, a familiar shout made you stop, turning in the direction of the sound. It was Luffy shouting, while his companions were fighting Kuma, one of the Navy's seven Shichibukais. When Kuma's hand touched one of Luffy's companions, one with orange hair, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

On impulse, you went over to them, wondering if you could help them. You barely knew Luffy, but the short time you spent together was enough for you to judge him as a man of good intentions.

As you ran towards them, you saw that some of Luffy's companions were missing. You guessed that they had been defeated, probably by Kuma.

"Luffy!" you shouted, pulling him out of the way of Kuma's hands, but this only resulted in one thing: you tripping over something you didn't identify and falling to the ground. You turned to Kuma, pulling a gun from your waistband as you fired wildly at him, but it had no effect.

"A friend of Luffy from Straw Hat?" The Shichibukai said, staring at you for a few seconds before his giant hand touched you, the power of his Akuma no Mi taking effect, his body disappearing. You felt an enormous pressure in the room, causing you to faint immediately afterwards.

You felt trapped in something soft while you were lying down. It was as if you were lying on a pile of clouds. Opening your eyes slowly, small pains spread through your body. On closer inspection, you were flying in the sky, but you couldn't feel the breeze and, incredibly, you didn't feel short of breath because you were wrapped in a kind of bubble. Dramatically, the memories returned to your mind, making you feel pathetic.

"Damn, I couldn't do anything useful" you thought to yourself, mulling it over as the bubble carried you across the vast sky. You still had the gun in your hand, so you put it in your waistband, not that it was any use without bullets. You didn't know how many hours or days you had slept, but you wanted to know what your fate would be. Before you could think of anything else, the bubble protecting you landed, startling you. What if it fell into the open sea? You knew how to swim, but sea monsters could appear anywhere.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you fell into a ship, hitting your back on the wooden floor.

"Damn…" you cursed, then got up and opened your eyes, only to find a bunch of men around you. A pirate ship, your senses alerted you, making your hand go towards the gun you always carried, pointing it at several of the men.

"Boss, come and see this." A portly man with a piece of meat in his hand spoke up. As the men around you moved away, you could immediately feel an overwhelming presence. Turning in the direction of the presence, you could see a man with red hair and a scar on his face coming towards you. Immediately, you recognized the man. It was impossible not to recognize the pirate in question, given the fact that both his person and his deeds were notorious and circulated widely on people's lips. It was Shanks, The Redhead, a name that made many people shudder just to hear it.

Your body trembled, the gun in your hand wavering as you pointed it in the Redhead's direction, bitterly regretting your decision, but you were too proud to turn back.

"Well well, looks like we've got a scared kitten here," Shanks laughed, looking over at you. He crouched down very close to you, leaning his forehead against the barrel of the gun. "Aren't you going to shoot?" A faint smile appeared on the pirate's face as he stared into your soul.

"Don't play games with me," you said, with great difficulty, trying to sound strong, but coming out more like a cry for help.

Shanks stared at you for what seemed like an eternity, before bursting into laughter, his body tilting backwards, his men doing the same. You, not understanding anything, blushed intensely with embarrassment. "Ouch, scaredy-cat, how the hell did you get here out of nowhere, huh?" Shanks asked after wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

You, seeing no point in hiding the truth, (not as if you could, Shanks would get the truth out anyway) told him the truth. He understood, saying that he knew Luffy, then smiling, saying that the boy only got into trouble.

"Well, what if I taught you how to fight for real?" He came up with the idea out of the blue, while sipping sake sitting on one of the ship's barrels.

You looked at him, surprised by his proposal. You looked at the ground, remembering how pathetic you were to try to fight a Shichibukai when you didn't even know the basics of anything. You looked at Shanks again, determination shining in your eyes.

"Please teach me how to fight!"

Shanks smiled, setting the sake aside as he stood up. "Looks like the scared little kitten has guts. I like that about you."

You blushed slightly at his words, standing up too. "Well, I'll teach you everything I know."

Days and days went by as Shanks taught you the most varied fighting techniques. Months later, he saw that you were strong enough to learn how to use Weapons Haki and Observation Haki. A year and a half flew by and you didn't even notice. Along with fighting and teaching, you developed feelings for Shanks.

It started with the nicknames; kitten, shawty, cutie. Then there were touches here and there. As well as the time you spent together without fighting or learning the theory of anything. Just the moments Shanks spent recounting his adventures with a twinkle in his eye in the dead of night when most of the pirates were too drunk to sober up. And you listened to every word that came out of his mouth with admiration, secretly happy for the adventures he had been through. There were also the times when he and the crew tried your sweets, from the first day you started making them, with the excuse that it was payment for his teaching and temporary hospitality. But you couldn't deny to yourself that the reason was just to please him as much as possible, so that you could receive a pat on the head or a mess of hair, followed by compliments from the redhead.

Oh, and let's not forget the flirting. The damned flirting that he would give you with that mischievous little smile, to which you would respond back with rosy cheeks, not wanting to be left behind in any way, especially when it came to Shanks.

And on this night in question, it seems he was loaded with flirting to try and embarrass you while everyone drank and ate outdoors, partying for nothing.

"Hey Y/N." The sound of the redhead's sweet voice caught her attention, her head turning in the direction of the melody that called her name. Seeing him sitting next to Benn, sipping a sake, you smiled, putting your hands on your waist. "Yes, Shanks?" You answered the man, already preparing yourself for what was to come.

"If I happen to drown, do I get a mouth to mouth breath from you?" he asked, his damn winning smile opening the door for your heart to skip a beat.

Her legs turned to jelly for a moment, never getting used to the feeling of receiving the slightest bit of attention from Shanks.

"Well, try your luck and I'll be happy to do it," you replied, putting a false smile on your face, but you didn't know whether to throw yourself into the sea out of embarrassment or kiss Shanks in front of everyone.

Shanks, being the flirt he was - very professional, so to speak - didn't expect you to be able to respond to his flirting, or even better than that, which caused the man to have a total meltdown, leaving him speechless.

"HAHA, Y/N dismantled the boss" Lucky laughed out loud, his companions laughing next, bringing Shanks to attention, his cheeks slightly flushed. He hid his smile as he turned over the sake bottle.

After an hour or so, the crew of the Redhead Pirates were too drunk to even stand up. Some went to sleep in their rooms, others blacked out in whatever corner of the ship was considered "comfortable".

You were washing the dishes that the men had soiled during the party. Living with men wasn't easy, since Benn was one of the few who cared at all about the cleanliness of the ship. So you did the cleaning, since you couldn't stand living in the mess and dirt.

You started thinking about your home in Sabaody, missing Rayleigh's stories, Shakky's cheap booze, the cotton candy from the Archipelago that tasted special. You felt a pang in your chest from nostalgia. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't feel the presence of Shanks behind you, only sensing when his arms were wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. The man's sudden movement made your body shudder. "Shanks?" You looked at him, confused.

He looked at you, while smiling faintly. "Yes, kitten?" he purred softly, his nose sinking into your clothes, his eyes closing as he inhaled your perfume deeply.

In that situation, you felt stagnant, not knowing what to do. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your hair was standing on end, and the desire to kiss him right then and there was greater than anything in the world.

You swallowed dryly, dropping the dishes from your hands as you wiped your hands on the cloth on your other shoulder. "Are you even sober?" You asked, apprehensive of his answer.

Shanks opened his eyes, squinting at you for a few seconds, then immediately turned his body so that you were facing him. Shanks' muscular body pressed against yours, making you breathless. "Enough to answer for my actions." Shanks said, their faces very close together, Shanks' lips almost touching yours as his eyes roamed over your lips, without any shame in facing them.

You were losing your sanity and along with it, your patience. "Kiss," you said, drawing his attention instantly to your eyes. "If you have the courage, of course." You challenged, your breathing pausing for a moment to see what he was going to do.

"You asked for it," Shanks said before attacking your lips, and what began as a sloppy kiss, saliva spilling out, continued with a kiss of dominance from both of you, tongues and teeth clashing, making you both lose your breath, while his hands circled your waist, squeezing lightly from time to time, and you snaked your arms around his neck, stroking his soft hair. You separated so you could breathe.

That didn't stop Shanks from sprinkling wet kisses all over your face, which you gladly accepted, not letting any opportunity pass you by. "Be part of my crew" he said breathlessly "I like you. I like you a lot. I can't let you get away from me." The redhead's statement made your heart leap, longing for this moment since the day you realized you liked that man. "Please?" He asked, his pleading eyes looking at you while his face was a pure mess, and you were probably on the same level. It stirred you, a chill in your stomach settling in.

"Yeah," you didn't have to think long. God, it was Shanks over there, begging you like a puppy to stay by his side. "And I like you too." Both the statement and the quick acceptance surprised Shanks, making him blink a few times. "That easy? I thought women played hard to get at times like this." His arms encircled your body even more, bringing you closer to him.

"Well, I'm a straightforward woman. But I need you to stop by the Sabaody Archipelago. I need to know how Shakky and Rayleigh are doing after all that mess with the Navy," you said, your hands on Shanks' bare chest. Shanks' eyebrows rose. "You know Silvers Rayleigh?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes… he's like a father to me" You said, tilting your head to the side. "You've never said that to me," the redhead uttered, indignantly.

Instead of just replying with a simple "sorry", you decided to be mischievous. "Do I have to?" you said, a little smile playing across your face. Shanks sighed in shock, then smiled and pinched your nose. "You little brat, respect me, I'm older than you"

"It's only nine years apart," you smiled, joining in the fun as you enjoyed your evening, knowing that you had made the right choice from the start.

If you've made it this far, I take off my straw hat. Jokes aside, but I got too carried away writing this, sorry if it's too long. And I hope you enjoyed it, I really do.

#shanks x reader #red hair shanks #shanks #one piece #love #strangers to lovers #fighting #fluff #slight angst

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takes1 · 8 months

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Bakugou has a crush on popular!fem!Senpai!reader. I love the idea of him trying to keep up with his senpai (senpai has no idea about his feelings, of course). maybe a little angst and where senpai's male classmates know about his feelings but don't see him as a threat because they think it's just puppy love and don't take him seriously

i took it in a slightly different direction, but hope it still holds up. kept the themes the same at least! 1st year bakugou/3rd year reader, puppy love, that sort of thing. tried to honor the angsty part, too. hope this does the job!

warnings. heavy alcohol consumption, suggestive petting details. sfw / nsfw to follow in p.2 / some suggestive petting / afterparty/houseparty / shadowing / mentor!reader / 3rdyear!reader / 'unrequited' love / puppy love / bakugou being a lightweight / sweaty bakugou / 1.6k words 🤍 scenario series. i have so much bakugou, please go check all of those scenarios out! / there will be a part 2 to this! / bakugou headcanons more links. my ao3

*shadow week: when a student follows and observes a third-year for a short period of time, such as a day or a week, for training purposes

The afterparty was much more crowded than you realized; the usual rule against first-years had been reversed in the spirit of shadow week. Right on the coattails of that stiff internship mixer, it was a pretty fitting way to finish out the week.

With the addition of a more excitable crowd, the general vibe was intense, loud, and near dizzying. It wasn't really your style.

You opted for watching, nursing something strong. Dancing, screaming, and the like was better far away. You didn't have the energy tonight, but you needed to make sure your shadow got to see what something like this entailed so the tradition might live after your class graduates.

Of course, you lost him almost immediately. He was steaming, almost itching to get away from you as he had been all week. The randomization process of choosing Mentors and Shadows faired unfavorable to you, because you couldn't have asked for a more difficult person to train.

It was an hour in and you still sat in your spot, surrounded by your closer friends who shared the same temperament about tonight in particular. Some normally big personalities took it easy in the presence of the younger crowd.

Togata settled in next to you with a big sigh.

"What's cookin' good lookin'?"

Your snort turned into an actual laugh. That's how you knew you were feeling it.

"Nothing much," You glanced around the room, half-concerned about your Shadow, "You seen that Bakugou kid?"

Togata rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"Probably left as soon as he realized a 'rager' meant a good time."

You both shared a chuckle and went on to talk about anything else.

Bakugou did, in fact, have a different idea of what this afterparty was going to be like. But his inhibitions had melted away long ago when he, unknowingly, began to drink a loaded cup.

He had inadvertently pissed off the guy in charge of the cooler with his usual attitude, and got himself the nastiest-tasting diet coke imaginable.

Bakugou didn't know any better. He believed this was a new disgusting flavor the Coca-Cola company came out with on the tails of their coffee bullshit, so something reminiscent of cinnamon didn't set off any red flags.

Thanks to this drink, easier to get down by the minute, he did seem to be having a better time at the party than he thought he would.

For a while, after the buzz melted away his better judgement, he searched for you, but quickly became distracted when he found some of his peers dancing fervently to a karaoke song.

The sight of Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari going crazy to a shitty, dated pop song made a rare grin spread over his face. It felt funny smiling, so he laughed and the unfamiliar sound from behind them caught their attention.

They all looked relieved to see him, somewhat amused, in on a joke he didn't quite understand.

Sero laughed after he greeted them and exchanged charged looks with Kaminari-

"Dude-haha, Bakugou-- what's up with you-?" Kaminari giggled under his hand.

Everyone was laughing, the music was so loud, and he felt good.

"I dunno!" He yelled and swung to grab Sero's shoulder.

The tallest of them flinched embarrassingly hard with a short, alarmed noise, but was met with droves of laughter from the rest of his friends. Bakugou was the loudest among them.

He had to catch his breath and leaned back with a hand on his neck. He raked his hands through his hair, a little dizzy, a little heavy, and somewhat confused, "Fuck! I feel so good!!"

His eyes were big as he finished his cup. Kirishima grabbed it from him after he was done and smelled it. He muttered something under his breath, but nobody saw.

"Yeeesss!! I fucking LOVE this song ohmygod," Bakugou belted, but hardly even loud compared to the booming bass behind him.

His well-muscled arms dropped, and he turned with vigor and pointed glee to the first person he saw.

It briefly occurred to him that something wasn't right. The way his perception grew fuzzy wasn't normal but he couldn't keep a worried thought for long enough to actually get worried.

You were leaning against the counter from your barstool. You looked mellowed- buzzed, and relaxed. Your crooked smile was partial to Togata, the big, burly blond consistently at your side. You shared a slow, intimate conversation that Bakugou very much wanted a part of.

"Hey!" He exclaimed, dodging a supportive hand from Kirishima, and stumbled towards the two highest ranking in the room.

He approached faster than he intended.

His hands landed to catch himself on your parted lower thighs, but he was heavier under the influence and leaned a little far forward. There were about ten of you swirling around the room.

Your stomach pooled with a warm, fast buzz that spread a blush from ear to ear.

Bakugou was coated in a thin layer of musky sweat, no doubt from the combination of his loaded drink and intense dancing.

He was panting softly, eyes lidded when he caught himself on you, his handsome, chiseled face tilted in a drunken daze. Your heart was beating between your legs as you looked each other up and down simultaneously.

Oooh, man.

You hardened up, just a little, and cocked your head to the side, "You feelin' alright, bud?"

Your hand raked through his sweaty, spiky hair, and his entire body shifted to that side. He hummed, smiling, and gripped your plush thighs harder. Fuck, you were warm, and strong; he wanted to fall asleep here.

A larger, scarred hand grabbed the first-year's shirt.

"I think he's had too much."

You looked up at Togata, radiating irritation with a face that didn't match. Your stomach twisted again and you shifted in your seat, which in turn shifted Bakugou.

As he moved to pull Bakugou off, you got another whiff of that sweet smell. That must've been from his Quirk, afterall.

Your head fell back with a sigh while he was beginning to be escorted away by a kind, although a little patronizing, Togata.

Bakugou popped him with a shout and you jumped up- thankfully most people were also screaming to the song, which helped to soften the blow of the tense scene playing out in front of you.

"You need to leave, kid," The older of the two asserted, despite the singe on his shoulder from where he was pushed.

The both looked frilled and ready to make a scene.

Bakugou squinted up at him.

Before he could spit out a horrible insult, or threat, or anything else bubbling beneath the surface, you placed your hand on his wavering shoulder and took up the space in his vision in front of Togata.

"Hey," You said gently, eyes dodging around his very clear signs of heavy drinking, "Hey--,"

"Hey," It sounded almost like a question coming out of his mouth.

Togata moved back. This was something out of his jurisdiction; you were technically in charge of the kid, anyway.

Knotted muscles loosened against your touch, heavy and uneven. He watched, focusing and then glazed again on your pretty bottom lip. It was quiet for a moment between you.

His infatuation; your concern.

"Have you been drinking?"

He shook his head, concern on his brow for a moment-- but it disappeared in a moment's notice. It almost didn't make sense; you tossed the idea that he didn't want to tell you, but then you made the realization of what had actually happened as he swayed, entranced under your gaze.

"Let's…" Your brow furrowed and you glanced around, "Let's get you back to your room."

You wore a distrustful, upturned expression at the sea of patrons. His redhead friend jogged by your side for a moment, about to ask where you were going, but instead of answering, you took the cup out of his hand and threw it in the trash on your way out.

Somebody thought it'd be funny to get some first-years shit-faced. Normally you'd agree about it humorous quality, but this was your shadow. Technically your responsibility for the week.

From the looks of it, he had never touched alcohol before.

It was a cool and breezy walk back to his dorm building. The quiet night gave you space to slow for a while, ask some questions.

"How are you feeling?"

He was out of breath just walking. His stammered for a moment but didn't notice. "Good…good-good, really great."

The anger he usually wore was practically a memory now. His small, permanent frown was the only reminder.

It took 6 minutes for what would've been a 3-minute walk. His hand missed the handle to open the door and you had to catch him, then twist to open it yourself. He didn't help you at all even though you suspected he had the capacity to.

"Alright," You strained, arms locked under his- he was incredibly dense, impossibly warm, and at the moment, very lazy. He melted into you at an awkward angle, breath dancing against the shell of your ear.

Getting him all the way up the stairs was going to take a million years.

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frootiest-loopdee-doo · 1 month

Text

Fop Peri fic concept incoming

I’m just gonna start posting the fic ideas I get bc 80% of the time I don’t write them, and I don’t mind letting other people have and use them. Hell, you don’t even have to credit me. I’m stalking all the FOP tags so if you write it I’ll see it. I won’t ask for credit, I’ll fucking SAVOR reading it.

Fic idea #1 Dale/Peri

“Peri’s Master Plan” or “I Can Fix Him” is what I’d call this.

First, Peri becomes dev’s babysitter. This can be set before the finale, or it can be au where dev never lost peri, or it can actually be after dev left peri. It just changes the setup a bit. If Peri is still Dev’s godparent he’ll have to be extra careful when hiding all of this from him. If he’s no longer dev’s godparent, this is his way of staying in dev’s life bc he cares abt the little shit!

His reason for becoming dev’s official babysitter even if he’s still dev’s godparent probably would so that he doesn’t have to hide whenever he’s with dev and also because Dale doesn’t screen the sitters ever so Dev probably has had some pretty awful ones.

Basically, dale starts hitting on the “babysitter”. Peri is initially disgusted, as you’d probably expect. He puts up with it though, for Dev.

Peri remembers a romance book about a beautiful female protagonist falling in love with and “fixing” an evil older man, and gets an idea about how he can help dev! If it’s in a human book it has to be something that could actually work with humans right? Why would it say it’s written by a bestselling author otherwise? This is a great idea!

Peri starts to go along with it, flirting with Dale, doing whatever it takes to make the guy fall in love. Peri overtime uses this as leverage to try and teach Dale why child neglect is bad (crazy idea). Dale does fall in love. Does peri? It can go either way. I’d say yes, I think that’s the most interesting way this can go.

Different routes this story could ultimately take, options A. B. and C.:

A. Dale changes for the better, though slowly. Maybe Dev Dale and peri do sort of family bonding. The huge conflict here though is that Peri definitely isn’t allowed to be in a relationship with a human, much less his (former or current) godchild’s dad. Will love prevail? Find out next time on dragon ball z ass fic here.

B. Dale’s treatment of dev seems to improve, and Peri is feeling pretty awesome about that. However, when talking to Dev, Peri realizes that Dale is only being a better dad when Peri is around- basically faking it to keep seeing Peri. Big angst. Peri confronts Dale- and honestly you can go as light or dark on the angst in this confrontation scene. Me personally, I’m depraved so if I ever write this it will probably be as dark as possible (I’m mentally unstable friends!).

C. Peri succeeds for the most part, but he doesn’t love Dale truly. This is eating away at him. He stays for Dev. He’d planned to leave when Dale got better, but as he understands the human condition more he realizes that the odds of Dale continuing to be a better dad are very low if he leaves. Angst, angst, angst.

Obviously Peri would try to hide the relationship from Dev at least at first in pretty much all of these. Dev would probably find out by accident. This could be done differently though, maybe dev knows early on. Maybe peri doesn’t hide it well.

Also, obviously you can take a different route than A. B. or C.

Feel free to be inspired by this rant. Feel free to steal the ideas here. Again, if you do, I’ll probably find it. I’ll probably read it. I’ll probably be very happy. Don’t worry about credit. Actually, don’t credit me even if you want to 😭😭😭

#peri cosma #fop a new wish #dale dimmadome #fairly oddparents #dev dimmadome #fairly odd parents a new wish

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earlysunshines · 1 month

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I know most of the members are legally adults now n whatever, but newjeans and smut still don’t look like words that should be put side by side IMO—male or female reader😭Like I’m sorry but you’re telling me you look at the new jeans members and your first thought is yeah, I think I wanna write minji with a dick, or, let me write the most aggressive smut I can think of (slight g!p shade srry not srry)

Sorry, but being a stan since pre debut I’ve always just seen the members as like my cutie best friends and like most(if not all)of them were underage during the last 2 years, so like seeing it from that perspective it’s just so weird for me to see them sexualized like that😭like NOOO that’s best friend, why are me and hanni fucking??

right like bro smut and newjeans is so crazy to me that’s like IDK i watched them debut i watched them everything like😭😭they’re so young and even if they’re legal ppl r sooo quick to sexualize like i don’t like how normalized it is to be like “oh! finally legal finally i can say smth atrocious” HELLO? ppl run on lust i swwweeaaaarrr no one is normal Cmon neoowoww

i’ve seen soooo many gp fics and i literally hate gp so fucking much like every time i see one i just ugh ew disgusting (maybe bc i’m a lesbian but also other reasons i won’t say bc ppl on here r crazy and can’t take someone not liking what they like😭😭😭)

i cannnooott physically ever write smut for them sorry like making out yeah bc that’s idk how to explain it just so normal and lovely to me whereas actual fucking is like sooooooo diff like girl omfg.

if i see one more gp fic i’ll Jump i stg😭😭😭bruahhadwkkf anwyays i looove writing fluff and fluff w angst i just❤️yeah

#seulgiwifeee #u always understand me girl #every take from u is so real

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artficlly · 3 months

Text

smog & spirits: pony club (mini-series)

Marvel 1920s Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader

Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and he needs a witch to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, fem reader, angst no comfort, previous abuse, domestic violence, curses and hexes, criminals & crime, 1920s street gangs, witchcraft, possession, mediums, ghosts, hauntings, horror, smoking, brothels, pubs, gambling, alcohol, cults, death/violence/torture, bucky barnes has issues, bucky barnes is a dick, police brutality, vaguely british setting??, sexism, classism, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 10.1k!!! oh my god someone help

A/N: god this has been on the go for awhile. it got so long but i have a worm in my brain that told me this had to happen before i can get onto the juicy stuff. next part will be a lot more bucky heavy im so sorry this didn't have much of him, needed to build up that loreeee. anyway i actually hate my writing in this, if i have to reread this one more time im gonna go crazy so i'm just gonna post it and go to bed lol!! sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

taglist: @nash-dara

main masterlist | series masterlist

To be lulled into the false security that you would never see Bucky Barnes again was a foolish thought.

Two months passed rather uneventfully. The handsome payment Bucky left you after your favour to him was far beyond your normal rates. A mixture of the gangster having deep pockets and, you suspected, an indication that all that had unfolded was to be kept quiet.

So you had done just that. Your mouth had been sown shut, an invisible thread keeping your lips bound. There were so few people left in your life anyway that you didn’t feel like spilling details of a sex-based ritual with the limited relatives you had left. You weren’t particularly fond of them regardless; most you had not seen in years.

You embraced the winter months as they settled across the city of Blackstone. The fog would roll in thick and dense, the clouds lingering over the port as Sootstone was cast into days of hoarfrosts. Icicles as long as your forearm hung from buildings and lamp-posts and was salt scattered across the wooden docks, where slippage was the worst. The homeless gathered in crowds around the Smokestack district, leeching off the warmth the factories produced. The ice and frosts were never white, unlike the country estates or wealthy garden districts. Smoke and ash continued to pour into the skies, tainting everything with a layer of black grit.

You would see the Smog Boys in the streets often. Teams of the lower-ranking, younger lads would roam in packs, dipping in and out of the alleys. Even dressed in black, you could not make them out through the fog when they intended to disappear. Maybe it had been your brush with Bucky, but you began to notice them everywhere. Lurking in the markets, smoking by the docks, or sauntering by the smokestack factories. A small, stiff, knowing nod would be bestowed upon you if your gaze locked with theirs or if you lingered too long. As if they knew who you were. As if they had been instructed to keep an eye out for you.

You could never leave the Smog Boys once you were inside. Whether you liked it or not, your fates were inextricably linked. You never knew when you might be needed. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to find one in your home. It is what you ought to have expected by now. It was only a matter of time before they came calling.

You could only find one word to describe the woman in your kitchen. Beautiful. Beautiful in a hauntingly, terrifying way. She was stylish, with a blouse tucked into tailored, high-waisted suit pants. A lavish fur coat was draped over her shoulders, and her red hair was in a fashionable, blunt bob. Her lips, painted a deep red, were curved into a disgusted sneer as she assessed your residence.

She had to be with Bucky because only a Smog Boy could illicit such an aura.

“You should invest in better locks.” The redhead comments with a sniff. You haven’t even had a chance to process her presence; instead, you are standing with your lips parted in shock. “It wouldn’t be hard to rob you… or worse.”

You’re unsure if that was a thinly veiled threat or genuine advice.

“Most don’t make habit of breakin’ into witches' homes.” You mutter, regaining your composure. You whip your headscarf off, abandoning it on your dining table. “They’re scared of being cursed.”

Your fingers unknot the woollen scarf around your neck now, tugging it free with a flutter of ash. The woman arches a well-manicured brow at you, looking you up and down. She doesn’t try to hide her judgement. She didn’t seem the type of woman to shy away from stating her opinion. Your clothing was noticeably different from hers, which was made of luxurious fabrics. The Smog Boys were well known for their finer suits—just because they lived and worked in the slums didn’t mean they dressed for it. Bucky seemed to like to keep certain appearances and had the funds to do so. You, however, were dressed for practicality. Heavy, cheap textiles that kept in the warmth.

“Cursed.” The woman states, tone sharp. “You don’t seem the type to throw curses. You’re too… sweet.”

You don’t miss the condescending nature of how her sharp lips curve into a smile. You shoulder the insult. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Natasha. Romanoff.” The name was vaguely familiar to you. She was definitely one of Bucky’s inner circle. Possibly she worked closer to the shadows—a brain rather than brawn like Steve and Sam. “Barne is in need of your particular set of skills again.”

You pause, your fingers frozen over the pin in your mantle. Again? You knew to expect this, but still, you felt your heart uptick a beat. So soon? The question of which skills hung heavy in the air. Your abnormal skill to summon and banish spirits? To break curses and sense the otherworldly? Or to get your brains fucked out by Sootstone’s most notorious gangster?

From the way Natasha was eyeing you, it seemed she knew all about your little sex ritual.

“What if I’m unavailable?” You test hesitantly.

The redhead isn’t amused. “It wasn’t a request.”

You nod slowly, hands falling to your sides. One should know when not to test Bucky Barnes or his men; it always ended rather unfavourably. Plus, you didn’t want to wake up tomorrow to find your kitchen filled with any more gangsters.

Maybe Natasha was right about the locks.

—

Bucky and a pack of his dogs congregated in the streets outside the pub known as The Anchor. The establishment sat across from the docks, with tinted, lattice windows facing the port. On a clear day, one who sat in the window booths might be able to see the ocean. Though, throughout your life, you could recall about as many clear days as the fingers on your right hand. The Anchor had been in the Barnes family for years, originally bought by Bucky’s father when the Smog Boys first rose to infamy.

The building was well cared for, a luxury not many of the surrounding establishments were familiar with. The building was decorated in a nautical style, with netting and flags adorning the walls and rafters. Fish and ships were painted onto the siding, with gold and blue accenting the furniture inside. Even the sign out front was a small, steel anchor engraved with the pub's name.

The Anchor was mainly stocked with whiskey, which the Smog Boys ran an underground distillery for. They offered other spirits, wines, and ales, but the main vice of The Warrens was whiskey. Bucky had several underground or even legal businesses dotted throughout Sootstone, including gambling dens and brothels. You knew he made his office in a gambling den not too far from The Anchor—the dock-side streets were prime spots for high traffic from the sailors and dockworkers coming and going like the tide.

As you and Natasha approached, the pack of adolescent gangsters surrounding Bucky scattered, disappearing into the thick fog and alleyways like wraiths.

“Your witch, as requested,” Natasha announces with a sigh, her brows arched. Bucky glances at you, acknowledging you with little more than a grunt. He takes the last drag from his cigarette before crunching it beneath his shoe.

“Thank you, Nat.” Bucky replies, smoke escaping his lips as he speaks. “Sam’s lookin’ for you inside.”

Natasha doesn’t offer you a farewell as she pulls her coat tighter around her lean body and ducks inside the pub with a tsk. You and Bucky are left in an odd silence, with only the faint call of seagulls and the lapping of waves joining you. You had never seen the dockside street so quiet, but you could confidently assume his presence was responsible.

“I trust Nat didn’t scare you too bad.” The gangster breaks the silence. His dark eyes wander across your frame, seemingly disappointed that you were thoroughly covered to prevent the cold from seeping in. “Would’ve come to get you myself, but I had some business to attend to.”

In retrospect, the thought of encountering Natasha in your kitchen again seemed more daunting than Bucky. You weren’t too sure how to interpret her malice and cool charm. She did give off the impression that she would kill you if you even breathed in her direction. As for Bucky, maybe he would kill you, but given his reputation, he was far more likely to fuck you up against the nearest available surface.

“She said you've a job for me?” You ask, watching as the gangster tucks his large, bruised hands into his pockets.

He cocks his head to the side. “Walk with me.”

You obey wordlessly.

Bucky navigates the streets with ease, ducking through alleys and blindly striding into the fog with unquestionable confidence. The few people you encounter in the winding streets dart out of the way, mumbling apologies and casting their gazes down as they stumble over their own feet. Your breath comes in clouds as you exhale, salt and ice crunching beneath your feet as you keep pace with him.

“There’s an establishment I own, it’s been losin’ business these past months. The girls reckon it’s cursed. Or haunted.” He elaborates, and you frown.

“You think a spirit’s attached?” You ask, and the gangster huffs out a short, bitter laugh.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. I don’t have a sense for that stuff.” His lips are set in a line as he casts his sight down at you. “That’s your job, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t help but gulp and hope that his issue was indeed a spirit. One did not want to disappoint the gangster out of fear of the consequences. Your mind drifted back to months ago, to when he sat in your kitchen with that cursed necklace. He hadn’t noticed that curse—not until his sister apparently spelt it out for him. You couldn’t imagine carrying that thing around when it had reeked so badly that you tasted rot.

“What about your sister?” You suddenly interrupt.

Bucky gives you an incredulous look. “Becca? What about her?”

“You said she has a sense—”

“You think I’m lettin’ my sister near a brothel?” He snaps over you. His body turns to face you as you are both left motionless in the empty, ashy street.

“Oh— I didn’t realise it was… You just said— I just assumed—” Your cheeks grow pink—this time not from the cold—as you stumble over your words. Flakes of ash slowly amble down from the sky, twirling in your mingled breath as the gangster looms over you. Several emotions flicker over his face—insult, disbelief—before finally settling on an eerie amusement.

“Shy ‘bout a brothel? You’re not far off bein’ a whore yourself, doll. You certainly let me fuck you like one.” He leans closer to you, the scent of tobacco fanning across your skin. You clamp your jaw shut, your cheeks growing hotter by the second. The gangster smirks at you with a wickedness that rivals the devil.

—

The Pony Club was not creatively named, like most things in Sootstone. You were sure there was an innuendo about riding or mounting buried in its origin. The brothel was buried deep in the busy streets of the Smokestack District. The crowd of workers parted with hushed whispers as you, Bucky, and Steve approached the establishment. You had bumped into the other gangster during your walk, and he had thankfully filled the tense silence hanging between you and Bucky.

The Pony Club was neatly tucked between two stores. Ice covered the tiled roof, and grey-stained icicles dripped melted water from the front balcony. The ash falling from the sky was thick in these parts. Street sweepers patrolled the roads like small armies, brooms in tow, ensuring the roads were clear for carriages, waggons, and those on foot.

The three of you paused before the building. Your eyes swept over the painted sign, an illustration of a pony alongside the cursive lettering. The building looks well up-kept like many of the Smog Boy establishments; it put its neighbours to shame. You couldn’t help but notice how, despite its busy location, the building was eerily empty. It was as if its walls stood outside of time, cursed to live an existence outside of perceivable reality.

There was a twinge in your gut, a knowing.

Steve grimaces beside you, the gangster scowling as he tucks his hands deep into his pockets. At first, you think he is simply cold from the frigid fog sitting over the city, but only as he speaks do you realise he senses something more. “I hate this place.” He utters.

Bucky hasn’t reacted. He truly didn’t seem to have a sense for anything otherworldly.

“How does it make you feel?” You pry. Steve blinks at you in surprise, as if he hadn’t realised he spoke aloud. It would be useful for you to know how a non-magical person might feel; it could also give you insight as to what haunted the halls of the brothel.

“Doesn’t encourage me to put my cock in some bird, that’s for sure. Bad for business, ‘cause that’s the whole point.” Steve grumbles, and you swear Bucky rolls his eyes. “How does it make you feel?”

The two men look at you with curiosity as you consider your words. Terrible? Awful? Yes, you felt unnerved, but you were accustomed to spirits and hauntings. Most places in this city had ghosts, whether they were malevolent or just lost. You had become unnervingly comfortable with the creeping sensation that you were not alone. It was an entirely different feeling to curses—no, curses, they twisted your gut in wicked ways—hauntings you were at ease with. There was an odd familiarity to them, it sparked a warmth in your soul.

“Best I not say.” You land on. It would be better not to mess with the egos of gangsters, especially if they were afraid of a little ghost.

The two men follow you as you step into the building. The inside is lavish, with a large, grand set of stairs that lead up to the mezzanine. Draperies hung from the balcony railings, and plush furniture, and decorations were artfully placed around the foyer. Despite its luxuriant appearance, there was an isolation that clung to the bones of the building. It was as if dust hung in the air, floating undisturbed. Not a breeze could get through the thick walls, nor could a breath of life. A place that was supposed to be rowdy, a den of sin and pleasure… silenced. As if it were a mausoleum.

The building and those inside were lost in time, caught between a past that did not exist and a future that had not yet come.

The peace is interrupted by a thundering noise, then shrieking. “Mr. Barnes! Oh, Mr. Barnes! So nice of you to come visit us!”

A few curious observers watch from over the bannisters. Beautiful women with tired eyes, hair swept up and curled into coiffures, and revealing dresses that clung to their curves. You suddenly felt rather overdressed in your winter clothes.

An older woman descended the stairs in a frenzy, grinning from ear to ear. Her eyes were lined heavily with kohl, a bright pink blush across her cheeks, and lipstick to match. Her blonde curls bounced around her smooth face, a few longer strands following the dip of her dress. The madame of the brothel.

Your lips purse together, and Bucky lets out a quiet sigh. “Madame Voss.”

“I trust you are here about the ghost?” The madame asks. She is rather excitable, like a puppy or a young child. Even Steve has grown uncharacteristically quiet, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and dread. “I told my girls you would be back to help! I said you were a busy man, but not to worry. We’ve lost a few since you were last here, Rose, Amorie, and Vivinne… but that is nothin’ to worry about. They were traitorous at heart—”

“Yes, I quite understand.” Bucky snaps over Madame Voss. Steve tries to hide a snort, and the madame is left momentarily speechless. “I’ve brought a witch.”

You feel the madame’s gaze rip from Bucky to you. She looks you up and down in one exaggerated sweep, then offers you a somewhat forced smile. She looks as if she is gritting her teeth as she drinks you in. You were left wondering if the madame had some type of unrequited infatuation with Bucky. Many of the women of Sootstone seemed to share such an attitude, especially if they did not have the wit to sense the danger attached to the handsome gangster.

“She’s a bit too pretty for this business, don’t you think? I suppose all those witch women are a bit pretty. It’s usually glamours though, isn’t it?” There is an underlying spite to her tone as she assesses you, arms coming to fold over her chest. Her bosom is exaggerated, and her waistline is pulled pencil-thin by her corset. You are surprised the woman can breathe. “Well, are you wearin’ a glamour, girl?”

You hadn’t realised the madame was questioning you; actually, you found yourself rather overwhelmed by the whole display. Your lips part as you struggle to find your tongue and eventually stagger out a confused reply. “What?”

Madame Voss murmurs in annoyance, her arms uncrossed and hands coming to move in spirited gestures as she speaks. Bucky is staring at the ceiling as if bored out of his mind. “A glamour? You can’t tell me you normally look like that, all wide-fuckme-eyed?”

Steve makes a choking noise somewhere beside you while you gape at the madame. “No?”

“Huh.”

“I work with spirits, not—” You cut yourself off, clearing your throat, and decide it was not worth the argument. “I’ll need some time to walk around ‘n get a feel for things. Maybe talk to some of the girls, if that is alright?”

“Fine by me.” Madame Voss waves you off, attention hastily pulled away as she turns to Bucky. “In the meantime, Mr Barnes, can I get you anythin’? Tea, biscuits… something else? You know my girls will always give you a discount—”

“Somethin’ to drink, perhaps. Somethin’ strong.” Bucky cuts off the Madame and claps Steve on the back. “What do you say, Steve?”

You got the impression that neither Bucky nor Steve liked this Voss woman.

—

It did not take you long to explore the brothel in its entirety.

The establishment was compact and efficient. Downstairs was made up of the main foyer room, which was extended into a room similar to a drawing room. Tables made up the majority of the space, with playing cards and strong Smog Boys branded liquor decorated around the room. Comfortable furniture and suggestive art lined the walls. Out of view was a kitchen, a washroom, and madame’s office space, which Bucky would occasionally take residence in if dealing with business for the Pony Club.

Upstairs was dedicated to private spaces, where the girls lived and worked. They were hesitant to speak with you, guarded and quiet. You did not get the sense that they were being abused or held against their will, but rather haunted by whatever spirit clung to the brothel.

As the Pony Club slowly spiralled due to the haunting, many girls left. Business had grown to a standstill. The girls were plagued with nightmares and anxieties. The few that spoke to you recalled dreams of a dark figure who prowled through the halls, standing at the edges of their vision. At night, they would see the figure in the corners of their room, sitting on the edge of their bed. One girl even claimed the spirit sat upon her chest, that the mass had no face but two sets of shining white teeth that grinned down at her as she struggled to breathe.

When the girls were not targeted by this mysterious figure, they were afflicted with memories of their past. Dark images would replay before them every time they closed their eyes until they awoke sweating and screaming.

You bid farewell to an exhausted working girl by the name of Hanna. She sat on the bed, a woven blanket pulled over her shoulders. There was a distant look in her eyes as you quietly pulled the door shut, forcing yourself to inhale a deep breath as you stood on the empty mezzanine. There was an oppressive energy to the building, one that weighed down your chest as if someone were purposely crushing your ribcage. You knew your feelings were exaggerated due to your knowing, but there was certainly something potent enough here that even those with little to no sense could feel it.

You slowly rotated around the mezzanine in thought, unsure where to begin. Most spirits had an anchor—an item, person, or space—that they bound themselves to. They used it to draw energy, recuperate, and recharge. In rare cases, a spirit might bind to an entire house, causing lesions and pus to drip from the walls. But in your experience, those houses had sat abandoned for years, decades, or even more. The house itself would become sentient, dripping with malice and blinded by rage for those who created it, only to leave it abandoned. That was a festering type of haunting, one of anguish and loneliness, but this… this brothel was active. There had once been clients, and multiple women still lived within its walls. So, where was the anchor? Nothing had screamed out to you; nothing had made bile churn in your stomach or your hair stand up on end—

You froze.

You were a few paces away from the staircase, your mind swimming in thought, and—

A dark mass stood on the top step.

It watched you.

You couldn't make out the eyes or the shape of any humanoid body part. It just stood there, a black cloud over the staircase. But still, you could feel it watching.

And then it smiled.

It smiled wide, yet it did not seem to have a jaw. There was no skull, nothing solid within its mass. Several pearly white teeth smiled at you, spiralling into a gaping hole. The pungent smell of decaying meat filled the air as the mist contorted and pulsated in a sickening rhythm while observing you.

Before you could even consider speaking or moving, the mass had swept down the staircase, disappearing from your view. You raced to the bannisters, leaning over as far as you could without launching yourself over the edge. Loose strands of hair danced around your face as you darted your head. You could still not make out the spirit.

By the time you gathered your skirts and descended the staircase, you found the foyer empty. You could hear the distant trill of Madame Voss's voice deeper within the building, near the kitchen.

There was still that lingering oppression, an uneasiness that squeezed your chest. Regardless of how many times you whirled around, blindly scanning the foyer, you were unable to find a trail where the sensation intensified.

Clenching your teeth together, you let out a sharp sigh and balled your hands into fists. You paused in one of the corners of the foyer, allowing the blood pumping in your ears to calm and your muscles to relax. You blocked out the distant voices, instead focusing on the hum of the environment. You were frustrated, yes, and maybe a little scared. Not of the spirit, but rather how Bucky might react if you told him that you couldn’t banish this ghost. Not because you were too weak or unaware of how to handle it—you were very much prepared in both areas—but because you couldn’t find it?

You were skilled at finding hidden anchors, but it was difficult to focus when you felt immense pressure on your shoulders alone. You closed your eyes and listened intently. You could feel each speck of dust swirling through the air and hear every small sound the walls and floors made as the wood settled. You could hear each fibre of the rug rustle as you gently tip-toed across the room, following an invisible line.

The string was knotted in a complex pattern, similar to a spiderweb. You could feel it brushing over your skin as you moved, growing taut as it tangled around your body. You pushed through the sensation as if wading into a pool of water, stepping deeper and deeper into its strands as they layered over your skin and clothes.

Then, a tug.

A slight tremor, a warbling as a single line was set alight in your mind. The spider—your ghost—was circling you like prey.

You grasped the string, following its current blindly through the foyer. You stumbled around furniture, tripping over the edge of a rug and—

The floorboard creaked beneath you.

It wasn’t a typical creak—not one of an old building or a settling house. No. The creak resonated through your mind, deafening you. Your hands rose to your ears, the shrieking growing louder and louder as you fell to your knees, wincing. The fibres of the rug bit into your skin, sending a rush of electricity coursing through your veins. Under the rug, the floorboard made a hollow thud, loud enough that your ears were ringing from the volume.

You gasped in a breath, violently ripping yourself from your secondary state until you crashed back to reality. Panting, you found yourself crouched over the rug, fingernails dug into the fabric as you wheezed and panted. A cold sweat covered your body, your head aching as you tried to roll the discomfort from your shoulders.

“I think there’s somethin’ wrong with your witch, Mr Barnes.” Madame Voss spoke in a sing-song fashion as she entered the foyer, a condescending look in her eyes as she stared down at you. You wiped the sweat from your brow, forcing your wobbling legs to rise.

“It’s underneath,” was all you were able to reply, your voice raspy as you stalked to the corner of the rug.

"Ominous," the madame retorted, her brows arched. Her gaze cast back to the two gangsters who watched from the entrance to the room. There was a curiosity in their stare, hands tucked in their pockets as you worked. You gripped the corner of the rug, peeling it away from the floor. Underneath, everything looked perfectly in order, with well-polished hardwood panels lined up in unison. Carefully, you walked the length, tapping your shoe on each floorboard.

“Well, you do know what they say… with magic comes madness!” Voss announced with a sly grin, her hands moving to flourish her words. Bucky cocked his head to the side, emitting a sharp exhale through his flared nostrils.

"Let her work," he spoke up, and the tension in the room mounted. The madame's disapproving scowl only added to the oppressive atmosphere. The room fell into an almost palpable silence, broken only by the sound of your tapping as you methodically sought out the hollow board once more. You could sense the growing impatience of the group as you painstakingly worked, with each floorboard sounding as solid as the next.

Just as Bucky appeared poised to call off your efforts, the floorboard beneath you emitted a hollow thud that reverberated through the space below. You tapped again, feeling the same hollow thudding from the adjacent boards. Looking up at Bucky, you gestured toward the floor, affirming, “It’s underneath.”

Madame Voss gaped in astonishment at you and then turned her incredulous gaze towards the two gangsters. “Underneath? Underneath! This must be some kind of magical trick—in all my years working in this establishment, I have never heard of a basement or cellar!”

As Bucky waved at the woman, he made a disdainful noise in dismissal. The madame fluffed up, muttering under her breath in flustered embarrassment, and then stalked away a few paces. Bucky and Steve soon joined you, watching intently as you blindly felt around the edges of the wooden panels. As you investigated, your fingertips discovered finely carved grooves hidden within the wood—imperceptible to the casual observer but discernible to those who sought them out. The edges of the indents provided a perfect grip for you to dig your nails into the wood, allowing you to pry the board from the floor with little effort.

The three of you peered into the space below through the thin gap. It was pitch black, but you could make out some rickety stairs descending into the inky dark. A thick layer of dust sat upon the steps, a musty smell hitting your nose.

You sat back on your haunches, peering closely at the board you had just managed to pry up. The wood was marred with deep gouges as if some kind of wild animal had relentlessly scratched and clawed at the panel. As you tentatively ran your finger across the rough and battered surface, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach, sending a sickly shudder up your spine.

“Did you know this was here?” Steve mutters to Bucky from somewhere above you.

You continued peeling up each of the loose boards, using the indents to grip the wood with your nails. The disgusting, nauseating feeling intensified as it became apparent that every panel had identical deep gouges carved into the wood.

“No,” Bucky replies, his voice hushed.

When the hole is completely visible, you sink onto your knees. Now that light was flowing in, you could see more clearly. The dusty, ancient stairs descend to a stone floor. The stone appeared dry but extremely dusty. What appeared to be large, old wooden barrels and the beginnings of shelving against the walls were visible in the beam of light. You peer up at Bucky and Steve, who tower over you, and resist the urge to squirm as Bucky meets your gaze.

“This is the anchor.” You explain, and Steve’s face twists, perplexed.

“The pub—?”

“No. Spirits they… they bind themselves to something. An object, a person, a room. This is where the haunting originates.” You clarify and gradually rise to your feet, taking care not to collide with either of the men.

You take a hesitant step down, the stair beneath groaning under your weight. You swallow hard, then spin in place to look back up at the gangsters who watch you expectantly. “I might need a candle.”

Without glancing back, Bucky clicks his finger at Madame Voss, who is attempting to peer into the mysterious room from her perch. “Voss. Candle.”

The madam, clearly exasperated, lets out a loud huff before turning on her heel and disappearing into one of the adjacent rooms. There is still a distinct taste of tension in the air.

“Looks like your old man's been a naughty boy.” Steve teases, a boyish smile emerging. Bucky remains silent, choosing not to dignify the gangster's comment with a reply. Their dynamic left you contemplating the depth of their relationship, especially since you had heard that Barnes was not particularly kind to those who mentioned his father. While Bucky's gaze remained blank and unmoving, you couldn't help but notice a subtle twitch in his jaw, betraying a suppressed reaction.

The Smog Boys were infamous for their cruelty towards their enemies, anyone who crossed them, and those who betrayed their trust. Bucky, in particular, was known for his ruthless approach to dealing with anyone who stood in his way. He carried out his actions silently and brutally, and by the next morning, everyone in The Warrens knew that Barnes had spilt blood. Despite the fear he instilled in others, Bucky remained calm and collected. He was a strategic thinker and planner, and he took pleasure in the sadistic ways his plans unfolded. Despite his fearsome reputation, he was still not as notorious as his father.

His father exhibited a striking lack of cunning, care, or thoughtfulness in his approach. The Warrens endured a dreadful existence as George Barnes succumbed to alcohol-induced rampages. He embodied sheer strength, a fierce warrior whose white-hot rage could melt the most hardened of hoarfrosts. He instilled fear without cause, displaying psychopathic tendencies and craving notoriety through any means necessary. He bolstered the Smog Boys fostering terror through street attacks, gang wars, or burning entire buildings down as a message. Upon Bucky's ascension, the business adopted a quieter and more devious approach. Bucky was all about making money in a quick, quiet, and dirty way. His enemies didn't fear him because they knew what he was capable of, but rather because they never knew, and Bucky knew how to up the ante each time.

Around seven years ago, George had been arrested. He had been too loud and confident in his approach, and the coppers had snagged him. Bucky ran the business for his father, and the Smog Boys boomed with success. His father was set to go on trial, and it wasn’t an unknown fact that the judge had paid off. George Barnes was set to walk free and take over the business again.

Two days before the trial, he was discovered dead in his cell, his body bearing the marks of a brutal, mysterious beating. There was no trace of evidence to scrutinise, and the guards remained silent, neither admitting guilt nor pointing fingers. The law turned a blind eye to the demise of a notorious criminal under their watch, and the incident was quickly swept under the rug, forgotten within hours. Bucky vehemently denied any involvement. He put on a public display of mourning, cursing the authorities and vowing vengeance, though his threats never materialized. It's also worth noting that Bucky shared a particularly close bond with his mother, Winnifred, who herself was not spared from the brutality of her husband. It was common knowledge that, behind closed doors, Winnifred, Bucky, and his younger sister Becca endured all manner of cruelty at the fists of George Barnes.

Years had passed since those fateful events, and Bucky's ascension to power remained unquestioned. No one dared challenge his authority, fearing both the brutal consequences and because The Warrens had silently celebrated in the wake of Senior Barnes' untimely demise.

The sound of Madame Voss' heels clicking against the hardwood floor signalled her return. You took the candle gratefully, eager to escape the awkward tension, and descended into the gloom.

The old wood stairs protest with every step, emitting squeaks and groans under your weight. Your sweeping skirts brush a fine layer of dust into the air, shimmering in the weak candlelight that struggles to pierce the shadows of the small, dimly lit room. You could only describe the space as a cellar, with its stone walls and floors exuding an eerie, uncomfortable atmosphere. Thick metal bolts secure wooden shelves laden with countless large glass bottles, while large barrels, shrouded in heavy blankets of dust, crowd the square room. In the dim corners, dense cobwebs collect. A place long forgotten.

Bucky and Steve carefully made their way down the creaky stairs as you delicately balanced the flickering candle on the edge of one of the dusty barrels. As you wipe away the accumulated grime, you uncover a label imprinted on the lid: Property of SMOG BOYS—George Barnes. You squinted at the words in the low light, moving to the next as you tried to understand what was in these barrels.

Behind you, Steve had grabbed hold of one of the large glass bottles and uncorked it with a sharp pop! He raised it to his nose, took a sniff, and then emitted a loud holler. "Shit, Buck. This is moonshine."

Bucky let out a grumbling noise of recognition, inspecting one of the barrels. “It must’ve been a storage space from the distillery. These barrels look like whiskey.”

The two gangsters gathered near the barrels, muttering between themselves.

“You sure he never mentioned this to you?”

“I’m sure. Don’t know why he was so determined to hide a bit of liquor. We have plenty of warehouses for this—”

You rounded the barrels, venturing deeper into the room. A row of shelves faced the centre of the room, with a narrow space between them that you could slip through. The candlelight barely reached the other side, obscured by the layers of barrels and bottles. You blindly stumbled into the empty space, feeling a familiar, thrumming sensation.

Invisible strings tangled at your ankles as you pushed deeper into the darkness, the warm flicker of candlelight barely illuminating what lay within. There, in the centre of the room, stood a solitary chair—a simple wooden chair. The thrumming grew louder, your heart pulsating as you gaped down at it. Thick sailor ropes coiled tightly around each arm and leg, faded remnants of blood splattered across the cold stone floor beneath. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to close in around you, the air heavy with a sense of foreboding—

You jumped out of your skin as a hand rested on your shoulder. Bucky had followed you through the shelves. His eyes mirrored the unease that churned in your stomach, his face etched with a deep, troubled frown. You felt urged to speak up and console the man but you knew better than to fall into that trap. His presence was disturbingly comforting as if the dangerous gangster were not the apex predator in the room. All you could do was gape, tearing your vision away from the chair as you stumbled back a few paces.

As quickly as you had found solace in the man, it was torn away. He stalked toward you, finger pointed as he jabbed it into your sternum. His eyes had glazed over, a thunderous rage taking shape. You sensed it was a defence mechanism, a way to intimidate you because you had seen something you weren’t supposed to—something that shocked even him.

“Not a word. You understand?” he hissed, his large, sculpted frame towering over you. You shrank back, your spine meeting the shelving, causing the moonshine bottles to clink together.

You knew what this place was. A hidden place. A forgotten place. A place where torture and death had been carried out. An echo from the past. A whisper on the wind that spoke the name George Barnes.

This was the kind of business Bucky kept meticulously hidden—a necessary evil shrouded in secrecy. Bodies were found only if he wanted to send a message. You were certain there were countless other hidden, unmarked graves. Bucky was too clever to be undone by a rogue body or misplaced trust. Every action he took was calculated to ensure it could never be traced back to the Smog Boys. Of course, everyone knew it was them, but legally proving their involvement was another matter. Despite the gang's reputation for being untouchable, the coppers constantly searched for any loophole to bring them down. Bucky's entire operation could unravel if the wrong person discovered incriminating evidence.

For all your understanding, The Pony Club was one of the few legitimate businesses under the Barnes name. If an enemy of the Smog Boys discovered a way to link this grim scene to the underground crime network Bucky managed? It could spell disaster.

“Do you understand?” Bucky repeated, his voice dripping with venom. This was a side of him you had heard rumours of but had never witnessed yourself. This was the leader of the Smog Boys. This was the Bucky that made Sootstone cower.

You swallowed hard, nodding as you huddled against the shelves.

The gangster ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could sense the conflict in his eyes as they darted between you and the chair. After rubbing his chin and jaw, he finally settled on resting a hand on your shoulder again, an oddly tender touch. His head dipped, and he muttered in your ear, “I need this ghost gone. Now, doll. I think it's best no one else sees my father’s handiwork.”

“I can—I can do that,” you stammered. The gangster gave you a slow nod, exhaled sharply, and then turned on his heels.

In the sudden emptiness, the thrumming in your ears became deafening, a relentless pulse that drowned out all other sounds. Your ears rang with a piercing intensity, and your breath quickened, coming in short, ragged gasps. The room seemed to close in around you, now suffocatingly tight. The walls pressed inward, and the air grew thick and heavy as if it were pushing against your chest. You felt an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into your bones, a cold, insidious fear that wrapped itself around your heart. Somewhere in the background of it all, Steve yelped.

At first, you could not hear his distress, not over the noise in your head. It was only as Bucky paused by the narrow opening between the shelves, his eyes snapping to yours, that you heard Steve again—frantic shouts piercing through the deafening roar of a fire, overwhelming even the clamour in your head.

You move quicker than Bucky, darting through the shelves back into the candlelight.

Except it wasn’t the candlelight that lit the room in a blinding glow, but instead a figure engulfed in flame. You could make out bludged eyes and an agape mouth through the tendrils, which licked up the figure in a violent blaze. Steve was pinned with his back against one of the barrels as the figure, screaming and writhing, hurtled towards him.

You hurry forward, positioning yourself between Steve and the burning figure. Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you closer as he shouted, "What the fuck?!"

The fiery figure hesitates, its swollen, bloodshot eyes flitting between Steve and you in confusion. Bucky had pulled what appeared to be a knife from his pocket and was circling the scene. Your brows furrow as you give him a puzzled look and free yourself from Steve's grip.

“Put it away!” You bark over the roar. Bucky cocks his head to one side, both of you mutually surprised that you had found your voice. As you approach the figure, it retreats, the flames quickly extinguishing. Your ears ring as silence falls. The spirit has transformed into a black mass again, its shape twisting and jittering as it swings its gaze between the three of you.

“It can read your memories. It feeds off fear and pain.” You explain to the two gangsters, hesitantly stepping forward once more. The spirit centres its eyes solely on you. “It shows you your darkest memories, the ones you've buried. It’s tryna scare you.”

You do not dwell on whatever memory Steve was plagued by.

The spirit shifted once more, the dark mass disappearing into the shadows. You shallow your breath, quickly scanning the room before turning to Barnes. “The chair is the anchor. The spirit needs to be unbound.”

“And how do you do that?” He asks in reply, nostrils flaring. You step into the centre of the room, peering through the shelves into the dark space. Dread curled in your stomach as your eyes roamed the chair.

“I could destroy it or cleanse it—”

“Where's your mother, girl?” A familiar, slurred voice reverberated through the dimly lit room, sending shivers down your spine. Your entire body tensed, and your heart seemed to clench in your chest as a surge of fear momentarily halted you in your tracks. The acrid scent of alcohol mixed with the pungent odour of sweat hung heavy in the air. The heavy, unsteady footsteps of a large man reverberated over the stone floors.

“She’s sick.” A child's voice replied. Your voice.

In front of you appeared a vivid scene. Your father, in a state of intoxication, stood before you. His body was angled in such a way that only the profile of his face was visible. His clothing was tattered, and the floors bore marks of mud and filth from his worn boots. His hair was dishevelled and sprinkled with ash, and his flushed face glistened with sweat. Facing him was a much younger version of yourself. You estimated her to be around eight years old, judging by the length of her hair and the ragged dress clinging to her emaciated frame. The child cowered against a door, her limbs trembling in fear.

“Sick? That damn woman is always sick. Get out of the way, girl, I need to speak with my wife.” Your father slurs, lurching forward. The child held steady, her back pressed defiantly against the door.

“You can’t, she’s sleeping—”

A resounding crack echoed through the room as your father’s palm connected forcefully with her cheek. The impact sent her sprawling to the floor, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she fell. Tears shimmered in her wide, frightened eyes, reflecting the harsh light as they welled up and spilt over her cheeks. The room seems to hold its breath in the aftermath, the sharp sound of the slap lingering.

“What’s this? Who’s that?” Steve spoke up from beside you. You had almost entirely forgotten that the two men were still in the cellar with you. Bucky watches on with morbid curiosity, but you do notice how the muscles in his jaw tighten.

“A memory.” You mutter back. You urge your feet to move, but you feel as though you are wading through waist-deep water.

“Some gall you have to be telling me what I can and can’t do in my own home, girl!” Your father charges through the door, his eyes wild and unseeing as he drunkenly stumbles over your younger self's frail body. Ignoring your cries, he leaves her sprawled on the floor, the door slamming shut with a jarring finality before she can react. Muffled shouting and screaming rise from beyond, chaos that drowns out her sobs. The child curls into a ball on the cold floor, trembling and sobbing as the shrieking grows louder. The walls thud and shake with the force of his rage, each violent sound echoing through the small room, amplifying the terror that grips her small frame.

“You’re not welcome here, spirit,” your voice cuts through the unfolding nightmare with unwavering authority. You can feel Bucky’s gaze burning into you, but you tilt your head defiantly. Momentarily sucked into the horror of it all, but now you stand unshaken. The scene pauses, and the child freezes in place as the shouting and banging abruptly stop. The spirit seems to contemplate your words, its image flickering before dissolving into a dark fog that settles in a dense layer across the stone floors.

“I think destroying it would be easiest.” You mumble to the gangsters. Bucky’s lips were set in a fine line, his jaw still clenched, while Steve eyed you warily. “Burning it would be the best way.”

As if in response to your comment, the room burst to life once more. The two men stand on either side of you as if their curiosity is too much to dismiss as they realise it is another of your memories.

This time, the version of you was older. A teenager. She perched on the edge of the docks, her legs dangling into the waters below. Next to her sits a boy roughly the same age. The two of them laugh and indulge in a shared bag of colourful, sugary treats.

“My dad keeps askin’ after you.” The boy says. Michael. Your gut twists. You knew what was to come.

“I’m not joinin’ your dad’s weird cult.” She giggles, popping a boiled sweet into her mouth with a lopsided grin. Her hair was loose, uncaring as the breeze tangled it and ash fell from the skies.

“He keeps goin’ on about how you’re some saviour—”

“Ew.” She replies, nose scrunching. The teen leans back on her palms with a sigh, looking across the docks. “You know me and my mum aren’t interested in that stuff. I’m not desperate like those other witches he tricks into joining. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve held on this long, you’re what? Seventeen? Why don’t you just get a job in one of the factories and get the hell out of there?”

Michael appears displeased by her response. You had never previously noticed, despite replaying the memory in your mind numerous times. In the past, you believed you were being helpful, perhaps even clever. You could see the wrinkle of discomfort in the boy’s face now. You knew all too well that breaking free from his father's control was never as easy as moving out. You had been naive to believe that. Michael had not called you a fool, which was probably a small act of kindness on his part.

“How’s your mum?” He asks, gaze cast to the side to look at the teen’s profile. She shrugs, sucking on the sweet in thought.

“Still sick. We saw that healer in the Smokestacks, said he might be able to do somethin’ about it.”

“You know my family could help—”

The teen gives him an irritated look. “You know my mum doesn’t want your help. She doesn’t even want me hangin’ out with you.”

The tranquillity of the scene had captivated you to the point where you lost awareness of your surroundings. It was only the looming sense of dread for what was about to unfold, the feeling of Bucky's sleeve brushing against your arm, and the audible, sharp intake of breath from Steve that jolted you back to reality.

“Oi! Lookie here! It’s—” The shout of a copper was warbled as you strode forward, the memory rippling like a pool of water.

You had to prevent what was about to happen. You couldn't let Bucky see how everything truly unfolded. You knew you should have stopped it before it went this far. You shouldn't have allowed yourself to get pulled into this memory. Yet, there was a bittersweet comfort in seeing him again, remembering him as he was before everything went so wrong.

“Probably shouldn’t burn it down here. Those barrels catch and this place will explode.” You mutter under your breath, trying to ignore the sickness churning in your stomach as you approach the chair. As you draw closer, your eyes catch the gruesome details etched into the wood. Dark, crusted blood is splattered across the seat, each fleck and smear a silent testament. Streaks of crimson have seeped into the grain, staining the wood in a macabre pattern. The iron tang of old blood hangs in the air, mixing with the musty dampness of the room. Your hair stands on end and your nerves tingle as a shiver runs down your spine. The closer you stand, the more uneasy energy pulses through you. Summoning your courage, you grip one of the chair's arms and yank with all your strength—only to find it bolted firmly to the floor.

Your stomach drops.

You needed to get the two men out of this cellar and defeat this spirit yourself. You couldn’t stand their gazes upon you, waiting expectantly. You roll your shoulders, twisting your neck as a tight, itching sensation settles over your skin. You weren’t afraid of the memories, but rather the reaction to them. You didn’t want sympathy. Most of all, you didn’t want to be feared—to be viewed as a weapon.

You knew that was what the Smog Boys truly desired—a tool to complete their dirty work.

The memory came to life around you once more, stronger and more vivid. Michael was sprawled on the floor, beaten and bloodied, his face a mess of bruises and cuts. The coppers, young and full of arrogance, stood above him, their laughter echoing in the confined space. They were eager to prove themselves, and they relished every moment of his suffering, laying blow after blow into his broken body. Their cackles filled the room, mingling with the sickening thuds of their fists and boots against his flesh.

“Let me go!” Your head swivels as you look to the other side of the room. There, the teenage version of you is held back by two men with bruising grips, their hands digging painfully into her arms. Tears streamed down her face, carving glistening tracks through the grime and dust. Her eyes are wide with terror and helpless rage as she struggles and screams, her voice raw and desperate. The men restraining her exchange smirks, their expressions cold and indifferent to her anguish. The room seems to close in around you now, the walls reverberating with the echoes of her cries and the relentless thudding of blows landing on Michael. You were powerless, trapped in a living nightmare.

You needed to stop this—

There was a loud crunch, the agonising sound of bone snapping and shattering under a steel-toe boot. Michael has grown still, his body is no longer convulsing with pain. His face was unrecognisable—a grotesque mask of bruises and blood, the features obliterated by the relentless assault. His skull is misshapen, cracked open against the stone curb, a dark pool of blood is spreading beneath him.

Somewhere in the distance, the past version of you wails, a heart-wrenching sound that seems to come from the depths of her soul.

She was scrambling on her knees over the filthy streets, her body shaking with sobs as she gripped Michael’s lifeless form. Her fingers, trembling and desperate, searched for any sign of life, but you knew now that it was pointless. Michael was dead. He had died the moment they cracked his skull open. Blood smears her hands and clothes as she clings to him, her tears mixing with the grime on the ground.

She shakes his body, begging him to wake up. The coppers continue to snicker amongst themselves. They are unphased by the blood and flesh painted across their boots, their faces twisted in smug satisfaction.

“That’s enough now.” You spoke up in the present, tone low and warning. The spirit hesitates, and the teen pauses, her body relaxing as the sobbing stops. Her head twists around, her eyes a milky white as she looks directly through you.

“I know what you are.” The spirit spoke through the memory of you. Her gaze shifted to look at the coppers. Their figures are silent, but their shoulders shake with laughter, an amused indifference as they watch the suffering before them. “Spirit-raiser…diviner…light-bringer.”

Her eyes start to glow, a bright white that blinds the room. You know what is to come. You know what happens next. The shelves and barrels begin to rattle around you, and dust is stirred up into clouds. You could hear Steve swearing somewhere behind. Her sights move to the coppers, a knowing smirk fading into a cruel frown. Her hand raises into the air, fingers moving to snap—

Your hand has subconsciously raised. The ground trembles beneath you. It isn’t from the past; it is present. It was you at this exact moment, touching your fingers together. The ceiling above you groans, bottles of moonshine shattering across the floors as they fall. Behind you, Bucky and Steve yell over the commotion, calling to you. You can feel the crackle of electricity in the air and map every particle that flutters in the air. The chaos rises in your chest as you summon it forward. The crackle of energy grows higher and higher until the tingling sensation meets your fingertips.

You snap your fingers, and a deafening crack echoes through the cellar. For a moment, everything grows still. Your body begins to glow, emitting a bright white light that fills the room, even stronger than the spirit's light. The intensity of it is blinding, obliterating every detail with a searing brilliance.

The room explodes around you.

Bits of wood splinter, torn from their fixtures and launched through the air. Barrels explode with a thunderous roar, whiskey gushing out in torrents that splash and pool around your ankles, the potent scent of alcohol overwhelming your senses. The entire room shudders and rocks from the impact, the walls groaning under the strain. You were momentarily assaulted by the barrage of debris—sharp shards of shelving and glass raining down around you. Until Bucky grips you. Amid the chaos, he seizes your waist, pulling you into the shelter of his chest to shield you from the storm.

Steve has vanished up the stairs, the floorboards above rattling with each of his hurried steps as the earth finally settles. The room falls into an eerie silence, the only sound being the gentle sloshing of liquor around your feet.

There is a large crack in the stone floor where the chair used to be.

You pull yourself from Bucky’s grip rather unceremoniously, frowning as you pull shredded wood from your hair. The gangster eyes you cautiously, clearing his throat as he retreats backwards. “Are you gonna explain what that was?”

You were unsure what he was specifically referring to—whether it was the haunting memories or the raw power you had just unleashed. Regardless, you didn’t feel up to explaining either. A deep weariness had settled into your bones, your muscles aching from the exertion of channelling such immense energy. A thin trail of blood had begun to leak from your nose, the metallic taste of copper lingering as you absentmindedly licked your bottom lip in thought.

You should not have done that. But they would have found out either way.

Your fingers instinctively came up to rub your temple as you let out a sharp sigh of annoyance. With magic weariness came a tinge of irritation and snarkiness—it was a familiar companion after such displays of power. At that moment, you couldn't summon the will to care about how dangerous Bucky was or how he could ruin your life. All you craved was the simple comfort of lying down and perhaps indulging in a strong drink or two to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

Above, Madame Voss's shrill shrieks pierce through the ceiling, amplifying the headache pounding behind your skull. You knew the entire row of buildings would have felt the surge of energy you had just unleashed. One could only hope that the coppers wouldn’t investigate too closely into the disturbance.

Ignoring his previous question, you speak up. “You should invest in gettin’ your buildings properly cleansed.”

Maybe that would make him and his men shut up about your faulty locks.

You go to walk away, but Bucky's firm grip on your forearm halts your movement, holding you back. His head cocks as he looks you up and down, his eyes sharp and calculating. “I don’t know much about magic, but I know witches don’t just summon shit like that out of thin air.”

If you were one of his dogs, your hackles would have raised, teeth bared. You look him down defiantly with a scowl. “Respectfully, Barnes, you don’t know shit about magic. I keep your secrets; you keep mine. That’s the deal, isn’t it?”

His lips curl into an astonished smirk, pleased as equally as he was stunned by your tone. His head dips down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low murmur. “You know, doll, if you weren’t growing on me, I would have you killed for speaking to me like that.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath tickling against your skin, his proximity stirring a mix of emotions within you—wariness, curiosity, and a hint of something deeper that you couldn't quite define. You knew better than to let the boundaries between you blur. You give him a mocking pout, wrenching your arm from his grip. “I know you won’t kill me, if you wanted to kill me, I would be dead already. You’ve decided I’m valuable, haven’t you? Who would break your curses and scare away the skeletons in your closet? You must know that I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t want to help you, we’re not friends.”

His jaw tenses slightly as he processes your words, and his voice is flat as he speaks. “The most valuable thing a woman like you can offer is what’s between your legs. And you gave that up pretty easily.”

His lips curl into a sneer. “I suppose the magic is a bonus. But I know you’re little more than a whore beneath it all.”

Several emotions flicker through your chest. Pain, frustration, disillusionment. You should have known better. You knew better. You don’t dignify the gangster with a response, instead turning on your heel to march out of the cellar.

“I’ll have someone come fetch you when you’re next needed, spirit-raiser,” he calls after you, his tone mocking.

You ascend the stairs without looking back.

PART THREE

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