#anyways so this is the first time I’m saying it anywhere for certain rather than just wondering about it

[wttcsms]

time, mystical time (cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine) ; simon "ghost" riley.

pairing simon "ghost" riley x f!reader  word count 3.3k  synopsis snapshots of the defining moments in ghost's life. content contains slight angst, mild descriptions of alcohol abuse (ghost's father) + domestic abuse (non-explicit desc., but the act itself is mentioned various times), a bit of tiny look into my take on ghost's background, nsfw content, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie, domestic fluff, pregnant!reader in some scenes, children (dad!ghost) author's notes takes place in this au & honestly is a lot more enjoyable of a read if you read that fic (+ the other connected one shots [go on my masterlist]). fun fact: simon is referred to as simon in the scenes with only you and his family. he's ghost anywhere else.

His mother had always told him that as a baby, he was always rather quiet. Scared her half to death, she would say, ‘cause he’d rarely ever cry. Even the doctor got worried when he first came out. 

Looking back at his childhood — perhaps the lack thereof — Simon assumes it’s probably instinctual. With a deadbeat drunk of a father armed with a heavy hand, being quiet probably saved Simon’s life more times than he wants to admit. He’d be knocked upside the head for the littlest of reasons, shouted at for even less. 

I’m the man of the house. 

His father’s slurred justifications for doling out unfair punishments ring through the dark halls of his childhood home. Simon hears it while he cowers inside his closet. His room is dark because his father doesn’t believe in nightlights, and mum got slapped hard for daring to go against his wishes and trying to sneak Simon one. She thinks he didn’t see it, but Simon sees a lot more than he should. Since then, he’s been sleeping in the dark. It’s not so scary anymore. 

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway. 

It’s stuffy in the closet, and he knows it’s stupid to hide here because dad will find him any second now. The punishment is bad when he gets to drinking, and it gets worse whenever Simon tries to hide. 

A loud thump against his door makes Simon hold his breath. Then, the door bangs open from the weight.

Kicking doors open comes second nature to Lieutenant Riley. 

The loud crash of the door popping from the rusty hinges shocks the poor girls previously trapped behind them. All of them stay huddled together, staring fearfully at the loud, big men toting even louder, bigger guns. The hollowed cheeks, hopeless eyes, and array of bruises on their skin makes him sick. It’s a hot summer’s day, and Simon hates that after all this time, his observation from his childhood still stands true:

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway. 

A bit hypocritical, he supposes. After all, he walks around in broad daylight, and he’s certainly no saint.

With the help of the rest of his extraction team, Ghost makes quick work of herding all the girls out of this depressing underground prison and out into a free world. He’s careful to be gentle with his touches, nothing more than a gentle guiding hand. Even with his gloves, he can’t be certain he’s not tainting them. Sins don’t wash away as easily as blood does. 

He’s the last one to leave, but he doesn’t exit alone. 

For a while, he felt a tight grip on his arm. Someone’s been clinging onto him this whole time, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t find it in his heart to shake them off. With no other distractions present, he finally turns to see who’s gotten so attached to him.

This is it. 

This is the moment where Simon Riley claims his life begins.

It’s such a juvenile feeling, he thinks. Waiting for his phone to ring, wondering why you haven’t texted or called. It’s so silly. So what he saved your life? It’s not like you owe him anything. It’s his job. He had a duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he’s an asshole. Not the type of asshole who thinks he’s entitled to your company since he rescued you, but the type where Soap and the rest of the team aren’t too surprised he doesn’t have anyone to come home to. 

He can’t sleep. 

It’s been weeks since he gave you that burner phone. Surely you would have called, even sent a simple “hello”, if you really wanted to. He knows there’s not much to do in that facility. He knows that you haven’t been sleeping well. He knows that he should go to sleep; he’s got an early flight to catch in an active warzone, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get any semblance of rest as a result. 

Instead of sleeping, he’s grabbing his own burner phone off the nightstand and staring at the screen. It’s a simple enough task, really. He can just head straight to his contacts list and click the only one that’s there. Isn’t it traditional for the guy to call first, anyway? Or is he just fooling himself into thinking that you’re waiting for him to make the first move? Do you want him to make the first move? 

He’s never experienced this before. This newfound, boyish anxiety. The equal mixture of both hopelessness and hope churning in his stomach every time he sees you; do you think of him as much as he thinks of you? The question is then followed by a decisive no. He hasn’t survived this long because of blind optimism, so there’s no point in indulging in it now. 

Will you come back then? 

You looked up at him while asking this question, and you looked like an angel unfairly punished to walk alongside man. He wanted to spend the rest of his life constructing a stairway to heaven that you could use to make it back to your rightful home. When you look that beautiful and then proceed to ask him a question, what else was he supposed to say besides,

Whenever you want me to. 

Perhaps God truly is as merciful as he is all-seeing, because after a minute of contemplation and staring longingly at your contact, his phone screen lights up with the notification he’s prayed for (the only thing he’s ever prayed for, really). 

You’re calling him. 

And true to his word, he’s on his way. 

He’s never said I love you before, and as a result, he’s too scared to make his first attempt to do so, even though you just told him those three words yourself.

(He might tower over you, but looks can be deceiving. Simon thinks you’re much stronger and braver than him, in all the ways that matter.)

I love you.

He resists the urge to beg you to say it again and again and again, on repeat for the rest of your lives. 

He doesn’t say it back immediately, but he does let you take off his mask for the first time.

He doesn’t realize that the wide-eyed, awestruck, soft gleam in your eyes as you take him in, fully, for the first time is the same starry-eyed look he gets whenever he looks at you. He has a feeling you’re well aware of it, but now he finds the courage to confirm it.

“I love you.” 

And with a smile that could bring him back to life, all you have to say is, “I know.”

His mask is in your hands, after all.

“You never quite outgrow it, do ya?” Tommy’s got his hands in his pockets, but Simon can still picture the wedding band on his younger brother’s finger. He had been happy when Tommy tied the knot with Beth, if not a bit jealous. 

Now, though, Simon’s got his own wedding band. It’s tucked underneath his uniform, hanging from the same chain his dog tags are. It rests against his chest, in a spot closest to his heart, right where it — you — belong.

Dad’s dead. Tommy says mum cried, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, she’s the one who faced his wrath for the longest. She’s been on the receiving end of all his harshness. She’s the one who’s taken the most hits, the hardest hits. Simon nods in agreement but doesn’t tell his brother that he thinks he might know why.

Simon knows his mother is a good woman. A long time ago, his father wasn’t the man he knew growing up. He doesn’t know when the change in his personality happened, and Simon somehow feels like it’s his fault. He was the catalyst, the trigger. While she was pregnant with him, that’s when the violence and the drinking and the anger started. He knows mum isn’t crying to mourn the man he became; she’s just finally safe to grieve about the man she loved and lost. Simon hasn’t been able to face her in a while since he’s come to the conclusion that his being born was the cause of everything horrible that has happened to her. 

“No, I suppose not,” Simone says. The house feels smaller than he remembers, but when he walks into his childhood bedroom, he’s transported to darker times. The room is as big as the whole world again. This room, this damn house, is his only world. He’s nine and cowering in fear again. He’s little again. He’s scared again. He wants to run away, but his scrawny little legs won’t let him. Dad won’t let him. 

Then he blinks and realizes that the room hasn’t changed all that much.

Within the next week, Simon gets the house demolished and the land sold. 

“Ta-da!” You present to him a knitted, baby-blue blanket. The beginning stitchwork is sloppy at best with considerable improvement the further he looks. Between every thread, Simon can practically feel the love that’s stitched in it. 

“You like it?” You ask him, looking at him expectantly. 

“It’s perfect.” 

“Liar!” Your laugh rings through the cabin, and Simon feels like he’s being bathed in sunlight from the warmth of the sound alone. It’s distinctly yours, and he doesn’t want to be the barbarian who just takes and takes, but he wants it all to himself. He wants to catch it from the air and stuff it in his pockets and save it for when he’s in a foreign country and can’t sleep at night. 

“Why would I lie? It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

“I messed up, like, five times trying to get this damn thing started! And it was so hard to get into a good groove since Simon Jr. thinks he’s a little football player. He’s been kicking like crazy!” To prove your point, you get closer to Simon and take one of his large hands, placing it on your growing belly. He’s sitting, surrounded by tools and pieces of a crib that he’s trying to build, and all he can do is look up in admiration at you, the most beautiful woman to walk this earth, an angel too good for this world, the mother of his child, his wife, you. Your hand is on top of his, and you squeeze it gently, and he loves the way the diamond on your wedding ring glitters in the sunlight. 

“He’s a strong one, alright.” Simon chuckles, feeling the way his son bumps against your belly. 

“Must get it from you, then.” 

That’s funny. Simon was just about to say that he’s pretty sure he gets it from you. 

When he’s with you, Simon likes to take things slow. He can be rough at times, demanding and conquering you with nothing but brute strength and vulgar compliments. Like a true soldier, you take all of his transgressions in stride. 

Tonight is one of the nights where Simon will indulge and finally take things slow. He likes to savor every moment he gets with you because no matter how much time has passed, the pessimist in him doesn’t stop reminding him that time is fickle, and the future is never promised. 

But Simon wants to build a future with you. Simon has built a future, but he’s greedy. So, so greedy. He wants more, he wants all of you, he wants everything you’re willing to give him. The way you part your legs for him, how you willingly — lovingly — let him in, even though nature resists.

No matter how many times he’s split you open on his cock, even with the slickness of the previous two orgasms he so happily wrung out from you, there’s still resistance as the width and length of his cock struggle to slide into your cunt. 

“It’s okay, love, let me in.” His whispers of reassurance are barely heard over your little whimpers. You’re nodding, trying to be a good girl for him, but the fact of the matter is that Simon Riley is incredibly too big. He is a god among men, and you find yourself squeezing his hand tightly as the first few inches of his cock make its way into your warmth. 

“I know, darling.” He mumbles, but his gentle words are spoken roughly. Desire coats every syllable, and his voice is gravelly. He’s holding back, restraining himself from giving in and giving it to you roughly. His hand, so much larger than your own, squeezes back. He’s slowly pushing more of his length inside your needy cunt, and you moan at the feeling of being complete. 

You don’t realize the tears that are welling up in the corner of your eyes as he completely enters you, the tip of his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix. Simon’s always been good at mixing pain and pleasure, and tonight is a testament to that. 

“More, please.” It comes out like a weak, little whine, and Simon is putty in your hands. Completely malleable to your every whim and desire. His love wants more? He’ll give you everything. 

Your lashes are wet with your tears, and he watches as tiny streams of tears fall down your heated cheeks. Your face feels warm to the touch, Simon realizes, as he leans down to kiss away your tears. Poor thing. You must have exerted yourself too much when you were thrashing around earlier as he refused to remove his mouth from your precious pussy until you came in his mouth. 

You’re no match for the sheer strength and power of Simon, who’s built like a Greek god and probably just as powerful. You surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his cock stroking in and out of your cunt, and you’re damn near shameless in your greed and desire for more. 

“Cum in me. I want you to give me another baby, wanna grow our family with you.” You toss your head back in pleasure, feeling the way his grip on your hand tightens at your words. The two of you move perfectly together; you wrap your legs around his waist as his free hand grips your hip to keep you steady. 

“Yeah? My wife wants me to fuck another baby into her?” Simon grunts, doubling his efforts to ensure that his cock hits deep enough to press against all the spots that have your walls tightening around him. 

The throbbing of his cock and the allure of expanding your family with Simon, with having a part of him always, even after the two of you have left this earth, is enough to send you over the edge. The ecstasy is all-consuming; all you know is Simon. You feel him to the depth of your core, his heat pressed against your own, your shared bedroom heavy with lust and love. 

He loves the way your body goes slack from the intensity of your orgasm. It lets him know that he’s fucked you just the way you deserved to be fucked, filled to the brim with his cock and his cum and all his love. He kisses you hard, savoring the natural sweetness of your lips pressed against his own. He muffles your moans as you feel the endless stream of his cum spilling inside of you, the warmth of it all being almost too much to bear. 

“Mmmf,” You pull back from his kiss, just so you can look him in the eyes as you give him his favorite reminder in the world.

“I love you.” 

He responds with another deep kiss. It says enough. It says I love you, too, and we’re going for a round two. 

He has all the time in the world with you.

He doesn’t feel any pain. That’s odd.

He looks back to the last minute. He heard the distinct sound of a gun firing, and he stumbled a bit as fate had its cruel fun and allowed the bullet to miraculously hit him in the one area his bulletproof gear just so happened to miss. What are the odds? 

He looks down. A dark stain is forming on his uniform, and the spot only continues to grow bigger. He moves a hand down to where the stain is at — it’s wet. A fresh wound. Fuck.

The sentiment is shared with Soap, who for once in his life doesn’t have anything smart to say. Ghost wants to say something cheeky, then. Just to keep him calm. It worked with Tommy. 

What’s the matter? Don’t worry about me. Should’ve seen the other guy. Almost had him in the last round. 

The words, Ghost realizes with growing dread, don’t quite come so easily.

It’s like his brain knows what he wants to do, but nothing is going as planned. Soap is saying something, but he just can’t quite make out the words. Johnny, speak proper fucking English, why don’t ya? 

No. That’s not the issue. Ghost frowns, but he doesn’t think Soap notices because of his damn mask. He can’t speak for shit, and he can’t hear, either. Actually, now that he’s really trying to take in his surroundings, everything’s a bit hazy, too. Like someone’s put some stupid film over everything, and stuff’s all slightly blurry. Just out of focus, just out of reach. 

“—get you home, alright?” The words sound all jumbled up, and Ghost only really catches the last end of whatever Soap’s blabbing on about. He’s a good kid. Great soldier. Stellar human being. He mentioned something about going home, but that’s just silly. The mission isn’t over yet, get it? They can’t go home ‘til the mission’s complete. 

“—don’t close your eyes—”

Home sounds nice. Warm vanilla in the colder seasons, jasmine with equal hints of something fruity and floral in the warmer ones. You fill the house with these scents, even matching your daily perfume to it. Doesn’t matter much to him, though. He hugs you close to his body and breathes in deeply, and he can still smell just you. No perfume will ever compare. 

Oh, and a busy kitchen. You’re covered in flour, his son sits on the counter, his daughter in her high chair. The entire kitchen comes to life, and every time he sees all three of you giggling in unison, his favorite sound of all, this kitchen becomes his whole world. This is what he goes to war to protect.

Baby blue walls and a crib. Crayon drawings of a stick figure family. Watching his daughter’s first steps and his son clinging to your legs. 

Maybe Soap’s right. Forget the mission. He should just head home.

But first, he’s really fucking tired. He’ll shut his eyes just for a minute.

He blinks a few times, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Light slaps against his face were the cause for his waking up. A damn shame, honestly. He rarely dreams, but when he does, it’s of you, and he was dreaming about something certainly worth remembering for the next time he’s reunited with you. 

He rolls over to confront whoever dared to ruin the one good rest he’s had in a long time, only to come face to face with bright, innocent eyes the same shade as his own. 

“G’morning,” his son says, the words still clumsy on the two-year-old’s tongue. When Simon doesn’t answer immediately, he resumes slapping his father’s face.

“I’m up, buddy.” 

The little toddler claps his chubby little hands together in pure joy. 

“Dada home?”

Like a sight for sore eyes, you appear in the doorway, gently opening the door and pushing it open. You’ve got your daughter in your arms, and you look ready to scold the young boy for disturbing Simon until you realize that he’s already awake. There’s that smile of yours that Simon loves so much, the one he swears could bring him back to life.

“I’m home.”

author's note i intended for these little scenes/glimpses of his life to be the things ghost sees as he's bleeding out on the field. get it? the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing BAHAHAHA. don't worry, he's alive and very much well, enjoying much needed domesticity with you + your little family. the last scene is him fucking u good and well, and that's the lil dream he was having. muahaha

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #one shot #drabble #fluff #angst #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[ohisms]

↪     𝑖𝑡'𝑠 ᵗʰᵉ 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 .   (  a  collection  of  sentence  starters  from  disney’s  2014  film  into the woods .   adjust  phrasing  as  necessary .  )

the king is giving a festival !

i wish the walls were full of gold ,  i wish a lot of things .

sometimes i wonder what’s going on in that head of yours .

what are you doing ?  stop your pretending .

are you certain of your way ?

the way is clear ,  the light is good .

the woods are just trees ,  the trees are just wood .

are you really wearing that ?

it’s not what i wish ,  it’s what you wish .

i could’ve turned him into stone .  or a dog .  or a chair .

a small price to pay for what you stole from me .

well ,  that’s another story .  nevermind ,  anyway .

sorry ,  i’m still not mollified .

how could you do that ?

your father was no father ,  so why should you be ?

we’re starving ,  [ name ] !  don’t you understand that ?

we have to live ,  i don’t care how .

look what i found .  here ,  take this .

no ,  i can do this on my own .

it may be all in vain ,  you know .

i have no fear ,  nor no one should .

careful not to lose the way .

what’s your rush ?  you’re missing all the flowers .

look what you’re ignoring .

why do you think i asked you to do it in the first place ?

get me what i need  ...  get me what i need !

you’d look pretty foolish .

i’d rather a wolf than you any day !

you shouldn’t be here ,  it’s not safe in these woods .

i was just trying to help .

we have one chance .  don’t you see that ?

i’m not sure i’m cut out to be a father .

if you can’t do this for yourself ,  can’t you at least do it for me ?

don’t you look lovely today ,  my dear ?

i brought your favorite .

i can’t believe i just did that .

wait a minute ,  i never thanked you .

i’m sorry .  i should’ve known better .

i had been so careful ,  i never had cared .

he made me feel excited ,  well  ...  excited and scared .

they will not protect you the way they should .

nice is different than good .

isn’t it nice to know a lot  ...  and a little bit not ?

oh ,  get your head out of the clouds !

i just need to catch  my breath .

aren’t you the lucky one ?

please don’t let them know that i’m here .

i’ve never lied to royalty before .

it’s not quite what i expected .

you’re free to do whatever pleases you .

steal what you can and run !

you’re back again ,  only different than before .

i never even reached home .

who cares ?  get it back .

get away from me with that ,  you fool .

i shouldn’t have yelled .

i will make things right ,  and we can carry on with our lives .

will you go ?  please .  go .

when the one thing you want  ...  is the only thing out of your reach .

the woods can be a dangerous place .

i thought you were returning home !

do you mean you’re going to let me stay with you ?

perhaps it will take two of us to have this child .

i thought one was enough ,  it’s not true .  it takes two of us .

when the journey was tough ,  it took two of us .

at home i’d fear we’d stay the same forever .

what did i clearly say ?   what were you not to do ?

what have i been to you ?  what would you have me be ?

i embarrass you .  you are ashamed of me .

don’t you know what’s out there in the world ?

someone has to shield you from the world .  stay with me .

who out there could love you more than i ?

the world is dark and wild .

stay a child while you can be a child .

i gave you protection ,  and yet you disobeyed me .

where you’re going ,  no one will ever see you again .

whichever you pick ,  do it quick .

it’s fun to deceive when you know you can leave ,  but you have to be wary .

at home ,  they don’t care .  i’m better off there ,  where there’s nothing to choose so there’s nothing to lose .

wait ,  please !   i haven’t much time .

that makes no sense !

what is that you have in your hand ?!

i would recognize these beautiful eyes anywhere .

is that you ?  i’m blind ,  i can’t see .

you could’ve been killed !

i was just thinking of the greater good .

i don’t have the constitution .

as long as i can be no help ,  i’m going to hide .

i don’t know where they think they’re going .

this is who i truly am ,  my dear .

why did you run off ?

i will not come with you .

you leave me no choice .

i shouldn’t complain .

i’m not allowed to leave the palace unescorted .

if you’d like ,  you can come with me .

i shall not forget you ,  and how alive you’ve made me feel .

you’re hurting me !

stop ,  stop !  i said stop !

this is all my fault .

remorse will get you nowhere .

when you’re dead ,  you’re dead !

this is no time to be soft - hearted !

you’re responsible ,  you’re the one to blame .  it’s your fault !

you’re all liars and thieves .

you’ll just do what you do .

it doesn’t matter if we’re together or apart .

i’m sorry ,  i did a foolish thing .

i didn’t realize ,  i was being careless .  selfish .

you stole and got caught and did what you do !

i hated myself .  i ran away from my guilt and shame .

aren’t you making the same mistake ?

be better than me .

i knew you wouldn’t give up .

that doesn’t matter ,  now .

first ,  we’ll need a weapon .

i did not recognize you ,  what are you doing here ?

maybe i’m not your only love .

if you love me ,  why did you stray ?

i thought that if you were mine ,  i would never wish for more .

i was raised to be charming ,  not sincere .

i think you should go .

i’m glad you’re here to help me .

you are not alone .  no one is alone .

you’ll do nothing of the kind .

what he did was wrong .  he should be punished .

it’s not as easy as that .

who can say what’s true ?

believe me ,  no one is alone .

people make mistakes .  fathers ,  mothers ,  people make mistakes .

you decide what’s right .  you decide what’s good .

just remember ,  someone is on your side .  someone else is not .

i miss her ,  too .

how can i go about being a father when i had no father to show me ?

sometimes people leave you  ...  do not let it grieve you ,  no one leaves for good .

things will be alright now .

#the process of making this involved a lot of crying <3 #rp meme #rp inbox meme #rp prompts #rp inbox prompt

[eggymf-archived]

of paper planes and wildflowers; 10

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: mild angst, mentions of kidnapping, trauma, not proofread, unedited

chapter summary: your denial towards your heart's desire is quite a stubborn thing to get rid of, but it’s only a matter of time before you fully cave in.

word count: 4.8k

a/n: can't believe i'm halfway through this fic series. also i apologize for the huge delay. it feels like a criminal offense not updating this series for 2 weeks, but i was dipping my toe in other forms of writing plus i have a raging smut brain rot to quell. anyways, enjoy! :D

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3 

It was just another typical day as a wee fifth year, doing perfectly normal student things. At least, that's what you hoped for the entirety of the duration of the day. The past few days hadn't been particularly forgiving towards you physically, mentally, and perhaps emotionally: and no, it wasn't the extra workload that your other classmates were bemoaning about every class dismissal, nor was it about anything outlandish like Peeves juggling small cauldrons and chucking it at random unsuspecting students in the Potions Classroom.

The sole reason was utterly mundane if you were to fully think about it. Not just that, but it was rather silly that you still get perplexed even at a mere afterthought of a certain blonde-haired male with the most intriguingly beautiful misty eyes alongside his alluring, multifaceted nature.

Ominis Gaunt. 

Ominis “Romped-You-In-The-Library” Gaunt.

Ominis “Broom-Closet-Extraordinaire” Gaunt.

Ominis “Almost-Caught-by-Brattleby” Gaunt.

Ominis “Pervert-Vanquisher” Gaunt.

Ominis “Russ’-New-Owner” Gaunt.

Ominis “Screams-Mid-Flight-in-a-Broom” Gaunt

And the most recent one, much to your sheer delight, confusion, and panic.

Ominis “Vesper-aka-Your-Pen-Pal” Gaunt.

That note that you had gotten from the kitchens has absolutely plagued your poor mind and heart. Despite it being nearly two full days ever since you received it, you were still in shambles, unable to wrap your pretty little head around the truth that had been slapped right into your face. You hadn't replied to his letter just yet for good measure, but you planned to once you had the mental capacity to do so. In fact, you were taking everything to mind, using your signature Ravenclaw trait and skills of rationality and analysis to do its wonders of problem-solving for the best outcome.

But would brain-oriented tactics effectively help when it comes to matters of the heart? Yes. Would you be happy with the conclusions? Probably not. Yes — you were a woman of logic and reasoning, and whatever your answers were based on your keen analysis and takeaways were much more reliable than your whims and emotions.

Oh, when will this madness ever cease?

It was a war zone within you, and everything was on fire. As usual, you were overcomplicating things for yourself. In your defense, however, you can't help it: your mind clearly says no, but your heart says yes was something that you couldn't rely on due to its fickle nature, yet it must be taken into consideration to make a sound choice.

“Seriously? Losing your marbles over a boy? You should be embarrassed.” 

Your self-assured inner voice continuously chides you within your head, your eyes fixated on that particular Slytherin student with that gorgeous face slicked back blonde hair who was fast asleep on the cold marble floors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower. Garreth and Natsai were chatting away while you kept stealing glances at the slumbering male on the first floor, pensive.

Yes, this was allegedly the boy who has been plaguing your mind day and night for the past few months. While you were in a state of inner turmoil with your own mental gymnastics and beating muscle's theatrics, he was just there, blissfully taking a nap like an innocent stray kitten. Though you have to admit: his ability to sleep anywhere was rather impressive. 

Do you dare to think that he actually looks adorable being curled up into a ball like that? Yes No.

You felt an arm wrap itself around your neck, trapping you in a headlock. Garreth shook his head, tutting.

“Blimey, you have it pretty bad for him, don’t you?” he sighs in jest, looking at the Gaunt from a distance. Natsai smirks, leaning against the marble balustrade while crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow towards you.

“You’ve been staring at him for quite a while,” she points out with a rather teasing tone. “You might as well take a picture instead of pretending not to look at him this whole time.”

You felt heat rush to your face, groaning in response at your two closest friends who merely chortled at your plight. Your mind, however, was rooted in a different place — you were in no mood to make your usual retorts with how swarmed your thoughts were. His penned words were in a constant loop, echoing throughout every small crevice of your brain alongside the monologues that you have vehemently tried to eradicate in hopes of stunting the growth of this budding romance, all to no avail.

“Thank you for not believing the rest of them.”

“Sometimes, I wish I did — perhaps it'll be easier for my own mind, body, and soul, but I could never do such a thing.”

“I never expected someone else to see me for who I truly am.”

“I can't turn back now. Choosing ignorance despite knowing the truth is a grave sin to my own moral beliefs — and especially towards you, a diamond in the rough; a person who deserves more than what he has been given.”

Your kindness astounds me, and I’m forever grateful that you exist in my life.

“I wish I had your bravery. It’s never easy to voice out your feelings, yet you do it with such grace and sincerity. If only I could openly reciprocate the ever-growing feelings I have for you. It would mean the world to me, but for now, I shall voice out my heartfelt gratitude to the cosmos — for granting me this privilege of being in your company, even if it’s only for a little while.”

A chilling wave of sadness washed over you, snapping you out of your own whimsical thoughts and slightly deflating at the reality that had dawned upon you once more, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

This was wrong. All of it is wrong.

Self-righteousness paired with the obsession to conformity was a blight on one's identity, and your own mother was a living example of that statement. She was uptight and adamant about following the traditions of her adopted family. Perhaps the fact that she wasn’t related to them by blood had caused her to develop a rather crippling mindset of constantly needing to prove herself. She would be livid to find out that you’ve been “fraternizing” with the “enemy” — a Gaunt.

The Robards were known to produce both Aurors and members of the Wizengamot throughout the entirety of their family history. They’ve always walked on the path of light, and just like your poor mother, you had no choice but to comply with their “standards”. Within honor and prestige lies a form of imprisonment: as a member of the family, it was your duty to protect the house’s reputation alongside its members. No matter how much you disagreed with their outdated ways, there would always be a fragment of you that yearns for their approval — a shackle that you might not possibly be able to free yourself from.

At the end of the day, the little girl within you merely yearns to hear the right words: to be assured that she's not messing everything up for the umpteenth time.

Yet amidst the dramatic angst of your bitter situation, you find yourself thinking of him fondly regardless, recalling the little things that he had done for you throughout the past few months. Every letter, gift, gesture, banter, and touch; the slight roughness of his hands, the softness of his lips, the honesty of his expressions, and the warmth of his embrace — everything.

Unfortunately for you, the truth always gets increasingly harder to avoid the longer you deny the desires of your poor maiden heart. The more you get to know him, the deeper you sink into the quagmire of romance. 

Yet here you were, going against your beliefs for the umpteenth time.

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classes was about to start in a matter of minutes, yet you felt sluggish. For some odd reason, you didn't want to attend it: there was a feeling of dread that you had all of a sudden, which consumed your gut rather unpleasantly. Meanwhile, Ominis was still sound asleep, utterly in bliss. 

Perhaps a few minutes of tardiness won't be that big of a deal.

“You guys go on ahead. I'll catch up,” you informed Garreth and Natsai, who were heading up to the stairwell leading to Professor Hecat’s classroom. You approached his curled-up form, fighting a cheeky little grin that threatened to break out from your lips at the sight. You furrowed your brows, clearing your throat to diffuse the growing embarrassment within your chest.

“Wonder why Sallow isn’t with him…” you pondered, kneeling beside him and gently pinching his cheek, wiggling the flesh slightly.

“Wake up...”

Snore.

“Wake up.”

…

Sigh.

A ghost of a smirk appears on his lips, which doesn't slip under your observant gaze. You frowned, pinching his cheek slightly harder this time, causing his eyelids to snap open out of the sudden tugging pain.

“OW!”

“Classes start in around five minutes. Be thankful I even woke you up,” you huff, a light pink dusting your face before standing up and heading off to the classroom. Ominis rubbed his now reddened cheek, getting up and tailing after you with a small smile on his lips. 

The both of you arrived in the classroom just in time while Professor Hecat was rearranging the desks within the classroom. At the center of the classroom lies an all-familiar old cupboard covered with grimy-looking mirror panels. Its knob rattled loudly, the being within it eager to be set free. Weary eyes stared at the mysterious cupboard and your classmates glanced at each other with worried expressions.

“Alright, settle down,” Professor Hecat shushes the murmurs of the students around her, beginning the lesson for the day. “Does anybody know what is within this cupboard?”

Several students raise their hands. She picks Cressida Blume.

“A Boggart. A non-being who is capable of shapeshifting into your worst fear. They commonly thrive in dark places such as shadowy corners, under the bed, or within cupboards.”

“Excellent. Points to Gryffindor. Your task for today is to learn the counter-spell for such creatures: Ridikkulus. To cast the spell, you are required to concentrate on the humorous form you desire it to change into. Remember: Boggarts are defeated by laughter, so steel your resolve. Form a line,” the former Unspeakable instructed. 

For the first time, you made your way to the back of the queue. You knew exactly what the Boggart was going to turn into, and you dreaded it with every fiber of your being.

“Calm down. It’s been years. It can’t harm you, alright? Relax.”

You fiddled with your thumb, biting your bottom lip as you desperately mustered up your courage to face what was awaiting you. Inhaling slow, lungful breaths, you tried whatever you could to quell the ever-growing dread that grew more and more unbearable by the passing second. Everyone else’s attempts were smooth sailing, and the line was getting shorter and shorter. 

Soon enough, it was finally your turn.

You were beyond frightened despite this being a simple practical exercise; your throat felt rather constricted as you gripped your wand with shaky hands, completely unprepared for the possible psychological effects of what you were about to witness. Professor Hecat gave you a grim look, noticing the quiver of your frame. Your usual form was definitely off, and as someone aware of your history both as a student and as a victim of that particular tragedy, she knew exactly what the Boggart will be turning into once she unlocks the cupboard door. She walked beside you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder before stepping back. 

“Wands at the ready!” 

With a sharp inhale and a tightened grip on the handle.

The knob turned open, and the door creaked open. The faint rattling of chains was heard as the creature advanced forward. A shackled, dirtied foot of a young teenager stepped out of the large cupboard, and it finally bared its current appearance to the entire class.

Simon (L/N) — your brother: to be more precise, your deceased elder brother.

His boyish, teenage self was just as how you remembered it to be: tousled black hair, and a lithe frame. His limbs each had its own dirtied manacles and his usual tidy clothing was stained with mud and was slightly tattered at the edges. Grazes littered his legs and arms, and his hazel eyes were devoid of any life, staring at you blankly like a mere Inferius before it swoops in for the kill. 

Your heart sank, fear coursing through your veins as it approached you. Color was rapidly draining from your complexion. The sight before you momentarily brought you back to a specific painful memory — within a locked cage in a dark space together with him, with you being held captive as well. Tears welled up in your eyes, your knees eventually caving in as you collapsed onto the floor, dragging yourself further away from the looming amortal before you. Its fingers outstretched towards your shuddering form, a maniacal grin forming on its face.

“Depulso!”

The Boggart was sent flying back into the cupboard, the door bolting itself shut. Professor Hecat lowered her wand while you remained seated on the floor in cold sweat, your eyes glued onto the large furniture that kept rattling until it finally ceased its attempt of escape. Garreth and Natsai immediately rushed to your side, helping you back up on your feet. 

Horror was still within your being: your breathing was erratic, your pupils constricted, and the beating of your heart was hammering painfully within your chest. You wanted to throw up, feeling absolutely sick in the stomach at what had just transpired.

Without warning, you bolted towards the exit of the classroom out of shame and fright.

“Wait!”

“Miss (L/N)!”

As you ran out of the classroom, Ominis quickly got up on his feet and followed you without a second thought, ignoring both Professor Hecat's and Sebastian’s calls. Natsai was about to run after you as well but was immediately held back by Garreth, who shook his head at her. 

The heels of your boots clacked against the marble floors as you sped through the nearly empty hallways of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower with glassy eyes. Ominis chased after you with a look of pure concern on his face.

He may not have seen the form of your Boggart, but he was definitely sure that it had triggered a horrible memory.

He called out your surname, his wand held out with the tip blinking red much faster than usual. You slowly stopped, heaving while clutching your chest, propping yourself up at the nearby marble balustrade. Ominis gulped, just as breathless and flushed red with beads of perspiration forming on his temple. 

Tucking his wand away, he gently places his hands on your arms, engulfing you in his embrace. You whimpered, allowing yourself to sink within his inviting warmth, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face within his chest. He rests his chin upon your crown, his thumb rubbing your shoulder in hopes of further soothing you into calmness.

“Shhh. It's alright. You're safe now.”

Your breaths began to steady itself after a while as you inhaled his scent. The both of you soon parted the moment you felt much more grounded. He holds his hand out, waiting for yours to grab it.

“Let's go?” he asks softly.

Without the slightest idea of what he had up his sleeve, you decided to acquiesce to his offer. A smile graced his face, and you let him lead you. Much to your surprise, however, instead of heading back into the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, the both of you were headed to the door leading to the Pungent Passage. 

“Gaunt, this isn't the way back to the classroom, you know…”

“...Yes, I'm aware of that.”

“So why are we going to the West Tower?”

Ominis kept his lips pursed, not wanting to divulge his little impromptu plan, opting to give you a small smirk instead before looking away.

“...By the way, you’re still holding my hand,” you pointed out while wiggling your fingers, expecting him to loosen his hold. Much to your surprise, he stopped walking to adjust your fingers, intertwining his fingers with yours in a much more secure grip. Warmth began to creep up your face as he held his work up closer to your visage.

“Yes, I am.”

The trip towards the West Tower was a rather enjoyable one despite the silence, with the both of you running through the Pungent Passageway as fast as you both could while holding your breaths, not letting go of each other’s hands. Upon reaching the exit, Ominis pushes the gargantuan doors open, dragging you out with him into the cold outdoors before pushing the door shut. There weren't any other students outside, much to his relief. 

“I figured that Hecat's classroom would be the last place you'd ever want to return to after what happened,” he shrugs nonchalantly, finally explaining his actions. “I'm assuming your Boggart wasn't a pleasant sight. It's not like you to be that frightened.”

“... Yes. You're right. I…” you sighed, your words trailing off. A gentle, understanding smile graced his features.

“You know, I think this would be a good time to venture out of the castle grounds.” he ponders out loud. You tilted your head in bemusement at his suggestion.

“To where exactly?”

“Anywhere but here, of course. Maybe Feldcroft?” 

A small grin slowly cracked itself onto your face.

“... So you're inviting me to skip classes with you. Is that it?” you chuckled in wry amusement.

“Surely you don’t have any objections to that?” he asked with a subtle hint of mischief while raising an eyebrow.

“You do know that we might get detention for this, right?”

“So? Old news, really. I could hardly care less serving it together again if that’s what you're worried about,” he scoffs while you snickered in response.

“Is that another invitation?” 

“Perhaps. Is it?” he retorts with a smug grin.

With a giggle escaping your lips, you brought out your wand, pointing it towards the direction of the Ravenclaw Tower.

“Accio, Aeromancer!”

The both of you waited, and a seemingly tiny dot from the Ravenclaw Tower’s roof deck began to grow larger as it zipped through the air, flying to its summoner. Your broom hovers before you, and you grab its handle, mounting on the seat. Ominis does the same, placing himself right behind you. He leaned forward and grabbed the handle, his torso flush against your back. You gulped, taking in a deep breath before stomping hard on the ground, taking off. 

Just this one day, you decided to spare him the horrors of your reckless flying. 

The both of you leisurely flew in the air, feeling the cool nip of the wintry winds against both your flushed faces, unexpectedly enjoying each other's company. It was a sight to behold truly: the landscape as far as your eyes could see was covered in a soft, powdery, glittery blanket of snow. You relished the moment in silent glee, feeling the warmth of his being right against your back, biting your lower lip slightly in hopes of suppressing a giddy little giggle from escaping your lips. 

Ominis wasn't that different from you either — in fact, he was enjoying this close proximity with absolutely zero shame within his system. A cheeky grin was threatening to slip past his normally calm and collected expression, clearly not wanting this moment of sheer elation to end. It was truly a blessing: having you so close to him with strands of your hair fluttering about and lightly tickling his face. He sighs in contentment, enjoying the rest of the ride until the both of you reach your destination.

Feldcroft was in its usual quiet state with most of its residents in the comfort of their own little cottages, keeping themselves warm by their own cozy little fireplace. The two of you landed in a nearby clearing, dismounting immediately as soon as your feet hit the ground. Ominis instinctively intertwined his fingers with yours once again with his other hand gripping his wand to navigate around the area.

“Say, Gaunt. Why exactly are we in Feldcroft out of all places?”

“Thought it might be best for you to just unwind for a bit. Plus, there’s someone that I do want you to meet,” Ominis hums as the both of you approach a particular cottage with several training dummies on standby. “I think the both of you will like each other's company.”

“Really? Who?” you asked with piqued interest.

“My chosen family,” he smiles before he raps on the wooden door. A lump formed in your throat at this, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of red and your eyes widened in shock. The door soon opened, revealing a brunette-haired girl with her hair tied in a low bun, her eyes glimmering with delight at the sight of both of you at her doorstep.

Anne Sallow — Sebastian Sallow's twin sister. A look of curiosity was evident on your face: rumors had said that she has contracted some debilitating illness hence her absence this entire school year, but not many details about that matter had been divulged.

“Ominis, what a surprise!” she exclaimed before turning towards you with a warm, welcoming smile. “And you brought her along too!”

“It's nice to see you again, Anne. I apologize if we came at a rather unexpected time,” you sheepishly said.

“It's no trouble, really. I quite like having visitors around. Come on in! Uncle Solomon won't be back for a while, so do make yourselves at home.”

You entered the cottage first, followed by Ominis and Anne. The brown-eyed girl nudged the pale-skinned male lightly, whispering in a hushed tone.

“Psst! Ominis, is she….” Anne trails off with an underlying teasing tone evident within her voice. A rosy hue crept up his cheeks and he cleared his throat to lessen his bashfulness, giving Anne a slight nod. The brunette bit her lip slightly at the response, suppressing a squeal of delight as she excitedly approached you, who was currently seated in the dining area.

It was a pleasant session filled with laughter and stories; the three of you partaking in the sandwiches and tea that you had voluntarily conjured. Ominis hummed, closing his eyes in a relaxed fashion with his legs crossed, sipping his tea as both you and Anne discussed many different topics in a rather animated way, ranging from Anne's shenanigans back when she was still in Hogwarts, to her current plights and woes. 

It had been a while ever since he had heard Anne this uplifted, and it most certainly had a positive effect on you as well, much to his sigh of relief. 

What warmed his heart the most was that you clicked with Anne so effortlessly. It felt like you were the missing puzzle piece that belonged and fitted into his life perfectly. While listening and occasionally hopping onto the conversation when prompted, he had learned several things about you such as your favorites and pet peeves, but it hadn't answered the burning questions he had about what had occurred in class earlier.

As much as the three of you hated to part ways, you and Ominis had to go back to the castle by nightfall, thus the both of you bid your farewell to the brunette-haired female. 

“Write to me, will you? I'd love to keep in touch,” Anne requests with hopeful eyes, clutching your hands in hers.

“Of course, I will. Can't have you feeling all lonely here,” you grinned while she giggles.

“Thank you for stopping by. Please visit whenever you can.” 

“Of course. You have my word.”

As soon as the wooden door closed shut, you turned to Ominis while biting your lip in hesitation.

“Gaunt, let's walk for a bit,” you requested, much to his surprise. You cast your gaze downwards to his gloved hand before ripping your eyes away from it, clenching your fists to contain yourself. The both of you walked in silence, the faint crunching of snow audible beneath your feet at every step. Inhaling a lungful of air, your lips parted.

“Thank you… For bringing me out today.”

He smiles at his, a faint shade of pink creeping up to his cheeks.

“...It was a pleasure, truly,” Ominis chuckled softly, to which you responded with a rather diffident smile. “I certainly hope it alleviated your mood.”

“Oh, it definitely did. Anne is truly a darling. It's just that…” you trailed off, slowing the pace of your footsteps down. “... I can't exactly run away from this fear that easily.”

“Would lending my ear ease your thoughts? I can listen to your woes if you'd like.”

“Then... Can you keep another secret for me?”

“Consider it done. Go on.”

You walk towards a large, fallen log, deciding to sit on it while Ominis leans against a nearby tree. Releasing your bated breath, you began to tell him your recollections.

“Perhaps you're familiar with the kidnapping case from the Robard estate then? The one that killed Lawrence Robard?” you asked.

Ominis ponders, racking through his brain.

“Lawrence Robard? The Auror?” 

“Yes, him. He’s a relative — my uncle, to be precise,” you smile sadly. “He was a great man. Dove right into a dark wizard’s hideout to save me and my brother. But Simon… Well…”

A pregnant silence ensued as your words trailed off in the wintry winds, your sorrow-filled orbs gazing at the snow-laden trees from a distance. Ominis crosses his arms with his wand still in hand, a frown visible on his visage.

“Your brother… He’s your Boggart, isn’t he?” 

A melancholic smile curls upon your lips, glancing at him with a rather impressed look.

“You know, I'm quite thankful that you're incredibly astute. Saves me the trouble of explaining everything myself,” you chuckled bitterly. “But yes. Simon is my Boggart. Survivor's guilt, I suppose? He took an Unforgivable Curse for me, and I've never forgiven myself for his death ever since.”

His heart sank at the revelation, casting his unseeing gaze downwards.

“... I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. You've tremendously helped me today, and you deserve my thanks,” you reassured. You grabbed a handful of snow, mindlessly molding it into the shape of a ball as you continued on.

“It's just rather frustrating that this relapse happened in the middle of winter. I'd normally console myself by picking all sorts of flowers. Simon and I loved the outdoors, and we'd often make little flower chains for our mum when we were children,” you explained, recalling the fond memory of your childhood before everything went completely awry.

Ominis hums in response, pointing his wand at a random pile of snow nearby. A small pile of snow levitates into the air, which then forms itself into the shape of a daisy flower crown. The snow-made crown hovered above your head before it was dropped rather unceremoniously, instantly getting destroyed at the top of your head. Your face scrunched at the sudden coldness that hit your skin, looking at the pale-skinned male in gleeful amusement.

“Is this your way of consoling me, Gaunt?” you giggled, brushing the bits of snow off your head and face while a blush rose to his face out of mild embarrassment. 

“Well, it was an attempt, I suppose. It was a lot better in my head, though. Hold on, let me try again,” he chuckles sheepishly, scooping more snow into his gloved palms while a mildly teasing laugh erupted from you.

The pile of fluffy snow began compressing itself to form a solid, single rose, which drifted towards you. You beamed, gently grasping the snow rose into your hands, marveling at its daintiness and intricacy. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered before trailing your eyes to him once again. He had his eyes shut and a smug, playful smirk plastered on his strikingly handsome face. His arms were crossed again, leaning back against the tree trunk, enjoying the pleasant silence. 

It was supposed to be a depressing day after everything that had transpired, yet here you were, seated on a log amidst the snow with the man you hadn't planned on getting along with in your wildest dreams. The icy walls of your resolve were slowly melting away, being reduced to nothing but a puddle thanks to the burning inferno of your ever-growing feelings towards him growing wilder and wilder.

His kindness, consideration, astuteness, playfulness… Everything about him made your heart race.

In your eyes, time ceased to exist — the world stilling as everything else except him falls into a pit of irrelevance. You gaze upon him with ardent longing and admiration, blatantly disregarding the boundaries you had rebelliously trespassed in the name of your heart's desires. Ominis opened his unseeing eyes, feeling your burning stare towards him.

“You do know that I can feel you staring, right?” he asks in his usual teasing manner. You opened your mouth to retort your typical answer to his jest, but a lump lodged within your throat, almost as if you were being prevented from saying something so blatantly insincere.

And thus, for the first time, you couldn't bring yourself to deny that statement anymore.

< chapter 9: uncontrollably fond

chapter 11: the duality of man >

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#ominis gaunt #ominis fluff #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x f!reader #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis x f!reader #ominis x y/n #ominis x you #hogwarts legacy ominis

[robininthelabyrinth]

What if WRH is actually a rather quiet, introverted person who just wants to focus on his own cultivation, but circumstances beyond his control mean that he keeps acquiring more territories and power in the cultivation world?

“I need you to stop,” Wen Ruohan said irritably to his brother, who was doing his best to look innocent. His best wasn’t very good. “I’m serious. What the fuck is this?”

“A petition by a secondary sect to join the Wen sect as a subsidiary, it looks like,” Wen Ruoyu said. “Dunno why you’re asking me. It’s a pretty standard request for a Great Sect.”

“For an expanding Great Sect,” Wen Ruohan snapped. “Which, let me remind you, we are not. And that means that you need to stop convincing sects to try to join us!”

“Oh come on!” Wen Ruoyu whined. “You can’t hold this against me – I barely did any convincing – I didn’t even go anywhere near them – ”

Wen Ruohan rubbed his temples and wished, not for the first time, that he didn’t love his brother too much to strangle him.

“You deliberately set those sects up against each other so that this one would lose and feel they had no chance but to turn to us,” he said dryly. “The fact that I prefer cultivation to politics and prefer to stay here minding my own business doesn’t mean I’m completely ignorant of what’s going on outside.”

Also, he had very competent informants.

“Lao Nie told you, didn’t he,” Wen Ruoyu grumbled, and Wen Ruohan hated that he was right. “I swear, that man gets more done with pillow talk than I do with a battalion of cultivators and a gold mine…”

That was…probably true, actually. The Nie sect was also an expansionist Great Sect.

No, wait, not also. They, the Wen sect, were not expanding, no matter what his brother – his stupid, ridiculous ‘I like to collect things, that’s all’ brother – had to say about it.

“Talk to me about something else,” Wen Ruohan said in disgust, throwing down the application and angrily signing his name to it. He couldn’t just turn them away, no matter how much he might want to; he had a reputation to think of.

A reputation that was swiftly becoming one of a conqueror, no thanks to certain people.

“Fine, fine,” Wen Ruoyu said, rolling his eyes, then brightened up. “Have I told you already that A-Qing’s decided she’s going to be a doctor?”

“Only about five times.”

“That means there’s time for a sixth,” his brother said carelessly. “Anyway, she was talking the other day about living up to the example of our ancestors –”

“She does know that Wen Mao was only a ‘doctor’ in the sense that he couldn’t actually say that he was an assassin, right?” Wen Ruohan asked, mildly curious. “The needles he was using were poisonous, not medical.”

“Let her have her illusions,” Wen Ruoyu said. “She’ll grow out of them eventually.”

Wen Ruohan sighed. If his niece were anything like her father, he wasn’t going to bet on that…

#mdzs #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #alt headcanons

[vallikes79]

I must know more about Sergio

SO SOORYY FOR CENTURY LATE REPLY😭 I SWEAR UP AND DOWN AND LEFT AND RIGHT AND DIAGONALLY ON MY LIFE I DID NOT GET A NOTIFICATION AND ONLY NOTICED WHEN I JUST RANDOMLY CHECKED MY INBOX

But as my answer I’m grateful you asked bc I never have anyone asking abt my ocs❤️❤️

MIGHT BE A BIT RUSHED😭

Starting off, Sergio was human and worked in a laboratory way before the red army. However his experiments were rather weird and extremely dangerous so slowly everyone started to leave his team. Eventually when he discussed about incubating someone to turn them supernatural or give them superhuman abilities (like a cure to everything), they all just officially left him and told him he was crazy. So he did the experiment on himself and of course, had a slight error. His incubation worked, but due to him being trapped in the incubator for way longer than necessary, he turned into a mad beast instead.

I think Tord found him first, probably hearing from one of the ex scientists and learning about his “mad plan” and decided to meet the man himself. Of course when he found him in an incubator, as well as a new species, he was surprised but saw the benefit in it. So he made Sergio work for him, and Sergio honestly didn’t have anywhere to go anyways so he accepted, putting his powers to use.

Sergio doesn’t really like being used as a tool though, so he decided to make a deal to be a 24/7 tech, or literally do any other job.

Idk if he was hired before Vlahd since it could work both ways. Mainly cause either way he’s still glued to his side. Tord probably assigned Sergio to Vlahd because he failed to catch Edd so he gave him an assistant. Sergio didn’t mind one bit, though Vlahd was a bit reluctant at first, but learned Sergio only gave him warnings on possible threats, or just hung around to pester him. Vlahd soon learned to accept his new companion, and Sergio is just happy to be around Vlahd. Communication is also funny with them because they both speak some English but really like sticking to their native tongue. Like Vlahd could say a certain word in English and Sergio would just still in silence because he hasn’t learned that word yet (vise versa). Or Sergio would start speaking Spanish obviously knowing Vlahd won’t understand. And eventually Vlahd learned to go with the joke and start speaking Russian back, so they just have a full conversation in languages they don’t understand.

Thank you so much and once again, I’m so sorry I didn’t see the message in time! I’ll try to check my inbox and notifications more often:-) @lost-sheep-wandering

#tbatf vlahd #eddsworld tbatf #my oc #art #have a good day #so sorry

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 134 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence (MAG 123 to this episode was all one session of working outside and putting up a new fence. I remember after this episode I turned off the podcast because I felt like I’m overflowing... Plus I would only have been able to get one more episode in anyway as it was already dusk. I prepared one more element of the fence and then stopped for the day.)

MARTIN: "Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson, dated 22nd January, 2006." Just a bit of timeline, in Dekker's statement in MAG 113 he already referenced the Extinction with "I was pursuing my researches into the new emergence I mentioned earlier.", that one was dated circa 2012, so 6 years after this.

"But I thought it would be best to let you know as soon as possible. I am now certain my theory is correct. There is something new emerging. A fifteenth Power." Ohh, I was so excited to hear this. A greater threat that requires at least the Eye and the Lonely to work together to avert a disaster possibly dangerous to all (including the Fears) was already teased in MAG 126 by Peter ("This isn’t how any of us wanted it to go. But here we are, and if we don’t pull this off, it’s over for everyone.") My spouse hadn't caught up to this point by a long shot, but they already got bits of spoilers from me when they weren't listening yet and they said they didn't mind, when it's vaguely something that will come up. After I was done outside and came back into the house and told them S4 is going to be interesting, there's something bigger that requires potential rivals to work together. Yeah, I totally took the bait... xD

If there's one pronunciation I have even more problems with than British towns-names it's French XD I have absolutely no idea, if what Alex is saying is anywhere near accurate.

"It talked of Garland Hillier’s ‘new revelation,’ about the absolute change of the world in terms that seemed at first elegiac, but later seemed – almost panicked, with the final entry simply repeating the words 'La porte est la porte.' The door is the door." Door motif! Door to the end of the world!

“there is nothing done in the history of humanity that deserves the things that come after us.” Meeeehhh, humankind has been pretty shitty at times... I’d rather ask, do the (poor?) things that come after us deserve the shithole they might inherit?

"I may try to interview her again, later, though I have my suspicions she may find herself disappearing. She has that quality about her; I’m sure you know what I mean. O-of an unfinished meal. And I can only hope that when the second course starts, she can find her way back to Garland Hillier’s apartment once more. But of course the evidence suggests that, in the end, even he wasn’t able to." Even if you manage to escape the horrors once, it doesn't mean they won't come back for you. I don't know what's worse: Not knowing, if it'll come back, or knowing that there is no escape.

"It used to be part of the End, perhaps; when the end of humanity was to be the end of all things. But now – th-the fear is not of a rapture or a revelation. It is of catastrophic change. A change in our world that will wipe out what it means to be us, and leave something else in its place." 14 Fears - Climate Change - 15 Fears XD Also want to say, that this is what a lot of people don’t quite understand about the Extinction. It's not about the end of all things. Just about the end of us as we know ourselves. Hm, Extinction of humanity would also kind of fit the Vast - our insignificance on a greater scale. Humanity has been so self-centered, thinking that whatever will destroy us will destroy all life. But it's not like that... (Hm, wondering what climate change will to do aquatic life?)

PETER: "Not at all. Honestly, that’s the sort of thing I normally relish; I’ve always been a little bit of a gambler, and the higher the stakes the better." Peter, one day this will kill you...

PETER: "The End doesn’t really need one. It knows that it gets everything eventually, so why bother? The End manifesting would not be a new world of terror; it would be a lifeless world. Devoid of everything." MARTIN: "Including fear." Fear for the Fears to survive upon.

PETER: "He manages to pull himself out of the coffin like a grubby Jesus, and he even brings a penitent thief along, in the form of your pet murderer" I love Peter's nicknames for the archive crew. Though "detective friend" was a bit boring, he can do better!

PETER: "We have bigger concerns than this little soap opera you call an Archive." Peter also likes the office comedy version of TMA xD

PETER: "What does – puzzle me though, and I mean that genuinely, is – why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin while John was in there. (brief pause) It’s a question, Martin, it’s – it’s not an accusation." MARTIN: "I don’t know. And I just – felt like it might help. He’s always recording, and I thought it – it might help him… find his way out." Ok, so now we got the information that it was Martin who put the tape recorders all around the coffin. I think it was definitely important that it was Martin and not Basira or Melanie. I've already said in MAG 132 that I think the tapes definitely did something and the rib nothing at all with Jon caring too little about his physical body and such. Jon cares a lot more about others than himself right now and I think Martin is the one he cares most about. In statements with anchors we hear about the statement givers thinking of their loved ones (In MAG 13 suddenly "hearing" Evan, in MAG 48 thinking about her mother, in MAG 129 thinking about his grandfather), and while we don't hear Jon talking about what he's thinking of, it's not complete out of the question. Daisy was also talking about Basira, that could have made Jon think about people he cares about. Other people here on tumblr spoke of the idea that the tapes might have amplified the rib, so I like to think of the tapes also being able to amplify Martin's presence. He is Beholding too after all. Martin wanted Jon to find his way out. And in MAG 170 in memory manner Jon was able to make his way to Martin because Martin let himself be known. I know, it's almost a bit too corny for TMA (wasn't too corny for MAG 13, 48 and 129 either, soooo), but fuck it, my heart needs this! Martin and the tapes got Jon out of the coffin. This is also the perfect opportunity to say again, that I love this about TMA. The vagueness. Other stories often get wonky when things are too rigid (I've talked about this especially regarding soft and hard magic systems. Hard magic is so difficult to pull off, there is just so much you have to keep track of to avoid contradictions). And it's doing amazing fan service as well! Giving each and every one of us the opportunity to attribute Jon's escape to whatever part we like best, rib, tapes, Martin, or a combination of various components.

PETER: "Interesting. Were you compelled?" MARTIN: "I don’t know. Maybe? I-I, I definitely wanted to do it." PETER: "But?" [SLIGHT PAUSE.] MARTIN: "I’m – I’m not sure where the idea came from." PETER: "You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous." I'd say it is totally possible to have a sudden inspiration, but with the tapes being Web there is no way there wasn't a bit of Web involved, especially with Martin's tendencies to subtle manipulation and therefore the Web. At the time this might have also been foreshadowing that the tapes are Web?

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 134 #tma #tma spoilers

[notquitejiraiya]

🔥choosing violence🔥

8, 14, 21, 22, & 25

Lets gooooooo

8) common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

We’re stepping outside of Naruto and we’re stepping into territory I rarely speak about anywhere. But my opinion for this is that RPF isn’t inherently creepy, and it gets entirely too bad a rep. Yes, people definitely CAN be creepy about it, and that’s yuck. But at its core, and if one doesn’t force it upon those who are “in” the story, it’s not. Certain fandoms have overwhelmed RPF to a point it is awful, but I remember writing harmless fun adventures of my fave band travelling the world when I was like 10 and that was one of my introductions to fanfics. A blanket statement of RPF is bad/gross is nonsense.

14) that one thing you see in fics all the time

Miscommunication. It is everywhere. It is like a disease. And not GOOD miscommunication. Not like genuine accidental misunderstandings but like “X thinks Y” “have you talked to them about it?” “No” “why not” “just cause”. Ahhhhhh. Miscommunication can be good, but it’s rough when it’s bad. And it’s EVERYWHERE nowadays I swear 😭

21) part of canon you think is overhyped

I literally don’t know. I am so detached from what other people like and focus on myself and what I like to notice, but I’m gonna say the only thing I can think of which is the whole war arc 😅

22) your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

I don’t think it’s necessarily ignored, but I think I have to say the part of the war arc that mirrors the sasuke retrieval arc. I never see that getting much love and I adored it.

25) common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

It will always be people complaining that there’s not enough content for X, Y or Z thing. If you think so, and if you want more, make it. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t even have to be good. But trying is better than whining.

16) you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

This is more of a “don’t know why they like DOING this thing” type thing, but I do not get the practice of forcing characters into stories when they do not fit, just because you like them want them to fit. I do not know why people like writing it and I do not know why people enjoy reading it. I know the show has a huge cast, but it’s often so hard to connect to the characters and story in fics when they do the same, and it feels so SHALLOW to me. It becomes especially tedious when including characters with fucking TINY amounts of screen time who really didn’t need to be there in the first place, and seem to just be included in fics like a stamp of: “Wow look at me, I know this insignificant character. They’re so misrepresented.” No, they’re not. They’re just not important to the masses.

Similarly (and this is becoming a general complaint now, not a “loads of people do this/like this” thing, but it’s relevant) I do not like the attitude some people give off when you don’t know that a character is from canon rather than an OC they’ve made up. Including any character is all well and good but remembering all the characters from a massive cast like naruto isn’t easy for everyone, especially non-main story characters or novel-only characters like Amagi and the like, and shouldn’t be expected. At that point they ought to be treated like an OC, because there really isn’t much to go on in canon anyway. Don’t expect too much from your readers, and give them some MEAT on characters, known or unknown. Being confusing ≠ being good.

#choose violence ask game

[launenji]

Center of Your Universe - A KNJ Fanfic | Ch 4

Pairing: idol!Kim Namjoon x female idol!Reader

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 11625

Genre: Rivals2Lovers. Fluff. Eventual implied smut and angst. Slow burn. idol!AU

Summary: It’s 2019 and Kim Namjoon is conquering the globe with his Bangtan brothers by his side. However, BTS can’t seem to shake their top girl group rival from chasing their names across music charts and award nominations worldwide. Now, the boys have no problem with that in any way; in fact they’ve come to respect the girls of HELIOS and their never ending climb to fame that seemed to match their own success. The only real “problem” Namjoon sees is that HELIOS’ confident, fearless, and overall badass of a leader seems to absolutely hate him. And as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, it does keep him awake at night.

T/W: Depictions of panic attacks

A/N: I’m not dead, I promise! I had this chapter in my drafts for three years because I literally didn’t know how to write the rest of it. But I did it! I finally got around to finishing it, so no this fic isn’t dead and I’m not abandoning it! It’s just been hard to write and life has been getting in the way. There’s plenty of mistakes in this chapter alone, but I’ll try to get around to fixing them, so please enjoy anyway!

Tagged: @jinjccns @craftymoonchaos @thia-aep​ @arminwluv Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 |

Sometimes Namjoon forgets that the beginning of every tour is always the busiest. From the minute they touch down and get off the plane, it's a non stop hustle from there; especially for the first performance.

To be honest, Namjoon can’t remember the last time he had a good night’s rest since he left Korea. His days have been filled to the brim with meetings and rehearsals to ensure the success of their first show; leaving him exhausted and drained by the time he hit his hotel bed, only to wake up a few hours later to do it all over again.

Nonetheless, BTS managed to kick off their Speak Yourself tour with an incredible start with their LA show, putting everyone’s minds, nerves, and worries at ease as they continued to prep for the rest of the tour.

By the time they reached their short stop in Northern California, Namjoon was close to feeling completely at ease as he and the boys settled into the routine of touring.

Although he couldn’t help but notice that his attitude towards this world tour was a bit different than the others in the past. He felt as if the weight on his shoulder had been slightly lifted thanks to a certain someone he hadn’t stopped texting since he received her number.

Yerin had been nothing but a breath of fresh air in Namjoon's hectic lifestyle. Sure, he had his family, his close friends, and the boys to talk to when things grew stressful. But with Yerin, it seemed she always knew what to say, and it never failed to put his mind at ease.

As Namjoon walks down the hallway to reach Yoongi’s hotel room, another ping vibrates his phone. He swiftly pulls out his phone to view the message with a goofy grin stretching across his face. Another inside joke from Yerin evokes a frenzied response of laugh-crying emojis before slipping his phone back into his pocket as he reaches the door. He carefully composes himself with a deep breath before stretching out a hand to knock.

So Namjoon may or may not have decided to keep Yerin a secret from literally everyone else, only as a precaution until he has free time to reflect on his new “friendship” with her. Between the meaningful advice and clever jokes that were arguably better than Jin’s—don’t let him know that—Namjoon may or may not have “slid in the DMs” with some flirty comments as well. Not that he assumed it would get him anywhere, but it started feeling nice when Yerin began to reciprocate. However, he’s still unsure of where this may go and is definitely too busy to figure it out now, so keeping it his own little secret was the option he finally decided on.

That, and he’d rather not face the relentless childish teasing from his group mates about a “secret crush.”

Through the door, Namjoon can hear the sound of the tv coupled with the faint chatter of the boys before he raps on the door again. The door finally opens with a small crack as Jimin peeks out from behind.

“What’s the password?” He questions with a smile. 

Namjoon deadpans, too tired to entertain stupid jokes “Jimin, let me in.”

“Actually the password is Jimin, you’re the greatest man on earth,’ but you got half of it right so I’ll let it slide.”

Jimin snickers as he swings the door wide, allowing his leader to step through.

Inside, the boys have already made themselves comfortable on top of the two beds that occupy Yoongi’s room. One bed is taken by Jungkook, Hoseok and Jin while the other holds Taehyung and an exhausted Yoongi who is already completely tucked into bed and attempting to fall asleep. Various bags of snacks are stuffed in between each member as they chat over the TV running through the advertisements.

“Grab a chip bag and pick a spot, but don’t be too loud or the old man will complain,” Jimin follows Namjoon in before hopping in between Taehyung and Yoongi to reclaim his spot. From underneath the covers Yoongi groans in protest, which ultimately goes ignored.

Not wanting to aggravate his sleep deprived hyung any more than the others already have, Namjoon decides to take the empty corner of the other bed. Grabbing an unopened bag of Lays, he makes himself comfortable on the crowded bed, but not before checking his phone one last time for messages.

I’ll let you rest for tonight, I know it’s late for you. Talk to you tomorrow <3 [9:15 PM]

Carefully aware of the presence around him, Namjoon keeps his reactions inconspicuous as he bids his goodnight to Yerin before switching his phone on silent.

“So what are you guys watching?” He finally inquires with his bedmates.

“HELIOS’ first interview of their tour. They just got to LA two days ago.” Hoseok answers, confirming with an article open on his phone of your group’s arrival to the States. Namjoon does nothing but stare at Hoseok’s phone, the papp shot of you and your groupmates walking through LAX glares back at him.

This was the first time your name has entered his space since he left for tour; and truth be told, Namjoon doesn’t really know how to react to the mention of your name anymore. He hasn’t seen you since that party, and between schedules and talking to Yerin, he hasn’t allowed himself to really think about you at all.

Remembering how he was shortly obsessed with you and wondering why you hated him so much, Namjoon can’t help but inwardly chuckle over how stupid he was acting and how fast he managed to get over you by getting on with his life. In the end, everyone who told him was right all along.

Suddenly, the channel switches back to the main program, the host of the talk show introducing the viewers to their next guests finally pulls Namjoon’s attention away from the phone screen.

“-please welcome, HELIOS!”

From behind the stage, you and the girls walk out and wave to everyone in the crowd, especially the ones they’ve extended to seat onto the floor as they cheer and scream.

It takes a minute for Namjoon to process seeing your face again. Albeit through the screen and not in person, this is the first time in a month that he gets to see you again. Your presence is still radiant as ever, donning your signature show stopping grin as you stand with your group, dressed in your matching performance outfits.

You finally take your seats as the host greets you and allows you to make your formal introductions. You lead your group into introducing HELIOS’ before you all introduce yourselves one by one. The boys around him giggle and compare the similarities of how HALOS cheered wildly for each member much like ARMYS did for them. However Namjoon keeps his eyes trained on you alone.

Slowly but surely, all of those complex feelings begin to stir in the pit of Namjoons stomach, placing him right back where he was the last time he saw you. From your confident smile that graces your features to the way you address the host and crowd, it sets him back to the starting line, completely erasing any sort of progress he had of “moving on” from this little problem he has with you.

However this time, he notices there’s something off in the way you present your smile.

As an idol of this current generation, maintaining a professional front could arguably be the most required skill needed in the industry. Between interviews and special events, what mattered most was the way you carried yourself on the outside; and you’ve worked hard to nail down this since the beginning of your career. 

To Namjoon, you always seemed to have the perfect—well, everything. The perfect walk for the red carpet, the perfect smile for all the flashing cameras, the perfect charisma to grace anyone throwing stale interview questions your way.

However, as he watches you now on the screen, he can see the stress eating away at your perfect image.

It can go unnoticed by the untrained eye, but by looking hard enough, Namjoon could tell how tense you were. By the way your jaw was set, how you keep slightly adjusting your thighs on the chair, the movement of your thumb smoothing out the back of your hand, you were nervous.

The feeling in his stomach immediately turns into regret, suddenly feeling bad for you. He knew the feeling all too well; trying to make a good impression while trying to keep decent composure. However, you were in your home country. These were talk shows you most likely grew up with. So you should know what to expect, right?

— + — + — + —

Only 5 minutes into the interview and you were already hit with the mundane questions about your group’s tour and the rising success you’ve encountered in the last year. You’ve managed to answer each question flawlessly with a few jokes sprinkled here and there which enticed the crowd even more.

All the while, the boys have been commentating on their ability to have a pretty good interview despite all the boring questions that were tossed in. They could tell you and the girls have been well prepared as they witness each member take turns answering each question eloquently. And in perfect English no less as Jungkook pointed out.

However with these types of interviews, they knew they couldn’t go without being asked some superficial question that was irrelevant to their careers. Glancing at the host, Namjoon noted the determined smirk set on her face. Subtle to the rest of the crowd, but he could sense she was trying to stir up some drama.

“Who wants to bet that they’ll be asked something stupid like our ‘rivalry?’” Taehyung jokingly offers to the group.

“Wait till she asks about an English single first, seems like the route she’s going next.” Jungkook challenges back, bringing the boys to a collective chuckle. 

“C’mon you guys that's enough, quit trying to place bets on their interview and just watch,” Namjoon offers as an attempt to join the conversation, plopping another chip in his mouth before continuing, “besides, she has to ask them about their boyfriends first.”

The room erupts with immediate laughter with a couple of the members smacking Namjoon for the out of pocket response. However it quickly dissipates with the approach of the host's next question—and Yoongi’s tired grumbling.

“So you’re not the only kpop group that’s dominating the charts right now. There’s also BTS-“ the host is cut off by the collective screams of the fans.

Taehyung claps and victoriously points to the tv. “Ha! I called it!”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and tries to analyze your face for any sort of reaction, although hard to do when the camera is always turned away from you. 

The studio audience manages to quiet down enough where the host can continue with her question. She notes how BTS and HELIOS are currently the two biggest Kpop groups who are experiencing the same climb of fame simultaneously then leads on with Taehyung’s predicted question of rivalry.

As the crowd goes wild with mixed reactions, the camera finally pans over to you and the girls. You all share the same awkward smile as you glance towards each other, contemplating your next move while you wait for the audience to calm down once more.

No one else probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Namjoon can clearly see the distress on your face masked by a charming smile. With this, Namjoon slightly leans forward in concentration, curious about what you will say next. He was genuinely unsure about your stance on the rivalry between the two groups, given that you’ve made your opinion on him quite clear in the past.

True to your fashion, you managed to dodge controversy by explaining the difference between your group and his. 

“Well, I guess our rise in fame can be seen as two different journeys for both of our groups. And honestly there’s not so much a rivalry as there is a mutual respect for one another as we both continue to grow in our own ways.” You offer with a nod.

Well, that response colored Namjoon impressed.

“But there’s gotta be some sort of rivalry going on between you guys.” The host adamantly continued to press on, looking at you in particular. “I mean there has to be some beef, I bet you’re just hiding it.”

The girls let out a shared awkward chuckle before Hyojin shot forward with her response with a raise of her hand.

“The only beef we have is Korean BBQ!” She proudly states with a quirk of her lips. The audience roars with cheer and laughter and the girls settle their nerves again.

“Wow, that was pretty good.” Jimin notes as he finishes another small chip bag.

The rest of the girls let out an earnest laugh at the joke made by their youngest before you pull in the reins and continue on with the interview.

“No, in all actuality we do admire them, BTS has been an inspiration to us and we’re honestly big fans of their music. We don’t get to see them often since we are both busy with our schedules but I can tell you they are the most down to earth, hard working people you’ll ever get to know.” You finish your final statement proudly with a genuine smile. A smile that causes Namjoon’s stomach to turn just a bit.

It’s all for show. He bitterly reminds himself. She doesn’t actually mean that, if she did she wouldn’t treat you the way she does.

The crowd cooes with a collective “awww” and gives the girls a round of applause before the host can move on to the next topic.

“You hear that hyung? Y/N doesn’t hate you, she looks up to you.” Jungkook snickers as he nudges his elder with his foot. Namjoon feigns a laugh before smacking his foot away.

Before Jungkook can retaliate, the host moves on to the next question.

“So, do y’all have any boyfriends?”

Namjoon's eyes widen, quickly searching for your face on the screen. He could practically see the color drain from your face as you’re caught off guard by the infamous “relationship question.”

“Hey Namjoon called it!” Hoseok laughs as he smacks their leader on the back.

Ignoring this, Namjoon furrows his brows as he maintains his focus on you, anticipating how you could dodge this controversial question. 

A beat passes before your expression suddenly shifts. A determined smirk grows on your face and you bite your bottom lip, a habit Namjoon has noticed from watching many of your interviews in the past few months. It increased his heart rate; you already had an answer ready, a good answer you knew you were confident in.

“C’mon now, you know we don’t have time for that. Besides, we're all married anyway!”

This throws the host in for a loop as her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline while the entire studio collectively gasps in shock. 

Jin suddenly chokes mid bite on his chip before clearing his throat. “Did she just say she was married!?” He is immediately shushed by the rest of the boys as they all anticipate the rest of the controversial topic.

Your group mates along with the rest of the studio share the same incomprehensible look on their faces as they stare at you with the word “marriage” hanging from your lips. After a pause the host finally speaks up.

“Wait, you're married?” 

Namjoon could basically feel the blood drain from his entire body. Married!? Why would you say you're married? Are you really? Was he missing something here? Did you have a secret wedding that he didn’t know about?

Suddenly, you let out a playful giggle as you flaunt your left hand, wiggling your ring adorned fingers at the host.

“Yeah! We’re married to the game of course!” Your smirk grows into a devious grin as the crowd is overcome with cheer and laughter.

A wave of relief rushes through Namjoon at the explanation, now connecting the pieces together as confused chatter rouses the hotel room.

“I have no idea what she means by that.” Grunts Yoongi from the comfortable side of his bed. The others turn to their leader for a better explanation.

“She means they’re dedicated to being an idol, it’s an American saying I guess.” Namjoon scratches the back of his head as he offers as a direct translation. The boys slowly nod their heads despite the shared confusion in the air.

"Well the crowd ate that shit up," Jungkook acknowledged. "Better than what we said," he snickered, poking at his hyung with his foot, "What did you tell her again?"

Namjoon shook his head, trying to forget the cringey moment he tried to dodge that question himself the last time they were on the show, "Man I don't know, I probably just bullshited an answer." 

"Yeah and then she scared the hell out of us!" Hoseok suddenly wails. 

"You mean she scared the hell out of you" Taehyung jabs back. The rest of the room erupts in snickers as they imitate Hoseok’s reaction to the jump scare prank they endured on the same show.

As the laughter starts to die down, the interview comes to a close with the host announcing HELIOS’ following performance.

“Well their interview was pretty good. I mean look how they handled each question! It’s better than anything I could come up with.” Jin comments, eliciting a mutual response from the rest of the boys.

“Yeah it was, but if you haven’t all noticed it’s late and we need to get up early tomorrow so we can head out on time.” Yoongi grumbles, finally signifying the end of their watch party.

The rest of the boys begin to clean up their mess and slowly shuffle out of the room to retire for the night. The last ones to linger while tidying up is the dutiful leader and the ever observant maknae who has definitely noticed his hyung hanging around the tv a little longer. 

Hardly containing his playful smile, Jungkook slyly moves past Namjoon for the trash can with the last of the garbage.

“Waiting for something on the tv hyung?”

Namjoon, who has kept himself a little too busy smoothing out the duvet as his eyes remain glued to the tv, finally snaps out of his trance. 

“What?”

The elder is dumbfounded, and Jungkook can only grin as he walks back over to his hyung, swinging an arm around his shoulder as he leads him to the door. 

“Don’t worry, you can still watch the performance before you go to bed. Let’s get you back so you don’t miss it.” Jungkook cheekily grins as he waves off the last member in the room.

“Goodnight hyung!”

“Turn the light off on your way out!” Yoongi shouts back, turning over under the covers to finally get some rest.

After stepping out into the hallway, Namjoon finally finds his voice and shakes off his maknae in embarrassment. 

“I’m not trying to watch their performance Jungkookie.” He tries to defend, although feeling silly for doing so anyway; he could practically feel his cheeks light up.

Jungkook stands in front of Namjoon, grin widening with new found knowledge, but opts for not pushing anything forward. He simply shrugs and turns on his heel towards his own room down the hall.

“Alright then, goodnight hyung!” Namjoon watches the youngest retreats with a slight bounce in his step before disappearing into one of the doors, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

I really wasn’t trying to, Namjoon attempts to reason with himself as he walks back to his own room. But even in his head, the defense sounds just as fake as he spoke it.

And it was true. Namjoon did end up under the covers watching HELIOS’ performance on his phone anyway, and there was hardly any time to feel bad about it.

What really occupied his mind, as he watched you perform with your unbeatable charisma and stage presence, was how you handled yourself during the interview. Namjoon was never going to admit it out loud, but he may have rewatched the recording of your interview right after the performance, rewinding and analyzing every single movement you made.

That’s when the first inkling of remorse for you began to bloom through his chest. He knew how tough interviews can be; regardless of being local or international. Saying the right thing at the right time was akin to an art form that was to be mastered after years of practice. And it may not matter how well versed you are in conversation, the unexpected could make any well prepared individual sit in dread as questions are being thrown at you left and right with no time to process them in your brain. 

Yet you handled each question with such wit and grace Namjoon almost couldn’t tell your nerves being noticeably out of your element. And for that, he couldn’t decide whether or not to just be impressed or want to comfort you; tell you that it was okay and you did far better than he could ever do himself. He bit his lip as he continuously taps the screen to fast forward; only stopping at the scene of your pink lips upturning in a smirk with your declaration of marriage, teasing the audience and nearly giving him a heart attack.

But what happened to never bothering with her ever again? The little voice in his head wanders back into his consciousness.

Namjoon pauses the video, your face freezing in the beautiful yet playful grin that grew on your face before you delivered the punchline. It takes him a moment to realize that he is indeed under the covers with his face inches from his phone, hiding like a prepubescent teen with a secret. The same position he was in the night he watched that Knowing Bros episode months ago.

That’s right, he was doing such a good job on the whole “not focusing on Y/N for the rest of his life” plan up until you popped right back up in his universe. He was even making progress with a girl who was definitely not you! All of it, thrown off by yet another interview with you being your usual charming self.

He quickly clicked his phone off and tossed it on the nightstand. Rolling on his back, he threw an arm over his eyes and steadied his breaths.

Okay, ignoring you completely had apparently done a number on his ego and the so-called “progress” he had on forgetting you had chucked itself out the window of whatever hotel floor he was currently on. So maybe the plan needed to be reevaluated. 

Maybe he didn’t need to completely shut you out of his life. Maybe he didn’t have to ignore your name if it came through on his social media feed or in general conversation. Did he have to talk to you or about you? Of course not. With his schedule and your attitude, he probably wouldn’t get the chance to do either for a long while anyway. 

But can he allow himself to be graced by your presence should he so happen to see a video or post about you online? 

Namjoon’s fingers immediately twitched with the urge to find his phone again. Resisting, he tossed himself over on his side away from the nightstand. 

Well… it’s not like you’re interacting directly with her anyway, no harm in that. He attempts to reason with the dark.

You along with HELIOS were growing bigger with each passing day, and there wouldn’t be a day where he wouldn’t witness your name in bright lights or across headlines. So why should he beat himself over when you reside with him in the same atmosphere?

It’s inevitable that he would always bump into you one way or another, it wouldn’t do him any good to continue running away from it. 

So with that, Namjoon lets himself sink into his hotel bed. He slowly closes his eyes on the decision of not complicating himself by completely blacklisting you from his life. He levels his breathing while mulling over not being guilty about any more thoughts of you.

Then eventually, he dozes off with your signature smile gleaming behind his eyelids, inviting him into sleep.

— + — + — + —

After leaving California and making headway through the rest of the North American leg of the tour, the boys finally found themselves in a steady rhythm of tour life. Scheduled filled days of back to back rehearsals and interviews and concerts were now part of an easy norm the boys finally had shifted into their daily lives, and not to mention all the off days they used to explore the area around them every time they reached a new city.

As for Namjoon, it was now easier managing work and personal time together when they blended easily into his daily routine. Especially since he finally let go of his gripe about forgetting you completely.

Another thing he wouldn’t ever admit to was the fact that he now made you somewhat a part of his daily routine as well.

Between working with the boys and texting Yerin on the down low, he’s made an unconscious routine to check up on HELIOS from time to time as you followed suit en route of your first world tour.

‘Which so happened to follow BTS’ route very closely,’ Namjoon slowly let himself believe every time he checked Twitter.

By the time they were in Chicago, tweets about HELIOS’ tour had slowly rotated into his algorithm after his private account—read: inconspicuous stan account—just so happened to like a few posts regarding their first interview where Y/N rocked the fan base with her declaration of “marriage”

“Y/N came to LA for BUSINESS AND BUSINESS ONLY” 

“The way Y/N said “fuck off with your rumors, we aint doin this shit today”

“But that face?? Her smirk???? She came for their THROATS”

“My girls said ‘we’re here for the bag. Nothing else.’”

Eventually, liking a few posts turned into liking concert fan cams to liking general fan edit videos to following popular HELIOS stan accounts, with most of those accounts centering around you of course.

When they got to New Jersey, Namjoon had finally subscribed to every official HELIOS account on social media, starting with their YouTube account where he found out you and your girls were actually documenting the tour with short clips of different momentous occasions.

That’s when Namjoon had begun to view Y/N in a new light. 

One of the first few episodes featured a very heartfelt point of view from Y/N finally returning to her home country for the first time since she left years ago to train in the industry.

“Am I glad to be back home? Yeah of course,” Namjoon watched Y/N sigh to the vlog camera one night. It was the night of their last concert in LA and the next venue was near your hometown.

“Actually, we’re going to my hometown next, that’s where the next show is, but um…” You look away in thought, but your lips turn in a pained smile. 

“My family said they wouldn’t be able to come, and management said I’d be too busy to find time to see them.” You sigh in frustration, but quickly shake it off with a brave smile on your face.

“So I’ll be doing my absolute best for them! And for you guys! We’ll see you there!”

Your declaration left Namjoon’s heart in the pit of his stomach until he was able to watch the next episode on his way to Brazil a week later.

He witnessed a whole montage of a secret plan the rest of HELIOS carried out to surprise you with a welcome home party and all of your family members in attendance. 

Although it could’ve been arguably cruel to watch your bandmates record you rehearsing your frustrations out—and secretly snicker about it on the side— it was worth to see you complete overcome with joy when you were led into the hotel’s banquet hall by Yuna and Sumi as Hyojin led your entire family in surprising you.

Namjoon also may or may not have shed a tear when he saw you collapse into your parents arms, sobbing with them as you were finally reunited after so many years.

When they left Brazil for Europe, Namjoon had seen almost 20 different angles of your performances as well as your leader persona in action during rehearsals for your concerts. As lead dancer of the group, the tour vlogs consisted of a lot of direction and guidance of your group mastering each choreo for your setlist. You were a model leader, making sure you supported and guided your group to give their best performance. 

Some might call it alluring when in every fancam, you moved with such control and grace, belting your power vocals as you thrive in your “girl crush” persona. Every fancam Namjoon came across had the audience falling head over heels every time you dropped it low and rolled your body and hips to the beat of the song—something he definitely didn’t let his eyes linger on for longer than he should’ve while rewatching his favorite videos.

This was fine. He kept you at arms length like he wanted, letting himself fall curious as to what you were doing as an idol but not having to interact with you directly. This was definitely a healthy balance for him to manage. Plus you were a common topic for him and Yerin to converse about; HELIOS was one of her favorite girl groups and what kind of man would he be if he didn’t immerse himself in his lovely lady-friend’s interests?

But as Day 2 for Wembley in London rolled around, Namjoon kept himself so preoccupied with catching up on your weekly vlogs, concert fan cams, and personal Vlives, he completely missed the memo that your tour paths had crossed with his.

And you were in town for their last concert in the UK.

— + — + — + —

“Have you noticed him looking for you?” 

“Him who?” 

“Y'know who.”

You groan and roll your eyes, fighting hard to not to make it look like you were searching for the specific pair Sumi’s been teasing you about for the last hour and a half of the concert.

“You’re hallucinating, he doesn’t know we’re up here.” You try to reason as you maintain your attention Jimin’s solo and not on an annoying maknae who’s two seconds away from getting a fat slap to the face.

“Yeah you keep telling yourself that, but the boys know we’re here and out of seven heads there was only one who kept looking up at our private box.” Sumi snickers. 

Hyojin’s giggling cuts through your moment of internal rage to defend you. “C’mon Sumi, leave unnie alone.”

She gets up and motions for Sumi to follow her back inside, but not before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“It’s okay, you can admit that you were watching him, I’m pretty he’s looking for you too.”

You move to lunge for the younger girls as they collectively snicker and run out of the way into the box for more food, leaving you to slowly settle back down in your seat and throw your arms crossed over your chest, growling like some deranged animal.

They’re lying. They're definitely lying. There was no way he knew you were up here.

How you ended up at the last concert you ever wanted to attend, you still don’t know. 

Well no—actually you do know, Jina unnie basically told you you had to go.

Regardless, you slowly slump further down in your chair, forcing yourself to at least enjoy the part of the show where he wasn’t on stage.

“Out of all of my off days…” you let yourself sink into self pity before you feel a figure settle next to you, then a quick pinch to the shell of your ear. 

Yelping in shock, you repel back as you shield your ear away from your offender. Yuna, suspect number one, cocks a brow back your way while making herself comfortable next to you. 

“That was fucking rude.” You mumble under your breath, but does not go unnoticed as Yuna swats your arm.

“No, the attitude you’ve had since we got here is rude.” 

“But did we really have to come!? It’s our day off and we could be off doing something else!” You whine out loud, Yuna snaps her head at you with a dirty look.

“And do what Y/N? Rehearse until you injure yourself?” Yuna fires back, “You’ve done nothing but practice and rehearse for every concert with no time to really relax!”

At that, you say nothing and keep your blank gaze directed towards the stage as Jimin wraps up his set. What could you say? All you knew is that you were at a BTS concert that you didn’t want to be at. However, Yuna already knew all of this and decided that it was time to probe your brain for more information.

“I know you’re not pouting over the fact that we were sent to BTS’ concert, you talk to Jungkook and Taehyung too much to hate it here.” She continues to prod, instigating an impromptu intervention. “So what’s the real issue here?”

The problem is you know what the real issue is. You and everyone else who has been in your presence for the last few years knows you don’t hate BTS entirely. 

They, as a whole, weren’t the problem.

Slowly the lights change and the familiar chords of a piano sound through the speakers. A chill rolls down your spine as you feel your heart rate increase with the cheering crowd. You just realized who the next solo is.

Sure enough, Namjoon emerges from beneath the stage with a bright smile, addressing the crowd for his solo. You involuntarily flush at his profile appearing on the big screen as he raps the first lines of “Trivia: Love.”

“Ah, there it is.” Yuna slyly whispers in your ear.

You recede back into your seat again, now in embarrassment as you cower away from the direction of your elder and the man on stage.

Yuna laughs lightheartedly, knowing too well of your issues as your main confidant. At this point you’re sure she’s just abusing her knowledge just to tease you.

“You can’t hide from me Y/N, so spill. What’s your problem with Namjoon this time?”

You weigh the options between confronting your personal issues with her now and continue to stay silently or endure the torment of mockery from your girls and the man who is unknowingly the source of your first world problems.

Well being teased for the rest of the night wouldn’t be ideal.

You let out a deep sigh, refusing to look at Yuna and opting to just watch Namjoon perform. “I had a conversation with Johnny before we left, he thinks I’m jealous of Namjoon.”

“I mean, you make it pretty obvious.” Yuna wastes no time with being blunt.

“Well damn should I just write it on my forehead then!?” You bark back.

“Hey! Yelling at me over your unnecessary beef with a man you hardly ever talk to isn’t going to solve your problems.” She sizes you back down with a hard voice. You freeze, then settle back in your seat, mumbling an apology. Once you’ve calmed down, she prods again with a softer voice.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, are you really jealous of Namjoon and everything?”

You still refuse to look at her, continuing to watch Namjoon glide around the stage rapping about his declaration of love. Even without the cameras trained on his face, you can see his brilliant grin from your box as he lets himself go with the music. The heat starts to pool into your cheeks.

He really looks beautiful

Yuna nudges you out of your trance, repeating her question again. 

Oh yeah, you were talking. You comb your brain for a sensible response but you’re slightly surprised to find it’s a bit difficult to concentrate as you watch Namjoon down below.

“I- I guess I am? But I know I shouldn’t and it’s stupid. But I can’t help but have these...feelings? Like I'm feeling something and I don’t know what those feelings are…” You begin to babble, but ultimately your words die down on your tongue as your attention refocuses back on Namjoon.

It wasn’t a lie, he really did look beautiful down there in his element—on stage. With the way he pours out his passion into his performance, anyone could tell Namjoon was born to perform. It almost made you… calm? Content? Almost serene in a way. It wasn’t just a song he was performing, it was almost like he was having a conversation; telling his audience, ARMYs, that he truly loved them.

You inadvertently lock eyes with him through the big screen as he raps for the camera, chanting his message of love with the crowd.

Somewhere deep inside, something yearns for that message to be for you as well.

He’s wrapping up the bridge and slowing down for the refrain. Unlike the other solos you’ve seen from the boys, Namjoon’s stage only accounted for him with the props limited to the AR visuals that accompanied him on the screens. 

You watch him as he plays with the virtual lights that move under his command, forming into hearts, all while he raps of love. You’ve heard this solo many times in passing, but something about witnessing it live ramps up your heart rate with the energy of the stadium. The last beats of the refrain pump through your blood as it finally drops with Namjoon leading into the final chorus.

The entire conversation of “feelings” is ultimately lost as Yuna, who hasn’t stopped staring at you since you’ve trailed off, watches you completely enraptured in Namjoon’s performance. The lights dance off your face as she studies the soft look that follows the man on stage. In the years she’s known you, she had never seen that look on you before, and definitely not for the man that you’ve claimed as your enemy.

This was completely different. An utterly vulnerable moment where you’ve dropped all your walls and have exposed your true emotions. And with Yuna being the eldest and—self proclaimed—wisest of the group, she doesn’t push forward on it. Instead, she leans back in her seat as the song ends with Namjoon’s final lines. Stealing one last look from you, she confirms everything from the longing look in your eyes to the small but genuine smile that graces your lips.

Yuna grins to herself, locking this information away for the future.

— + — + — + —

“Wait, so they were THERE?” Namjoon desperately tries to confirm with anyone in the car of this newfound information.

He absolutely had no idea that you and the girls were at Wembley. And to be honest, he was kind of disappointed he was only hearing about this on his ride to the airport en route to Paris.

Or was he disappointed you didn’t come see them backstage afterwards?

“Yes they were there, but they had to leave at the end of the show since they had an early schedule the next day.” An assistant sitting in the passenger seat of the shared van responds. “...Although, we did tell you guys in the wrap up meeting before you left for the hotel.”

Namjoon blinks, then swiftly turns to Hoseok seated to his right.

“Hob-ah, they told us?” Hoseok splits into a grin at the urgent tone of his leader's voice.

“Yes Joon, they were there. Weren’t you paying attention?”

Namjoon falls back into his seat as he racks his brain for the lost memory. The aftermath of Wembley D2 was a complete blur; they finished the show strong, grouped up backstage, were ushered back to the hotel to pack and rest, then left this morning.

We’re his days blurring together again?

Namjoon sat confused until his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a message from Hoseok. He turned to the man in question, but only found him tapping away on his own screen as Namjoon's phone buzzed twice more.

Hoseok: You sure you don’t remember?

Hoseok: Maybe this might jog your memory

Hoseok: 😮🤳😂🤳😍🤳🥵😩🤤🤪❤️❤️❤️❤️

Namjoon stares at the string of emojis before turning back to Hoseok.

“What the hell is all that?”

“C’mon, try to use that big brain of yours at least,” Hoseok snickers as he types something else, then finally turns to meet his leader's confused glare with wiggling eyebrows. “Or is it occupied with a certain girl group you’re suddenly interested in?”

Namjoon brows only furrow deeper. “What are you on about? Just tell me.”

Hoseok raises a hand in mock surrender before typing away at his phone again. “Listen, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t have to hide the fact that you’re a HALO now.  At least not from us.”

At this, Namjoon flushes and quickly jumps on the defense. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, where the hell did you get this from?”

Hoseok cocks an eyebrow in retaliation. “Seriously? You don’t know? Shall I shed some sun-light on this situation?”

Before Namjoon could interject, a ping signifying an invite to a new group chat sounds off on his phone. Reluctantly, Namjoon accepts the invite and groans at the sight of its name.

INTERVENTION ROOM: JOON IS NOW A HELIOS STAN

Hoseok: He’s here!

Jimin: FINALLY

Taehyung: About time lol

Jungkook: lmaoooo

Jin: Hobi I TOLD you we weren’t ready for him yet

Jin: We we’re supposed to do this when we got to the hotel

Hoseok: He was asking questions! I thought this would be a better time!

Jin: NOT ON OUR PHONES IN SEPARATE CARS ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT

Hoseok: 🤷🏻‍♂️

Namjoon: Guys is this really necessary?

Jungkook: Yes

Jimin: Yep

Taehyung: Honestly, I’m just here for the entertainment 😀

Yoongi: I agree with Joon, I don’t think this is remotely necessary

Namjoon: THANK YOU hyung

Yoongi: Sure thing. I’m gonna take a nap now, have fun tearing him apart

Namjoon: Hyung wtf

Jin: Namjoon we’re not tearing you apart, we’re just simply weighing in on a possible obsession you have

Jungkook: Do you know how many fancams he’s liked on Twitter and Insta? It’s more than just an “obsession” hyung

Namjoon: Kook have you been spying on my phone?

Jimin: Well is it really spying when you’re literally watching Y/N wind her hips in 5 different angles out in the open?

Taehyung: OOH CALLED OUT

Namjoon: Okay I’m out, thanks for having me

Jungkook: Laaame. We haven’t even talked about who your potential bias is

Taehyung: I still got my money on Yuna

Jimin: Nah, it’s definitely Y/N

Namjoon: I said I’m out

Yoongi: Y/N is definitely Joon’s type

Hoseok: THE WISE MAN HAS SPOKEN

Namjoon didn’t even bother to read the rest of the conversation as he removed himself from the group and silenced his phone. He promptly shoved it back in his pocket, ignoring the disgruntled sounds of disapproval from Hoseok, and settled for watching the highway zip by through the window. 

So now Namjoon is aware that he hasn’t been all too careful with his deep dive into the HELIOS fandom, but he was more surprised over the fact he was caught lurking on HALO stan accounts and not with texting Yerin.

Which now that he remembers; that was the last person he was actually talking to since the show ended. 

— + — + — + —

“-and so I guess they just happened to look over my shoulder everytime HELIOS was on my timeline.” Namjoon sheepishly admits to the phone as he takes a seat while rubbing the towel over his damp hair. Lithe laughter sounds from the speaker as Namjoon relaxes into his chair with a soft smile.

“Sounds to me you do have an obsession,” Yerin chuckles on the screen, resting her chin on her hand. “Why would you have so many posts about HELIOS on your feed if you didn’t? Didn’t you know social media is always tailored to your most current hyperfixations?”

Namjoon snorts and lolls his head back, a totally inconspicuous way to show off his shirtless chest fresh out of the shower. “Oh please, they’re one of the two biggest Kpop groups currently on world tour with similar routes, people are bound to either talk about us or them.”

Yerin hums in response, arching an eyebrow. “Someone’s a little cocky.”

Albeit trying his hardest to flaunt his confidence, Namjoon feels the heat creep across his cheeks as he moves to sit up right. He’s still not used to flirting with someone like Yerin.

In fact, finding time to actually video call Yerin was very few and far between, so it was rare for Namjoon to hold a casual conversation with her that wasn’t through written word. Even still, seeing her still brought out the embarrassingly giddy side of him trying a little too hard to impress a pretty girl he’s come to like.

If he could slap himself directly, he definitely wouldn’t hesitate to do so. How old was he? 14?

Can anyone blame you? The little voice in his head creeps in. Just look at her.

Even dressed down in a messy bun and lounge clothes, Namjoon thought of her as the essence of perfection. Stunningly beautiful. Downright sexy. Amazing humor and intelligence. Absolutely everything he wanted in a woman. He absolutely could not afford to look like a fool in front of her.

Yerin looks away at her computer off screen to click at a few things, no doubt tinkering with the next hit for her current client, then stretches out her exhaustion, yawning before turning back to Namjoon. Suddenly he feels guilty.

“Are you tired?” Checking the clock in his hotel room, Namjoon tries to calculate the current time in his home country on his hand. “Isn’t it late for you right now? you should go to bed.”

Yerin sighs and shakes her head. “Nah, it’s not that late. Besides, I wanna keep talking to you.”

Namjoon only smiles, and awkwardly turns his head away, unsure of what else to talk about. There’s a stretch of silence. Yerin stares at Namjoon through the screen as he busies himself with nothing in particular, waiting for him to carry on. However the awkward pause lingers on until Yerin clears her throat. 

“So, will you be seeing them in concert? Since your tour routes are headed the same way?”

Namjoon snaps his head back at attention, “Who?”

Yerin can only chuckle. “HELIOS silly, y’know since you’re such a big fan now.”

Namjoon suddenly flashes back to his fumble in the car ride to the airport earlier that morning, making him inwardly cringe.

“Actually they were at our concert last night, they’re having their London concert right now, I think.” Yerin feigns an overactive gasp.

“You mean to tell me they went to your concert and you didn’t get me an autograph?”

“To be fair, they left right after the show since they had an early schedule the next day.” Namjoon scratches the back of his head before continuing, “...and I didn’t find out they attended until this morning.”

Yerin lets out a laugh. “Wait, they didn’t tell you?” 

Namjoon only bites his lip and shakes his head, trying to build up his flirty confidence again.

“Apparently I was too distracted by a lovely woman on my phone that I didn’t catch them talking about it.” Namjoon flashes his best smile. Yerin raises a teasing one of her own.

“Who? Your HELIOS bias that keeps gracing your twitter feed?” Namjoon sputters, prompting Yerin to let out another laugh. “I bet it’s Yuna huh? I always thought she was the prettiest.”

Namjoon scoffs at the absurdity, first his bandmates, now the girl he’s trying to impress. “I don’t think Yuna would be the type to date men younger than her.”

Yerin shrugs with a wink, “Hey, you never know.”

They share a short laugh before the conversation dies down again. Yerin yawns again, signifying how late it is for her. Namjon takes this as the perfect time to end the call.

“Anyway, it’s really late for you. I’d hate for you to be sleep deprived because of me.” He urges her earnestly. Yerin doesn’t decline this time, and nods her head in agreement.

“Yeah I know, I just really like talking to you.” This makes Namjoon’s heart skip a beat.

��I know, I do too.”

“Well, I’ll talk to you later?” 

Namjoon smiles earnestly and nods his head. “Of course.”

They both bid their good nights before the call ends, leaving Namjoon to stare blankly at his home screen. Although successfully being able to hold a—somewhat—face to face conversation with Yerin, he couldn’t help but feel just as awkward as he did talking with her just moments ago.

I’m just off my game. He hypes his self assurance up. He’s been so caught up in the world of being a global icon that it’s been a while since he’s had to charm a potential partner, he’s normally not so awkward where he doesn’t know how to hold a simple conversation.

Namjoon sighs, chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares off into the Parisian view from his hotel room. He’s just…stressed. Yeah, that’s it. So stressed due to being on tour for a little over a month now and having to deal with everything that comes with it, totally a valid reason behind why he’s suddenly getting tongue talking to a beautiful woman. With everything going on, there has been little time to just let himself go and relax.

Namjoon shakes his head and runs a stressed hand through his hair, eyeing the phone that was left propped up on the table.

Biting his bottom lip, he contemplates his next moves carefully. He’s a grown man in the privacy of his own suite in a fancy hotel, he’s allowed to indulge in his needs once in a while, right? Couldn’t he just take the edge off for a few minutes before he had to go back to being a professional? For the sake of relaxing, of course.

Feeling his hand twitch at his side, he eyes the phone again, then the door to his room across from him.

No one should be bothering me for the rest of the night anyway…

There’s little room for argument before he’s snatching up his phone and cutting the lights before diving under the covers.

In half a second he’s already pulling up the app and scrolling through Twitter, fancams of your performance gracing his timeline. It was now your turn to take on London for your tour, and considering how late it was getting, it must’ve been well into the setlist of your show.

Sure enough, different angles of your London show start rotating into his feed. He’s seen enough videos of your setlist to know which songs were already performed. Scrolling down, he watches as you and the girls party it up on stage. All laughs and smiles as you let yourself go on stage, completely engulfed in the performance. What once had unjustifiably bothered him before now brought comfort and joy to his demanding schedule and it was something he decided he can indulged in at the end of the day when he was finally all alone, because the last thing he needed was another teasing remark from any bandmate claiming he was neck deep in the HELIOS craze.

But that wasn’t the case. Your group just happened to pop up on his feed for every social app he pulled up, and he just happened to like all of the videos that portrayed HELIOS’ creative output. He was an artist too, he can appreciate his fellow colleagues and their own work every once in a while. 

The most important thing was that he was still keeping you at arms length like he promised himself. Your place in his life was still the same as it was before; another idol in the industry that he would cross paths with once in a blue moon. You never created a HALO out of him; he was just conveniently following the most popular HELIOS stan accounts to view your progress, merely recognizing every HELIOS related video that came his way, simply valuing all the HELIOS songs that cycled through his Spotify recommendations, knowing only enough about you and the members to debunk all the rumors that floated around you and your career.

He scoffed. Obsessed fan? No, that was his sister. Kim Namjoon was an artist appreciating another colleague in his space. Nothing more, nothing less. 

His train of thought stopped at a still image of you; it was new, something unrecognizable from the setlist he’s memorized.

It was followed by an onslaught of gifs—gifs already? That was fast—with a clearer view of a new outfit that was definitely not in the setlist he memorized.

You’re strutting down the catwalk easily with your heels, all black attire. Your signature look which you’ve carried since your debut.

Then he saw the first video.

The same scene of you strutting, but this time with sound. After tuning into your voice from the screams and cries of the crowd, he learned that the song was your solo from your latest album, and this was the first time you’ve performed it.

It was a slow r&b beat but overlaid with your power vocals, an instant hit on your album and something the crowd was dying to see live on account of their reactions. You reveled in the performance, moving smoothly to the melody as the crowd waved their lightsticks in sync to the rhythm, singing along with you. 

It was a captivating sight, but Namjoon would never openly admit that your performance bloomed an unfamiliar warmth in his body. He’s seen you perform before, plenty of times as a matter of fact, but this was the first time he’s experienced any symptoms. Seeing your bright smile as you command the crowd to wave along with you while bopping to the beat left goosebumps to raise across his arms. His heart raced hearing your smooth voice dip into a growl as you belt the chorus. He was even finding it hard to swallow every time you flashed your signature smirk to the crowd.

He quickly shuts his phone off and pushes it out of reach. That was… an odd reaction.

Quickly shaking it off, he curls up on the side of the bed opposite from where he left his phone, signaling his body to start going to sleep.

Reacting to the way you performed meant nothing, he was only admiring how passionate you are as a singer. The sudden increase in heart rate? That was just him feeding off of your energy on stage. The goosebumps on his arms? The song was just remixed well for the concert. Swallowing hard at your smile? Ah hell, he’s a simple man. He can recognize a beautiful woman regardless if she doesn’t return the sentiment.

Then his mood drops, remembering where he started from. That’s right, even after everything, you still don’t like him.

Well no matter, Namjoon thinks as he slowly drifts to sleep. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not like you’re someone who’s meant to be present in her life. Arms length away is all you need.

— + — + — + —

September 2019

Rushing to make it back to the dressing room, Namjoon follows the boys as they round the corner of the backstage hall before hearing the faint sounds of…crying?

Well that’s odd, no one should be back here.

He pauses for a moment, watching his bandmates disappear around the adjoining hall, then slowly back tracks and walks the opposite direction, silently moving closer until he hears a worried voice over unsettled sobs. 

“Just stay here okay? Don’t move, I’ll get you water.” A woman’s voice hushes reassurance to her companion before the quick clicking of heels echo down the other end of the hall.

Before deciding against making this situation any of his concern, he peers around the corner to see an empty corridor with nobody around but a girl sitting hunched over her lap, body wracked with violent sobs.

Oh fuck. 

Namjoon is at a loss.

Here he is, standing in an abandoned hallway with a stranger having a complete breakdown right in front of him. Just your normal Saturday afternoon.

Namjoon has absolutely know idea what to do, fidgeting awkwardly in place, undecided if he should try to help the girl or turn around and just walk away like nothing ever happened. He was supposed to be back in the dressing room in less than 20 minutes to pack up and leave. Did he even have time to try to console a complete stranger right now?

While trying to figure out the most ethical and guilt free approach, Namjoon pauses upon closer inspection of the girl.

She’s not dressed in everyday clothes nor any staff uniform. The sequined wrapped dress down to the designer heels and mic pack still hooked up to the waist was a dead give away for Namjoon to recognize it was another idol.

However, the outfit and the heels begin to look familiar as he feels himself walking closer to her. And even before he even thinks to try to turn back at this point, he’s already in front of her, kneeling down quietly and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

The body reacts violently to the touch as they both jump back; Namjoon with his hands raised in mercy, face to face with the bewildered eyes of…

“…Y/N?” Namjoon calls out to you softly. 

Up until this point, Namjoon couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than the scene before him; your arms violently gripping your upper body, caging your chest to keep your lungs from bursting from all of the deep uneven breaths you took, eyes blown wide and confused as you hold Namjoon’s concerned gaze. 

He can practically see the realization wash over you as you recognize that the person in front of you is probably the last person on earth you’d want to see right now.

You drop your gaze as your breathing starts to become erratic, you look anywhere but the man in front of you and squeeze yourself tight, yet you don’t move from the seat he found you in. Then it clicks. 

You’re having a panic attack.

“Hey, nonono it’s okay.” Namjoon begins to coo. He places just the tips of his fingers atop your knee and your eyes snap back to his. 

Your vision focuses on Namjoon’s gentle gaze as he looks up at you with hooded eyes, almost urging you to stay grounded with him.

The uneven sobbing slows just a bit as Namjoon takes both of his hands and places them upright before you, allowing you the chance to deny him should you want to. 

“Can I try to help you?”

Yuna left you here to get water and you’re all alone with your sworn enemy while your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Y/N, I need you to try to take deep breaths now, okay?”

It’s hard to hear the man in front of you with your pulse beating so loud in your ears. But he’s saying something. You see his mouth move and he tries to keep his eyes locked with yours.

“Deep breathes. I’ll do it with you, okay?” He repeats directly to you.

The message finally gets across as you will yourself to establish composure. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod frantically, sobs still trembling through your form.

When you open your eyes, you see Namjoon’s waiting hands turned upwards before you, still giving you the option to use him as leverage. Hiccupping, you slip your hands in his and he’s careful to accept them. 

The first thing you notice about his hands is they’re huge. Even his thumbs that are stroking the back side of your palms takes up most of the surface area. And they’re… soft. It begins to comfort you in a way you would’ve never thought. 

“Okay,” your eyes shoot back up to the sound of his voice. His hooded eyes never seemed to leave you.

“Slow breaths in through your nose, and push them out through your mouth. Do as many as you can, we’ll do it together.”

You inherently grip his hands in response. He gives you a soft smile in return.

In counts of four, you follow his lead in taking long deep breaths with closed eyes. You start off shaky between your sobs, but slowly begin to relax into yourself. All the while, you begin to reality crawl back to your senses. 

You’re backstage in a hallway somewhere in the music show studio. You were walking back to your dressing room worried about something you couldn’t even recall. Yuna was chasing after you, trying to get you to calm down before you got way too deep in your own head, but it was already too late. 

You remember your voices were raised, arguing over something so insignificant now—you could kick yourself for realizing the way you treated your unnie when she was only trying to help. Not long after that you were becoming hysterical, heart rate and breathing ramping up as you fell into panic. 

Yuna ushered you to sit down and breathe as your body was assaulted with uncontrollable sobs and told you to stay put as she got you water.

Then Namjoon appeared.

The last person on this earth who you would think to see kneeling in front of you and offering you help at your most vulnerable, and you calmed down faster than any method or technique that was taught to you by your therapist in the last 3 years. Kim Namjoon; who’s kneeling before you, hands holding yours, coaching you to breathe with closed eyes and a soft voice.

Even with it happening right in front of you, you still couldn’t believe it.

Namjoon notices the lack of uneven breaths from you and opens his eyes to meet your gaze. You’re wide eyed, cheeks stained with your tears as your glossy stare holds his.

“Better now?” He asks quietly, still letting his thumbs glide over the tops of your hands.

Unable to voice any words, you opt for nodding a yes. He grins in response and your brain stops. The first thing you notice is his dimples, adorning each side of a perfect smile. It’s the only thing you can focus on until it's slowly ripped away from you as he gets up from the ground.

“I was worried for a sec, I thought I was going to need to call management or something.” He chuckles awkwardly, placing a hand behind his neck.

You look down at his other hand, still holding yours. Your muddled brain trying to make sense of it all, but only coming up with the conclusion that if he lets go of you, you might spiral out of control again.

And the concern must’ve been written all over your face because he’s level with your face again after pulling a chair up to seat himself across from you, all while never letting go of your hand.

“Is… Everything okay?” Namjoon is cautious to ask.

You grit your teeth and shake your head, trying to wave off your current situation like it’s nothing.

“I don’t think you’d get it if I tried to tell you.”

Namjoon nods slowly, “Yeah you’re probably right.��� You lock eyes with him as he gives you a half smile for reassurance.

“It’s not my place to ask, and you’re not obligated to share anything. I just heard someone crying and I thought I could help.” He shrugged, glancing down at your joined hands before looking back up at you. “Did you want to be alone now?”

You felt your head shake ‘no’ before you could voice an answer.

“Then I won’t go.” Namjoon responds softly.

The two of you sat in the hallway in comfortable silence, and not once did he dare to let go of your hand. It was soft in his grasp, and he allowed himself to selfishly rub his thumb over the back of your hand as you stare off into the distance. It was rather odd—being in this situation—comforting the lone woman who swore him off as her competition while he watched her from afar. But the silence was fine for him; there didn’t need to be any conversation if it wasn’t warranted, so long as it made you feel better.

Seconds tick by before another word is spoken, almost barely above a whisper.

“How do you do it?” Namjoon’s eyes snap up to you, still staring away from him as you repeat your question. “Be such a successful leader, how do you do it so effortlessly?”

Namjoon is taken aback by the sudden inquiry. Last time he checked, he was always at his wits end as a leader. Was there even such a thing as doing it successfully?

“I… don’t know what you mean by that.” Namjoon tiptoes around his response carefully. “I barely consider myself successful, let alone being able to do it effortlessly.”

You scoff, lifting one corner of your mouth in a sardonic smile. “Don’t act bashful now, I mean you just won Inkigayo for the umpteenth time.”

Namjoon presses his lips in a thin line, the real Y/N was bound to come out and bite sooner or later.

“Y/N, when have I ever said I was a successful leader?”

“You never needed to, everything you do says it for you.”

Namjoon flinches back from the acidity of your tone as you drop the accusation on him. “Y/N…”

“Listen, forget I asked…” You begin to back pedal, but Namjoon calls you back with a deep voice. You falter, seeing the seriousness embedded in his hooded eyes.

“There’s no secret to being an effortlessly successful leader, I would think you’d know that as much as I do.” He holds your gaze as he does your hand while you remain too stunned to say anything.

“Success doesn’t come from winning every music show award. It comes in the form of ensuring our members are happy and taken care of. To make sure whatever we create is done with enough love and care so our fans can enjoy it. To be mindful of how we take care of ourselves at the end of the day because we know that this role and title is anything but effortless, it’s pure hard work.”

He gathers both of your hands in his as he places his elbows on his knees, leaning forward face to face with you.

“And if that’s the criteria for success, then I’d say you’ve been managing well.”

Tears prick at your eyes as his gaze softens on you.

“From what I’ve seen, you do everything in your power to make everyone else happy. But while that can be admirable in itself, what’s left for you in the end? To be stressed out and upset over everything else you can’t accomplish? Y/N you’re only human, and you already do so much for others, you can’t forget about yourself.

“Don’t carry the world on your shoulders just because you hold the “leader” title. It took me years to figure that out, and even more to learn how to lean on the ones who make me a successful one. No battle is worth fighting alone, especially when you have people to fight with you.”

There’s nothing else you can say as you let Namjoon’s words settle into your skin. It sounded so…right. He addressed the very problem plaguing your entire existence and you didn’t even have to tell him word for word. He just…knew. He understood. And he didn’t reprimand or belittle you for anything.

In that moment, you’ve finally realized you were dead wrong about Kim Namjoon all along. 

You cast your gaze down to look at your joined hands once again. He doesn’t make any moves to leave, so you two sit there with the conversation left in the air around you.

“Hey..” You mumble, eyes still trained on your connected hands. 

He hums in response, looking up to see you harshly wipe away the streaks of tears on your cheeks. Never had he seen you so lonely before.

“Don’t… tell anyone you found me like this?” The request was meek and made you feel small, but Namjoon one houses your hands in his.

“Of course, Y/N.” His deep voice reverberates through your body, leaving you feeling safe and secure.

Maybe you can trust him, just this once.

— + — + — + —

The sight around the corner of the hallway was more than enough for Yuna to stop dead in her tracks, the biting chill from the water bottle in her hands long forgotten as her mouth curls into delighted grin.

Y/N and Namjoon sitting alone together; albeit in silence, but their joined hands between them spoke volumes of confirming her suspicions.

This is playing out a lot better than I could imagine it.

She gives them at least ten more minutes before calling out to make her presence known.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #BTS au #bts rm #bts rm x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fic #rm fanfic #rm x reader #namjoon au

[generalkenobi22]

Fic: I’ve Got Phil! - Chapter One

SUMMARY: Or five times Claire realized her husband was a thirst trap — well, more accurately, her particular brand of duck swaddling, magic loving, realtor swaggering "me likey.”

I'm super late to the Modern Family train, but I'm here now, nine seasons deep. Imagine my shock at the complete lack of Claire/Phil fic, as their dynamic is one of my favorite things in the series. So rather than work on any of my other in-progress fics, I brainstormed this in a Ty Burrell crush-infused haze. The idea  is that this will be a multi-chapter effort, and each chapter takes place during a certain number of years into their marriage. 

Join me in my three-years-too-late sitcom ship obsession!

Can also be found on AO3.

——————

i. 16 years

The bake sale is a huge hit, but no one—and Claire means no one—is going anywhere near her brownies. Brenda Sherman's no-bake cheesecake squares, though, people can't seem to get enough of those. At one point, the line was wrapped around as far as the restrooms, back near the face painting station, where she's currently stuck.

And, sure, Claire's brownies were a secret recipe (the secret? She picked them up from Ralph's on her way over), but so what? She's just a woman who gave up a lucrative marketing career to basically be a full-time chauffer to three mostly ungrateful kids she loves very much. She barely has time to put on clean clothes, let alone make homemade baked goods for some dumb middle school carnival put on by the PTA.

The only reason she's here in the first place (and not at home taking care of a grotesquely sick Luke) is because Cynthia Williams—Anthony's mom—sent out an email blast saying anyone who volunteered for the carnival wouldn't need to sell wrapping paper for the winter fundraiser in a few months. So, one less thing Claire has to commit to? Like music to her ears.

What's not music to her ears is the way Brenda Sherman sidles up beside her—in her pearls and immaculately pressed slacks—to say, "Thanks so much for coming out to help tonight, Claire!"

Claire takes in Brenda's cardigan and complete lack of undereye circles (seriously: how?) with total suspicion. Much like her daughter, Annabella (at least from what Alex has told them), Brenda is usually a complete kiss-ass. She'd definitely fall under that 'lawful good' category from that game thing Phil and Mitch sometimes play—at least on the surface, anyway. Claire's still not entirely convinced she's not some kind of undercover lizard person.

Her instincts are right on when, before she can get a word in, Brenda adds innocently, "Every little bit counts, you know. And, gosh, Claire—you're so consistent in being a minimalist in so many areas of your life, especially your wardrobe. It's what I admire most about you. The fact that you never let your vanity get in the way of how you present yourself."

Claire thinks about the way her own hair is unceremoniously piled up on her head with a butterfly clip, the way her shirt probably—wait, yup, definitely—has a small vomit stain on it from Luke's antics earlier in the day. She thinks she might snap a crown, the way she grinds down on her teeth and forces a smile. "And that's what I love about you, Brenda. You're always so lavish with your compliments."

It's like one of the old westerns her dad used to make her watch, the way they stand off, but it's in a PTA mom world, so instead of a six-shooter, Claire just draws her most winning smile and forces her attention back on the kid whose face she's painting. Only when the sound of Brenda's footsteps fades under the din of the rest of the carnival does Claire allow herself to grumble.

Gruffly, she holds up a mirror to the kid. "There. You're done."

The kid pouts. "What is it?"

"It's a... pinecone. Or something."

"It looks like poop."

"Just go." She all but pushes the kid out of the stool.

It's not until her own stomach growls that she realizes she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast (one measly slice of toast). Mind made up, she places an "ON BREAK" sign on the recently vacated stool—much to the chagrin of the considerable line of parents and students waiting their turn—and makes her way over to the bake sale table.

When the coast is clear, she snatches one of Brenda's no-bake cheesecake squares and—holy mother of God is it good. She allows herself a muffled moan of pure delight before wallowing in the unfairness of it all.

"Did you see Kevin Peralta's father?"

Immediately, her ears perk up. A group of moms is huddled together (including Brenda) nearby. It's a school-wide known fact that Kevin Peralta's dad is otherworldly fine. Claire casually hangs around trying to listen in. The group is made up of notorious gossip hounds, but sometimes the intel is good.

One of the moms—Tara Perez's mom, Claire thinks—pipes up: "The man's a contractor. There's no way he should look that good."

"I'm not saying it was me," Cynthia Williams insists, "but as soon as someone mentioned a dunk tank fundraiser at the last board meeting, he was voluntold for the position."

Another mom: "Those arms, though... mmm, mmm."

Brenda sighs. "I would gladly let that man stake claim to my construction zone any time."

Claire follows their line of sight over to Kevin Peralta's dad, who is glistening like some kind of Adonis from his throne in the dunk tank. He does, in fact, have great arms, one of which he's lifting to run his fingers through his recently drenched hair. As Claire watches a bead of water travel from his glistening smile, along the column of his throat, down, down his flat stomach into the waistband of his swim shorts, which are slung low on his hips, she allows herself to briefly fantasize...

Claire, I called the plumber. I recognize my limitations, and I think it would be best to let a professional fix the dishwasher. Claire, it's not you. The remote is a faulty piece of junk. Claire, I did something for the kids without you having to ask. Claire, I finally fixed that step. Let me use my big, strong arms to lift you onto the kitchen counter, and—

"Phil Dunphy on the other hand..."

At the mention of her husband, Claire's ripped from her fantasies (equal parts guilty and grudgingly). She listens in more intently.

"Oh, my God!" This from Cynthia Williams. "He's such a goober."

"I don't know," Maybe Tara Cruz's Mom says, "I think he's cuter in real life than on those cheesy bench ads. What he's doing with Claire, though, I'll never know. Even for someone as embarrassing as him, it's a step down."

Okay. Claire's fists clench at her sides, crushing her no-bake cheesecake square paper plate. Maybe Tara Cruz's Mom is dead.

She takes a moment to briefly glance over at Phil, who insisted on volunteering even though no one asked him to. He has on a magician's top hat and a cape, white gloves and all, and is currently trying to dazzle a group of sixth graders with some card tricks. Only she can tell his enthusiasm isn't all the way up at one hundred percent because he was really counting on Luke to be his sidekick for the night.

The fact that he loves Luke that much... Something about the sight makes her heart feel incredibly full, until—

"Could you imagine? I bet he does magic tricks in bed." Brenda laughs at her contribution, while the other women snicker. "God," she adds, "what a loser."

That's the moment Claire goes absolutely postal. She marches over to the group.

"Hi. Hey." She squeezes inside the circle and takes in everyone's suddenly slack jaws with total delight. "Yeah, it's me, Claire. The step down? Just wanted to come over here and say you all are mean ladies. I can't imagine why it's hard to find volunteers, Cynthia, when they can look forward to being insulted behind their backs. Have a wonderful rest of your evening."

She waggles her fingers at all of them before walking away, head held high. Her heart is pounding, but what a rush! In her adrenaline/anger-fueled rage, something occurs to her. She stalks back to the group, who is still stunned into silence, and focuses all of her attention on Brenda.

"Oh, and, Brenda?" She waits until she has the woman's full attention. "Phil does do close up magic in bed, and when he says, 'for my next trick, I'm going to make your clothes disappear,' it's... it's hot as hell!"

And then with as much dignity as she can muster, Claire makes a beeline straight for Phil.

His face lights up when he sees her. He bows with a flourish to his audience, then lightly jogs to meet her about a quarter of the way. "Hey, Hon—!"

Before he can get the full word out, Claire grabs him by the cape on both sides and pulls him in for a, frankly, completely inappropriate kiss for a PTA-run middle school carnival. When she pulls back, Phil fixes his hat and looks equal parts stunned and totally into it.

"Claire! What—?"

"Let's get out of here."

Phil looks torn. "I-I can't. I'm just about to start the Serpant's Kiss. It involves a straightjacket, but I can't go into more detail because I'm already on thin ice with the guild as it is, and—"

"Phil, I have an act I've been working on, and I'd really like to try it out."

Somehow, Phil's eyes darken even more. "You do?"

Claire sidles up to him and whispers in his ear, "I do. It's a trick where I make your pants disappear."

"Technically," he corrects, voice barely above a whisper, "that's a vanishing illusion—"

"Oh, my God, Phil," Claire breaks the spell a moment out of frustration, but she shakes it off and tries again. "I don't think you're quite getting this. I want. To make. Your pants. Vanish."

She can feel him shudder, and when she pulls away, she watches as his throat works through a swallow.

"Houdini's haunches," he says in complete reverence, his gaze never wavering from hers. "What did I do to deserve such perfection? Martin!" he shouts, eyes still riveted on hers.

A pudgy seventh grader makes his way over to them. Phil shucks off his top hat, cape, and gloves and practically shoves them at the kid.

"Martin," Phil instructs, still not taking his eyes off Claire. "At last, the apprentice becomes the master. You must take over and finish the show." Phil grabs Claire's hand and starts pulling her toward the exit. Over his shoulder, he cries, "Remember your training!"

"What the hell are you talking about, man?" Martin calls after them.

But Claire doesn't care. Phil has already started working on his belt by the time they reach the double doors that lead out to the parking lot. Before they leave fully, Claire turns around and manages to find Brenda over at the face painting station. She flashes Brenda a triumphant grin before she laces her fingers with Phil's.

In the end, they both end up making each other's pants and dignity disappear when a school security guard taps on their fogged-up car windows and catches them mid-act. After an excruciatingly humiliating conversation about appropriate school grounds behavior, they Rock, Paper, Scissors for it. Phil is the one who has to tell Alex why she has to take the bus to school for the next week.

#phil and claire are truly marriage goals #if coach taylor and tami taylor are marriage goals for hour drama shows (and they are) #then phil and claire are the sitcom version #modern family #phil x claire #modern family fic #my writing #my fic

[goldkirk]

sharing some of my trauma processing quest events for general reference, just trying to provide some stuff on the internet for people behind me on the same path to see and feel less alone/weird after

Not gonna go into any details because as I am FINALLY starting to learn, you really ARE not supposed to poke at things or think about ALL related things at once, you can in fact really truly just stop partway in, like you can stop, guys, you don’t have to go all the way through and trigger moods or confusion or anything else. you can actually just absolutely say “hey, stop. I don’t want to go there, brain, I want to distract myself with a different thought instead and I’ll think about this path of thoughts a different time instead” and your brain actually has to listen. It can’t do what it wants until the moment you lose your grasp on the reins, so until then, it actually has to listen and you can say, uh, “no”. Apparently. That’s what I’m doing now.

But partly to show anyone who’s interested and partly because tumblr is where I have inevitably stored all my past break through breakdowns since starting college and apparently my brain just really doesn’t want to do it anywhere more private and will wait me out for weeks until I give in, quick background on this post--

tw for religion/religous trauma, use of the word and concept “cult”, emetophobia (reference via a euphemism), and mentions of harmful control/abuse

I have been in the thick of religious deconstruction for just around a year now, finally feel less crazy about it but now feel wary and skittish about it too. Too many times getting bitten where I didn’t expect a snake. 

I’ve learned a lot about religious trauma and high control/high demand groups and the harms of fundamentalism and other peoples’ experiences and that’s great, but learning doesn’t mean I understand myself, my reactions, or my neglected nervous system any better, so nothing changes, right? So I’m working on that. Very. Very slowly. I don’t get a choice anymore, the last time I tried to push it just a little bit with some body work I ended up worshipping the porcelain god for almost an hour at 4 in the morning because my vagus nerve said “i think the fuck not!!!!” and shut me down the better part of a day. 

Anyway. Slowly. So I’ve read a lot and watched a lot about the BITE model and I’ve mentally dabbled in thoughts about the experiences on it on and off--thinking of different groups i was in and my overal social circle and remembering things here and there that fit those criteria, but I kept shying away from ever actually writing things down or tallying up what amount of the BITE model categories I kind of “met the criteria for”, so to speak. 

Anyway last night I was finally able to do it for the first time, and I scribbled down my tally and then clicked all the right boxes on my interactive BITE model checklist I made, and then I didn’t really look at it and just went and fell asleep. 

I looked at it today. I was stunned. I had believed this whole time that while the BITE model is helpful, it was something I’d only use as a thing to help label why certain experiences were wrong, but not ever to label my overall experience or anything because even though I use the word sometimes, I wasn’t in anything REALLY like a cult, those are way worse. I was just in some unhealthy pressures and groups and media messages and I’m just over-sensitive about things right now, and in a few years I’ll have mellowed out a lot and see my experiences and the good-hearted people behind all my old groups in the much more balanced, kind, and favorable light that they really exist in, rather than my over-compensating bitterness and blinders. 

Well, I was surprised. I don’t know what to say about this, because I don’t want to jump to any conclusions or declare I’m part of groups I’m not or lead anyone wrong with false information or a bad idea. I also just don’t know what to say to MYSELF about it either, because like, what is there to say? You know? Either I was in what amounted to a seriously harmful group (objectively, not just to me) or I was not. There’s not like, anything to be said about it. I can’t accept this as one or the other yet because I don’t know how to trust my own judgement and I don’t want to practice right now. And I can’t get an external read on the situation yet because I’m not ready to show anyone the un-checked checklist and then tell them what I remember feeling even though I don’t have many memory examples to share of real events and have them go through with me and check things off and make sure I understand why, so I know if my hunches were right as I filled the checklist out the first time. 

I’m not ready to try to do anything with this on my own, and I’m not ready to talk to anyone about anything related to past things right now (and possibly for a long time, I think I finally had enough of a bad experience with my last therapist while at the same time finally realizing I actually DON’T want to say things to people and I DON’T want to ever talk to people like that ever again and I really really really really don’t want to talk to anyone who doesn’t respond in a way that lets it be a third person perspective of who the memories came from. I know therapy is important and I know I’m probably in some kind of critical risk stage or something since I moved across the country suddenly on a spur of the moment decision I didn’t feel the emotions for anymore less than 3 days later, and I’m starting a totally new life and I don’t even know how much I know about real American and world history and I don’t know what rules for daily life or anything else are rules I SHOULDN’T know and I don’t know what rules I don’t know that I SHOULD, and I have to learn the rules for ALL the areas of the real world all at once, even just how to walk or sit or stand or navigate through a park so you blend in instead of standing out. But I feel like I’m trying to keep my mouth above water right now and I don’t want to spend energy and time and money trying to hunt down someone I would maybe partially talk to, when there are way more critical things to take care of right here first, like biohazard prevention in the kitchen and a dog getting minimum humane care and me getting like, dressed at least once daily and sleeping at least 4 hours a night no matter what bribery it takes to get there. 

Anyway. I don’t feel ready to say anything about these screenshots. I don’t want to say anything about them and I’m MARVELING that I suddenly can realize that I don’t want to talk about something and it makes me uncomfortable. Oh my gosh. Something made me feel uncomfortable! I feel uncomfortable!!!! Holy moly! I feel a little bit of a feeling again! It’s like the quiet warning beep of one of those car-parking sensors, just super quiet and alarm bell but faint, but it’s THERE! LOOK AT THAT, HA! Love that for me. 

Uncomfortable. Huh! I like it. It’s cool to feel uncomfortable again. I don’t know when the last time was, actually, I thought I knew uncomfortable but now that I feel uncomfortable again I think uncomfortable is actually different and what I was feeling was like...shame-dread or danger-shame-fear of consequences or danger, like feeling like I did something wrong and am getting called out for it or waiting for someone to just get it over with and really chew me out for it instead of beating around the bush or going easy for THIS time. Uncomfortable ACTUALLY is just feeling...literal discomfort. I feel literal discomfort, somewhere in my chest, like, lower than my sternum, but not all the way in my stomach, I didn’t know you could feel stuff there. It’s actually just “uncomfortable”. There’s not any urgent-fear-of-consequences or slow-simmering-dread-about-what-something-leads-to. It’s genuinely just, “ooh hey, I don’t think I want to think or talk about that right now. It’s making me feel uncomfortable.” not uncomfortable AND scared. I didn’t realize uncomfortable could be its own sensation! I thought it was just packaged as a truth of every negative-feeling emotion. Wow. Learning things every day over here. Well! Now I see why my brain wanted me to journal this out. I wish so badly it would let me use anything besides the public internet but it’s kind of worth it I at least do get these lessons or breakthroughs. I appreciate being able to go back and see recent events and entries from myself when I occasionally AM more checked in. 

By the way, as a general note, sorry for frequently word vomiting on here and being barely-concealed needy and manipulatively fishing for support on and off all year, ugh. I’ve had a lot of training to be manipulative and a lot of memories of being punished for just being direct, but it’s also not fair treatment to other people, and I’m trying a lot this year to watch a lot of videos, listen to podcasts, etc, from people talking about their same process of unlearning that, so my brain gets a speed-run of exposure to alternative neural options without me having to spend three years thinking some up myself lol. (THIS IS NOT ME TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU INTO RESPONDING OR GIVING ME ENCOURAGEMENT, PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY, I JUST WANTED TO HONESTLY SAY THIS, there’s just almost no good way to do it through written English without always making it sound a little manipulative every time you try to apologize for subtle manipulation. it’s such a trip. i’ve been thinking about that on and off since I was six and it’s never gonna have a resolution because we just can’t do it without involving something visual or auditory to the written text and that. Defeats the whole purpose of written text communication, lol.)

As always, thanks for reading all the way through this, those of you who read or skimmed this post and my other posts like it. You guys make me feel a lot less alone and a lot more heard and validated. I’m glad you’re there and I hope today treats you well. Don’t forget water and food and meds and a jaw or shoulder stretch if you need them!

#personal #shh katie #add to journal #trauma recovery #undoing indoctrination #BITE model #cult escapee

[themuseandantarctica]

* 𝒒𝒖𝒐𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒕. 23

change however necessary.

“There are three principal ways to lose money: wine, women, and engineers. While the first two are more pleasant, the third is by far the more certain.”

“I cannot afford to waste my time making money.”

“Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it.  The more a man has, the more he wants.  Instead of filling a vacuum, it makes one.”

“All I ask is a chance to prove that money can’t make me happy.”

“There’s no more morality in world affairs, fundamentally, than there was at the time of Genghis Khan.”

“The moral high ground is wreathed in fog.”

“The ethical view of the universe involves us in so many cruel and absurd contradictions, that I have come to suspect that the aim of creation cannot be ethical at all.”

“Do not be too moral.  You may cheat yourself out of much life.  So aim above morality.  Be not simply good; be good for something.”

“She who forms the souls of the young is greater than any painter or sculptor.”

“Every beetle is a gazelle in the eyes of its mother.”

“My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch.”

“If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?”

“What one owes to one’s mother is never repaid.”

“When your mother asks, ‘Do you want a piece of advice?’ it is a mere formality.  It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no.  You’re going to get it anyway.”

“If a writer has to rob his mother he will not hesitate; the ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ is worth any number of old ladies.”

“The remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served us nothing but leftovers.  The original meal has never been found.”

“My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of church-going.”

“I can’t do with mountains at close quarters—they are always in the way, and they are so stupid, never moving and never doing anything but obtrude themselves.”

“Mountains are not fair or unfair, they are just dangerous.”

“You climb for the hell of it.”

“They say that if the Swiss had designed these mountains they’d be rather flatter.”

“There are three secrets to the success of a film: casting, casting, and casting.”

“Film is one of the three universal languages, the other two: mathematics and music.”

“Pictures are for entertainment, messages should be delivered by Western Union.”

“The moves were custard compared to politics.”

“The length of a film should be directly related to the endurance of the human bladder.”

“Having your book turned into a movie is like seeing your oxen turned into bouillon cubes.”

“When the script is finished, then we add the dialogue.”

“The only really good thing about acting in movies is that there’s no heavy lifting.”

“I am a filmmaker, not a director.  I like the physical process of making movies.  I might be a toymaker if I wasn’t a filmmaker.”

“This film cost $31 million.  With that kind of money I could have invaded some country.”

“My favorite line about Hollywood is, ‘Nobody wants to be first.  But everyone wants to be the first to be second.’”

“In Hollywood a marriage is a success if it outlasts milk.”

“Gandhi was everything the voting members of the Academy would like to have been: moral, tan, and thin.”

“I’m not going to go to any more dinner parties.  They’re so badly directed.”

“You can take all the sincerity in Hollywood, place it in the navel of a fruit fly, an still have room for three caraway seeks and a producer’s heart.”

“Of all noises, I think music is the least disagreeable.”

“Music, which can be made anywhere, is invisible and does not smell.”

“Music is the only cheap unpunished rapture on earth.”

“Music is no different from opium.”

“Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.”

“The notes I handle no better than many pianists.  But the pauses between the notes—ah, that is where the art resides.”

“Music has many resemblances to algebra.”

“Music is the arithmetic of sounds as optics is the geometry of light.”

“Music is the language spoken by angels.”

“It may be that when the angels go about their task praising God, they play only Bach.  I am sure, however, that when they are together en famille they play Mozart.”

“Music is powerless to express anything.”

“Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.”

“My music is best understood by children and animals.”

“Nothing separates the generations more than music.  By the time a child is eight or nine, he has developed a passion for his own music that is even stranger than his passions for procrastination and weird clothes.”

“Every kind of music is good, except the boring kind.”

“The British like any kind of music so long as it is loud.”

“All the good music has already been written by people with wigs and stuff.”

“There is two kinds of music, the good and bad.  I play the good kind.”

“No culture so far discovered lacks music.”

“It seems obvious that painting, sculpture, or drama imitated nature. But what does music imitate?  The measurements suggest that music is imitating the characteristic way our world changes with time.”

“Music is the effort we make to explain to ourselves how our brains work. We listen to Bach transfixed because this is listening to a human mind.”

“There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.”

“I know only two tunes: one of them is ‘Yankee Doodle’ and the other one isn’t.”

“Classical music is the kind we keep thinking will turn into a tune.”

“All music is folk music.  I ain’t never heard no horse sing a song.”

“What do you get when you play country music backward?  You get your girl back, your dog back, your pick-up back, and you stop drinking.”

“Country music is three chords and the truth.”

“If it has more than three chords, it’s jazz.”

“Jazz is not dead… it just smells funny.”

“There are some experiences in life which should not be demanded twice from any man, and one of them is listening to the Brahm’s Requiem.”

“People usually complain that music is so ambiguous, that it leaves them in such doubt as to what to think, whereas words can be understood by everyone.  But to me it seems exactly the opposite.”

“Remember: information is not knowledge; knowledge is not wisdom; wisdom is not truth; truth is not beauty; beauty is not love; love is not music; music is the best.”

“Without music, life would be a mistake.”

“My idea is that there is music in the air, music all around us; the world is full of it, and you simply take as much as you require.”

“Music is the best means we have of digesting time.”

“I like Wagner’s music better than any other music.  It is so loud that one can talk the whole time without people hearing what one says.  That is a great advantage.”

“A painter paints his pictures on canvas.  But musicians paint their pictures on silence.  We provide the music, and you provide the silence.”

“If the King loves music, it is well with the land.”

“Music is essentially useless, as is life.”

“It’s easy to play any musical instrument: all you have to do is touch the right key at the right time and the instrument will play itself.”

“Any space is as much a part of the instrument as the instrument itself.”

“There are two instruments worse than a clarinet—two clarinets.”

“The flute is not an instrument which has a good moral effect—it is too exciting.”

“A flute with no holes is not a flute, and a doughnut with no hole is a Danish.”

“What is a harp but an oversized cheese slicer with cultural pretensions?”

“Harpists spend 90 percent of their lives tuning their harps and 10 percent playing out of tune.”

“The sound of a harpsichord—two skeletons copulating on a tin roof in a thunderstorm.”

“When she started to play, Steinway himself came down personally and rubbed his name off the piano.”

“[name] did not like the saxophone; he said it sounds like the word reckankreuzungsklankewerkzeuge.”

“Never look at the trombones, it only encourages them.”

“The tuba is certainly the most intestinal of instruments, the very lower bowel of music.”

“The difference between a violin and viola is that a viola burns longer.”

“Ah, music!  What a beautiful art!  But what a wretched profession!”

“Did Beethoven look like a musician?  No, of course she didn’t.”

“A jazz musician is a juggler who uses harmonies instead of oranges.”

“A typical day in the life of a heavy metal musician consists of a round of golf and an AA meeting.”

“I’ve never known a musician who regretted being one.  Whatever deceptions life may have in store for you, music itself is not going to let you down.”

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence meme #sentence starters #prompts #rp prompts #writing prompts

[godmerlin]

thanks @90soldsoul you know i love answering these haahaha

Are you satisfied with the way your life is right now? Unfortunately, no.

Do you drink enough water?: I probably need to drink more than I do somedays, but I try.

When was the last time you ate at Burger King?: the 1990s. lol

Do you prefer the beach or the mountains?: Hmmm...Maybe the beach? If it’s private at least. If not than I choose mountains. but I live in the mountains and honestly it’s annoying AF.

How do you usually feel when you wake up on a morning?: ANnoyed that I woke up. lol

Would you rather take someone on a date, or be taken on a date?: Be taken on a date because the other involves me over thinking and anxiety inducing thoughts like “will they like it!?” I’d rather be let down by something subpar than be the one who lets the other person down lmfao

When was the last time you wore high heeled shoes?: I don’t remember. I can’t walk in them because of my knee.

Vodka or wine?: Wine I guess. But I RARELY drink.

How often do you cry?: lately? like 5 days out of the week at least. Since my mom died things have been rough.

Ever had a crush on a teacher?: ahaha Once! he was the band teacher lol

Can you wire a plug?: I don’t believe so since I have no idea what this is lmao

Do you wear socks to bed?: Only, and i do mean only, if im frozen solid from sickness. I hate socks in bed ugh

What is currently bugging you?: Making a choice between 2 objects. I want them both but only have room for one so I’m like, which one do I *need* more?

Where were you when you got your first period (if it applies)?: Ah....it was 9/11 lmao and I think I got it at school but it didn’t register what it was til I got home. I had hurt myself badly during gym that day and was going to hop into the shower with my sister so she could wash my leg down It was covered in cuts and gravel and it hurt too much to do it myself lmfao anyway when i took down my pants she noticed and yelled for my mom who came in and they explained to me it was my period (i had had sex ed before this but I still didn’t think to think that lmao) and I just started crying so hard sobbing that I didn’t want to be a woman. LMAO my mom would tell like EVERYONE this story for YEARS she thought it was so hilarious....and my sister still does to this day. Lmao god.

Can you change a car tire?: Not anymore. my dad taught me how to when i was little but i forgot how. lol

Have you met more than ten celebrities?: Yes, I have!

Do you sleep naked?: No....i hate the feeling of bare skin lmao

What was the best music gig you’ve ever attended?: Robbie Williams live in Las Vegas. I don’t think any other musician will ever top that for me lol. because i never thought I’d ever see him live. I feel like the only musician to top that will be Rob himself, if I ever get the chance to see him again. lol

Have you ever had sexual feelings for anyone you follow?: nooo

Do you think Benedict Cumberbatch is hot?: Yeah, I do. but he’s not what I refer to as “a fave”.

Favourite Disney princess?: Jasmine!!!!

Favourite city?: probably new york, im biased i guess. the vibes are just me. But for out of state.....Los Angeles was quirkier than I thought it was so I’ll go with that.

Can you drive?: Yes.

Cigarettes or alcohol?: alcohol...

Excercise or healthy eating?: i mean you need both but im probably more apt to excersize than eat healthy...Lmao I do eat healthier than I did before but it’s hard because i have issues with certain foods.

Favourite and least favourite accents?: i love the irish accent! any of them! and a scottish one...ANd a british one......from anywhere in the countries. Ahahhaa my least fave is gotta be Boston. LMAO sorry Chris I love you anyway!

What are you looking forward to?: not too much really, things are grim for me. I’ll say eating pizza tonight. LOL

Did you play Red Rover when you were a child?: yeah lol

Are you more attracted to men or women?: Men. but i do find women attractive sometimes.

Do you like 1980s fashion?: it depends on what type of fashion you mean, there’s so many different kinds from one decade alone. Lol. But I like fashion from every decade of the 20th century so I’ll say yes.

#about me #tagged in #fun things

[ruki--mukami]

7, 8 & 12 💃✨ tell, tell—

CANON QUESTIONNAIRE.

What’s the best thing about the canon you are writing?

🧩 Call me biased but I love how 200 IQ Ruki is HAHAHA. It’s definitely fun to write characters who think outside the box, but it’s also challenging at times, in a good way of course. What better way to expand your thinking than through your comfort character amiright— Anyway, I see Ruki as one of those characters who almost never has a moment of stupidity, so it always keeps me on my toes. Thanks to this, I can practice using new vocabulary I learn through him and it won’t sound out of character at all. I also really adore how he has a certain nuance to his punishments/sadistic side, as in he doesn’t cut right to the chase but rather he uses deceit and psychological manipulation to get what he wants.

And don’t get me started on the snark, omg. When I first got into DL I think I was shocked by how sarcastic Ruki is in the games compared to the anime (where I first discovered him). The way he taunts the MC is just… like, I know I should feel offended or threatened by him, but instead I want to see how far he will go which leaks through my crazy, over-the-top torture scenes at this point. 💀 ✋ But, I also don’t like to write him brutally without reason. It’s fun to incorporate his lore into his answers as well, giving his actions a sense of purpose no matter how morally corrupt they may be. In other words, it’s a blast writing someone who is both an antagonist and a love interest simultaneously LMAO. 🧩

What’s the worst thing about the canon you are writing?

🧩 Redemption is the hardest thing to develop for me. I’ll make Ruki abuse someone one minute, and then try to act like he didn’t just give someone anemia. Although I suppose that’s just how DL boys are sometimes AHAHAHA. It’s also just a classic case of enemies to lovers, but I’ve learned that the best way to push these ships forward is to make them fight over things that were insignificant to begin with. Which is fine and all, but realistically speaking, it’s a wonder anyone would come back to Ruki after all the awful treatment he subjects them to. Like I’m digging my own grave deeper and deeper, then the redemption arc comes and I’m struggling to get out of the hole I dug for myself LMAO. Most of the time I try to keep a mix of both intimate biting scenes and more wholesome scenario-driven scenes then hope for the best, which doesn’t always work out for me but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles at times. Basically,

Me: It’d be nice if these two can work out. I hope they can have some wholesome moments.

Also me: Wow, Ruki has gone so long without biting someone, or just being a condescending bastard in general… Something isn’t right here. I guess it’s up to me to stir conflict again. 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ 🧩

What would you say is the most unique trait about your character?

🧩 As the sole DL character who knows what it’s like to be both human and Vampire AND possess a big, wrinkly brain, this combination makes for some interesting interactions and response from Ruki. He’ll go on and on about how, since he’s a vampire, he won’t feel any love nor joy towards you and all that angsty nonsense, then he’ll do things that only turned vampires would do such as prepare human dinners and spend the daylight hours awake. I also adore his strong leadership and tragic human past. Out of all the Mukamis, I believe Ruki’s past reveals that he might’ve been sadistic from the very beginning and I try to show that in his personality. Hence the constant demon vs human arguments that often take place on my blog. I don’t think any other DL boy can quite hold these same kind of discussions as it just wouldn’t be relevant to them. Not to delve too deep into personality types such as MBTI, but another unique trait Ruki has out of all the canon characters is his “mastermind” way of thought that you can’t find anywhere else in the game, which I can really relate to as someone who shares the same type as him (I… I swear I’m not crazy 🏃‍♀️). 🧩

#ruki mukami #mukami ruki #the admin speaks #dj-diabolik-fan #canon questionare

[b1ackb3rryw1n3aunt]

I’m a lesbian

#me #mine #in case anyone was wondering #I think I’ve figured at least that out #I also think I actually knew that I just didn’t wanna know #bisexual never really felt right to me even when I first started identifying as bi #and then I just didn’t wanna think about it for a long while #anyways so this is the first time I’m saying it anywhere for certain rather than just wondering about it #I’m a lesbian :)

[sugarbooger513]

Mine (Stepbrother!ChosoxFem!Reader)

This is my collaboration piece for @severelytalentless Are You Afraid of the Dark collab! I had a lot of fun writing this... work. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you to my very amazing friends who helped me out during this piece, especially my wifey @kentosovertime and my bestie @roughwithfluff. It wouldn't have ended up as well written as it did without the help.

Warnings: stepcest, possessive nature, unprotected sex (wrap your willies), oral (fem receiving), spit, Choso slaps reader in the face like once, he also slaps in another place, daddy kink, dom Choso, Choso is very petty, mentions of cheating ex, mentions of alcohol and nicotine consumption, degradation, praise, slight breeding kink if you squint

"Don't bother calling me anymore! I see what's more important to you.." You hang up your cell phone and throw it across the room. Your bed feels colder than it usually does, but you lay on it anyways, allowing your tears to flow onto your pillow.

Your boyfriend, now ex, of two years had called you with a plea, begging for your forgiveness. How could you forgive him, though? When you heard about your best friend sleeping with him, you couldn't get the image out of your head. You knew she thought he was attractive, but there was never a worry in your mind that either of them would take it anywhere.

You sit up, suddenly realizing that he would be on his way home from work in an hour, maybe two. You had to leave before he got home. It wasn't like you feared he would hurt you for leaving him, but he would certainly try to guilt you into staying with him.

Your heart rate increases when you realize that you have no idea where you can go. He knows all of your family, and is pretty loved by all of them. Your stepmom even has the habit of calling him her son. 'Her son...'

You rush to grab your phone, dialing the all too familiar number. If there's one person in your family you can call, it's the one he's scared of.

"Y/N," your step brother lets out a long yawn after answering, "what's up?" "B-bubs.." You can hear him drop something on his end. "Honey, why are you crying?" "He.. he cheated on me.. with her.. you were right.."

Choso bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly enraged at the thought. He never liked that guy. When they first met, Choso punched him in the jaw for being an asshole. You were mad at him at the time, but eventually understood why he did it. Since then, your ex was too scared to look Choso in the eyes.

Still, he now finds himself smiling.

"I'm so sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do?" Your sniffle makes him clench his fist. "He's going.. to be home s-soon." "Drive over here. I'll set up the guest-" "C-can you get me..? I don't want him tracking my car.."

Your pitiful voice goes straight to his crotch. Even though no one else is at his home, he finds himself trying to conceal his half hard cock with the kitchen counter.

"Of course, honey. Pack a bag. I'll be there in twenty." "I-I love you, Choso.. thank you." He has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. "I love you too, honey."

When he hangs up, he groans loudly and places his head on the cool marble. "Okay," he talks to himself aloud, "just.. keep yourself in control. You got this, Choso. She's your step sister, for Christ's sake." He shakes his head, grabbing his keys.

Still, he can't deny the things you do to him. It makes him feel terrible, but you're so damn tempting. He always figured that your hugs would last a little too long, your eyes scanned him a little too much, your hands lingered on him a little too suggestively.

He knew better, though. Your teenage years were spent on tons of dates with guys who were the complete opposite of your stepbrother. He would sit in his bedroom, no doubt on a video game, while he listened to guy after guy go in and out of your bedroom. It wasn't like you were a whore.

Those guys just eventually showed their true colors.

He knows that when you love, you love with your entire heart. That's why he was there for you through every heartbreak. He would hold you for hours, dry your tears with his own shirts, make you your favorite snacks, take you on long walks so you weren't cooped in the house all day.

Why? Well, because in his mind you already belonged to him.

You pace your living room, already holding your overnight bag in your hand. Of course, you'll probably stay with Choso more than one night, unless your dad tells you to stay with him and your stepmom instead.

Who are you kidding? If Choso offers to let you stay longer, you would much rather stay there.

Your front door opens, and you jump in fear that your ex came back early. "Shhh, honey it's me." "C-Cho.." Choso walks across the room in quick strides to pull you into his strong embrace.

His hands gently cradle you against his body. "He doesn't deserve your tears Y/N. Don't give him the satisfaction." "Y-you tell me that after every breakup, Choso.." "I know. That's because none of them deserve your kindness."

You close your eyes and feel yourself relax in his strong arms. He's never let you down. Choso has been the only guy in your life to prove he would always be there for you. You truly trust him with your life.

That being said, you can't ignore the feelings that have formed over the years for your stepbrother.

Your fingers grip his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer to you. He sighs softly and buries his face in your hair. "Is there anything I can do for you, Y/N?" "Just... don't leave me. Please?"

His heart pounds in his chest at your feeble plea. His throat seems to dry, so he can't manage to speak. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he clears his throat.

"You know I won't, Y/N. I never have." "And never will?" His large hands squeeze your body a bit harshly, but your breath only increases at the feeling.

"I never will. Now, why don't we get you loaded into the car and get you home?" You finally pull away, blinking your still teary eyes at him so innocently. "Home..?"

The look on your face has his body on fire. You look so damn innocent, just like an angel. They're still red and puffy from your crying, but that only has him straining in his pants.

The things he would give to take the innocence from your face this second..

"Of course. My home is yours for as long as you need." He jingles his keys in an attempt for you to hurry and follow.

"What.. what about as long as I want..?"

That sentence has him blushing furiously. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. You're family and I love you, so my home is yours. We should go though. I don't want to-" His sentence is cut short when you wrap your small arms around his frame.

"Cho.. you're the only person in my life that cares this much.." "Don't say that, princess. You know that isn't true." His large hands are so gentle as they rub your back comfortingly. The small action has your heart pounding.

It also has your core burning for more.

"I-I want to stay with you." "Princess, then why are we still here?" There's a hint of laughter in his teasing tone. "I mean.. stay with you." You bury your face in his broad chest, hoping desperately that he gets the hint.

And oh boy does he ever. He can't help the small groan that escapes his throat at the mere thought.

"Y/N.. you don't mean that." You finally look up, shocked at the tint of rosiness on his usually pale cheeks.

"I-I do mean it.. You're the only guy who has ever-" "I'm family." "Not blood. D-Don't act like you don't feel the same Choso!" His eyes widen, and your accusation has him backing away from you, causing your hope to falter. Had you been mistaken this entire time? Had the stares and lingering touches really just been his own way of showing platonic affection.

"Choso.. I-" "Am I truly that obvious, Y/N?" You blink once, twice before giggling softly. "Y-yeah.. have I not been?" "No. Your.. attention always seemed to be on others. I just assumed.. you saw me as your big brother." You shake your head, walking slowly to stand directly in front of him again.

You've always thought his eyes were gorgeous, a slight grey tint over the almost golden color, they truly are their own unique shade, but right now they seem even brighter.

"I.. I was scared. People would.. call us freaks if anything came of any attraction to each other. I mean.. we've known forever that we weren't related, but our parents have been married-" "Going on ten years now. Even dated for five years before that. Trust me," his hand reaches to touch your cheek gently, as if he's afraid he could break you, "I've been bouncing the pros and cons in my head for so many fucking years."

Your cheek fits so easily in his palm, as if it was made to be there. "So.. who gives a damn about the cons anymore?" His eyes darken at your words, suddenly not focused on your gaze, but your lips. "I don't think I do, Princess." He suddenly turns the two of you, pressing your body into the wall that was originally behind him.

His lips hover centimeters over yours, making you whimper pathetically. "Tell me what you want. I'll give it to you, Y/N." His lips turn at the corners, making the already handsome guy seem even more so. Your hands reach out, gripping the loose t-shirt he's wearing tightly. "I-I need you, Cho. P-please?"

"Well, why don't we take this little.. fiasco to my place?" "No." He tilts his head in confusion as you smirk. "Fuck me on his bed.. onii-chan."

His lips are on yours the instant that word leaves your mouth. Despite the fact you're almost certain that Choso doesn't know what lip balm is, his lips are so plush and soft. It catches you off guard, causing you to moan softly in his mouth.

He isn't shy about exploring your body either. His hands grab every bit of plushness they can. Your hips, thighs, ass, until he finally reaches your breasts. His hands squeeze them harshly, not caring about any actual pain he could bring. You gasp in the kiss, which allows his tongue to finally invade your mouth, easily taking over as the dominant one.

He tastes faintly of cheap wine and cigarettes, but that doesn't shock you. You've spent multiple nights in his room smoking and drinking after rough breakups.

You have to smack at his shoulder a few times before he pulls away, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two of you. He lets out a deep growl before grabbing your arm to yank you upstairs.

He kicks the bedroom door open, not caring about possibly busting the damn thing. "I have waited for so fucking long," he shoves you onto the queen sized bed that you once shared with your ex, "to have you all to myself. Now that I have you..." He pulls the shirt over his head, causing your eyes to shamelessly wander over his toned body. He catches your gaze, causing him to lick his bottom lip in anticipation. "Oh I am never letting you out of my grasp now, little one."

You sit up and, without a second thought, throw your shirt off and into the floor. "A bit possessive, are we?" He chuckles a bit darkly. "I don't see you complaining. Besides," he rips your pants off in one fluid motion, purring at the dark spot already staining your panties, "it seems you know who you belong to." His head is almost instantly between your legs, his hands shoving your thighs open effortlessly.

He licks a long stripe up your covered slit, causing you to mewl. "Go ahead, princess, tell me exactly who owns you." This time he places a small kiss just over your clit. "F-fuck, you!" "Hmmm," his hand comes down to smack your pussy with an unnecessary amount of force. "Not good enough. Try again." He lands another smack, this one making tears prick your eyes.

"W-what do y-you want-" you cry out as he lands two more smacks on you. The pain is startling at first, but it quickly has you moaning in pleasure. "How about that fun little nickname you've given so many men that have entered your bedroom?" You squeak, making him chuckle. "Oh come on, there's no way you thought I never heard you. Always had the fucking nerve," another smack, this one even harder, "to cry out for other men while I was in my bedroom dreaming of making those pretty eyes cry in my bed. Come on, call me that sweet little name and I'll fuck you better than any of those assholes could have."

The last smack has you screaming, and you can't seem to care that any of your neighbors could hear. "D-Daddy! Y-You own me! I-it's always been you, I swear daddy! P-Please fuck me, I-I need it!"

He groans loudly before ripping your panties from your body. "I'll have to remember that you beg beautifully once I get you home." Two of his fingers spread you apart, and he smirks at the puddle of essence already pooling on the bed. "So fucking wet for me, aren't you?" He doesn't give you a chance to answer before he buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved.

The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes you try and clamp your thighs closed, but one of his hands shoves it back down. His eyes look up at you as he continues to lap at your drooling pussy. The stare speaks every word he can't at the moment.

This is for his pleasure, not yours, and you're meant to lay back and take what he's giving you.

Your fingers tangle in his raven hair, and the slight pain has him growling against you. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, and he shoves two fingers into you without any warning.

You knew beforehand that Choso had slept with at least a few women, so he's not inexperienced, but you never knew that he was this experienced. His long fingers curl into you, pushing against the spot that has you screaming his name to the heavens. He has to rut against your mattress in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief.

"D-Daddy.. I-I'm g-gonna cum.." He could already tell. Your walls sucked his fingers in as soon as they entered you, so he knew you wouldn't last much longer. "Hmmm," his sharp teeth nip your clit gently, but it still makes you squeak, "I sure hope you aren't telling daddy what you're going to do.. That would be awfully rude of you, little one."

The sheer dominance and control radiating from him has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Since when was your sweet step brother so demanding? "C-can I please cum, daddy? I-It feels t-too good.." You feel that damn smirk against your clit. "Of course, baby. Just scream my name when you do it, okay?"

He really must not like you talking much, because he doesn't let you answer him before he starts ruthlessly pounding his fingers into your cunt. Your entire body arches from the bed as you cry out for him. It takes one last flick of his tongue on your swollen bud to have you writing in the bed, coming completely undone before he even pulled his pants off.

He slows down, but doesn't completely stop, allowing you to ride out your high as he uses his tongue to lap up every drop of sweetness pouring from you. "Good girl, I've got you sweetheart. Are you feeling up for more, or do you need to stop until we go home?"

He sits up, eyeballing your form as he licks his lips clean, ignoring the fact he's dripping your own cum from his chin onto you.

You giggle, still a bit spaced out from the intense orgasm. "W-want you.. inside me, please daddy?" He chuckles softly before reaching to finally unhook your bra and fling it to the side. "Of course baby. Where are your condoms?" "D-Don't have any. I'm on.. the pill." His cheeks flush a bit, but he doesn't question anything else.

He makes quick work of his sweatpants, leaving him in only his boxers. The outline of his cock alone has you snapping back to reality. When he pulls the boxers down, you outwardly moan when it slaps back against his abdomen. He's much bigger than any guy you've had before. Also, it's so.. pretty.

The shaft is a lot like the rest of his skin, a very pale color that almost shines if sunlight hits it. The head is a soft pink, very reminiscent of the blushes he always seemed to get if you teased him too much, with droplets of precum around it. A large vein runs from the underside of it, and you can see it actually throb the more he stares at you.

"See something you like, love?" You whimper at the very affectionate nickname. "I-is it going to fit? I mean.. I've never.." "Don't worry, little one," he gently lays you back, "daddy will get it to fit. If it hurts too much, just let me know. Okay?" he grabs one of your exes' pillows, placing it gently under your lower back. "O-okay, daddy. I trust you."

His smile warms your heart. "That's my good girl. Spread your legs for me." You nod, following his instructions immediately. His hand reaches between the two of you, grabbing his cock and gently rubbing the tip around your entrance. "You sure you want this, Y/N? I don't want you to feel forced." You whimper, nodding instantly. "P-please fuck me, Choso.. I've waited so long.." You spread your legs more, effortlessly enticing him.

When his tip enters you, you're already a moaning mess. It just feels too good. He watches your expressions intently as he slowly pushes into you, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's about halfway in, he stops completely.

"How you doin' baby? Any pain?" He leans down to give you a gentle kiss. "G-good. I-it kinda burns, but nothing bad, I promise." He smiles against your mouth and starts to push in again. "We're almost there, little one. Just- fuuuuck." He finally bottoms out, the stretch of it making you whimper loudly and wiggle around. He pants on your face, the scent of you still heavy on his breath.

"S-so fucking tight.. can't believe this is happening..”

He chuckles softly, giving a tentative thrust into your heat. You bite down on your lip, finding both pain and pleasure in the burn that courses through your body. "D-daddy-" He cuts off the rest of your sentence by leaning back onto his knees and grabbing the back of both of your thighs. He manhandles you easily into what you can only assume is a mating press.

"So easy to throw around, aren't you? My pretty baby.." He pulls out of you until only his tip is still inside before slamming back in, causing you to see stars. "You take cock like a pro, baby. I wasn't sure a cute little thing like you could handle it." You tighten around him at his foul language, causing him to growl. "I'm gonna ruin you for anyone else, baby. I'll make sure I'm the only one who can make you scream. You want that, baby? Want daddy to fuck the imprint of his cock into your slutty little hole?"

You throw your head back and cry out for him. "P-please! Make me your little toy, daddy. W-want you to own me.. prove who I belong to, please?" You know you've done it now from the way he snarls at you. However, the sudden ringing of your phone makes both of you freeze. He leans back up to wrap your thighs around his torso.

He's the first to reach to the floor and grab it, still buried deep inside of you. "Oh, lookie there.. a video call. Hello?" Did he-

"Choso? Where is Y/N? Why do you have her phone?" Your ex's voice sounds from the speaker, making your eyes shoot open. You meet Choso's eyes, mouthing the words 'hang up' over and over.

"What does it matter? She dumped you and called me." "Of course she did. Dude, let me talk to her." Choso chuckles darkly, finally thrusting into you, making you squeak loudly despite your best effort to stay quiet.

"What was that?" "Y/N. She's currently.. held up. Or.. down, rather." He smirks at his own joke, reaching down his free hand to start circling your clit with his middle finger. The feeling has you tightening your thighs around his waist.

"You... what?" "Are you deaf and stupid? I said she's busy, aren't you little one?" He smirks down at your form, panting and shaking your head in a desperate, silent plea. This can not be how everyone finds out about this. No way in hell.

Choso's mocking pout makes your face flare up. "She seems a little shy. Let me show you instead." "N-no! Choso I-!" The choking gasp from the phone call shuts you up. Choso's eyes show no mercy as he looks at you almost amused. "That isn't what you should be calling me, is it?"

You look directly at the camera on the back of your phone, your face a deep scarlet color. Before you can correct yourself, the hand that was idly playing with your clit launches up, smacking your cheek with enough force to have your eyes switch to his. He smirks and shoves his index and middle fingers in your mouth without warning, making the ring he wears clack a bit painfully into your teeth.

"Pretty little whore just needs to learn some manners. Don't you, love?" He gets a wicked grin seeing how you blabber around his digits, trying so desperately to behave and give him an answer. "Sorry, princess, I didn't quite hear you. Try again for daddy." He shoves his fingers farther down your throat, causing you to gag and cough. Spit pours out of your kiss bruised lips, making Choso moan above you.

Your teary eyes make him pull his fingers out, wiping the spit across your face. "Why didn't you tell me you couldn't speak? Silly little girl. Now, what should you be calling me?" "D-Daddy! I'm s-so sorry.." He groans, running his thumb down your bottom lip. He gently pries your mouth open before leaning over you, letting spit fall from his tongue into your waiting mouth. He purrs as you swallow it so obediently. "I know you are. You're such a good girl for me. Oh, he hung up." Choso chuckles softly and tosses your phone back to the floor.

"I believe that I have some work to finish, right baby?" Both of his hands grab your hips, surely leaving bruises, before he starts to mercilessly ram into your sopping cunt. Your throat is still somewhat raw from his fingers being in it not two minutes ago, but he's determined to pull every sound he can from you.

He slides one hand down, harshly pinching and rolling your swollen clit between two fingers. Your cries only encourage his ruthless actions.

"D-daddy I-I.. something.. something doesn't-" Your pleas are cut off when the hand on your hip actually lifts you off the bed, giving him enough access for the tip of his cock to batter into your cervix.

If you aren't sore tomorrow, he hasn't done his job.

Sweat drips down his forehead and chest as he growls deeply. "There we go baby. T-that's the spot. Cum for daddy, want you screaming until my name is the only t-thing you know." His hand starts slapping your exposed clit again, finally throwing you over the edge. When the coil in your abdomen snaps, you scream his name, raw throat be damned.

Choso hisses as you tighten around his cock, spraying his lower abdomen in your essence. "Sh-shit I-" His sentence trails off when he thrusts into you one more time, letting out an animalistic snarl as his own climax washes over him.

You can feel his cock throb as he unloads his seed deep inside you. The feeling makes you tremble and mewl. There's so much of it that it still manages to spill out, staining the bed sheets under you.

He's still panting pretty heavily when he slides out of you, careful in case you're still too sensitive. When you squeak, he reaches up to cup your cheek. "You did so well, baby. I'm so proud of you." You nuzzle into his hand, placing a small kiss in the palm. "Th-thank you, daddy. I-I'm so tired." When your eyes start to flutter shut, he carefully stands from the bed, shamelessly admiring your disheveled state. "I'm sure you are. Let me get us cleaned up. Then I'll take you home, okay?"

Your small nod is plenty of an answer, so he rushes to the bathroom to search for a rag. He takes only a few seconds to wipe himself clean before rushing back to your side. You wince slightly at the feeling of the cloth wiping you down. "Shhhh, daddy's got you baby. I'll be done in just a second." He smiles to himself as you visibly relax into his touch, allowing him to finish.

"You know," he chuckles as he helps you pull your clothes back on, "your dad is going to try and kill me." "Your mom is going to call me every name in the book." He nods in agreement, finally starting to dress himself.

"So.. should we stay quiet? I imagine shit-for-brain isn't going to, but we can play that off as him being an idiot." You bite your lip, weighing the consequences of either decision.

There's no doubt in your mind, you want to be with Choso. It's clear he's willing to do whatever you want, but from the look in his eyes, the answer is obvious.

"I'm not hiding it." He blinks at you in shock. "B-baby.. your repu-" You stand up, despite your legs screaming in pain. He's quick to rush over and pull you into his chest. "I don't care.. I love you, and I don't want to hide it anymore." You squeak loudly when he picks you up bridal style, holding you easily with one arm.

The kiss he gives you is soft and loving, full of nothing but his affection for you. "I love you too, Y/N. I want nothing more than to tell the world that."

He carries you downstairs to grab your overnight bag, and then out to put you in his car. He really refuses to let you do anything, since he even leans inside to buckle you up. Your protests have him laughing. "When you're with me," he kisses your lips after getting into the driver's seat, "you're the spoiled princess. Got it?"

The drive to his house is quiet. He holds your hand the entire time, stroking along it with his thumb, occasionally bringing it to his mouth and kissing each knuckle.

"Oh.. oh shit." "What?" You open your eyes from almost falling asleep.

Your blood freezes when you see what he's looking at. Your dad's car is already parked in his driveway.

Tags: @katgalle, @savonline

#dark content #stepcest tw #choso #choso jjk #jjk choso #stepbrother choso #jjk #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut #choso x fem reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso brainrot #choso supremacy

[redpandaramblings]

Two Weeks- Alpha Gang Orca x Omega f!reader

Hello everyone! Was in an odd mood, so I wrote this little drabble epilogue for A Matter of Admiration. While this short could be read as a stand alone, it will absolutely make a lot more sense if you read the main story first.

Content warning- Omegaverse, fluff, minorly suggestive

Kugo impatiently tapped his fingers on his desk. It was approaching midnight as he stared at the clock on his computer screen. Each second seemed like five as he waited for the minutes to tick by. This had become a usual habit of his in the last few months. At least three times a week he could be found here at this time doing exactly the same thing. It used to be every day, until you had realized what he was doing. A scolding he probably would have ignored, but he felt like he was going to die the week you wouldn’t accept his calls. It hadn’t been any comfort to see you looked in as bad of shape as he did after that week.

Three minutes after midnight the videocall request notification lit up his screen. It’s a wonder Kugo didn’t break the mouse with how fast and forcefully he clicked accept. Your smiling face lit up his screen and his heart.

“Hello Handsome. Miss me?”

“Every second.” He murmured.

Your smile softened. “Miss you too. Promise you’re actually getting sleep though?”

“I am. Wish you were here though. Hate this time difference.”

“Me too, love. Me too. It’s only for a few more weeks though.”

“And then you’re home and never leaving my sight again.”

You chuckled. “I think that would make patrols rather difficult, beloved.”

He smiled at you, leaning his head on his hand as the tension of the day drained from his shoulders. “We’d figure something out. I’m sure you could come up with something.”

“I absolutely could. But I don’t think tactical baby harness would be a good look on you.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The public might find it charming. Soften my image.”

You laughed. “As if you’d let me anywhere close to the action.”

Kugo hummed and nodded as he contemplated. “This is true. Guess I’ll just have to retire from hero work and become your lab assistant.”

“You’d burn down my lab in an hour.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to become your sugar baby.”

You cackled. “Oh. My. God. You did not just say that. You absolutely did not say that.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to buy your sugar baby pretty things?”

You wheezed. “That’s it. I’m hanging up.”

He nodded, making an exaggerated sad face. “Parental abandonment. No wonder I resorted to becoming a sugar baby.”

You were gasping with laughter. “Stop!”

He grinned as he watched you. He loved when you laughed, memorizing the way your mouth open and the crinkles by your eyes. You calmed, wiping the tears of laughter away. You attempted and didn’t quite succeed in trying to look stern.

“You’re not allowed to use the phrase ‘sugar baby’ ever again.”

“No promises.”

You shake your head, leaning back in your chair, your spine popping in protest. “Fearsome Gang Orca, everyone thinks. So stern and serious and strict. Always intimidating. What a crock.”

“Disappointed?”

You smile softly. “Never. Love you, Alpha.”

It had been months, and it still filled his stomach with butterflies every time he heard it.

“Love you too, omega. You taking care of yourself? Have you eaten yet?”

You shook your head. “Taking care as much as the job allows, but haven’t eaten yet. Give me a sec and I’ll grab it.”

Kugo watched his screen as you stood and made your way across the lab you were in. He wished he could reach through the screen and touch, and smell, and bite. Your form was perfect. You were perfect. You were perfect and his. And you were over ten thousand kilometers away. He growled low in the back of his throat.

You smirked as you settled yourself back into your seat. “Behave, Alpha.”

He cleared his throat, flushing. He hadn’t even realized he was making noise. Kugo brought his attention fully back to you, a gentle smile spreading across his face when he saw what you held.

“I miss those almost as much as I miss you.”

“Wish I still could get them to you somehow. But I don’t think a bento would survive that long of a trip. And I know you. You’d eat it anyway and make yourself sick.”

“Well, couldn’t let your hard work go to waste.”

You shook your head. “You’re at least eating though? Promise?”

“I am, promise. Even if nothing is half as good as what you make.”

The conversation continued on, Kugo mostly talking as you ate. He told you about how things were at the agency, making you laugh at stories about the trouble the new interns had gotten themselves into. In no time at all, an hour had flown by. The clock chiming if your lab interrupted your chatter about the latest gadget you had been tinkering with. You frowned and sighed. “Guess I need to get back to the grind.”

“I wish you didn’t.” Kugo murmured.

“I know. But just two more weeks now.”

“Two more weeks. Feels like forever.”

“I know.” You smiled sadly. “But it will be over quicker than you think. Unless I take Jim up on his offer to renew my contract of course.”

Kugo growled loudly and you laughed. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“You don’t need to worry. It’s been fun and I’ve learned a lot, but your agency has certain benefits nowhere else can match. Such as the handsomest Alpha in the world.”

Said alpha gave a pleased rumble. Kugo caressed the side of his screen, wishing he could touch you instead. “Just two weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t just mate you at the airport.”

“I wouldn’t mind, if I didn’t think it would tank your hero ratings. Actually nevermind, I would mind. Your rank would go up because people would be ogling my handsome Alpha.”

Kugo chuckled. “Wouldn’t want anyone getting too good a view of my pretty omega, either.”

The two of you smiled, just drinking each other in for a few moments longer.

“Do have to go now,” you sighed.

“Go do brilliant work like you always do.”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

#gang orca #gang orca x reader #kugo x reader #kugo sakamata #kugo sakamata x reader #Alpha gang orca #Alpha kugo #omegaverse #bnha omegaverse #reader insert #bnha reader insert #female reader #omega reader #omegaverse reader insert