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avocad1s · 11 months

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Bring Back What Once Was Mine

Chapter Summary: You learn of recent events that occurred in Teyvat and Lumine and Nahida search for your whereabouts.

Characters Mentioned: Nahida, Lumine, and some other surprises

Note: Part one did way better than I was expecting, thanks so much for all of the love on it :>

Content Warning: Cult and Religious themes ahead! You’ve been warned. Reader is the true creator of Teyvat. GN! Reader

Part One Part Two (You are here!) Part Three

This is partly beta read but it’s also the middle of the night and I’m half sleep so… yeah :)

At the same time, in another nation.

Despite not being the God of Wisdom, Morax, going by the name Zhongli now, would consider himself intelligent.

Yet this was the first time in centuries that he had felt this conflicted.

When his God first returned he was overjoyed, finally he would be able to talk with them again. Yet that feeling of ecstasy didn’t last long, soon he noticed something odd about their behavior.

At first he brushed it off, The Divine One was gone for a while and maybe during their journey the activities they used to enjoy didn’t make them happy anymore. Yet it was as if their entire personality had changed and he couldn’t help the feeling that kept growing in the back of his mind.

Doubt.

If anyone else knew about this, he knows for a fact he would be replaced and possibly killed by The Divine One themselves. So he pushed this feeling down, pretending that nothing was amiss for as long as he could.

Well until he decided to vacate his duties as the Geo Archon.

With the help of the Traveler he had planned his own funeral, and right after, he gave his Gnosis to the Fatui.

Even though the Traveler has questioned why he had given away his Gnosis to the nefarious group, she quickly let it go once Zhongli had explained the contract they had made. Despite not knowing the true details of the contract.

“So in exchange, you want my Gnosis?”

“Indeed. I think that’s a fair exchange, don’t you?”

“I agree… I accept the terms of this contract…”

“If things go as planned I will send one of my Harbingers to collect your Gnosis, Morax.”

Zhongli shakes his head clearing his mind of the conversation he had with the Tsaritsa in the past. He sips his tea mindlessly listening to his boss go on about another two for one deal she had thought of.

In Sumeru

“Where could they have run off to?” Paimon groans, “Paimon is getting super tired.”

“You don’t even walk, you float.” Lumine retorts a deadpan look on her face.

The fairy scoffs, “floating gets tiresome too you know!”

Lumine decides not to respond to Paimons defense on being tired, instead she looks down at Nahida who was walking closely next to her.

“Hey Nahida…” Lumine begins. “When you said you had your own suspicions, what did you mean?”

The Dendro Archon’s steps falter, “Traveler I have a lot of trust in you. You saved me from the Sages and done so much more for Sumeru and because of this I’ll tell you.”

Lumine stops walking putting her full attention on her. Paimon, who was just as curious, stops as well.

“Not long after you saved me and I noticed I had missed the descent of The Creator, I went into Irminsul to see what memories there was of them so I knew more about them.”

“Wait, Irminsul has memories of The Creator?” Paimon gasps.

Nahida nods, “Yes, The Creator is the one who made Teyvat after all. Anyways-“ The Archon brings her hand up to her chin, “All of the memories Irminsul had were complete contradictions to how they are now. The only thing that is the same is how they look.”

Lumine’s eyes widen, “so do you think… that the one we’re looking for is the true Creator?”

The girl let’s out a sigh, “Truthfully, I want to talk to them and get a read on them myself. There is a possibility they are the true God .”

“Does anyone else know about this? The Akademiya?”

Nahida shakes her head quickly, “This is very sensitive information and it could put others lives at risk, but I know that if I’m correct, you’d be the best one to help me.”

Lumine nods trying to ignore the feeling of dread crawling up her back.

“We should probably keep moving.”

Sumeru was much different than the last time you’ve seen it.

Besides it being more advanced, it gave off the feeling that it was more peaceful. Maybe the citizens finally started dreaming.

You let out a huff as you stare down at a river you had to cross. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem since you would just use your abilities to do what you needed, but you were trying not to use your powers at all.

When you had gave out the Gnosis to the Seven Archons, you gave them a bit of your grace which is how they became Gods in the first place. Not only did the Gnosis give them the power to wield elemental energy without a vision but it also gave them a closer connection to you.

So anytime you use your abilities, the Archons would know.

You reach down pulling off your shoes, it was already annoying that you had to walk, the last thing you want to do is deal with wet shoes.

“Hey!” A high pitched voice called out, “I think I found them.”

You let out another sigh recognizing the voice instantly. It was that weird… floating… creature that tagged along with that outlander. The sound of hurried footsteps caused you to turn around.

You were right. It was the blonde girl and her companion but this time they were with someone else?

Your eyes widen a bit, but not enough to give away your shock.

This girl with them was definitely one of the Archons, the Dendro one to be exact. Yet this wasn’t the Dendro Archon the last time you had came to Teyvat so that must mean…

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Lumine says in between breaths.

You smile, “I appreciate your care, but you didn’t have to go all out of your way just because you found me in the desert. I feel fine no-“

“I met The Creator.” Lumine interrupts, “you two share the same face.”

Well damn, you didn’t keep this a secret for very long.

“So you know…” you say calmly to them. They all share glances with each other then look back at you.

“How is that possible?” Paimon asks, “how can two Creators exist at the same time?”

You drop your shoe’s sliding them back on before crossing your arms, “well I’m guessing since you’re not attacking me or trying to arrest me you have your doubts about the ‘Creator’… I’m guessing that it’s Kusanali’s doing.”

The Archon gives you a perplexed look, “you know my name?”

You nod. “Of course I do, with my connection to Teyvat it would only make sense, right?”

Well there was no point in acting ignorant now, they had already confronted you with the information.

“So…” you drag out, “why did you come all the way out here to find me?”

Lumine leans back and forth on her feet awkwardly, “well actually The Creator…er-“ she was hesitant, as if she didn’t know what to call them, “they asked me to bring you to them.”

You nod understandingly, “and are you going to do as they asked?”

Lumine looks down at Nahida then back at you, “well after talking with Nahida, I have my doubts if they are truly who they say they are.”

You want to smile, but fight it. It seems that the God of Wisdom is still living up to the reputation. Even if it is someone else.

“Well I guess there’s no reason to lie anymore. I am who you believe but I have no way to prove it to you yet. It would make my presence more…noticeable to others.”

Nahida gives you a smile, “I believe you. Proof isn’t necessary.”

Lumine and Paimon whip their head to stare at the white haired girl, “what do you mean proof isn’t necessary? You just said-“

“I’m know.” She interjects, “but now that I am standing here face-to-face with them. I can feel the special connection that Irminsul and the scriptures deep within the Akademiya we’re talking about.”

Nahida looks back at you and continues, “Lumine, I’m not sure if you feel it but standing here with them now I feel a warmth that I don’t get from the one on the Throne. Not to mention that not a single monster had attacked us since we had gotten into a certain radius of them.”

Lumine’s jaw drops a bit as she watches Nahida give you a small bow a look of guilt in her eyes. “I apologize for my foolishness, I should’ve known that they weren’t who they say they were.”

This time you don’t fight the smile from forming on your lips, “you don’t have to apologize, whoever they are, them pretending to be me was supposed to be uncanny. If the Archons could tell from one look that they wasn’t The Creator then I doubt they would’ve tried.”

Lumine was still a bit unconvinced. She couldn’t trust Gods that easily since one had taken her brother away from her. However she does trust Nahida and if Nahida believes you are who you say, she will go along with it too. She hopes that she’ll have the time to ask you about the unknown God or even Khaenri'ah.

“So there’s actually something I wanted to ask you…” you sit down in the soft grass crossing your legs. “Being an Archon, I’m guessing you spent lots of time with the one on the throne right?”

Nahida nods.

“Could you tell me… have they changed anything?”

It was silent for a moment as the God of Wisdom hesitates to answer your question.

“Actually there is one thing.”

You perk up giving her your full attention.

“They want to invade Snezhnaya… They are trying to get the other Archons to declare war on the nation.”

“What!” You exclaim, “why? Why would they do that.”

“Well the Cryo Archon, the Tsaritsa, had closed off her nation a few years ago and won’t let anyone in, even them. No one is for sure why, but when one of her Harbingers were in Sumeru I tried to ask him and he said ‘we will all know eventually’”

“Oh Paimon remembers him,” you notice her shudder at the thought, “he was super creepy and dangerous!”

You let out a breath bring your hand up to you mouth, “I have to act quickly then. I can’t let that happen… Teyvat has already lost enough.” Your voice softens at the end, since you were mostly talking to yourself but judging from the looks on the girls faces, you assume they heard you.

“Is there anyway we can help?” Lumine asks suddenly. She didn’t even realize the words had left her mouth until it was too late, almost as if she had no control over herself anymore. Like she had the dying urge to help you.

You stare at her, “I’ve never met anyone who wanted to help a world they’re not even from. You’re different than others I’ve met.”

Your voice was so genuine and sweet that Lumine couldn’t help the smile that went across her face or the warm feeling the enveloped her at the sound of your praise.

“Well there is something you could do… all of you.” You stand from your spot on the ground, dusting any dirt off your clothing.

“Go along with the False Creator, make them believe you are loyal to them.”

“How can we do that?” The Traveler questions, “they said to bring you back.”

“Oh that’s right…” you mutter, “tell them I’m dead.”

“You want us to what?” Paimon shrieks.

“If the False Creator believes I’m dead they’ll stop looking for me and then no one else will be aware of my existence.”

“Wait, what are you going to do?” Nahida says.

“I’m heading to Liyue.” You simply explain.

“Alone?” Lumine says, “I can go with you. A lot of people trust me in Liyue.”

You give her a smile, despite how reserved she seemed to be when you had first told them about your true nature. Now she was basically jumping at the idea of helping you, maybe you had a stronger affect on her than she wants to admit.

“Thanks but I’ll be fine. I’m used to traveling alone anyways.”

The Traveler deflates a bit when you decline but nods.

“I’m counting on you… Lumine, Nahida, and Paimon.” You confess as you walk back toward the body of water you had plans to cross until they had interrupted.

The group of girls watch you walk off, once you were out of sight, they turn around heading back towards Sumeru City.

“What are we going to do now.” Paimon says once they start walking back.

“You two should tell the False Creator that they are dead, I’m going to enter Irminsul and see if I can find anything that will help.”

Lumine nods.

Once again the Traveler was thrown off their journey of meeting the Seven, but for once, she actually didn’t mind it one bit.

Note: I got a bit carried away with this part… and this isn’t how I wanted to end it originally. But I’ll just add that to part three instead.

Taglist: @esthelily

if you’d like to be added, you can send an ask or just comment below. :>

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau lumine #sagau nahida #sagau zhongli #self aware genshin #genshin cult

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undercoverpena · 5 months

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vi. hate my car

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter six of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut. praise kink. car sex. p in v. jealous!frankie, moody!frankie for a small part.

word count: 4.6k

an: thank you, as always, to @thetriumphantpanda for always reading my work even when she has a headache because she loves me.

Even though you had given him a key to your place, Frankie never used it.

He preferred knocking. Liked waiting to be invited in. Never wanting to be an inconvenience—as if he ever could be.

It’s for this exact reason why it takes you by surprise when you step out of your bedroom, finding him coming in through your front door.

No explanation, no reason.

Your thoughts stolen, ripped from your throat when his eyes land on you, taking you in. You’ve noticed he does that more and more recently—take your breath away, leave you thoughtless.

He does it again when he shuts your door without looking, doing the littlest of head shakes before he closes the gap between you in several strides.

No warning, nothing vocalised.

The jacket in your hand falls to the floor, hands busying themselves with pulling him by his jacket as his mouth slants itself over yours. He tastes of mint and happiness, the latter something he always seems to leave lingering in your mouth when he’s gone.

But it’s his hands. His fingers which purposefully find themselves on your waist before even a hello could be muttered. Keeping you close to him, thieving any question you may have had about what the fuck brought this one.

But you know. Deep down, you know.

It’s for the same reason why you let I’ve missed you, escape in a whisper. It gets stifled between kisses, as your hands hurry to remove his jacket, it dropping with a thud before you’re pulled flush, little to nothing between the two of you.

“I’m driving your car,” he rasps, walking you to your sofa.

Like the spark from a scorched match, it all unravels. Your earlier work of being ready—on time—quickly vanishes, it all coming undone.

Fingers are all dexterous and moving like they have a mission, all aiming to pop open and free you from your jeans. Temporarily, you lose his mouth from yours as he rips your trousers down your thighs before palms glide under your top and remove that over your head—all discarded, forgotten.

And, you don’t care. Not even a little bit.

“You are?”

Nodding, he kisses you—all open-mouth, breath dancing over your lip. “Because when we’re done, I can take my time taking you apart. Not rushing—like we’ll have to right now.”

Swallowing, your fingers slide up his jaw—feeling his cheeks rise, the pulse in his neck throbbing against your wrist.

“We could wait—“

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head—one hand rising to cup your jaw and chin. “No. You deserve this,” he adds, sliding his other hand into your underwear, “You do, so enjoy it, querida. This is about you”

It’s easier to moan against him, to vibrate your want against his lips, than begin to puzzle together what he could mean.

Which is precisely why you rock up to the bar late.

For as fucked out as you feel, he assures you that you don’t look it. Although, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding, propping, as he passes you your keys before opening the door for you.

Ever the gentleman—if he hadn’t been already for what he’d done to you at yours.

A part of you, a part that doubles, and triples, in size between the milliseconds, wants to face him, take his cheeks in your hands and ask him to take you back home. That you’ll make it worth his while, get on your knees for him; that you’ll make an excuse—

Even if there isn’t one.

There’s only truth. And that truth is that you want him to take you home because you had missed him. Both the friend and the other parts.

Swallowing, you offer a smile. Not asking him. Feeling disappointment slide down inside of you like mud, adding to the swirling concoction of complexities you don’t have the processing power to unravel.

You both spot the others, offering a wave, and pointing to the bar as you head to get drinks. A slither of you grateful for the moment to catch your breath.

“You want a drink qu…” his voice trails off, your name falling quickly, replacing it, attempting to cover the near slip-up.

And it makes your throat tighten, something growing there—large, pulsing and thick.

Your feelings rise, fighting their way out of the box you keep stuffing them in—all hands, fingers and toes, scratching and pulling, desperately wanting to claw their way out of your throat and embed themselves in his ear.

But you’ll lose him. Lose this if you do.

Steadying your forearms into the bar counter, you press down—hoping it’ll ground you, almost hurt.

Because if it hurts, you’ll stop thinking; you’ll find a second to take a breath that will calm you.

It doesn’t. It never does.

Curling your lips into a smile, you stare at him. “You should be careful, Morales.”

And he snorts. “So I’ve been told.” It’s your turn to snort, shaking your head until you feel him lean closer. “But, I think you liked me slipping up. Bet it made you—”

You’re just grateful the bartender interrupted his sentence.

For the last hour, Frankie has had his arm resting behind your head. The scent of him washing over you in waves you hope embed themselves in your soul.

But it’s his fingers occasionally squeezing your shoulder when he laughs, that you hope leave a mark. Each time you make him laugh, he wheezes ever so lightly.

It’s normal. A thing you do a lot—make him laugh. It’s not special. Yet, somehow, it is.

Your thigh pressed against his, curling into him as the table erupts, Benny sinking into the leather of the seat as his lips curl up.

And then, a drink gets placed down—taking the good time with it.

The bartender, a new guy (one you’re not used to) politely interrupting to offer it to you. It’s colourful, a fruit slice slotted into the rim—more ice than you know what to do with—and then the words that kill the last semblance of the night, “It’s from the man over there.

You feel Frankie still before your heart sinks. It further shatters when you feel his arm slide out from behind you—leaving you cool, cold. A chill brushes across the table, the other two not reacting either. Each pair of eyes staring at it.

But, you suspect the others aren’t struggling to swallow. They don’t feel like the happiness that had ballooned in their chest, had exploded.

“Go over there,” Benny says, poking your arm.

Narrowing your eyes, you swat at his finger as he goes for another poke. “I’m not interested.”

Glancing from the corner of your eye, you take note of the way Frankie is focused on the label of his drink. Not looking up—Will looking from you to the others all in turn.

“C’mon, when’s the last time you even got laid.”

Biting your tongue, you twist your head to meet Benny’s stare. “Last week, actually. How’s your dry spell, Ben?” Benny’s face drops and you smirk. “I don’t need drinks being bought for me, I have money.”

“It’s only a drink,” Will says, shrugging.

“It’s fine—can you move?” you huff.

Hands pushing at Benny, finding him unwilling to move quickly enough. Your body trying to clamber, to put enough distance between you and the person unwilling to meet your eye. Your thigh cooling to a freezing temperature too, the burning fading from being against his—leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

Sliding from the booth, you grab the drink—not making eye contact with anyone—walking up to the bar to find the man straightening up in his seat.

Hating that he of course has to be handsome. That he has nice eyes and a fucking charming smile.

“Thank you, it’s very kind of you. But I’m not—I don’t need a drink buying for me.”

“Just being a gentleman.”

Smiling, you place it down, sliding it across to him. “Well, I’m being pleasant, and saying it’s okay.”

The man eyes you, narrowing them, placing his elbow onto the bar top as he wipes his mouth, brushing over the hair above the top of his lip.

“I will say,” you continue. “It is bold to buy someone a drink when they’re surrounded by other men.”

Tilting his head, he smirks. “So, which one is it?”

“What?”

“The reason you won’t accept my drink—is it the conventionally pretty one who’s been eyeing up women? No, can’t be him. You’ve not reacted.”

Gritting your jaw, you narrow your eyes.

“So, it has to be the one glaring.”

Steadying your voice, you soften your smile. “Which one?”

“Blond.”

Your heart sinks, but you try to hide it. Stuff it down. Smother it—

“Which means, it’s the one I didn’t mention—who is staring, by the way.”

Your face burns, eyes dropping to the bar—trying to not show that your heart is racing. Trying not to focus on the fact you can feel Frankie staring. Them piercing, digging in, practically clawing.

It shouldn’t feel good. It shouldn’t feel like anything.

But it does. It does. It does.

“You should laugh.”

Snorting, you shake your head, digging your forearms into the bar. “I don’t do that on command.”

“Guess I’ll have to be funny then.”

Smirking, you tilt your head—because in another time, you’d be into this. Him. The quick-witted nature and charming personality. Another time, you’d find it more than appealing.

“You’re annoying.”

He takes a sip from his drink. “And, you’re very pretty. Hey, if you laugh, the guy who won’t stop staring might shatter his bottle.”

Rolling your eyes, you tap your phone against the machine. “Goodbye…?”

“Javi.”

“Enjoy your evening, Javi.”

“And you.”

He shouldn’t be jealous.

Shouldn’t be clutching his bottle with more firmness than he used to do a rifle.

There shouldn’t be things circling—doubts, and thoughts all pulverising him.

But then, they’d begun doing that earlier when he’d watched you head off to play darts with Will. His blood secretly simmering. He knows it should be, knows he’s being foolish. His body however wasn’t aware of that, least of all when your top rose up your back when you grabbed a stray dart from the floor—because you’ve always been bad at playing—and Will had the chance to bask in how you looked bent over.

He had needed to talk himself down from dragging you to a bathroom stall when you’d finally got a bullseye, had wanted to remind you that your calendar was synced with his, when you threw your arms around Will and jumped up and down.

Because all of his feelings were suddenly too much.

They felt too large. Bigger than him.

Jealousy weaves its way in, let in by the slither of darkness he always carries with him from bad days that led to bad months.

In truth, Frankie knew he had you to himself, but somehow it felt both too much and not enough all at once.

A sudden hunger, all unable to ignore, at wanting to have you all completely to himself, even if he knows he has nothing to offer you.

He’s a man with a blip on his record, a sketchy past of bad decisions, and some scars that show more proudly when it’s stormy, and the rain doesn’t stop coming.

Frankie knows this in great detail because he’s been here before.

He’d been stood in front of someone he cared about, being read his rights about why it wouldn’t work—and yet he’s no more prepared.

Bitterness worms further into his chest as he continues to watch you talk to him—the man at the bar. It buries itself deep, spreading its poison, reminding him he’s a secret, worth nothing more, nothing less.

You love her, don’t you? What the fuck are you asking me, Pope? I’m asking you if you lo—

He only snaps out of it when Benny slides out of the booth. Suddenly able to release the bottle, let out a sigh, sliding his eyes away, happily finding a new point to fix them on as he tried to get a hold of himself.

But, from the corner of his eye, he’s always watching.

He had been earlier, when he’d gone to get a round—you texting him to stop looking at me like that, Morales. He almost wonders if he’s always done it, or if you’ve only just caught on.

“So, how long?”

Snapping his head in Will’s direction, he blanks. Watching as his friends lean back in the booth, doing that head tilt he does.

“Alright, better question, you know what you’re doing? With her, I mean?”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Frankie swallows. A frown tumbles out across his forehead, somehow able to mutter a what do you mean as innocently as he could.

But, even he knows it holds nothing when it emerges. It’s wrapped, practically encased in the simmering annoyance that you’re still over there talking to him.

Will, though, is already not buying what he’s being sold. Likely hasn’t been way before tonight, before this. Frankie can tell. Should have guessed it when he spotted him ticking about an hour ago, two beers ago.

Even if they all had the same training, you couldn’t teach the level of observation Will had. The way he saw through things, people—more than ticks, secrets and lies, but truths and hidden woes. He was always watching, always aware.

“Y’know, I hadn’t put my finger on it until she said last week,” Will continues, “Then, it made sense. The shift—the difference between the two of you. So, I’ll ask again, you know what you’re doing, Fish?”

No. It almost falls out, all pitiful and weak.

But, he manages to claw it back, roll it to the back of his throat and submerge it back down his throat.

Because he can’t have this conversation with him. Not of all people.

Will who is both his friend and is somehow also yours.

The man who he often finds you huddled with, gossiping in low whispers, your smile wide, broad, fucking spreading up into your eyes as Will stares at you like you’re the one who hung the sun. He knows the two of you have your own things—ones he and Ben never get invited to.

And Frankie gets it, he does. Why wouldn’t Will look at you like that?

You’re wonderful, funny—practically the reason there’s a moon, stars and sun in Frankie’s world. He just wishes he deserved it, wishes he had more to offer.

Because unlike his friend, his job is unstable, practically rocky. His home is barely more than a one-bedroom, one-bath. He comes with baggage, often unable to close both his eyes comfortably and achieve more than five hours of sleep.

All things he knew Will didn’t struggle with. His job was good, his home nice, a body continuing to be curated in a gym—even around training Ben—and all he had was—

“Fish?”

“It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Will continues, tilting his head, dropping his voice. “Cause your fingers are turning white.”

Rolling his jaw, he fidgets with the bottle, running his tongue against his teeth. “She can talk to whoever she wants.”

Frankie almost believes his lie.

He suspects you’ve known something was off before you’d taken a seat at the table—choosing to slide in next to Will and not him.

You’d likely already spotted the mist hovering above the three of you—Benny still somewhere else, likely attempting to undo his dry spell.

It’s you who asks (suggests) you head home. A silent request, please take me home, Morales.

The two of you walk back to your car in silence, him still opening the door, watching you lingering on his eyes as you nod—searching, digging.

And, he can feel it, the way you’re pleading for him to open up, while he silently begs for you to stop.

But, the stare has already dug in. Is already driving him insane. It’s there when he blinks, sketched in concern, drawn into him, making his chest ache.

Because it’s a look you should never wear, never. Yet, he’s made it appear on your face far too many times.

It’s the only reason as to why he puts your car into park, killing the engine.

“Why are we in an abandoned parking lot, Morales?”

Trying to stretch his legs, he rubs the bridge of his nose. Unsure where to start, where to begin. A mixture of the evening mashing into the slowly building feelings he’s had since he synced the calendars.

Because now he’s had you, it’s all he wants.

Addicted, in only the best, fucking way.

“Just wanted to talk to you—before I dropped you off.”

From the corner of his eyes, he sees you fiddle, playing with the edge of your top. Twisting it around your finger, a habit you’ve always done.

Unlike before, you’re watching him through your brows, as he wipes his hand across his jaw—tongue swiping over his bottom lip, a punched breath escaping his nose.

“About the guy—at the bar—“

“Frankie.”

He hears you, but he’s already going, falling through his mind. Kind understanding flowing from his tongue, because he needs you to know you’re a good person, a person who deserves good things, nice things, a happy life.

Each thing wrapped in a compliment he isn’t sure if he should let slip, yet does—knowing each is tainted with a blend of truth and sadness.

Because of course he doesn’t want to give you up, doesn’t want to lose you. But he wants the best for you. He wants you happy, content—beaming like you were earlier without it ever having the chance to be stolen—

“—and so, if you wanna use that number the guy gave you and go on a date, you should—“

“I didn’t take his number.”

Whipping his head, he sees how you’ve twisted your body to face him. A sheepish, but slowly growing smile spreading. The streetlights put focus on it, on the two of you, illuminating the car, making every bit of you twinkle—and he’s sure there must be stars in his dark brown from the way your smile grows up into your cheeks.

Because he’s lost for words. Silenced.

His brain struggling to catch up. Even more so when you unbuckle your seatbelt, and he hears you take a steadying breath.

“I didn’t take his number,” you repeat, more forcibly, more sternly. “Because I didn’t want to.”

Sliding up onto your knees, you swallow, holding his gaze, placing a hand on his shoulder as you try and swing your leg over his—almost hitting the centre console—brows stitching, frustration mounting, until he reaches out, worrying you’ll get your fucking ankle stuck in the steering wheel.

“Be careful, querida.”

You inwardly groan, and he can’t be sure, but it sounded so close to an I’m trying, with it dying when he grasps your hips, his fingers brushing over the softness of your skin, all to aid your movement—but he can’t hide how glad he is to feel you.

Even more so when you’re straddled over his lap, all picture-perfect, something from a dream.

For a moment, he just stares. Processes. He’s sure you’re letting him catch up to what you were hoping to say without words being said.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he whispers back.

Unable to stop staring, his heart begins to do that thing again—the double beat, the little hammer. The thing it does whenever he’s around you, long before the movie night when things blurred over the line, and has only increased in its strength since.

Slowly, your hands slide around his neck, his mouth instantly moving to press a kiss to your skin. Leaving it against your forearm, all invisible marks he hopes you’ll think about long after they’ve faded.

Then, you part your lips—but nothing emerges.

No words, no confession.

Even if he’s adamant something is there, gurgling at the back of your throat. Words. Sentences. Likely even paragraphs.

You don’t spill them, don’t share them. Holding them close to your chest—just like him. Except, instead of words, you dip your face under the beak of his hat. Not wanting to speak, to share anything more, and so he leans into it—this thing which courses through him. The thing which is tough to cage, and harder to ignore. Choosing, rather, to slot his mouth over yours—tasting the remnants of your last drink, the gum you’d poached from Will, and bask in the feeling of you moving your lips against his.

And, he hopes he’s not wrong, but he swears I want you is breathed into his soul.

Hopes it is what is thrumming in the air because he feels the same.

Knowing it’s just fear holding him back, it having stitched and embroidered itself all around how right this all feels. Because it does feel right, as scary as that is to admit. He’s lost in it, descending further into it. Just as a needy moan is suddenly buried against his mouth, his fingers trace a path up your neck and along your jaw. Desiring more. Needing more.

“Always sound so pretty for me,” he whispers.

You groan, light, delicate at his words—just as he slides his hand back around your hip, tugging you closer, keeping you right there. A silent, but loud demand of do not move, and he’s hoping you’d never want to, praying you don’t want to be anywhere that isn’t on top, under or alongside him.

A thought which makes his throat dry, makes him pause against your mouth.

Because he’s been wanting to kiss you all night in that booth. Had been wanting to forego all the secrecy and just wrap his fingers around your cheeks, pull your mouth to his—and publicly declare that there’s something (small, large—he’s not even sure) going on between the two of you.

Something he’s fought wanting, something he’s tried not to wish or linger on, because…

You mean so much to him.

It’s the backbone to all his movements as his fingers skim over your cheeks—searching, trying to read what’s going on in your mind as he looks into your eyes. Trying to ride through the storm that’s swirling around and around, wondering if it’s named after him—because of him.

Because he’s riding out one too, and it eerily is named after you.

“You want me to take you home, hermosa?”

You smile—whether at the name or the implication—and then it unfolds, twisting, changing into a smirk. Leaning closer, he spots something darkening in your eyes, something that makes his stomach knot and heat wash over his spine.

Because he knows that look now. He sees it in his dreams, thinks about it—

“I think we should fuck in my car, Morales…”

He swallows, just as you roll your hips.

Dragging his tongue across his teeth, he flicks down to your spread thighs—wondering how drenched his fingers would be if he dipped them into your underwear. Wondering how long you’ve been thinking about him—whether you had been as affected by being sat so close to him, as he had been by you.

For the last few hours, he’d just been bathed over and over again in your perfume. Felt the heat of your leg against his, your laugh reverbing through him each time it emerged.

“You want me to fuck you in this parking lot, hermosa?” he asks, biting down on your lip, forcing your hips to roll against his, swearing he hears a little fuck escape from your mouth. “Cause, I’ve thought about that all night. Fucking you in this shitty car that I hate.”

Your answer comes in your movement, pushing your head into his neck, grabbing the level of the seat before he’s pushing it back as far as it can go. Buying you both more space, more room—something you further aid when you twist the dial, around and around, his eyes able to stare up at you, watching how your tongue swipes across your bottom lip, until the back of the chair slowly sinks to meet the backseat.

For a moment, there’s a pause. A few breaths. A few beats.

“Do you want that, baby?” he whispers, cradling your cheek.

And you nod, slowly. “Please, Frankie. Want to feel you inside me.”

Then, it’s hurried.

Both of you attempting to bury something, run from it, hide. Your bottom layers gone, awkwardly, but discarded all the same, bunched up in the footwell as you help free him from the confines of his jeans. Those fucking jeans—the ones he knows you like him in, you confessing it once, a while ago.

“Didn’t know you’d were into exhibition, hermosa.”

Snorting, you tilt his chin up—his hat unlodging from its place, falling freely from his head into somewhere in the backseat. “You don’t know what I’m into, Morales.”

Your hand teases his length, palming him, torturing him beautifully. Taunting him.

“Bet you’ve been half-hard since we left mine.”

He groans, his hands finding purpose on your waist, guiding, aiding as you emit sweet noises that echo around the car as he helps you sink down on him, taking every inch of him. Because you’re not wrong.

“So big,” you whine.

Licking into your mouth, he swallows another moan, another groan. “So tight around me, hermosa.”

His hand sliding down, grasping your ass, slamming your hips down on his. And you’re perfect. All of you—your fucking ass, your thighs, all at the top of your perfect legs.

Everything about you is perfect.

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

“You like it, taking my cock in your car, baby?”

“Please, please, please.”

He grins against your mouth, feeling hot breath on his skin—your nails digging into his neck, his shoulder. “Can think about this when you’re driving to work—how good I feel inside you.”

You whine, louder, soft begging following.

“I’ve got you. Touch yourself for me, querida,” he moans.

Watching you nod, watching your hand slide from around his neck until it’s between the two of you. A little gasp emits from your pretty mouth when you begin circling, swiping over your clit as your walls flutter around him, reaching your peak.

Him burying against your neck how close you have him—feeling your pulse against his lip.

“Taking me so well...”

Your body stiffening, his feet planting on the floor of your car—thrusting up, watching your eyes clench shut as your fingers curl, digging, desperate to hold on to him. He hopes you leave more than half-moons that fade in time, he hopes it’ll bruise, it’ll be there when he showers later, can brush over it.

“You’re made for me, always feel so fucking good.”

You moan, loudly, his name never sounding so fucking good until he first heart it fall from your lips. And right now, it’s divine. Your lips parting, more hisses and pants filling the small space. They’re all embedding into the increasing steam on the windows—it clouding you both from view if anyone were to pass by. It all misting—a light sheen spreading over your skin. Another look he’ll dream up, conjure, of you.

For the second time today, he watches you unravel—how it floods you, him continuing to pound into you as you collapse against him, breathing heavily, painting his neck in it.

And, he’s nearing his own climax. So close to the edge. So close, so close, so close—

“I know you wanna come, I know you wanna finish inside of me,” you whisper, all sultry and soft into his ear.

His head turns, catching your eyes.

"Please. For me."

Hands full of your hips, he continues to feel your walls flutter around him as he fucks into you, body alight, burning, searing—

"I need it," you add.

And then he curses—a cascade of them—burying his spend in you as he pulls you close, pressing his lips against your neck.

CHAPTER SEVEN ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #jo: iltwy #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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asuyaka · 6 months

Note

Ok hear me out, Reader is besties with Gojo and Geto and was paired with them to deliver the Star Plasma Vessel(Riko) and Readers notices how the girl's passing seemed to take a toll on Geto the most, so after seeing his decreasing health, both physical and mental, they decided to reach out to him and pull him out of his dark thoughts. Yes I am in denial about the recent chapters, this is how I cope. This man deserves all the hugs in the world😭😭

★ - 'm totally agree! all Satoru had ta do was speak with Suguru 'n JJK probably wouldn't have happened !! <(＿　＿)>

☆ - Teen! Geto Suguru x Male Reader — Can be read as platonic or romantic !!

♡ - Hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, and Suguru bein' mildly racist towards non-sorcerers (；′⌒`)

The merging of the Star Plasma Vessel— Riko Amanai— and Tengen went to shit the second Fushiguro Toji came into the picture.

You tried, you tried saving her even though you were scared. No one could touch Satoru, but Toji could. Toji killed him and Riko like it was nothing.

You and Suguru weren't enough, he was too strong. When he killed Rainbow Dragon, Suguru's strongest curse, the reality set in that you two most likely weren't going to make it out alive.

You did, thankfully, but at what cost?

Your quaint little friend group broke up. Shoko was busy learning medical Jujutsu most of the time, Satoru had officially become the strongest and started taking solo missions which left you and Suguru.

But after that day, you noticed something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Suguru had lost weight, his hair which he prided himself in taking care of had split ends and was mildly greasy and he had eye bags.

This also added to the fact that he was coming late to class almost every day sent alarm bells in your head, so you decided to check up on him.

In your home clothes since you didn't have any impending missions and classes were over, you knocked on Suguru's door. He's stopped coming to class the past few days which scared the shit out of you since Suguru doesn't miss class unless it's something serious.

You waited, hoping to hear an answer. When you didn't, you checked the doorknob. It was open so you walked in, announcing yourself just in case Suguru was busy with something.

His room was a mess. The trash can was overflowing, clothes were piled up in a corner and dishes were stacked on the sink.

Suguru was curled up in his bed—which was also a mess, sheets that needed to be washed and his bed was in desperate need of a making— his blanket pulled up to his neck and his body facing away from the doorway.

"Suguru?" You whispered, checking his breathing just in case. It was there and stable, which meant he was just sleeping. You gently tapped on him, noticing the soft tear lines on his cheek.

He had cried himself to sleep.

Suguru stirred as his eyes opened slowly, blinking away the tiredness when he saw your concerned face. "[Name]..? What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you. You haven't been in class, so I got worried. Are you okay?"

Suguru sat up and rubbed his eyes. He didn't realize he'd been gone for that long, it felt better to stay asleep than wake up. Some days he wished he stayed asleep forever.

"Sorry, I lost track of time." He came up with a lie off the top of his head, hoping you wouldn't question anything and leave him alone.

He knows you though. Knows how empathetic you are, knows how caring you are to the people you love, so it was no surprise when you sat on his bed making yourself comfortable. "Are you okay, Suguru?"

"I told you, I just lost track of time—"

"Suguru..." Your voice was soft as you took his hands into yours. Usually, his were well-manicured and painted black, but now they were long. Suguru hated it when his nails were long, they always got in the way when he was fighting curses. "You don't have to lie to me, you don't have to say anything you don't want to. Please, just tell me if you need help and I'll help you. I won't ask for anything more."

Suguru tensed up. Does he need help? He hasn't felt like himself ever since... everything happened a few months ago. The world felt so grey and he couldn't think of a reason to keep waking up and getting out of bed.

So what if those monkeys needed saving? Sorcerers shouldn't have to put their lives on the line to save people who were barely worth saving.

He feels sluggish. He reeks, his hair feels so greasy and his eyes are heavy. He just wants to lie down and hopefully take his last breath. He can't keep doing this— be a sorcerer that is.

He hates morals, he hates that 'the strong should protect the weak' bullshit, he hates that he wasn't strong enough to protect someone who needed saving, someone who deserved it.

He's so tired. Tired of the Jujutsu world, tired of the fake lies of non-sorcerers, tired of everything.

"...please." He mutters out, his hands slightly squeezing yours and his head hanging in shame.

You nod as you help him up. You don't need to tell him anything right now. If he needs you, if he needs your help, that's all that matters.

You start a bath and help him get undressed, closing your eyes for the sake of his privacy when you got to his boxers.

The water was warm against your legs, and you thanked yourself that you wore shorts instead of sweats. You washed him, taking extra care of his hair to show him you remembered how much he loved it. Show him how much you care about him.

You leave him momentarily to grab clean clothes, settling on an old Mario shirt, black shorts, and a pair of fuzzy white and black socks.

"Do you want to stay here while I clean?" You asked as you tied his hair into a loose ponytail, the smell of his cinnamon shampoo in the air.

Suguru shook his head. He wanted—no— needed to stay close to you. To hold you, to feel someone else's warmth against his. You didn't ask any questions, letting him hold onto your waist as you went to make his bed.

He stayed like that, pressed against you as you sorted his clothes, cleaned his kitchen, swept his floor, helped him take care of his nails, and him made him food.

Suguru doesn't feel like he deserves this. He doesn't deserve you. You're being so patient with him, you aren't judging him for being messy or unclean, you weren't judging the fact that his fridge was almost empty, you were just there.

There for him, to make him feel better.

Suguru feels like he's going to cry.

He's pressed against your chest, hands wrapped around your waist as he listens to you read aloud a book you had brought with you, hands in his hair, scratching his scalp gently.

"...thank you." He mumbles, wiping the wet away from his eyes. He feels so loved, like someone would care if he flat out died.

You smile softly, pressing a kiss against his head. "I'm always going to be here for you Suguru. No matter what."

And for the first time in months, he believes that it's worth it to live. That if he gets to feel you like this, he might stay in the Jujutsu world. All for you— everything for you.

#ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 — ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ #jjk fluff #jjk x male reader #geto suguru #geto x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #male reader #x male reader #002 #⋆｡𖦹 — ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ#★: anon!#geto fluff #suguru x male reader #suguru x you

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yenqa · 3 months

Text

ADVANTAGES

in which…

on jay’s live, fans point out a stuffed animal on his bed, one that seems to be the other piece to your notorious missing pair. as imaginary pieces start to connect for fans, the viewers beg for some kind of interaction. and though you and jay have never met before, why not use this situation to your advantage?

warnings : crying, panic attacks, depression is depicted but isnt really said, lots of bad self talk, food/eating, having no appetite, just lots of bad mental health talk and depictions, hurt/comfort, god this chapter is PACKED

wc: 1829

i’m sorry that i couldnt be your teenage dream.

not proofread!

☆

It had been a week and a half since you had seen anyone.

Well other than the cashiers at the local grocery store but that made you look even more pathetic.

You haven’t been well, at all.

It was a horrible sight, honestly you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without cringy. You had no productivity and had planned to do nothing for as long as possible.

You were surprised your body hasn't exploded yet, since all you had ate was instant ramen or the three meals you could cook total.

Today was one of the worse-r days. Three hours into the new day but your mind couldn’t seem to sleep one bit.

You had zero appetite, your room was a mess, it was worse that you couldn’t even sleep away the days even though you were so tired. Your eyes were glued shut at night but your body couldn’t stop fighting the feeling of sleep.

So here you were, eye bags almost able to give the color purple a run for its money, and so puffy it felt like a balloon was stuck in there. But your eyes hadn’t shed any tears, instead you felt like nothing. Like you were just floating around with no purpose or any feeling at all.

The empty feeling in your head made you unable to do anything but scroll on your phone, letting hours after hours pass by rewatching your favorite show at least a billion times. It seemed like the world had gone gray, like the world was ending and you were the only one feeling it.

A part of you screamed at yourself to get a grip, to stop being so dramatic and realize there are still good things in life.

You tried to get better, you really did. You had researched on how to get over this drought but you never could. So every night you would lay in your bed, trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

Mornings have always been your least favorite part of the day. But it seemed to get worse with every second that passed.

Realizing you still had a whole day ahead of you seemed utterly impossible to finish, but still you would reach your hand out to the finish line, only to miss every time.

You had six hours until it was the appropriate time to wake up. You couldn’t call anyone for help, you couldn’t text anyone in the middle of the night. It was your burden, so you had to keep it to yourself and hope and pray it washes away over time.

Your phone has been your only sense of livelihood during your dull days. If you had been wasting hours after hours at least you had been doing something.

Before you could think of the consequences, you had thought of searching yourself on the internet, just for fun. You clicked on the first source, hoping that someone would see your side of the story.

No it was not fun–you wish you could warn yourself because the title of the article read; “All you need to know about Y/niora and why she’s trending”

We’ve all seen the names “Y/n” or “Y/niora” trending on X, who is she? Some might wonder. In this article I’ll be going over everything she’s done wrong, and why fans hate her for it.

Y/n is a popular streamer on twitch, known for her funny commentary and her boyfriend Jay, but recently she’s shown a darker side to her.

Her boyfriend, Jay, is also a twitch streamer, a much more popular one at that. He’s known for his good looks and his random reactions that have us crying with laughter, but why would he date a nobody like her?

If you’ve seen Y/niora’s X account, you can see that she posts provocative photos of herself, things that only lead to temptations of male fans. Fans speculate this is the reason they met, saying that she seduced him and used him for money, fame, and views.

If you know anything about streaming, you know BlueJay and his friends. Who stole the internet's hearts with their looks and cute personalities. But things start picking up between Jay and Y/n when she posts their matching stuffed animals, officially presenting their relationship to the world.

This seems to be a bad move on Y/n’s part, as her facade starts slipping through and we get to see her for the calloused person she is.

She continuously shows her disinterest in anything he’s saying. Making him repeat everything he’s said to her. This strikes up the question, does she really care about him or her fans?

Arguments of this exact topic have been trending among fans, some saying

You closed your phone before you could read anything else. Flipping your body over you could feel tears start to form in your eyes, your vision goes blurry and your breath starts hiccuping.

Wiping your wet cheeks, you start to panic when you feel like your throat is closing up, placing your hand on your chest to try to calm yourself down.

That clearly doesn’t work. As you swear you can feel the walls closing in beside you. In a last effort to stop your ugly sobs, you open your phone once more, your breath quickens when you open the phone app, calling the person that you need the most right now.

The ringing on your phone shakes you more, “Please answer, please answer, please answer.” You croak out desperately, glancing at your window to realize it’s the middle of the night, and he’s probably getting the nice sleep he deserves.

Unlike you who only makes things worse, and can’t even get a wink of sleep at night.

You sob harder after the fifth ring, realizing that he’s not going to answer. And you have to do this on your own–

“Y/n? Are you okay?” His voice brings relief to your ears, that’s until you realize the state you’re in.

“Jay I’m so–so so sorry for calling you this late.” You rasp out, “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop shaking and crying, I just–fuck” Bringing your hand up, you grab a fist of your hair, not knowing what to do or say.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You choke through, words barely coherent.

“I’m coming. Stay there, okay?”

“Okay.”

His tone is so soft it scares you. How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing the mess you made? How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing that you are burdening him at such a late hour?

Your throat tries its best to keep your hammering heart inside your chest, but it closes up, your breath is so uneven you're not even sure you’re breathing at all.

That is until you let out a soft apology into your phone, but it’s covered by your staggered breathing, and the sound of you stuffing up your snot back into your nose.

The silence coming from him is apparently meant to drive you insane. Because the nausea of it all starts to get to you, your condition is crippling so you can’t even move from your curled up position on your bed.

You can hear your door slam open, eliciting a strong flinch from you.

Your heart seems to be racing too fast for your liking, almost like it’s fighting to get out of your chest. “Jay?” You mutter, as you can see his dark silhouette standing through the doorway.

Before you can actually decipher if the man is actually Jay or just some random burglar who found your spare key, you feel his arms wrap around your body, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

You conclude that it’s Jay’s warmth you’re feeling right now.

For a second you feel safe, for a second you feel like he’s just hugging you, not because you are literally having a panic attack.

That snaps you back into reality. God were you really having a panic attack over an article? That you chose to read?

Feeling your chest tighten and your eyes water up, you tuck your head impossibly deeper, letting your tears and snot get all over his shirt.

It’s grossing you out how you can physically feel his shirt dampen with your tears, but you’re too focused on figuring out how to breathe rather than the mess you made on his shirt.

“You can let it out, or you can just cry, I don’t mind.”

You sob even harder than you were before.

He’s so warm. He’s so warm. And you have no idea why it’s the perfect descriptor for him.

“Jay,” You mutter, being muffled by his shoulder, “I’ve ruined everything.”

His arm rubs your back gently, “You haven’t ruined anything, pretty.” He whispers, talking like if he speaks any louder you’ll crack into hundreds of pieces (you actually might but that’s not the point).

“I have! You can’t even deny it without lying,” You hiccup, “I mean—I’m trying so hard, but I can’t do anything right.” You pull your head back to look up at him.

He stays silent, letting his hand cup your face, wiping away any tears that fall down.

“And I’m so tired. I’m so tired of doing everything I can but still being hated for not doing enough. I mean who wouldn’t? I can’t even cook a proper meal, it just goes to show how hopeless I am.”

“Y/n you can’t possibly think about yourself.”

“I can because it’s the truth.”

He tucks your head back into his shoulder, “Y/n, not being able to cook a proper meal is okay. Some people never learn how to cook an egg.”

Your breathing calms down slightly, you let out a small chuckle, trying to stay forever in his warmth.

“I’m sorry for calling you here so late, I know you’re tired from streaming or something.”

“I could never stay away from you for too long, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

Letting out a breathy smile, you look back at his face, a small smile spreads through his face looking at you.

Your eyes were tired, for the first time in a week your body was tired. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you, Jay, seriously.”

He gets up from your position, you feel the absence of his warmth even though he just got up, he’s about to walk out the door when you build up the courage to ask, “Can you stay? Just for tonight?”

Looking back, there's a smile on his face as he replies “Always.”

Walking back to you, he lays himself under your blanket, tucking you in before wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest.

And for the first time in what felt like forever. You fall asleep, in Jay’s arms.

☆

back masterlist next

yenqa > um title is reference to teenage dream by olivia rodrigo! umm hope u enjoyed while i ripped my heart out and put it in my writing… thanks!

taglist (CLOSED): @yeokii @hanniluvi @euncsace @jongsiemain @mrchweeee @fakeuwus @ashy1um @rikisly @filmofhybe @nwjws @yizhoutv @soov @tocupid @tzke1ta @yannew @manooffline @mars101 @haechansbbg @enhaz1 @teddywonss @en-happiness @kim2005bomi @be0mlvr @luvswonyoung @flwoie @lilriswife4life @nicholasluvbot @ikeusol @lylovw @alwayswook @astrae4 @choi-beomgyulvr @aishigrey @infpistj @jiawji @planethyuka @mari-oclock @222brainrot @jakevascaino @rory-cant-sleep @hyehae @vixensss @hearts4hanni @kgneptun @tongtongie @www-jungwon @lovejunz @fluerz @jiyeons-closet @nyuzip @leehanist @heerinnie @eneiyri

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

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justfangirlstuffs · 1 month

Text

Heart of Glass

A friend of mine finally talked me into reading LDR and this was the result. Takes place after chapter 13. LDR belongs to @spadillelicious

At your wit's end, you decide to try and have a normal time with Sun before opening hours.

cw: suggestive

You x Sun

wordcount: 2040

You came into work feeling a little more rested than you have been in the past few days. You chanced taking a quick glance around for Moon but the janitor was doing a good job of making himself discreet, and you couldn't exactly blame him given recent events. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach and you rubbed at your temples.

You missed the days when your greatest concern at work was customer service, or not making a total fool of yourself while skating, or… confessing to your crush. It was beyond agonizing how your world had gone from bright and sure to being filled with shadows of uncertainty at every corner overnight. And each day the shadows seemed to grow bigger and more numerous. It almost made you wish you could go back to the days of blissful ignorance before you knew the horrible, horrible truth.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Sun chirped from behind you, causing you to jump nearly a foot in the air. He placed both hands on your shoulders to steady you before you could fall over. “Careful there. You don't even have your skates on and already you're unbalanced.” He gave a soft, playful chuckle in your ear that made your heart squeeze in your chest and your breath catch in your lungs.

“M-Morning, Sun,” you forced out, trying to simulate even a sliver of the cheer he was radiating..

“You're here early again I see, perfect. That means we can get more practice in. I'll make an expert skater out of you yet,” Sun declared, giving a spin and winking at you.

You gave a soft snort in answer, doubting his claims. Your clumsiness on wheels aside… A dark thought pervaded your mind… would you even live long enough for that to happen? You stared up at Sun, seeing the eagerness in his body language, the way he was practically bouncing in his roller skates, the way his eyes were lit up with excitement and anticipation. He was eager to get you on the roller rink. His dance floor.

You considered him, and you considered one of your more recent conversations. His confession about the mixtape, how it meant everything to him, how he’d kissed it and handled it like the most precious of treasures. A part of you desperately wanted to believe his words, that he would never hurt you, that he wanted to keep you safe and protect you. But your mind was still swirling in a fog of doubt and fear.

After what you saw him do you didn't know what to believe anymore. You didn't want to think that all those months of you and him had been a lie. But if they had been… would he really be trying so hard? And then another thought occurred to you, a crazy and possibly insane thought. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to keep Sun endeared to you. If his feelings were really as true as he claimed, then perhaps keeping him on your side might be the smart thing to do. You felt like such a scuzz for even thinking that but it wasn't just about self-preservation on your part. You really did miss your friend. Your Sun.

“Not this time,” you said, straightening your back and puffing out your chest a little bit. “This time we're going on to MY dance floor.”

Sun stared down at you, his eyes widening in surprise as he blinked at you. Clearly, you had caught him off guard. “Oh?” The sound was drawn out, laced with intrigue, and his rays gave a little spin. “Do tell. Where is this said dance floor?”

Swallowing down all of your nerves -and they went down as smoothly as a thick wad of dried bread, with no water to wash it down- you took Sun by the hand and pulled him towards the DJ booth. He gave a soft giggle clearly intrigued as he let you tug him along, his roller skates gliding easily along the floor. When you got to the DJ booth you began flipping through the vinyls looking for the record you had in mind.

“Skates off," you told him.

Once again Sun was taken aback by your request. “Sunshine, this is a skating rink,” he reminded you.

“Oh, what's the matter?” You asked, throwing him a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk. “Afraid I'll show you up?”

Sun laughed and it was the first genuine laugh you heard since... you shook your head. No you couldn't let those thoughts frazzle you now. Not when you had a good flow going. “Someone is feeling daring today,” Sun remarked, and he sounded pleased as punch about it. “All right, then. We’ll play by your rules.”

While Sun changed out of his skates and into his casual footwear, you searched for a particular vinyl. It didn’t take you long to find what you were looking for, and once you got it set up, the music started and Heart of Glass by Blondie began blaring over speakers. You turned to face Sun and then you begin to move your hips to the music, doing a shuffle as your elbows and knees popped to the beat.

Sun gazed at you in utter awe. “I didn't know you could dance, sunshine. You've been holding back on me!”

Normally you didn't, normally you were too embarrassed and self-conscious to dance in front of others. But if this helped you to mend some kind of bridge…

“Once I had a love, and it was a gas,” you sang as you swayed your hips.

“Soon turned out, had a heart of glass,” Sun continued as he joined you, shuffling his feet, his limbs moving with a flawless elegance that was so enviable.

As it turned out Sun was just as graceful off the roller rink as he was on it. He matched you move for move and even had the cheek to embellish on some of them. Clearly trying to impress you, and probably also show off a little. Halfway through the song, Sun caught one of your hands and spun you around before pulling you into a dance of his own. With one hand holding yours and the other on your hip, he rocked and swayed your bodies together in time with the music. Your heart surged in your chest a mix of fear and something else. Excitement? Giddy? You decided not to look at it too closely and just enjoy the music and the rhythm that your bodies were making.

The two of you spun and danced around the small space and you felt a little bit more in control without the skates to put you off balance. Sun did a good enough job of that to you as it was all on his own. At one point Sun had spun you around so that you were face away from him, and you were acutely aware of his hips gently grinding against yours as your back pressed against his chest. It was only for a moment, maybe two, but it caused you to fluster enough that you nearly had a misstep as Sun spun you back around to face him, his smile perfectly bright and innocent.

Despite your nerves, you felt yourself actually having fun. “Lost inside, adorable illusion and I cannot hide,” you sing softly.

Sun continued the next lyric. “I'm the one you're using, please don't push me aside.” You heard his voice quiver a little at those last few words, his voice becoming almost pleading.

He pulled you a little closer in the dancing and once again you felt your heart being clenched in your chest. A thought occurred to you just then. (You’d been having a lot of those lately.) What if Moon wasn't the only victim here? You saw how Sun acted around Afton, how whenever the owner came by Sun distanced himself from you. Maybe… maybe Sun acted the way he did because he had to.

Was that stupid of you to think? Was that naive of you to wish that that was the case? At any rate, you couldn't allow yourself to fully believe it as much as you wanted to. There was too much doubt, too many holes in this gruesome picture that you found yourself a part of unwittingly. But in your heart of hearts you wanted to hold on to that hope that the Sun that you knew, the friend who had always been there to brighten your day and bring a smile to your face, you wanted to believe that that was the real Sun.

The two of you finished out the song, Sun slowing down the dance as the outro played until he was just gently swaying you with him. Holding you close so that your heart was practically hammering against his chest plate.

“I missed this,” he murmured against your hair. “I missed us.”

“Me too,” you said, allowing yourself to be honest.

Sun began humming, but not to the tune that was playing. It was a different song entirely. A much older one. “You Are My Sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray~. You'll never know dear how much I…” His whole body shuddered, his sun rays twitching and his words seemed to hitch.

You stared up at him, your mouth agape. “S-Sun?” It was a question, and you still weren't sure you wanted to know the answer.

Sun slowed the both of you to a halt, staring down at you with those pale eyes that seemed so… vulnerable at the moment. His hands reached up to cradle your face and your cheeks were hot against his cool silicone and metal digits.

“I know you're still… uncertain. But unlike you, there is no doubt in my mind about how I feel.”

He leaned down and in a panic, you closed your eyes too scared to back away or to move forward. But instead of a touch on your lips, you felt his smile press against your forehead in a sweet and affectionate gesture.

“Not to worry, sunshine,” he said softly. “If… when that happens, it will be because you wanted it.”

Your heart swelled and you almost wanted to cry. So many emotions and thoughts and feelings were swirling around in your head, distorting your reality and making you dizzy. Were you a terrible person for leading him on like this? Were you an even worse person for still loving him as much as you did? You opened your eyes to look at him but before you could say or think to say anything, you heard a distant banging on a door breaking the mood.

Sun glanced over to the front doors, an unamused laugh emitting from him. “Looks like we have some eager beavers this morning. It's still ten minutes til opening.”

Sun parted from you and you had to fight the urge to reach out and grab his windbreaker to stop him. He slipped his roller skates back on and flashed you his trademark grin. “I'll take care of things, sunshine. Why don't you go grab yourself a cup of coffee real quick? I made you a fresh pot.”

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a smile. And for the first time in a while, it didn't feel forced.

“No, thank you, sunshine.” He lingered in the doorway, gripping the door frame tightly. “I really needed this. More than I think you'll ever know.”

With that, he skated off to help the customers, all while singing the song that was playing “The tide is high but I'm holding on, I'm gonna be your number one~.”

You collapsed down into one of the swivel chairs, needing to catch your breath from the whirlwind of the last several minutes. For just a short while things had felt normal again. It felt like you had your friend and crush back. The hope in your heart, once a little seedling, was starting to grow, and you were wondering if it was too late to root it out. You just prayed that Sun would keep his promise. Because the hurt at his betrayal would kill you long before a bullet from his gun.

#fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #sun x y/n #sun x reader #cw suggestive #love death and rollerskates #here's hoping I didn't totally butcher Sun's character #this story man #i'm emotionally compromised over these two broken bots #but i felt like this song REALLY suited the situation damn near perfectly #wrote this because after all the hurt I needed some self comfort #feel like i'm setting myself up for heartache with Sun but I will hold onto hope #justfangirlwritings

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niningtori · 1 month

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to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter two: he can't keep living like this

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.3k

notes: hello again :) here is chapter two! i'm actually really nervous to post this, so i hope you all like it! check the ending for more notes <3 also, shout out to user woncheecks for being my test audience! anyway, enjoy!

the first time beomgyu realizes just how impactful your absence is, nothing in particular happens. it's a regular tuesday night a week or so after your "breakup" and he's bored out of his mind. he showers, listens to music, texts his friends and makes himself dinner, but something is missing.

as he sits on his couch, he realizes what it is: you. right about now, you should be pestering him to hang out and showing up on his doorstep to watch a movie. he'd roll his eyes at first but eventually relent, as long as he got to pick the movie, of course. he wouldn't say it, but he'd actually enjoy glancing over and seeing your reactions. you were comically expressive and every twist and turn of the plot had your eyes bulging and mouth agape, turning to him for confirmation that he was seeing the same things you were. when you watched inception for the first time it absolutely rocked your world.

he's alone, but he puts on a movie, anyway. every so often, his head turns to the side with the corner of his mouth raised, but you're not there to give a reaction. he should be used to your absence by the third twist, but he still finds himself subconsciously turning to you throughout the rest of the movie. when the credits roll, he's half expecting to hear you chatter on about how crazy it was, but it's silent. the only time that would happen would be when you'd accidentally drift off in spite of how engrossed you were. you'd try to fight it off like a stubborn kid, but would succumb by the final act. he smiles at the memory before shaking his head in disbelief. what's wrong with him?

moments like these plague him more and more frequently, but the most notable one is the night before his first day at a new job. he briefly talks to his friends about his excitement, but he's too embarrassed to divulge just how anxious he is. times like this, he'd come over and complain for however long he needed. you'd sit and nod, asking questions during his pauses to encourage him to continue, always adding appropriate and thoughtful commentary.

his thoughts wander to how you're doing alone. you really love him, it seems, so he can only imagine how you're faring without him. he wishes you hadn't blocked his number so he could at least ask how you are. maybe you'd even tell him you miss him. not for the first time, he begins to wonder if he pushed you too far this time around. you've gotten angry and given him the silent treatment before, sure, but you've never blocked him and you've certainly never done it for so long.

he looks you up on instagram for the first time since your breakup. he's not terribly surprised when he sees he's blocked on there too, but all it takes is a switch to his photography account, which you had forgotten to block, to see what you're up to now.

the first thing he notices is a picture of you sitting outside with an ice cream cone in hand, face flushed and sun encircling you like an angel. your smile is beaming and your eyes are crinkled and he can almost hear your giggle through the screen. the caption reads "ice cream date with my best friend! <3"

he scrambles through his memories to try to remember a time in recent history when you two did something similar, but he comes up blank. what he does recall, though, is you mentioning a new frozen yogurt place you wanted to visit with him for your birthday. he nodded in response but he knew he wouldn't go with you, opting instead to get shitfaced with his friends. in retrospect, maybe you knew it too. he had checked his phone the next morning and saw he had at least half a dozen missed calls and well over a dozen texts from you. when he finally texted you back, you took almost a full 5 hours to respond, which was uncommon. usually, you'd text back within minutes. it occurred to him later on that that was your version of the silent treatment and it amused him that you could only hold out for a few hours. he honestly found it kind of cute.

he remembers what you did for his birthday. how you had secretly invited his friends over to his apartment to surprise him after an especially shitty day at work. he came home to an elaborately decorated apartment and all of his favorite people greeting him. he remembers how happy you looked when he opened up your present to him, which was the guitar he had always secretly wanted but could never quite justify buying for himself. you were so excited, any spectator would think he had gotten you the gift of your dreams and not the other way around. you were practically buzzing with excitement when he pulled you in for a kiss. his friends had whooped at the display of affection and you had felt your cheeks heat up. what did he get you for your birthday again? anything?

he spends days pondering over this and similar circumstances, which eventually turn into weeks upon weeks. what starts as a nagging feeling that he may have gone too far in his neglect for you becomes pure, unadulterated guilt and anxiety. he recalls just how torn up you seemed the last time he saw you. to be honest, at the time, he was mostly just irritated. but he never thought you'd actually leave. all he can see is that awful look on your face when you finally ended everything and all he can remember is the fact that he put it there. he knows in his heart that he has no right to feel this way, but he feels it all the same.

you would have never imagined you'd actually like somebody other than beomgyu, but taehyun makes it as easy as possible given the sticky circumstances. you met at a club your best friend dragged you to, both you and taehyun had to remain sober (hello designated drivers) and ended up having a surprisingly engaging conversation amidst the smell of beer, sweat, and sex. after that, the rest is history.

he can tell you've been hurt before, but he gently coaxes you into opening up as you spend more and more time with him. you're afraid of being overbearing and coming across as a lovesick puppy again, but taehyun is gentle and seems to enjoy your attention and affection, even if he's a surface level tsundere. more than that, he actually reciprocates it.

do you still think about beomgyu? of course. do you miss him? well, you'd never admit it to a single soul, but the way you see him in everything has to be an indicator that you do. it's getting better, though. more bearable.

a month or so into your relationship, you post about taehyun for the first time. you don't know why you're so nervous about announcing to the world that you have a boyfriend again, but happiness overwhelms your fear when you're met with nothing but positivity.

beomgyu is shellshocked, to put it mildly. the picture of you and your so-called boyfriend is sickly sweet. it's not over the top or anything—just a candid of you in a café holding hands with him while looking over the same menu. the caption is nothing other than a heart and squirrel emoji (why?) and both he and your best friend are tagged. his finger jumps to the boy's profile and he sees the same photo. he scoffs at the cheesiness of it all, but his heart aches at the way all of your friends have commented on the post expressing their happiness for you. they had never approved of him for reasons he's only now beginning to understand.

you always defended him in front of your friends no matter what he did or didn't do. you'd "comfort" him after your friends said something snarky and explain that they just didn't understand him. you'd say that if they knew the real him, they'd see him differently. at the time, he'd scoff and say something along the lines of "i don't need for them to see me differently because i couldn't give less of a fuck about what they think." you'd be hurt, of course you would be, but you'd never say so.

more and more, like an outsider looking in, he can see just how awful he was to you. it's to his horror that he realizes this must be the case for you, too. the chances of you getting back together with him seem slimmer and slimmer, especially now that you've got that pretty boy on your arm. your words echo in his mind as if to haunt him: "what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" leave, apparently, and don't look back.

he can't keep living like this.

a knock on your door is all it takes to ruin your night — you had actually had a really good day up until now. you and taehyun had gone on a breakfast date and napped together until he had to leave in the afternoon, so you're humming now in contentment while applying your nightly skincare, thinking relentlessly about the boy you think you might be starting to love. it feels different from the love you felt for beomgyu, but in a good way. you still think about him and wonder how he's doing, but you always derail that train of thought with a god-given force previously unknown to you. he doesn't care about you, you chant to yourself. it's almost like your daily mantra. in the midst of your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door. you smile widely when you surmise that it's probably taehyun again. you don't realize just how big your grin is until it drops.

standing before you is not your lovely boyfriend, but the man who made you question whether or not you were even lovable in the first place. he has a small smile on his face, and if you were to look a little more carefully, you'd notice that he actually seems a little nervous.

"hi," he says, breaking the silence. his heart was racing a mile a minute. potential scenarios battered his mind the entire way here. what would you do when you saw him? smile? he could handle that. cry? he could also handle that, even if he didn't want to see your tears. what he is not prepared for is the blankness of your features when you ask: "what are you doing here?"

his smile falters almost imperceptibly.

"i, uh. i just wanted to see you." you're merciful enough to give him a nod of encouragement to continue. "a-and i wanted to tell you that i haven't stopped thinking about you for the past few months. and that i think i'm finally ready to be with you," he finishes with a shaky breath.

you're quiet for a moment and squint your eyes as if you're deep in thought.

"but i thought you were dating someone now? your ex?"

"i'm not!" he says almost a little too quickly.

"i heard you were," you counter, not quite believing him. you heard he had been seeing his ex from one of your friends who happened to live in her apartment complex. she had seen his car in the parking lot a few times in the last couple of weeks and had no reason to lie to you.

"w-well, i've seen her a few times, but not seriously. i — to be honest, i was just trying to get over you. but i've finally realized that i can't becau—"

"so, just to make sure i understand, you're not over me so you're seeing her?" his eyes widen in shock before his head hangs in shame as he realizes exactly what he's done and how he must look to you right about now, but you're not finished. "isn't that what you were doing with me?" your voice is low and indifferent, but each word feels tailor-made to slash at his heart. "wow, i guess some things really never change, but don't worry, i'm sure once she moves on you'll finally see the good in her instead of me," you spit out.

"can you listen to me? please?" beomgyu is so ashamed he wants to die. he fumbles for the right words, but when he accidentally makes eye contact with you, they die on his lips. he wishes you would give him time to process what you were saying and mull over what to respond with because you always knew he was bad with words, but he supposes he lost the right to your patience a long time ago.

"you want me to listen to you so you can fuck with my head until the next person rolls around?" the latter words are strangled by the tightness in your throat and he can't help but wince. when he thinks it's over, you continue.

"nobody has ever made me feel as small as you have. i hated myself because of you," your lip trembles and before he can say a word, you're raising your hand to shut the door.

"wait, wait, wait! just let me say this," he pleads as he gently grasps the doorframe. "i... i love you." he almost thinks he hears you gasp, but he's too busy looking into your unreadable eyes to know for sure. he had never said anything like this to you before. you're completely silent for a few moments before breaking the tense atmosphere.

"j-jesus, i mean, i guess i just don't know what to say," you sputter and his eyes alight with what looks suspiciously like hope. "except maybe that... i'm sorry you feel that way?" you finish with a sardonic smile and a roll of your eyes. before he can respond, which he actually intends to do this time around, you slam the door in his face.

notes pt. 2: yeah... sorry ;-; i know this was a lot of background, but i felt it was necessary. also, if you didn't get the memo, there will be a part 3. stay tuned <3

#niningtori #to know him is to love him and i do #txt angst #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu fic #txt #txt fic #tomorrow x together #toxic!beomgyu #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios

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theorphicangel · 2 months

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𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

Chapter two: low expectations.

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne

A/N: sorry for the late update, but imma catch you guys up 🫡

previous chapter | next chapter

Over the next few days you manage to get your pre-reading all done and dusted.

You can’t help but already feel exhausted by the amount of things that you have to juggle at university.

Just as soon as you were completed with one task, you groaned at the thought of your long list of remaining errands. Bills, assignments, grocery shopping and your shifts at the cafe were all piled on top of you constantly, not to mention your attempt to attend your lectures and classes, double checking that they were the right ones.

But the most stressful by far was trying to avoid your mother’s calls, which occurs at least twice a day. As of recently, you had thought that you were safe, coming up with excuses left, right and center.

At least that was before you had seen a missed call from your dad this morning.

That’s how you know that you’re really in the shits.

You’re gonna have to come up with something. And in quick timing.

But for now, you’re going to have to sideline your personal dilemmas.

With your new job at the cafe, you have no choice but to remain consistent with your routine, that is of course, if you want your new job to last.

After weeks of rejection or rather, the lack of replies, you had managed to secure a job at your roommate’s favorite cafe spot.

And by secure you mean that you had sort of lied about having experience in a cafe previously.

You didn’t entirely lie…just exaggerated the truth a little bit.

This was one of the only jobs that had replied to you out of a whole stockpile and you weren’t going to let it go to waste. Not under any circumstances.

You did have the experience of watching and observing what your classmate did at her family owned cafe whilst you were on the till for a few minutes.

But nonetheless, what’s so hard about making coffee? Anyone can do this shit. It’s okay if you’re learning on the job, doesn’t everyone? Currently, you succeed in trying to rotate between keeping track of orders and making drinks as well as trying not to get in MJ’s way too much.

But you were handling it to the best of your abilities. Even if that did mean messing up a few of your customers' orders every once in a while. MJ had said nothing about it so far which means that you're in the green light.

For now.

“You really should be getting some sleep, don’t let your first year knock you out before midterms.” She acknowledges, elbowing you slightly.

“I kno–” you barely finish your sentence, another yawn coming out of nowhere.

“See?” She hums, finishing off an order for the previous customer. “You need some beauty sleep.”

She’s referring to your bruised under eye bags that have started to appear. Ultimately, the results of you staying up till midnight yesterday to finish off an assignment. You had only managed to get a few hours of sleep before waking up in time for your 6am shift.

“I also need money, but we can’t have it all can we MJ?” you note, keeping your tone light before you move on to serve another customer.

You’ve only been on shift for a couple of hours but you think you’re coping well so far. MJ forewarned you about the morning lecture rush hour. You guessed that it was soon by glancing at the old clock hung up on the wall, indicating that it was just after 8:30 am. Students continued to spill in and out of the cafe, the bell above the front door continuously ringing in your ears.

A small line had begun to queue up and you swiftly moved through them with ease. As your next customer came up to the counter, your face lit up at the sight of a familiar face.

“Oh hey stranger–” you begin, recognising the same grueling face that you had seen last week bore into you. But you barely get a chance to finish your sentences before he cuts you off sharply.

“Coffee. Black.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ as you tap his order into the machine, immediately sensing his disgruntled aura. By the expression on his face, you can tell that he doesn’t seem up for teasing.

He seems…frustrated? Or maybe even upset?

“Name?”

“Miguel.”

You can’t tell whether he’s cranky because it’s 8am in the morning or rather that you failed to notice this the last time you saw him. Either way, it makes you a little dazed. Perhaps he wasn’t a morning person. You understood that because you were the complete same. Taking his name, you brush him off instead hoping that your coffee will cheer him up.

You inform him of the price and he swipes his card without a second glance. He leaves to take a seat in one of the corners of the cafe which just so happens to be the only part of the cafe that wasn’t so overwhelmed with customers.

It’s not long before you head over there yourself with his order.

“Here’s your black coffee.” you say, setting it down in front of him. Hastily, you’re about to run off to prepare your next order before his words stop you.

“I ordered a black coffee. Not a latte.”

You turn around abruptly, realizing your full mistake. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“Are you new here or just incapable of making a simple cup of black coffee?” Miguel interrupts, his tone laced with vexation.

“Who do you think you’re–”

Your outrage comes to a halt by the sound of your name being called by MJ. You glance over your shoulder and notice her point towards an ever growing queue of customers. Shit, you don’t have time to cuss him out.

Taking a deep breath, you make the decision to be the bigger person, after all it’s like what your manager Steve said…

‘ The customer is always right.’

“I’ll bring it over for you, m’sorry.” you apologize again, rubbing at your forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with the pressure. With sweat beading at your brows, you look over to see a small queue beginning in front of the till again.

MJ throws you a hurried glance, a look which you know means ‘hurry the fuck up and make these orders.’

You end up taking longer than five minutes to return back to him, run ragged with the new orders of coffees, teas, lattes, macchiatos and hot chocolates that continue to pile up.

“Here you go, sorry about that.” You place his new and correct drink in front of him.

“No worries.”

You’re almost taken aback by his response. First he snaps at you and now he’s telling you not to worry about it? God, he was so confusing.

“Enjoy.”

You think that you hear a mutter of ‘thanks’ leave his mouth but you don’t turn back to hear his words clearly. Yet… you can’t exactly keep away.

For some reason your brain keeps lingering towards a burning question which has rattled your mind all through the past week. Giving in to your temptations, you end up turning around and prompt Miguel with another question.

“How did you know ‘Pride and Prejudice’ was set in the 19th century?”

“Huh?” He glances up from his phone, his thumb paused in his mindless scrolling.

“Last time, when I saw you in the library. You knew it was set in the 19th century.”

“I didn’t.'' Miguel huffs, and your eyes can help but notice the size of his biceps. You estimate that they’re bigger than your fucking hands. “It was an estimated guess.”

“Really? You don’t seem too-”

“Listen.” Miguel quips, his sharp tone suddenly returning, causing your voice to trail off midway through your sentence. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as he speaks. “I’m going to try and say this in the nicest way possible, but I’m really not in the mood for some crap about your literature degree, okay? I really couldn’t care less.”

Ouch.

Your expression drops and you’re immediately aware of the distance between the two of you.

He’s right. You barely know him. He’s just a guy who just so happened to be there at one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. “Right, sorry.”

You’re about to leave his table before he stops you…again.

“Y’know I ought to tell your manager that you messed up my order.” Miguel begins, continuing to scroll on his phone, not bothering to even look up at you. “This is a very reputable cafe and if you start slacking on the job then…”

“Then what?” You question. “Are you trying to threaten me with a bad review?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily say threaten is the right word but…now that you say that perhaps I should write one.”

Your stomach drops at his words. “Oh, you fucking wouldn’t.”

He smirks, still peering down at his phone. “Maybe I would.”

“Bet.”

“Don’t start betting on things that you’ll end up regretting, nena.”

Your brow raises at his phrase which you don’t entirely understand but you really don’t have time to question it. Your patience is running out as well as your time to get back on track with the orders.

As you walk away from his table, his words seem to settle into your skin.

He wouldn’t? Would he? No… he hasn’t got the balls to. What kind of person has that amount of free time on their hands to write a bad review? At least he had gotten his coffee in the end, you were in your right mind not to spill it all over him on purpose.

“He’s a dick, he’s a dick, he’s a total dick.” You mutter under your breath, making your way back to your station. But you should’ve guessed that from your conversation with him in the library, recalling his mocking tone of your embarrassment.

You should’ve kept your expectations low if you ever thought that you were going to be friends with him.

“What did you say?” MJ queries, hearing your mumbles as you join her.

You nod towards Miguel, still sitting in the far corner scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“He’s an evil, brooding…” You fail to think of an appropriate ending.

“Dick?” MJ ends.

“Correct.” you say. You promise to yourself that from this moment onwards you are refraining from looking over at that corner.

You find that time passes quickly during your shift and once the rush hour of students finally dies down, you and MJ get the chance to finally take a break.

“Fucking hell, I never want to do that again.” She murmurs wiping down the surfaces near the coffee machines for any spilt substances.

“Ditto that.” you murmur, grabbing a cloth to wipe down some empty tables.

Learning that MJ was a performing arts student made you more than happy to get along well with her. She was in her second year, yet in a sea of sickening STEM students here you had real proof that you weren’t the only humanities student.

Take that Miguel.

Currently eating dinner alone in your apartment, you reminisce on your day in silence, your roommate out at her weekly computer coding club. You think that it was safe to say that it was a good day today, despite all the stresses at work.

Speaking of work, you recall the conversation from this morning.

You don’t want to give this Miguel guy too much credit but you’d be lying if you said that his threat earlier didn’t scare the shit out of you for the remainder of your day.

Even MJ had to ask if you were alright when it got to the end of your shift and you had brushed it off, blaming it on your exhaustion.

He was totally bluffing….right? I mean, he doesn’t even know you.

You bite down on your metallic fork, anxiety rapidly filling you within.

No, you can’t help it. You have to check.

Chewing on your fingernails, you type in the name of the cafe that you work out and head over to the reviews section on Google.

Scrolling down to find the latest reviews, your stomach practically drops at one comment, under the simple username of: @miguelohara20.

‘New barista lacked the ability to do her job. Couldn’t pay attention to even get my order right. Talks way too much unprovoked, to the point where you might as well save some money and make the damn coffee yourself.’

The fucking nerve of this guy causes so much anger within you that your fork practically falls from your other hand as you immediately go to text MJ. You send her a screenshot before typing with fury.

- ‘Did you see this? This was that guy that I was complaining about earlier: the rude, evil, brooding STEM one.’

Sent: 7:34pm

It’s not long before you receive a reply from MJ and it’s one that makes your stomach drop.

- ‘Yeah I did :/ Steve texted me about it actually.

Received: 7:36pm

MJ sends through another text, a few seconds later.

- ‘He wants a meeting with you on ‘customer etiquette’ !!

Received 7:36pm

Dropping your phone on the table, you let out a groan, holding your head in your hands. Now, this day went from ‘good’ to being the second worst day of your life, now with your job on the line.

Yeah…you think you fucking hate Miguel now.

reblogs are much appreciated!

lmk if you would like to join the taglist!

#angel writes #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #atsv headcanons #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

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rinhaler · 4 months

Text

PRELUDE

CHAPTER SUMMARY : Your best friend Chigiri is hanging out at your place helping you wrap gifts for the holidays. Weird coincidence that your ex-boyfriend's brother texts you while you're talking about him with an invitation to visit the Itoshi family cabin!

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alchol consumption, mentions of a breakup.

WORDS : 1k

notes: SOOOOO nervous to share this but I hope u all enjoy :3

MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Do you miss him, still?” Hyoma asks, helping you wrap gifts to deliver to your family throughout the week. His question halts you, momentarily, before you shrug the thought away. “I get it, this time of year makes you think about things like that too much.”

You sigh, finishing one present and placing it in a tall gift bag before starting another.

“I don’t have any right to miss him, right? I ended things…” you try to laugh at yourself so you don’t cry, but Hyoma knows you too well, he knows how sensitive you are. He knows how you try and downplay your feelings so that you don’t make others feel uncomfortable.

But he knows you.

“It’s a big change, though.” he reminds you, “Cut yourself some slack.”

“Anyway!” you giggle, still trying to hide your true feelings before you burst into tears. “I’m dreading Christmas. I’m meant to be seeing my parents on different days, my dad has a new girlfriend who is younger than me. It’s so weird.”

“I told everyone I’m working so I don’t have to see anyone all week.” he smirks, laughing a little when he sees you staring at him with a look of horror. It’s kind of genius, really, you’re a little jealous you didn’t think of it. “It’s my birthday week, I choose peace.” he tells you, defending his choice.

“I love your birthday.” you tell him, finishing up another present. You stand up so you can stretch your body, sitting on the ground is definitely taking its toll. You end up yawning loudly as your body relaxes, but you feel a surge of energy as you look down and see a notification on your phone.

SAE: hey, are u doing anything next week?

“Um…” you say, pacing around a little as you read the text over and over. You catch Chigiri’s attention, he finishes wrapping the last item and puts it in the bag for your dad. “Sae just texted me.”

“Sae? What did he say?” he wonders, pulling his body up so he’s sitting on the couch behind him rather than the cream, fur rug in the middle of the hardwood floor. “You’re still in touch with him?!”

“Well, y-yeah! I figured I broke up with Rin, not his family, so…” you explain, sitting next to him on the couch and showing him the text. His eyes widen, surprised at what he’s asking. “Once we started getting along we were close! I didn’t feel right about cutting him off too… should I reply?”

“I don’t know. This is weird.”

You roll your eyes and look at the text thread again.

YOU: it’s chig’s bday and I’m seeing family! wbu? SAE: my parents are in Europe for the holidays so I’m heading up to the cabin with some friends. Interested?

“Oh my God.” you speak, showing Chigiri your phone.

“Stop calling me Chigs.” he scolds you, focusing again to read the most recent text. “Shit. What’re you gonna say?”

YOU: can’t! hyoma will be alone for his bday if I come 💔

“Don’t use me as an excuse!” he chastises you. “If you wanna go, go.”

“I don’t want to… what if Rin is there?”

SAE: bring him. SAE: there’s more than enough room.

Your heart is racing. You only realise how much when Hyoma reminds you to breathe. Even your hands are trembling as you hold your phone. He doesn’t say anything in way of an answer if he’d like to come or not, he’s leaving it in your hands.

“I- it’s your birthday, Hyoma!”

“I don’t have plans! We’ll either spend it together at home or spend it together in a rich boy’s cabin.” he assures you. You smile, weakly, appreciative of the support. But there’s no way you can go. You can’t face Rin after everything, not yet, maybe not ever. “Whatever you wanna do, I’ll support you!”

You look down at your phone again, still having no idea what to say.

SAE: Rin won’t be there, that’s why I’m inviting you. YOU: … YOU: why? Let me guess, training? SAE: yeah. SAE: so… YOU: ugh… fine! If ur sure he won’t be there SAE: I’ll send the address 😊

“What am I doing?” you ask Chigiri, tossing your phone down onto the coffee table before turning to face him. He laughs, leaving you alone to open a bottle of Disaronno. “Hyoma… it’s 11am.”

He shrugs, “It’s Christmas.”

You laugh, watching him pour two small glasses for you both. The two of you get comfortable on the couch, facing each other, as you begin to dissect what just happened. He pulls the blanket down from the back of the sofa and you both struggle to adjust it with one hand each, neither of you willing to put down your drink.

Disaronno is dangerous, because it tastes so good. You drink it, lots of it, forgetting it isn’t in fact Dr Pepper in a glass. You both end up wasted, forgetting everything that just happened.

You look at your sparse Christmas tree, feeling a wave of sadness as you remember this time last year you and Rin had decorated it together.

“I do miss him…” you tell Chigiri after a lull of silence, lip wobbling as you think fondly of your ex. Chigiri shakes his head, though, taking another big gulp of a much larger drink.

“Don’t start.” he insists.

You sigh, putting your drink down and taking a few deep breaths. He tries to distract you with nonsensical chit chat, though it doesn’t really help. Rin is still at the forefront of your mind, no matter how hard you try and push him away. Who’s stupid idea was it to drink at 11am? Hyoma’s! It’s all his fault you’re in your fucking feelings.

“Hey, I’ve been wondering something…” he tells you, tilting his head as he thinks. “How are you gonna get out of seeing your parents for Christmas?”

You look at him, dumbfounded. You lean back over to the coffee table to grab your drink without taking your eyes off him. It’s gone in one swig, so he tops it up again. And you devour that, too.

“… Fuck.”

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hearts4youz · 7 months

Text

"Captains Daughter" ● Chapter One ●

A/N Heyy!! welcome to the first chapter of my first fic posted on Tumblr!!! I want to thank you in advance for reading my work, please provide criticism and feedback, I would greatly appreciate it :) I want to keep this authors note short so without further ado (ew) heres chapter one!

Word count 954

You strode into the mess hall like you've done many times before. Only this time, you worked here. When you were younger your father, Captain John Price, would bring you up to the base some days. You remembered ogling at the huge Humvee's and armored tanks in the garages, and the rooms full of state of the art weaponry you would see in the video games you had on the xbox your dad had bought you for Christmas one year. Smiling at the memory, you hopped in line to get a bite to eat before your meeting, which immediately followed the allotted time for breakfast.

Steak and eggs were being served today, based on the relatively low level of complaining from the people around you, you assumed it was one of the better meals served on base. As a kid, you never ate on base when your dad would bring you. When you were really young he would go out to McDonalds to get a happy meal for you. As you got older you packed your own lunch.

After you received your meal, you found an open spot at a half filled table. Nodding at those who were already seated there, you settled in at the other end of the table, savoring what would likely be your last bit of alone time for the rest of the day.

Your first day at a new base felt almost like your first day at a new school, you thought as you wandered the corridors trying to find the meeting room your father had told you to report to. You scanned the endless doorways, looking for one labelled "Meeting room 7." Cursing as you passed another one labeled storage, you thought you would be late. Turning another corner in this Labyrinth that was supposed to become your second home, you finally found it. You twisted the handle and stepped into a room with a long wooden table, a whiteboard streaked with poorly erased marker lines, and five men seated around the table.

You were greeted with a beaming smile from your father as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you.

"Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/N, she has been recently assigned to our unit and will begin training with us and joining us for missions today," your father beamed, proud that the young woman he raised would be joining his team.

You offered a shy wave and a smile to the rest of the room, you studied each of them as they introduced themselves.

"I'm Sergeant Kyle Garrick, but you can call me Gaz, one sporting a ball cap with the British flag imprinted on the front said. he had a light stubble on his chin and above his lip.

"Everyone calls me soap 'round here," The guy with the mohawk grinned, he appeared to be the goofiest out of the group. Next to him was a tall man, face obscured by a skull mask. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Ghost, Lieutenant," His thick Manchester accent stated. The exposed portion of his face was unreadable as he looked at you.

"Alejandro Vargas, Colonel, Mexican Special Forces," The last one to introduce himself said with a smile.

"Well, I'm excited to start working alongside you all, and i'm looking forward to getting to know you all," you responded kindly, receiving nods and murmured agreements in return.

The one who called himself soap beckoned you over and patted the seat next to him as your father started yakking about the day's tasks. He grinned as you sat down next to him.

"Price says your a sergeant," he queried.

"I am, and you?" you responded.

"twins," he laughed.

While Price droned on, you and Soap chatted about anything and everything. You half listened to your dad, not wanting to miss important information and have a huge fuck up your first day on the job.

Eventually, Soap gave you the run down on each member of the unit. You learned that him and Gaz were good friends, Alejandro leads another group called Los Vaqueros, and the real name of the scary ghost guy was Simon Riley.

"He's a man of few words at first, well actually he's always a man of few words," Soap corrected himself. "but he's a good guy when you get to know him, he's an excellent soldier too," he continued.

"I don't think he's very fond of me joining," you said.

"Naw, he'll come around eventually, he's just trying to act all tough" Soap insisted.

you hummed, tuning back into the meeting. Towards the end of it, your father mentioned assigning a training partner for you. Task Force 141 was in much more violent territory, with tougher foes. You would need extra help to catch up to the skill level of the rest of the group

"I'd like Ghost to assist Y/N in training," Price finished.

You could see Ghost's brows furrowing from the eye holes in his mask, You could see Ghosts brows furrow from the eye holes in his mask, they were a shade of light blue, almost grey. Other than that, Ghost had no comment about the order. Price dismissed the meeting.

You waited for everyone to clear out before walking up to your dad, he kissed your forehead and smiled at you "Need something kiddo?" He asked.

"Well I can't find where my bunk is for starters," you said sheepishly.

This new base was huge, in your old one everyone slept in barracks. Here, everyone gets their own room.

"Of course kid," He chuckled as you made your way out of the meeting room.

Today, you would settle in. Tomorrow, the real work begins.

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ao3commentoftheday · 5 months

Note

i'm curious about the reason ao3 users subscribe to works, previously i assumed that it was used just for WIPs but since writing for a new fandom and reading your blog i've realized its far more common to sub to complete works than i thought. though i appreciate the attention on my works, i was initially frustrated seeing subscription stats on works that were complete, esp bc i have seen readers in this specific fandom insist that writers continue works that they stated were completed. i had considered creating a poll bc i would be interested in the statistics of why readers subscribe to works on ao3, is this a fandom specific behavior or remnants of fandom elders continuing old habits? you can totally ignore this if it's redundant, im mostly just rambling and feel like i dont understand ao3 bc i've only been posting for a few years that i haven't experienced much fandom interaction until recently.

AO3 users are no different from users of any other website. We all make use of features in ways that work for us - even if those ways are different from (or counter to) their intended use.

Some users subscribe to completed works and/or oneshots because they hope authors might come back some day and add on. I once left a oneshot for something like 2 years and then came back and turned it into a 10 chapter fic because I had an idea for something longer and the oneshot was the setup I needed. It saved me writing the start.

Some authors will also add a new chapter onto a completed work to let readers know they've posted a new work in the series. Again, the subscription lets readers know a new work is there for them to go and read.

Other reasons they might do this include:

wanting to show the writer more love. They've commented, kudos'd and bookmarked already, so subscription is all they have left to say "I LOVED THIS!"

similar to this, not realizing what the subscription is so they press it because they're pressing all of the buttons to say ❤️

thinking that the subscribe button on and individual fic will act the same as the subscribe button on an author's profile page. i.e., they think if they hit the subscribe button on the work, that'll set up a subscription to the author instead of the story

finding it easier to sort through subscriptions to find their favourite works because their bookmarks are too numerous or disorganized

This is an individual thing and not a fandom thing. There might be a generational difference, but that's mostly just because the nature of online subscriptions and creator subscriptions has changed over time and the way modern social media handles it is different from how the Archive handles subscriptions. Mostly it just comes down to personal preference and quirks of habit.

Readers, feel free to share if you have another reason for subscribing to completed works. Did I miss any?

#asks and answers

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princessanonymous · 3 months

Text

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

15. 𝓐𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮

Time took its course. Days turned into weeks and those turned into months. (Y/n)'s outbursts became few and far between and Dorian liked to think their relationship was growing closer. She retreated less from him and talked to him more often. She was progressively starting to act more comfortably, like the little bright girl he had met in that forest all these months ago.

Dorian thought fondly of the little moments they spent together. Her nightmares were becoming less frequent, but every time she had one, the girl came to him for comfort. They played chess and, while the vampire was still winning against the girl, she was a fast learner and was getting better at it.

(Y/n)'s etiquette was something he was very proud of. They had gone to two other balls and the girl had behaved impeccably. Dorian had received a lot of comments about how the child acted the part of a future vampire very well; that she was a good fit to be amongst their elite society. He relished at those compliments, a proudness only a parent could feel growing in him.

Additionally, he grew more cautious, understanding he had underestimated her wits. He had ensured that she had less contact with the servant. The unfortunate events on that night could not repeat themselves. He wouldn't allow it. The vampire was however positive that they were unlikely to repeat themselves as he had had an enlightening conversation with the child. One that hopefully crushed these foolish ideas out of her head.

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

"I am so relieved you have given up on the silly idea of leaving, doll," Dorian had told her one night as they were both spending time together in the living room.

(Y/n) looked up, but didn't say anything. The vampire, nonchalantly engrossed in the pages of his book, continued his discourse with an air of detached sophistication. "Considering your circumstances, it's not as though you possess anything to return to," he declared, a smirk playing upon his lips, casting a shadow of cruelty. One that was necessary to educate her; she wouldn’t learn otherwise. "You have nothing to go back to. What would you do on your own ?"

She averted her eyes uncomfortably, her shoulders responding with a subtle shrug. "I don't know," she admitted in a soft whisper, her uncertainty palpable.

A chuckle escaped Dorian's lips. "Nothing," he corrected with a pointed emphasis. "But, I am here, which is why there is nothing good in leaving."

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

(Y/n) knew it. The child knew leaving would be fruitless and foolish. Dorian found comfort in the knowledge that she relied on him, the assurance of her presence intertwining with his sense of control over the situation. She had to understand who was the caretaker here.

Despite the apparent tranquility of their coexistence, the veneer of familial harmony in the household couldn't fully mask the palpable void that lingered within. It was as if an essential piece of their collective puzzle was conspicuously absent, leaving Dorian with an unshakable sense of incompleteness. As the days unfolded and (Y/n) became increasingly amenable to the idea of establishing connections, Dorian seized upon the opportune moment that presented itself. A subtle shift in the familial dynamic paved the way for him to contemplate the reintroduction of that elusive missing piece into their lives. He had been away long enough by now. 72 years of slumber must have taught him a lesson.

"(Y/n), dear," called out the vampire as he entered the library. He had recently bought books for the girl to read and she was spending more time in their library.

She looked up from her armchair, curiosity etched across her features. "Yes?" she inquired.

"Come with me, starshine. I have something to show you," he announced with an air of gleeful anticipation.

She straightened, tension briefly evident in the set of her shoulders, yet she followed him nonetheless, her steps echoing through the dimly lit corridor. As they approached the basement door, she edged closer to him, her unease palpable, and she hesitated for a moment, the uncertainty etched across her face. She shook her head.

"I didn't do anything," she promised with a brittle voice, her words hanging in the air like delicate glass on the verge of shattering. Her eyes pleaded for understanding. Despite the conviction in her voice, there was a vulnerability that betrayed the turmoil within.

He gave her an understanding look, his eyes softening with empathy, acknowledging her discomfort with this place. He recognized that her fear stemmed from the anticipation of potential punishment. After all, the first time she had been allowed in that basement was to be reprimanded. However, he sought to convey that this time would be different.

"I know, dear," he reassured, his comforting touch guiding her forward. "Trust me, I merely want you to meet someone."

She trembled, a palpable shiver coursing through her frame, yet his firm grip on her trembling hand compelled her to follow him nonetheless, even if it was against her wishes. Her steps were hesitant, but they arrived at the room at the back of the corridor and Dorian used the key to unlock the door.

He turned to his child and passed a hand through her hair tenderly. "Wait here for me until I tell you to enter, starshine," he instructed. He smiled when she nodded dutifully. Dorian opened the door and closed it behind him.

The room, untouched since his last visit, held Killian in a state of slumber. Dorian approached him, placing a hand on the lifeless figure's chest. With a sigh, he declared, "I believe we are ready."

He withdrew the wooden stake, an artifact designed to neutralize their kind, and the body, once inert, sprang back to life. The vampire, now released from the temporary paralysis, slowly rose. He gasped out for breath, the sound echoing in the cold silence of the tomb as he stood up from the casket.

He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the muted light, and a sense of disorientation lingered. It however disappeared mere instants later when Killian's eyes shot on Dorian as he put his hands on his chest where the wound that had disappeared by now had been. Sensing an opportunity, the dark-haired vampire seized the moment. With a swift and fluid motion, he retrieved the wooden stake discarded in the earlier struggle. The blond vampire realized the imminent threat. He could feel the energy coursing through the blessed weapon, a reminder of the danger it posed. Fortunately, he sidestepped it with ease as the other had been weakened by the stasis he had been put in.

As the recently awakened vampire raised the stake for a second strike, determination etched on his features, Dorian managed to summon a surge of strength. In a swift and calculated move, he intercepted the descending weapon, his hand closing around it just inches away from his own chest. He found himself cornered against the cold wall, his back pressed against the ancient stones. The impact sent a shiver through his undead form, but the immediate danger was averted.

"Welcome back, darling," Dorian greeted, his voice a mixture of defiance and wry amusement, still struggling against the wooden stake the other was pushing dangerously close to his chest.

"Dorian," the other responded, his tone dripping with a dark edge. "You stabbed me."

He glared at the remark, his previous smiling exterior disappearing in mere seconds. "You wanted to leave," he snapped back to justify himself. "I had to do something to make you understand."

"I will leave," Killian declared adamantly. The dark-haired vampire, unmoved by Dorian's explanation, maintained his grip on the stake, the tip hovering dangerously close to the point of no return. "I will leave, and you will not stop—"

"We have a daughter," Dorian interjected hastily, his words slicing through the tension like a sudden gust of wind.

Instantly, the other paused at the words uttered. Seizing the moment, Dorian acted with agility. The pause granted him the opportunity to disarm his adversary effortlessly. With a swift and calculated move, he deftly knocked the stake from Killian's grasp, sending it clattering across the stone floor.

"What are you on about?" The other asked with narrowed eyes, the fiery being temporarily quelled. Killian, known for his aggression, typically combined actions and words seamlessly.

There existed an unspoken agreement between the two, a delicate balance ensuring that their clashes never escalated to true harm. Dorian had, however, shattered this agreement the day he pierced his lover's chest with the blessed stake—a memory he preferred not to dwell upon. Despite such incidents, a mutual understanding persisted: they wouldn't inflict genuine harm on each other. And while the memory of the quarrel leading to Dorian’s slumber often hung wavy on his mind, he justified his action; Killian hadn’t been genuinely hurt. That had all been temporary; Dorian hadn’t done anything wrong.

"A child. I brought in a child," the blonde reiterated, approaching his partner. Clasping both hands, he offered a smile. "Our child."

Killian's face remained closed off, his stare unyielding. "If she is anything like you, I do not wish to see this girl," he sneered coldly. "I will not raise a child with you."

He looked away for a second dissimulating the hurt he felt at that. "At least, let me introduce the both of you." Before the other could respond, he opened the door and let (Y/n) in. "This is (Y/n)," he introduced. "Doll, this is your—"

"Killian Ambrose-Hart," he introduced sharply, his eyes shining a bright red as his gaze focused on the girl. "She's human."

Dorian stepped between the two, placing an arm on his child's shoulder. With Killian having not fed for decades, the vampire was uncertain of what he might do in his current state of hunger. Who knew what he could do to the human with the hunger he must feel right now.

"She will be turned following her twelfth birthday," he declared with unwavering conviction.

Killian, outraged, furrowed his brow. "On her—you won't," he insisted, pointing accusingly.

He had known Killian wouldn't have liked that. There was a reason why children couldn't be turned before they turned twelve, after all. Following the turning, the body completely stopped aging. It was the same for the person's mind. Children turned before their twelfth birthday were called immortal children. They could not grow physically and neither could they age mentally. The immortal child would therefore lack the self control of an older vampire and become a creature only driven by hunger ; a danger for their world. A liability that was meant to be put down. Turning a child was therefore not allowed and punished by other vampires.

"I can and will," he retorted. "She will be old enough by that point and—"

(Y/n) would be turned after she reached twelve years old. At twelve, it was deemed that individuals had generally developed sufficient self-control. Though turning someone so young was rare, it was permissible. Some at that age were still too uncontrollable, but Dorian was sure it wouldn’t be the case for his fledgling. And even if it was, he wouldn’t care; the mere idea of a member of their vampiric society touching even a single strand of hair on her head would unleash the formidable force of Dorian.

"You cannot curse her to such an existence," Killian tried to reason with him. "What will we do with an uncontrollable beast?"

Dorian would have been happy at the slip — 'We' meant that he felt involved in the child's existence — but his eyes darkened at the way he referred to her. He turned to the girl who seemed frightened by the presence of the other. "Why don't you go to your room, dear," he suggested lightly. "Killian and I are going to have a grown up conversation. Close the door behind you."

She left diligently and as she closed the door, he gave the newly awakened vampire a dangerous look. "Do not," he sneered, "call her a beast ever again. She is well-behaved, and we will ensure her safety once she is turned."

Their argument persisted through the night and into the early hours as the sun ascended in the sky. That wasn't anything new for them—Killian always rambled about how the 'curse of vampirism was something he didn't wish on anybody else'. Or how 'selfish and conniving Dorian had been to doom him to such a fate,' acting like a martyr. If anything, the older vampire should be the one complaining. Killian was too focused on making a tragedy out of his existence to care about anyone else. As always, the two only stopped when both of them had exhausted each other enough and then left it at that.

"I will go hunting," Killian declared, exasperation evident in the pinch of his nose.

"At this hour of the day?" Dorian questioned, both baffled and frustrated.

"Had you not started this complete mess, I would have been able to do so earlier," the dark-haired vampire countered.

"Oh, so all of this is my fault?" Dorian challenged. "Typical of you."

"Typical?" Killian repeated with outrage. "What do you mean, 'typical'?"

"Always trying to put the blame on someone, aren’t you, darling?" Dorian snapped back sardonically.

"Don't you try to put this on me," he threatened angrily. "This is all your doing!"

"This is ridiculous!" the blond exclaimed, flinging his hands in the air spitefully. "Utterly ridiculous; you are ridiculous!"

And like that, another session of arguing began.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #unhealthy relationships #toxic relationship #They are lovers your honor #but they shouldn't be XD

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oliveisme533 · 2 months

Text

My dad’s neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 1

Joel Miller x you

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

You were a teacher so the summer months were nice and slow. As you packet your suitcase, you thought back to the phone call with your dad just a few weeks prior. "Hey babygirl, why don't you come on down to Austin for the summer? I know your roommate has been driving you a little crazy lately...wouldn't hurt to get a break ya know? Plus I miss you sweetheart... would love to see you"

You smiled at the memory of his words. He was right about your roommate being annoying lately. Nothing crazy...just normal roommate things. But most of all you missed your dad. Your college summers were all spent with your mom in Boston, so this visit was long overdue.

There airport was fucking packet of course. Airports made you anxious and you always got to your gate a couple hours early for fear of missing your flight. You sent a quick text to your dad letting him know you made it to the airport and would let him know when you safely landed. He loved the message and moments later your phone buzzed again.

Venmo: Dad sent you $50 for "Uber 🚗"

Your dad definitely did well for himself, He was a financial consultant and never missed out on an opportunity to splurge on you and your sister. You knew you wouldn't be swiping your card a single time once you stepped foot in his house for the summer, and you weren't complaining...teachers don't exactly make a ton of money. There was one thing nagging at the back of your mind that you hadn't let yourself think about until now. You always had kind of a girlish crush on your dad's friend and neighbor. You hadn't seen him in years and you wanted to believe he could find you attractive now that you were actually a grown woman. It was a fantasy you know would never come true even in your wildest dreams, but it was still fun to think about from time to time. You put your headphones and closed out the world.

You smiled as the warm air hit your skin as you walked across the tarmac with one hand shading your eyes from the Texas sun. Austin was where you spent your childhood. Before their divorce, your parents had brought you and your sister into a comfortable lifestyle that you were forever grateful for. Your mom headed to Boston after the divorce, you and your older sister followed suit, but Texas never stoped feeling like home. "Uber for y/n?" You slumped down into the air conditioned car with a sigh of relief. "Yes." You looked out the window as the familiar scene flew by. By the time the car turned into your neighborhood your mind had drifted far from Boston. Your stomach lurched slightly as you passed Mr. Millers house. His truck was in the driveway. You remembered a recent phone conversation with your dad where he mentioned Mr. Miller having kind of a hard time spending his first summer without his daughter Sarah. She was with her mom for the summer, a new arrangement you were pretty sure. Maybe you would go and visit him. He was the kind of family friend that had a key to your dad's house . What if he didn't remember you? You were being stupid. Mr. Miller didn't need to entertain a 20 some year old girl. He had friends his own age, a life, and for all you knew maybe a girlfriend. You brushed the idea off as the car slowed in-front of your dad's house.

Your key clicked in the door and you were promptly greeted by Lea, your dad's new kitten. Your sister and you joked that this was his first symptom of his mid life crises. The second being the fact that he now had a girlfriend. You flung your suitcase aside and sunk into the window seat of your bedroom. You have many memories of a younger version of yourself sitting here in the summer days, reading or just watching. In the evenings you were too busy sneaking out the back gate to do such things. You smile as you recall your reckless, teenage activities. You sigh and look down at your watch. Your dad won't be home for a couple more hours. A nap probably would serve you well. Before you get up, you feel your phone buzz again. It's your dad.

"Hey sweetheart I see you made it to the house. I completely forgot Joel said he was picking up some tools I borrowed from him last week. He knows the garage code, but didn't want you to be alarmed if he's there before I get home. See you soon xx"

You found yourself staring at the text... would Mr. Miller ...Joel, you correct yourself, would he even remember me? In the spirit of southern hospitality you decide to get dressed in something that does smell like the airport and go downstairs when you hear the garage opening. You walk through the front door and out towards the driveway where Joel is loading some tools in the back of his pick up truck. He glances up at you and a wide smile forms across his face. "Well hey!" He says. "Your dad told me you were coming in... welcome home!" The words warm your heart. This was home for sure. "Thanks, I'm glad to be back. Even just for the summer!" God his arms look good in that t-shirt... "well I know your old man is happy you're here. Hasn't shut up about you comin' for the last few weeks. 'Course I get it, countin' down the days 'till Sarah gets back myself." You giggle at the comment of your dad's excitement about your arrival. "Yeah dad told me she's with her mom for the summer right?" Joel nods closing the back of the pick up. "Yeah that's right." You noted a twinge of sadness in his voice. "I'm sorry I'm sure that's hard...I mean I know she loves being with her mom and you too. Of course she'll be back for school in the fall, but still I'm sure the summer feels different with out her. I'm not a parent though so I really have no idea what I'm talking about." You fumbled through this response and ended with a nervous laugh. Joel didn't mind. He looked at you with those fucking puppy dog eyes that could make you melt. He laughed too you were pretty sure the laugh was more at you than with you, but you kind of deserved it you figured. "You're sweet, yeah she's having a blast with her mom and that's all that really matters. Your dad has been putting up with me a lot. With an empty and quiet house it's just not the same, and he's been havin' me over lots" "Well I'm sure he appreciates the company too" you couldn't help but feel a little guilt that you had possibly made your dad feel the same emotions as Joel. "Well I gotta run, but I'm sure I'll be seein' you around. Good to see ya Darlin'" you waved as he pulled out of your driveway, grateful that he was probably too far away to see the blush on your cheeks.

The next few days went by with not much to remark on. On Friday your dad mentioned that Joel would be coming over for dinner tomorrow. You told yourself it was time to act like an adult and put this girlish crush out of your mind. Joel was at least 10 years your senior and he was a close friend of your dad, In fact these fantasies are simply degrading to him or disrespectful. You're not sure of the right word, but he's a person with a life and feelings and things he's going through. To make him the object of your fantasies was wrong, you decided.

Saturday evening came around and your dad was in the back grilling and playing his country music on the speaker you had gifted him last Christmas. There was a knock and the door and the sound of Joel's voice echoing through the entry way. You didn't bother coming out of the kitchen, knowing he would come to you. Your back was turned, focusing on the sangria recipe you were sure wouldn't turn out the way you wanted. "My dad's outback." You said gesturing to the back door. " I'm sorry, where are my manners!" You turned to open the fridge and pull out beer for Joel. "You ain't gotta make a fuss darlin' is just me" Joel chuckled. You wished he would stop calling you that, but you also hoped he never would. Joel y through the utensil draw to find the bottle opener. He asked about your day and you asked about his. "I can't get over how much you've grown up" he said at one point. "Yeah o guess the last time you would have seen me I was a lanky teenager with braces" you laughed and so did he. "I think you're right... if I recall you were just about the death of your old man when you were that age." You shrugged. "Yup that's about right. I had a nack for getting into trouble." He laughed that wonderful deep laugh and said "well you turned out alright, kid"

The rest of the evening you debated whether Joel saw you more as a grown woman or a kid. He had referred to you as both in a matter of minutes...so which was it? "What's on your mind kiddo?" Your dad's voice snapped you back to reality. "Oh ..um, nothing honestly. I'm just kind of tired today for some reason." You were both in the kitchen, Joel was still in the back yard getting ready to light a cigar. "Baby why don't you go upstairs and rest. I'll make sure to kick Mr. Miller here out if we get to rowdy." He said that last part loud enough for Joel to hear. "Dad jokes.." you mutter to yourself as you climb the stairs to the second floor of the house. Your bedroom is on the front end of the house, so by they time you get there, no noise from your dad and Joel can be heard. The sound of the shower in the bathroom drowned out the noise of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. When you exited the shower there was a missed call from "Ben" Ben Sinclair was your on again, off again boyfriend for the last 4 ish years. This time you were done. You had been broken up for a month this time and you told him (in no uncertain terms!) this was it. So what could he possibly want tonight...

#lovers #joel tlou #joel miller #smut #fanfic #joel and ellie #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff

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freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

iFall for Harry pt. 7

Summary: The seventh part to iFall for Harry

Letting the stranger in your phone go is a lot harder than you anticipated.

Surely a drunken phone call will help with that.

Word Count: 2k

What do you call an apology written in dots and dashes?

Remorse Code.

…

I’m gonna assume you’re laughing.

Like hysterical, uncontrollable laughter.

And while you attempt to keep from rolling on the floor…I want to say I’m sorry.

Again.

Because I am. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.

I know that was selfish. And sneaky. And I wasn’t trying to be. Not on purpose.

I just…I didn’t see any reason to change or ruin what we had.

And then we met. And I saw you. And everything and nothing made sense all at once.

And I thought I could explain.

I wanted to explain.

But I wasn’t sure how.

I guess I thought if we kept talking…the right answer would find me.

But it didn’t.

And then you left.

And I don’t know what to do.

I really don’t know what to do, Cheese Girl.

I miss you.

And I hope you talk to me soon.

You read every text as it comes in. You read, and you reread, and you try not to worsen the anxious pit deep in your stomach.

You didn’t expect this to be so hard.

You don’t want this to be so fucking hard.

You met him. You met the stranger in your phone and for the most part, it was civil.

You weren’t catfished. Hooray.

Not to mention, you met Harry Styles. Something that not everybody can say.

But you know better than to let it go any further than it already has. Because it can’t go any further. Your best option is to cut your losses and move on.

Leave this stranger behind.

Because that’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

A stranger.

You make peace with this thought and go about your life. You go to work, you go to yoga, you go to a bar with friends. You meet new people, and you try new recipes, and you start a new book.

You start a new chapter. Without him.

You try not to think about him. And for the most part, you don’t. He doesn’t reach out again and you assume he probably won’t ever.

And you’re okay with that.

And then…you’ll hear his name. A friend will mention an outfit he wore at a recent concert or about rumors he’s working on his next album.

And that anxious coil in your stomach will return.

A part of you is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. To find out that this was all some sort of sick prank. For the moment cameras will be shoved into your face to capture your reaction to the news that you’ve been part of a James Corden skit. Or that he’ll be singing about the pathetic girl that had the nerve to believe him when he can do so much better.

But the thing you’re most afraid of…is the way you miss talking to him. The way you’ll pull up his name on your phone and type out a message…only to delete it before you get the nerve to send it.

The way you wish…you could go back to that diner and do it again.

It haunts you, this thought. This regret. More than it should. It eats away at all the work you’ve put in to leaving him behind. It follows you all day. Into the shower, into work, into the grocery store.

And it leads you directly to a bottle of wine.

You’re halfway through your third glass when you get the idea. When all common sense takes a flying leap out the window. And before your better judgment can kick in…you’ve opened up his contact information.

The ringing is loud. Maybe too loud and you grimace as you pull the phone away from your ear. You might be a little too drunk for this.

And then…the ringing stops.

And it all goes quiet.

Until—

“Hello?”

His voice is exactly like you remember. British. And deep. And just a bit raspy.

Perhaps if it were any other moment, you’d be tempted to feel nervous or flushed, but right now…you simply straighten up.

“Hello,” you repeat in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “It’s me. Cheese Girl.”

You think you hear him laugh. “Yeah, I know,” he says before pausing. “…hi.”

“Hi,” you echo before frowning and clearing your throat. “I just wanted to call and say…fuck you.”

A beat before he sighs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” You begin to pace around your apartment, hoping that the movement will help the words flow a bit faster. “Yeah, because you…you are a complete and total asshole. Did you know that?”

“…I did.”

“Good.” You nod. “And do you know why you’re a complete and total asshole?”

Another brief pause. “Because I lied to you.”

“Eh. Wrong.” You come to a stop. “Because you made me like you.”

Silence.

You carry on. “You made me like you…and then you took it away,” you tell him. “You made me like a complete and total stranger that I’d never met. That I knew nothing about. Just from some puns and your sexy-ass voice. You made me like you. Like…really like you. And then you just…you took it away.”

More silence before he finally murmurs, “Are you drunk?”

Your frown deepens. “No…yes. Maybe—look, that’s not the point. Everything I said is still true.”

He sighs. And it’s heavy. “I…shit, look I…I didn’t take it away. Okay, in fact the last thing I wanted was to end this, but you were the one who said we couldn’t continue.”

“Because we can’t,” you remind him. “Hello. You’re you. You’re so famous, you can’t even walk through the street without people flocking to you.”

“So?”

“So…there’s no room for me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know.”

“How?”

“Yeah. How do you know?”

“Because I just do,” you huff. “There’s only room for models, and famous people, and tours, and all the fucking money you’re probably making. But there’s no room for me.”

“I’d make room.”

The confident remark makes your head spin, and you blink down at the floor.

The call goes quiet for a good minute or two. You wonder if he’s still there, but something tells you…he is.

“You can’t…say stuff like that,” you finally whisper.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not fair. And it’s not true. You can’t possibly make a promise like that.”

“Says who?”

“Says…everyone.” You slump down onto the armrest of your sofa and stare at your lap. “And even if you could…you shouldn’t. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t,” you correct. “You don’t want to know me. I’m not…I’m just me. I’m not exactly worth getting to know.”

You hear him scoff. “Well…that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

Your eyes narrow. “It’s true. I can’t give you what they can.”

“They who?”

“You know. The other people in your life.”

“What people?”

“The…people. The models and the mommy’s you’re so obsessed with.”

He snorts again. “Okay, well, that doesn’t even close to cover my type.”

“Oh, no? Tell that to literally every ex you’ve ever had.”

“Those weren’t all of my ex’s.”

“Please. Like you managed to date somebody that the press didn’t know about.”

“I have. Many times, actually.”

“Name one.”

“Well, that kind of defeats the whole purpose of dating them privately, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But I’m not the press. And I’m not gonna tell.”

“Yeah? How do I know that?”

“Have I leaked anything yet?”

The call goes quiet again.

“No,” he admits after a minute. “And honestly...I was kind of disappointed when you didn’t.”

Your brows furrow. “What? Why?”

“Because it meant that you didn’t want anything from me,” he says softly. “It would have made sense if you’d just used this situation to…make some money or gain some publicity. It probably would have even been easier on me if that’s how it ended.”

You feel your heart sink.

“But…your silence meant that you didn’t care about that,” he continues. “It meant that I’d really hurt you. That this had been…real. That you’d rather cut me off altogether then make some sort of name for yourself.”

You swallow the odd lump in your throat as you slide down onto the couch cushions. “I never wanted to make money off of you.”

“I know,” he murmurs, somewhat sadly. “It just…would have been easier if you had.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you will yourself to remain calm. “Harry?”

“…yeah?”

You suck in a quiet breath.

“I miss you.”

You hear him sigh before there’s a bit of static.

He doesn’t answer right away, and you wish more than anything that you knew what he was thinking.

“I miss you, too,” he finally says, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so dejected. “I really fucking miss you, and I’m so sorry that I ruined us.”

“You didn’t,” you whisper, in a voice so small, you’ll be surprised if he hears you. “You were always who you said you were. I know that. But…you and I don’t exist in the same universe. And I don’t think we ever can.”

“Why?” His question is both hopeful and forlorn. “Why not? I have tons of friendships and relationships the world never sees. This wouldn’t have to be any different—we wouldn’t have to be any different. We could still be us.”

Suddenly, your throat burns from the tears you know are coming. “Harry…”

“What? No, stop. We just…come on. We’ve…we’ve met one time. Okay, this is only the start. We still have so much to learn—”

“Harry—”

“No. No, stop…stop doing that. Stop deciding we can’t have a friendship. You haven’t even tried—”

“I can’t try. I can’t…I can’t do this again—”

“Do what? We haven’t even done anything—”

“I can’t lose you again.”

You hate how quiet he gets.

“It was really fucking hard to leave you,” you admit, and there’s a slight rasp to your voice as you fight back tears. “It was so hard to realize that everything I wanted for us was just…gone. That you were gone. That this…weirdly wonderful period of my life was just…over.”

He doesn’t speak yet and you know it’s because he’s waiting for you to finish.

“And if I…if I let myself do this again…and I lose you again…I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Then you won’t lose me,” he says, but your head shakes.

“You can’t promise that.”

A beat.

“I know,” he sighs before the sigh turns into a groan. “Fuck. I know, I…”

You wait, heart pounding.

You don’t know what you want him to say. You don’t know what he can say.

Maybe you just…wanted to hear his voice.

“Is this why you called me, then?” he asks. “Just to tell me you can’t talk to me?”

Yes. No.

I don’t know.

“I called because…letting you go isn’t easy for me,” you say. “Even though it should be. Even though I still don’t know you. Because…I feel like I do. I feel like I know you and I feel like when you’re gone…there’s something…missing. And it hurts. And I hate it.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I feel it, too.”

You both fall silent.

The sound of his soft breaths is comforting.

It’s a sound you imagine you’ll remember the rest of your life.

“Let’s make a deal,” you say, stomach already churning at the thought. “We’re good at those.”

He offers a gentle chuckle. “Okay.”

“We stay on the phone for as long as we want tonight,” you explain. “But once we hang up…it’s over. For good. No more texts. No more late-night drunken calls. No regrets. We delete, we block…and we move on.”

He thinks about this. “Is that really what you want?”

“No.” Your eyes squeeze shut. “But it’s the only way I’ll be able to let you go.”

You hate that you can feel his disappointment.

“Okay,” he finally agrees. “Okay. Then I’m right here. Until you’re ready.”

You clutch the phone to your ear as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

So begins the end.

“Okay.”

Dedicated to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Next Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 8

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 6

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles request #harry styles concept #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #iFall for Harry #harry styles series

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talkdutchtome · 5 months

Text

Glitch- chapter seven (18+)

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

series masterlist . . . available here )

warning . . . this chapter contains smut, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (f & m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, use of petnames, very slight fdom -blink and you'll miss it-, if you don't want to read the smut there is a border where it starts and finishes so you can skip it )

a/n . . . i think this chapter might make some of you mad but this is a love triangle fic, it's going to be a lil messy, like me. i promise we'll be back to what you like for chapter 8. feedback is always appreciated, i love to read all of your thoughts )

“No”

Max’s words swirled around Y/N’s head long after he had left. She had asked him if he wanted to come in and he just said no. He didn’t say “I’d love to, but I can’t tonight” he didn’t even say “Thanks but I don’t think I want to, let's take things slow” he just said “No”. Quicky followed up by “Okay, Bye”. She was completely dumbfounded, stood outside her flat; as Max's abrupt departure replayed in her mind, each step he took away from her feeling like a punctuation mark to their strange encounter.

The second she found herself in her flat, the uncorked bottle of wine sat on her kitchen side, beckoned to her, and without much consideration, she filled a glass to the brim. The rich red liquid seemed to mirror the swirling thoughts in her mind, each sip a bitter-sweet reminder of the unexpected turn of events. Tonight was going so well; she didn’t understand what went wrong.

She replayed the encounter in her mind, trying to dissect what had just happened. She felt upset, a sting of rejection cutting through her. Yet, there was also frustration—why couldn't Max have communicated his feelings instead of abruptly walking away. If he didn’t want to take it further, obviously she wouldn’t be mad at that, she’s not a monster; but he could of at least spoke to her about it rather than just walking away.

The room was softly lit, and Y/N continued to sip her wine, lost in her own thoughts. The wine was becoming both a friend and an escape, pulling her further into a comforting haze. The recent complications weighed on her, each sip a fleeting attempt to numb the complexities swirling in her mind.

With each gulp, she dove deeper into her contemplations, navigating through the messy tangle of feelings. Life, once simple, now felt like a puzzle missing a few crucial pieces. The familiar sounds of laughter and joy were replaced by a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional clink of the glass against the table and the distant hum of the city outside.

The glass became a conduit for her musings, carrying the weight of her thoughts as she pondered the unexpected twists, the encounters that left her head spinning, and the undeniable shifts in relationships. Everything seemed burdened, complicated. As the night wore on, the glass emptied, and her thoughts grew hazier. Eventually, the weight became too much. She remembered sinking into the cushions of her sofa, the glass slipping from her fingers. Sleep claimed her, the complexities of life blending into dreams until the room was wrapped in a deep, velvety darkness.

The next few days passed, and the day of the first Chelsea game of the season quickly rolled around. As Y/N prepared for the match, the uncertainty surrounding Max lingered in her thoughts. The absence of any communication since the peculiar end to their evening left her grappling with a myriad of unanswered questions. She couldn’t bring herself to messaging him first, after all she was left with quite the bruised ego when he left like he did; so, the silence from Max had become a palpable void, and she started to accept the possibility that she might never receive the answers she sought.

Dressed in her favorite Chelsea shirt, with Mount 19 proudly displayed on the back; she made her way to the staduim, trying her best to push everything she felt about Max down to the pit of her stomach so she could be in the right frame of mind to not only support Mason but the whole team.

At Stamford Bridge, the buzz of anticipation hung in the air. Y/N took her seat in the family box, surrounded by the sea of Chelsea blue. Beside her, Louisa, Ben's girlfriend, struck up a conversation.

"Did you ever find out what was wrong with Mason that night at the gala?" Louisa inquired, her eyes fixed on the pitch as the players warmed up.

Y/N shook her head, her gaze following the familiar figure of Mason on the field. "No, I tried asking the next day, but he wouldn't say anything. It's been a bit weird since then."

As the game kicked off, Y/N found herself immersed in the ebb and flow of the match. The energy in the stadium was electric, and emotions swirled with each pass and tackle. Chelsea was facing Liverpool, a formidable opponent, and every moment felt charged with anticipation.

The clock ticked away, and tension mounted as both teams vied for control. Then, a surge of jubilation erupted through the stands. Mason had scored, his name echoing through the stadium as fans erupted in cheers. Chelsea took the lead, and the scoreboard displayed a triumphant 1-0.

Amidst the celebration, Y/N couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. Mason's goal was a bright spot in a narrative that had become increasingly complex, and as the final whistle blew, sealing Chelsea's victory, for once Y/N just let herself feel happy; freeing her momentarily of the stress of day to day life. Her team had just won a very important game, and her best friend was the reason for that.

The vibrant cheers echoed through the stadium as Chelsea celebrated a hard-fought victory against Liverpool. Mason, the star of the match, was awarded the title of man of the match, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she made her way down to the pitch to assist him with media obligations.

Amid the chaos of jubilant players and buzzing journalists, Y/N found Mason, his face adorned with a triumphant smile. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, offering a congratulatory kiss on his cheek. The elation of the win permeated the air as they navigated through the sea of celebrations.

Once Mason had spoken to seemingly every media outlet in the UK and was ready to head to the changing rooms, the rest of the team had been and gone. Anticipating this, Mason invited Y/N to come in with him as he got ready rather than her waiting outside for him.

Mason was midway through changing when Y/N decided to seize the quiet moment and address the lingering tension from the gala. Maybe there would have been a better time to do that rather than when Mason was stood shirtless only wearing a pair of football shorts, but Y/N was never one for picking her moments well.

"Mason, what was wrong with you the other night? You seemed so sad." she ventured, her tone a mix of firmness and concern.

Mason, in his usual deflective manner, offered a unconvincing, vague explanation about being stressed. But Y/N, remembering the promise they made after their tumultuous encounter in Spain, was determined to dig deeper.

"Come on, we promised each other after Spain that we would be more open," she reminded him, the charged atmosphere subtly drawing them closer.

He glanced at her, the defensive facade momentarily faltering. The seconds ticked by, intensifying the electric tension between them. Y/N, her voice now a gentle yet insistent whisper, pressed on.

"Tell me, Mason. I need to understand," she implored, their faces now only inches apart. As he sighed, wrestling with his internal turmoil, Y/N's hand found his, pulling him back towards her. Their proximity became palpable, both aware of the unspoken emotions lingering in the air.

"It was hard, okay?" Mason finally admitted, breaking the silence. "Seeing you with Max, all close and flirty. It messed with my head."

The confession hung in the air, a vulnerable admission. Y/N, her voice nothing more than a whisper, continued her quest for understanding.

"Why would that be hard for you?"

Mason, caught between the desire to retreat and the need for honesty, hesitated. Y/N, sensing the gravity of the moment, held onto his hand, their connection unspoken but profound. Their eyes locked, and Mason slowly, almost hesitantly, began to lean down, his eyes never leaving hers and his hands coming up to cradle her face. Time seemed to stretch, the anticipation building with each passing second.

Then, all at once, his lips met hers in a kiss that held the weight of unspoken emotions. It was a collision of feelings, a dance of two souls navigating the uncharted territory of their connection.

As their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, it was as if the world around them slowed down. Mason's touch was gentle, almost cautious, as if he was testing the waters of Y/N's response. His lips moved against hers with a delicate grace, and for a moment, the kiss hung in the air like a fragile connection.

But as Y/N's hands found their way into Mason's hair, threading through the strands, the nature of the kiss shifted. The softness gave way to a growing passion, a shared desire that couldn't be contained. Mason, feeling the response from Y/N, allowed himself to be pulled into the depths of the kiss. It became more than a simple meeting of lips; it turned into a dance of longing and unspoken emotions.

Their connection deepened, and the kiss became more fervent, more desperate, as if they were trying to convey all the unspoken words and unexpressed feelings through the intimacy of the moment and quickly things progressed with Y/N breaking their contact to pull her shirt over her head, leaving her stood there in just a Chelsea blue bra and skirt she wore to the game.

For the first time since he kissed her, Y/N made eye contact, gone were his soft, honey coloured eyes, replaced by dark orbs staring down at her. It was like he was trying to take a mental image of the woman standing in front of him, lips swollen and parted, very slightly panting from the breathlessness that came from kissing him.

A second passed where the pair just stood in front of each other, almost as if they were giving each other one last chance to back out before things went beyond the point of no return. The silence was deafening and after a beat they reattached themselves to each other, with Mason pulling her onto him as he backed up onto a bench and sat down, bringing her with him onto his lap. His lips finding her collarbone as his hands grabbed her ass. The way his expert lips sucked and nibbled her neck sent shockwaves through her body and she found herself grinding herself against his lap, desperate for anything that would help the dull ache coming from between her legs, eliciting a low moan from the man beneath her.

It was evident the effect that Y/N was having on Mason from the growing hardness that she could feel under her, and when she removed herself off of his lap and dropped down to her knees Mason had thought he had died and gone to heaven. For the first time since Mason had kissed her, one of them spoke, “Is this okay?” she asked him, her hands hovering just above the place where he needed her the most, prompting him to nod his head ferociously. “Yeah it’s good”

With that conformation, Y/N settled herself between his legs on the floor and began to place soft barely-there kisses down his stomach until she reached the waistband of his shorts. Mason was squirming, she hadn’t even touched him yet, but she seemed to have full control of him, something he had never experienced before. The second that Y/N’s hands went to lightly tug at his shorts, Mason was lifting himself of the bench, allowing her to pull down his shorts and underwear in one go.

The sight of Mason’s dick slapping his stomach as his shorts were pulled down was one to behold. Y/N would be lying if she said she had never imagined this, put one thing she never considered was that he would be this big. She watched the way it throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the way a bead of precum spilt from his tip. And then in a move that made Mason whine, she placed her hands at the base of his dick, and darted her tongue out to catch the droplet. The taste of him was musky, almost sweet; and the most addictive thing she had ever experienced. She went in again, very slowly placing her mouth around his tip and swirling her tongue around it.

“Oh fuck Y/N yo-” Mason’s voice was deeper than she had ever heard as he called out for her, but when she took him further in her mouth, his voice gave out. His hands found her hair, grabbing in into a makeshift ponytail as she continued to bob her head up and down on his dick, swirling her tongue as she did so.

It was becoming all too much for Mason, the sight of his best friend on her knees for him, making him feel this good. He quickly found himself close to cumming, but not wanting this to be over, he used his grip on her hair to gently pull her off of him.

“That felt so good baby, but I don’t want to cum yet” he told her when he caught sight of her pouting at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside of you Y/N, need to know how you’d feel squeezing tight against me” His words were sinful, and they made her desperate for him. He stood up, grabbing her hand to bring her up from her knees to before gesturing at her to sit down in the place he had vacated. Then he dropped to his knees, placed her legs over his shoulder and moved the fabric of her skirt out of the way, letting him see her soaked through panties.

He dived in, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on her clothed pussy, running his finger ever so gently across her, before hooking it under her underwear and pulling them off. The sight of her cunt, glistening and wet made him again, wish he could take photos with his mind. Never wanting to lose this image for so long as he lived.

“Please Mase” Y/N spoke, her voice breathy and desperate.

Mason didn’t need to be asked twice, bringing his mouth to her, licking a long strip across her slit before attaching his lips to her clit. The way he sucked at and nibbled her sensitive bud made her see stars. And when he brought his hand up to start pumping his fingers inside of her whilst still attacking her clit with his mouth, she quickly found herself close to the edge. His expert fingers curving up to her, making her legs tremble and her toes curl.

“Oh Masey, I’m so close please don’t stop” she whined in between heavy breaths. At her words, Mason sped up his actions, bringing her closer and closer to cumming until she finally reached her climax with a squeal, trapping Masons head between her legs as she squeezed them together in the sheer exstacy she was feeling.

Once she had released her grip on the man's head, he came up to kiss her, the kiss was needy and desperate, and she could taste herself on his tongue. It was utterly filthy, and she never wanted it to end. If she could, she would stay in this moment with Mason forever, wrapped up in him and their pleasure, nothing else. Nothing complicated or uncomfortable, just simply pleasure.

Mason pulled himself off of her lips and took his place back on the bench, swiftly pulling her onto his lap. His manhood nudging itself against her warm core. His lips reattached themselves to her neck, suckling and biting; leaving marks peppered against her skin. He pulled back and admired his work, admired how good her skin looked littered with his marks, the way it made her look like she was his, she was only his.

“I’m going to fuck you now, is that okay?” Mason said, reaching for his hard dick beneath her, pumping it in his fist, prompting Y/N to nod her head frantically, desperate for him. “No baby I need words, tell me you want this” He spoke again, wanting to be sure that this is what she wanted, wanting to be sure that she wouldn’t regret this.

“I want this, please Mason I want this so bad” she told him, becoming desperate, her wet cunt clenching around nothing in anticipation.

So, Mason did what she asked, and lined up his cock to her pussy, gripped her hips and brought her down onto him; strings of moans and cries falling from both of their mouths as he began to stretch her. Wanting to take control, Y/N placed her hands on Masons chest and began to ride him, grinding down onto him after each bounce. Mason was quickly becoming unglued, the way that that best friend bounced on his dick, clenching around him made him go crazy.

Y/N quickly found herself becoming closer and closer to the edge, and when Mason started to rub circles on her clit, she fell apart. Calling out for the man beneath her as she came on his dick, her cunt squeezing him tight. The sight of Y/N reaching climax meant Mason was not far behind. He spilled out inside of her, filling her up with his cum as he kissed her deeply, moaning into her mouth.

For a second, he stilled inside of her, resting his forehead against hers as they caught their breath. She kissed him one last time before getting up off of him, feeling his cum run down leg as she did so. She tried to find something to say, anything to say; but she came up with nothing. What could she say? What did this mean? The cloud of lust had dissipated and the gravity of what just happened began to sink in.

After they had come down from the high of the moment before, the air hung heavy with an unspoken tension. As they both processed what had just transpired, a palpable awkwardness settled between them. They found themselves in a silent ballet of getting dressed and composed, each movement filled with uncertainty. The room seemed to echo with the weight of the unspoken. In a fragile quiet, they avoided eye contact, unsure of what to say or how to navigate the aftermath of their unexpected moment together. The atmosphere became a canvas painted with uncertainty, the seconds ticking away in awkward silence.

It was in this vulnerable moment that Ben casually strolled into the changing room, unwittingly disrupting the delicate balance that lingered in the air. "Where've you two got to?" he asked, sensing that something unusual had occurred. Mason responded a little too quickly, "Just got to talking. Lost track of time."

Ben eyed them with a confused look, sensing there was more to it but deciding not to pry. "Well, we're going out for a few drinks to celebrate the win. You two coming?"

Mason nodded, "Yeah, I'll come."

Y/N, still caught in her own thoughts, didn't immediately respond. Ben noticed her distraction and asked, "What about you, Y/N? Coming for a celebratory drink?"

She hesitated, glancing at Mason. "I, uh, I've got some work to do," she started, realizing it was a flimsy excuse.

Ben raised an eyebrow, "Work? On a match day? Come on, just one drink."

Caught in the moment and not wanting to draw more attention to herself, Y/N reluctantly agreed, "Fine, just one drink."

The bar buzzed with celebration as the team and their partners reveled in the victory. However, amidst the cheerful atmosphere, an undeniable tension lingered between Mason and Y/N. It wasn't the palpable anger like last time; instead, it felt like an uncharted territory of discomfort, as if both were uncertain of how to address the recent shift in their relationship.

Y/N found herself sitting in a sea of voices, yet she remained silent, her gaze fixed on her drink, the weight of the unspoken hanging heavily. Ben, ever the most observant yet oblivious man in the room, couldn't help but notice a string of subtle marks on Y/N's neck, a telltale sign of a love bite. With a mischievous grin, he couldn't resist teasing her.

He grinned, "Looks like someone had a good time. Max, huh? You guys enjoy yourselves?"

The question hit the room like a sudden chill, drawing Mason's attention. His jaw tightened, and he clasped his glass a bit more firmly, an expression of annoyance flickering across his face. Reece, seated nearby, picked up on Mason's reaction, his eyes flicking between his friend and Y/N.

Y/N chuckled awkwardly, attempting to diffuse the situation by offering a half-hearted explanation. "Oh, that's just a burn from my hair straightener."

Ben, persistent in his teasing, pressed further, noting, "But you have naturally straight hair, don't you?"

Y/N squirmed under the spotlight, feeling the discomfort escalate. "Well, I straighten it every day," she mumbled, her attempt at normalcy faltering. Before Ben could continue his line of inquiry, Y/N's phone rang, offering a timely escape from the awkward conversation. She quickly grabbed her phone, signalling a temporary reprieve from the scrutinizing gazes and the unspoken tension between her and Mason.

The night air felt cool against Y/N's skin as she stepped outside and glanced at her phone, revealing Max's name on the screen. She felt her stomach drop at the sight of his name across her screen; she had accepted that she wouldn’t hear from him again. Hesitating for a moment, she considered not answering, still stung by the abrupt way he left.

Eventually, she sighed and pressed the answer button. "Hi," she greeted cautiously, uncertainty lacing her voice.

"Can we talk?" Max's voice, though warm, carried an undertone of hesitation.

Y/N swallowed, the remnants of hurt and confusion lingering. Nevertheless, she nodded silently, a tentative "yes" escaping her lips.

As Max began to unravel his thoughts, Y/N listened, her emotions swaying with each word. "I'm sorry," he confessed, a heavy sigh preceding the admission. "I panicked that night. I've been bouncing around, one meaningless nightstand after another, and I don't want us to be like that. All I wanted was to stay with you that night, but I want more than just a moment. I want us to be more than that. These feelings make me uncomfortable and weird, and I'm so unsure about everything in life. Except for one thing – I'm sure I want you."

Tag list-

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purpleyoonn · 1 year

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baby (you complete us) 2

C H A P T E R T W O

summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

chapter warnings: lots of insecurities, upset bangtan, determined bangtan, bangtan become simps, mentions of depression, mentions of disability, negative feelings towards disability,

masterlist // chapter 1 // chapter 3

taglist: @imnotlauriane @mageprincess7 @m1sss1mp @0funsite0 @strawberry-moonpies @this-isthe-way @singukieee @btsw1fe @gooooomz @fluffy-canada-pancakes @carolinexkpop @agusfree @sakurarukas @iamkookiesforyou @skyys-universe @toughbook @plutoneu @whisperssuga @welcometomyworld13 @yuzon3 @wittyreader @jnghs @cyd0129 @exfolitae @queen-in-the-shadows @nen-nyy @pandxthings @schniti-is-in-the-house @juju-227592 @jinseartharmysmoon @wooya1224 @ddaeng-angmoh @gratefullygrateful @rorythme @gratefullygrateful @kimrona @jjjj-ssi @maysgarden @lovelgirl22 @doublebunv @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @reallysparklychaos @jayjayy-57

permanent taglist: @yourleftsock @cryingpages @strxwbloody @drissteele @dustyinkpages @crushedblackroses @blaaiissee @iiitsmaria @azazel-nyx @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i @knjkitten @kleirielk @foreverweareyoung7 @lachimolala22019 @namuficxs @94z-93 @kimgmzmc @thenaverse @veronawrites

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Previously on baby (you complete us):

They had another soulmate.

One who had been wearing theirs for ten years.

One who had been messaging them.

And their last message said they lost hope and were going to take the bracelet off.

After receiving their soulmate notifications, Sejin had gathered them up quickly and brought them back to their dorms. They were all in shock, so many thoughts going through their minds. They didn’t need to be around others as they processed this. Sejin decided he would talk to his team, figure out what the needed to do next.

The boys remained glued to their home, their couches occupied by multiple bodies as none of them moved into their shared room. They had spent the past couple of days reading all of the messages you had sent, their hearts heavy as they read about your life, the good and the increasingly bad over the past four years.

Tissues and blankets were splayed over the room, their faces puffy as they come to the realization that their mate was an army, their songs helping your through the toughest points in your life, only for you to lose hope because of them. To believe that they wouldn’t want you at all.

Their hearts broke and their souls ached.

But they could only imagine how you felt. It did seem as though they didn’t want you, and they were unable to prove otherwise before you lost hope. You spent ten years hoping for them to come, only for them to come too late.

“Hyung…we have to find her.” Jungkook couldn’t help but sob, his grip on Taehyung tightening as he continued to read the messages over his older mate’s shoulder. Jin was behind Jungkook, holding him as he cried out.

Jungkook was your age, and he couldn’t stop himself from imagining your life, your expression as you told them about your days. He imagined his time with his mates, wondering what would have happened if they had found you sooner.

“I know.” Namjoon, too, was having trouble keeping himself closed off. His face was puffy and his face had tear stains marked down his cheeks. He held a pillow to his chest, looking over his mates as they cried in each other’s arms.

He had been messaging Sejin all morning, determined to find you. They started with your profile, the profile picture helping only a tiny bit. They had their social team looking through all social media, looking for a facial match. They also used any information given from your messages to find you.

Yoongi suggested going through info attained from medical records, remembering the man from Soul Connection had said something about it. That there may be connections if the person allowed. Someone on their team was in the middle of talking with the company, trying to get access to those records.

“We will find her, even if we have to make an announcement on Twitter.” The reassurance from their leader helped a little, but when they finished reading your messages, their heart ache turned into determination.

Jungkook was the first, going back to the very beginning and responding to each and every message you sent. The others soon following suit. Messages in some broken English and Korean were sent. It took another couple of days but the team was not able to find you.

Sejin said their best hope was to send out an announcement, and that if you were truly an army, you would see is and hopefully turn to the app. They would send you a message, telling you that they would like to talk to you and sending you the number of one of their translators.

Their only hope of finding you was if you were to see their announcement somehow.

They had to hope that you still wanted them, even if your actions spoke differently.

-*-*-

It had been almost a week since you had taken off your bracelet, consequently giving up the hope you had of ever finding your soulmates.

It was a weird feeling, almost as if you noticed even more the number of soulmates around you, like your heart was still hoping your soulmates would just show up, in front of you, or give you a sign at least that they were looking for you as well.

But you knew that wasn’t going to happen. If it did, it would have happened years ago. Soulmate bracelets had become common a couple years back, and almost everyone you knew wore one.

It was around 9 o’clock am and you were at your favorite café, your work laptop in front of you as shifted through emails, sending ones to trash as you deemed fit. You had a large coffee in front of you, refilled probably twice by now along with an empty plate that once held a lemon loaf slice.

The television played in the background as you listened to the sounds of the café, taking a small break so you don’t end up hurting your eyes even more. You had been there since they opened at five thirty, unable to sleep.

You had been having trouble sleeping since taking off the bracelet, attributing the issue to the different feeling of a weightless wrist. Change was always a motive for your body to have sleeping difficulties, unfortunately.

Rubbing your eyes, not caring about the left over makeup residue, you open them again only to catch sight of the television, one of your favorite kpop groups, BTS, was on it, well a picture of them was. It was followed by a twitter post, the word “soulmate” catching your eye.

You quickly close out your email and head to google, going straight to twitter and signing in. The first thing that came up was the post from the official Bighit account.

Hello.

This is BIGHIT MUSIC.

The collaboration BTS is doing with Soul ConnectionÔ has brought to our attention the presence of another soulmate within the already bonded group. All seven members have responded to the bracelet notification and are waiting for their soulmate to respond.

However, due to some unforeseen circumstances, they have been unable to get any information about their soulmate, as their profile is private due to either personal settings or from not wearing the bracelet.

We are asking that if their soulmate is reading this, that they please answer the messages that have been sent and get into contact with us.

This is of the utmost importance, as now that both parties are aware, soul symptoms are soon to begin and we wish to place importance upon the health of both parties.

Thank you.

The tweet was retweeted by BTS themselves, with the caption, “please help us, army.”

It had your mind racing, wondering if they were your mates, seeing as you had seven of them according to the app. You looked down at your mark, before looking away, a sigh leaving your lips.

There was no way BTS were your mates. Absolutely ridiculous.

Your brain was just trying to save you the heartache of being completely abandoned by your own soulmates, so it was coming up with ridiculous ideas to ease the pain. But it wasn’t going to work, as you were already familiar and comfortable with the idea of pain.

You decided that enough was enough for the day and decided to go home and actually enjoy your day off before your pushed past your limits. You knew them well enough, and always tended to teeter on the line of too much. You couldn’t help it, still kind of bitter about the years old diagnosis.

Picking up food on your way home, you managed to not need your cane, a silent thank you to the sky above as you pushed your door open with your hip. You placed the food on the small side table and your laptop bag on the floor besides your desk.

Just as you moved to open your takeout container, your phone was ringing from inside your sweatshirt pocket. Groaning, you pulled it out after putting your fork down.

“Hello?” You asked into the phone, not even bothering to take a second to check the name on your screen.

“Hey sis!” You sighed, knowing that your food was going to get cold before your sister ever decided to hang up the phone.

“Hey Ken. What’s up?” Your sister, Kennedy, was a fashion editor for some magazine in New York, having gotten an internship after graduation, where they ended up hiring her on. She’d been in New York for over seven years now.

“Nothing much, just saw the news and word on the street is that your lover boys have found their last soulmate. I just wanted to see if I could ease the poor heartbreak that I knew my baby sister would inevitably feel...Unless you have something to tell me?” You rolled your eyes at her, seeing that she hasn’t changed since you last saw her for your dad’s birthday the year before.

“Dude, I am not heartbroken, your dramatic.” You listen as she laughs into the phone. You completely ignore her joke that you might be their soulmate.

“Are you sure? If I remember correctly, just a couple months ago Daniel sent me a video of you drunk and crying because J-Hope posted a video of Jungkook and Jimin laughing.” You cringed, remembering this exact video, and how you proceeded to punch your brother the next morning for sending it to everyone.

“What did you say? “Why are they so smol and cute?” Was that it? No, I think you were pointing out how beautiful Jimin’s eye smile was. Aha! That’s it.” You could tell she was wearing a smirk on her lips, proud of reminding you about your drunken breakdown over Jimin’s smile. You would never live this down.

“Haha. Very funny. If I remember correctly, I still have a video of you on my phone trying to use my cane as a stripper pole and falling down on your ass, flashing everyone.” You bring up her own drunken mishap.

“I thought you deleted that!” She practically screamed through the phone, making your own smirk grow.

“Now why would I do that when you bring up my own drunk video every couple months. I gotta have something up my sleeve.” It was quiet for a couple minutes, your sister’s breathing the only thing coming through the receiver.

“Okay fine, truce for now?”

“Truce for now.” You repeat back your own little saying.

“But I really did call to check on you. I heard from Daniel that you haven’t been having the best week.” Another sigh leaves your lip as you think of your older brother.

You were the baby of the family, Kennedy being three years older than you and Daniel being the eldest, only two years older than Kennedy. They were both protective of you, of course, but Daniel had seen firsthand what the death of your mother and your medical diagnosis had put you through. Had seen you when you were at your worst when your sister was in New York, unable to get time off to help.

He visited you every weekend, and you had lunch with him every Wednesday, without fail, for the past three years. He took you to doctor’s appointment and was in the middle of helping you to make your home more accessible for when your body was pushed past its limits.

He offered to buy you a wheelchair, but you declined, saying you weren’t that bad yet. You knew mobility aids were expensive, and didn’t want him to have to pay for it.

“I’m fine Ken. Daniel is just being a worrywart like always.” You dismiss her concerns, not wanting anyone to worry about you.

“You know you can always talk to me about anything, right? I’m always here for you.”

“I know, Ken.”

The conversation only lasted for a couple more seconds before Kennedy hung up, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of you. You had closed yourself up those past couple years; Kennedy knew that not even messaging your mates on the soul app was helping anymore. She wondered if you still wore the bracelet, wondered if you had found them or not.

You spent the rest of the day lounging around your living room furniture, unable to get comfy as your hip decided to give you issues. It took three hours for you to finally find a comfy position, only for your mind to decide to linger on your sister’s words.

BTS had found their soulmate, and they were waiting on their soulmate to contact them. Usually, if there was a bond match, the private setting would shift so the matching soulmate could see their profile. The only way that BTS couldn’t see their matches profile but see their picture or send a message was if the soulmate in question was no longer wearing their bracelet or hadn’t worn it yet.

It had your thoughts whirling. It all seemed too coincidental in your mind. The night you take yours off, BTS supposedly finds their missing soulmate through the bracelet. You kept telling yourself that there was no way, that you were just delusional.

But there was a very small part of you that thought, maybe it is me.

And unfortunately for you, that thought beat out your other ones in a competitive battle.

You made your way to your room, to the junk drawer in your dresser that held the bracelet. Once you put it on, you knew your app would update, and you would be able to access your soul profile. If you were their soulmate, on the very miniscule percentage that you were, you would see a notification in your messages.

You held the bracelet in your hands, just observing it, wondering if you were getting your hopes up once again, not sure if you could pick up the pieces this time. After several minutes, you finally plucked up the courage and strapped the bracelet on your left wrist, just over your mark.

Your mark was a single moon phase, the full moon in particular. You were under the impression that your seven mates held the other phases on their own wrists, creating the full cycle. Once you had the bracelet on correctly, you turned to your phone, pulling it out and almost immediately getting the notification that the Soul Connection app had been updated.

You opened it, waited for it to load, and paused when you saw the number 654, the little red bubble sitting at the corner of your messages tab. You couldn’t believe it. You had over thirty notifications, six hundred plus messages in your inbox, and seven matches to your profile.

It had to be a coincidence.

It had to be a coincidence that you had seven matches within the time you had taken off your bracelet, and that they had put theirs on.

You clicked on the messages first, tears coming to your eyes as you scrolled all the way to the top, replies waiting to be clicked on for every single one of the messages you have sent over the past ten years.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, needing to rub your tired eyes more than once as English and Korean replies were sent, responding to each and every one of your own messages. Hundreds of apologies written as you scrolled, each one sorry for waiting so long to wear their bracelets.

You moved over to the ‘matches’ button, needing to confirm with your own thoughts what was happening. And there it was, seven matches, their profile pictures and names only confirmed that you were the missing soulmate to BTS.

Next Chapter

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