#sorry my updates have been more scattered

[gemissleeping]

Moonlight & Masks

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

Length: 1.8k

Notes: Back from the dead (I am so sorry things are hectic and I don’t want to release a chapter I’m not feeling) with this little one from @thatdammchickennugget’s Hogmarch Challenge! Death Eater Theo. Use of the killing curse. Angst as always because we know I live for the drama. For those of you wanting more Veleveteen, in my head this occurs in the same story universe (which I know isn’t the same as an update pls forgive my sins). Not proofread, we have deadlines to meet.

The sting of lightning hung in the air as she weaved through the trees. The thundering footfall still pressing behind her. Lungs burning with need, she pressed on. Dizzied from the turbulent descent she and Mad Eye had suffered.

Alastor. He was dead.

She hadn’t even been able to take his body from the dirt where it had fallen. And the Death Eaters certainly wouldn’t afford him the dignity of a proper burial.

Tears clawed at her cheeks as she bounded over the tree roots twisting across the forest floor. Thinking only of Mad Eye, the way his voice had simply ceased when the curse had hit him. No cry of pain, no strangled wail. Only silence.

Her grip on her wand tightened as her tears ran hot. The taunting laugh of one of her pursuers echoing through the trees as they crashed after her. The darkness spinning endlessly around her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Gone were the rules they had been taught to play by. Humanity sacrificed for power. Thoughtless with rage, she cast back her wand into the leering shadows. Letting the words fall from her lips before her heart could catch them.

Avada Kedavra

The green light felt as though it tore right through her as it ricocheted from her wand. Scattering through the trees and hitting its mark with a crack. Ripping at her chest with blistering heat, forcing her ribs apart until the spell dissipated. The laughter ceased. That same absence that had followed earlier resting through the trees. She was dragged to a still.

The force of the spell brought her to her knees. Bark breaking the skin of her palms, blood blooming as she fell forward in agony. She felt it being torn from her throat just now; some vital piece of herself. What she had given to cast the curse. The crack rung through her ears. Trailing her even as its ringing grew soft, faded into the background of the forest’s creaks and stutters. She could feel the heaving of her chest, dizzied by the absence that had been dug into her.

Before she could break upon the forest floor completely, the snap of a twig behind her brought reality rearing back. Whipping to face the darkness, she searched the teasing shadows that surrounded her. Nothing answered but the wind. She pushed herself up on bloody palms, staggering towards the nearest tree. Catching the glint of a metal smile hit by moonlight as she turned. But it was too late.

The Death Eater was on her in a second, wand jammed to her throat. One hand wrenching her head back by the hair. A mutilated snarl coming from the unmoving mask.

“Potter.”

She still had Harry’s face.

The figure towered before her, gloved hand pulling harshly at her hair as she strained against their grip. More tears pricking at her eyes as she faced the smooth and indifferent wall between them. Both of them were wearing masks really. But the thought brought little comfort to the nausea biting at her.

She was going to die someone else.

Wand to her throat, she closed her eyes. Preparing for the flurry of hot green light. Perhaps it was what she deserved, it could be a mercy. This way she would never have to truly face what she had done. There was no doubt in her mind that the person before her would finish the job. And yet she waited, but nothing came.

Opening her eyes once again she found him watching her carefully. Blue eyes clouded with something foreign, his silver mask lodged in the dirt at their feet. Looking at her with nothing but quiet restraint. She felt her throat close at the sight of him, all defences leaving her as she stared up at the boy before her.

“I asked something of you, when I saw you last,” Theo spoke lowly, wand still jammed to her throat as though he didn’t fully trust the person he saw before him. “Do you have an answer for me?” His voice fell flat against the forest air, low and heavy as his empty eyes.

His words sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. The events of the past ten minutes threatening to bring everything up from her stomach. She wanted to fall into his chest and let his robes soak up her tears. To slice her palm clean across his cheek. Fall to the forest floor and not get up. Beg him to finish the job.

But instead, she did as she was told; she stayed quiet. Like the good little soldier they had taught her to be. Counting the freckles and moles that dotted the skin of his cheeks like they were her favourite constellations.

“Answer the question,” Theo snarled again, shoving her back forcefully. Back hitting the jagged edges of bark with an audible crack as a groan left her. Still she didn’t speak, blinking up at him as her head spun from when it had made contact with the tree.

“I’ll do it Potter,” he hissed lowly. His wand cutting further into her throat as she struggled to breathe under its pressure. He barely seemed to notice, staring down at her with empty eyes. “Don’t think I won’t just because you have something I want.”

She only watched him carefully, trying not to let herself give it away as she watched him. Staving off the clouds of memory that threatened to consume her at the sight of him.

“No?” He chimed, a sharp edge to his warm voice, “Very well.”

He drew a breathe, anger taking him in its burning grip. But just as the curse he had planned to cast was forming a whisper of air on his lips; she felt it. The rippling beneath her skin. Pulling and tugging and melting at the fibres of her. She bit her tongue as the pain of it ripped through her. Reforming beneath the skin as everything cracked and popped in and out of place. Until only she remained, swimming in Harry’s ridiculous hoodie.

Theo still had her pressed against the tree, all colour drained from his face as he watched the skin seem to melt and reform on her bones. His hands began to shake. She watched him with distant eyes, trying to hold onto what little restraint remained.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely, her throat aching from the potion’s due course. Theo’s wand still hesitantly pressed to the delicate skin of her throat. “Can’t do it anymore?”

It happened like the break of a dam. Her name fell from his lips in a rush of credence. Lips falling apart at the sight of her before him, what he’d almost done without realising. His wand dropped in a stagger, as though she had struck him. The darkness of the forest enclosing around them.

“You left me there,” he breathed suddenly, as though it hadn’t meant to come out. She blinked up at him as confusion swept her. But the lost look he carried only washed away as his eyes hardened.

“What?” she breathed.

“You left me there alone,” he spoke again, ignited with a sudden rage. His words were like kindling to her own. Her brow cracking with anger.

“No, Theo,” her voice shook, “you left me.” Theo looked to the ground, shaking his head gently in denial. He took a hesitant step forwards, as though to reach for her. But she stepped back, her spine hitting the tree. “Do you know how much I had to go through alone before I got out of there? Because you were too busy running off with Draco, or-”

He closed the distance between them with a blistering intensity.

“Do you know what it’s been like since? Without you?” It came out in a boiling whisper. “He wants your head almost as much as he wants Potter’s,” Theo’s eyes softened at the words, swept up in whatever memory they procured. “And I just have to sit there and take it, listening to the vile things they plan to do to you. Knowing there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about any of it, except for-”

He didn’t have to say it, the break of his voice said enough. The way his eyes fled from her own. He had meant to kill her.

“Why don’t you do it then?” She whispered, eyes brimming with more tears. Looking to the boy she had loved since she was too young to understand the word. “It would save me the-”

“Stop it.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? For leaving you. You said so yourself, in your letter. I read it you know.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you’ve cast it before-”

“I said stop,” he bellowed, pressing himself against her in a flash of pent up fury. His body flush against hers as his chest heaved with the weight of his rage. “Even if I wanted to,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear, “I can’t.” His hands tightened into fists, “He wants to do it himself.”

He peeled himself away from her, as though every inch of his skin that couldn’t feel hers was the worst form of torture. Drinking in every part of her except for her eyes, which he couldn’t bring himself to meet. She searched his, begging him to pull himself to meet hers.

“Is it that?” She breathed, fearful eyes rounded as she looked up to him. Searching for that thread that had always hung between them. His eyes grew tense as he saw what thoughts lay in hers, “Or is it because-”

“Stop.”

-you love me.

“Don’t,” he snapped, but even the sharp edge of his voice couldn’t distract from the despair swimming in his eyes. “Please,” he breathed, his head dipping towards her neck in defeat, but not daring to brush the skin, “don’t.”

He wanted to hold her, let his fingers trail across her cheeks, brush his thumb over her eyelashes. Just to make sure it was really her. Not some cruel trick made out to test his loyalty. But instead he let his breath fan across the bare skin of her neck. Knowing it was the only way he could allow himself to touch her.

“It was you I asked after,” his confession fell dead against the skin of her neck. He heard the breath she drew as though it was taken from him. Felt himself unravelling being so close to her now, after months of waiting and silence and searching.

Fuck it.

He’d be flayed for it, but everything could be damned. None of it mattered if he could feel her lips on his again. His hands flew to the delicate skin of her cheeks. Palms soaking in the remainder of her tears as his lips met hers. They parted effortlessly for him, welcoming him in as though she had been waiting just as he had. The softness of her lips balancing against his hunger. Her head tilted towards him, completely at his mercy beneath his calloused palms. Just as she should have been all this time.

#gemwrites #hogmarch challenge #hogmarch #thatdamnchickennugget #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fic #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader

[lol-im-done]

First Lady of Panem

Pairing: Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When your family arrived to the Capitol from District Ten to secure their place as one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Panem you could have never dreamed fate would lead you into the arms of Coriolanus Snow. Falling in love was easy, watching him become President and becoming First Lady of Panem at his side would test your limits. Panem's history would forever be changed by this union.

AO3 Link

Author's Note: TW & Tags will be updated as each chapter comes out, first chapter is just to set up the story & characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Sky Blue Eyes

Those bluebonnets how sweetly they grow

For all the wide prairies they're scattered like snow

They make all the meadows as blue as the skies

Reminding me of my darlings blue eyes

The cow-filled prairies shifted to mountains signaling the train's entrance into District Two as you hummed to the tune of an old song from before Panem’s creation. The sprawling grass sea of District Ten, of your home, disappeared in the distance as you made your way to the heart of Panem. 

“Darling, are you listening to me?”

Lifting your head from the rattling window you turned to see your mother looking at you with soft concern. 

“Sorry Mama, what were you asking?”

Her hand smoothed over your younger sister Mellona’s curls, making her nuzzle deeper into her side. “I was asking if you were hungry so I could order lunch.”

“That would be nice Mama. Thank you.” 

“Alright, call for Agnes if you need anything she’s in the next car,” your mother stands, lays a snoozing Mellona down, before making her way to the dining car. 

“Homesick already?” Victoriosa, the eldest, asks from the chaise never taking her eyes off the magazine in her hands. 

“Is it that obvious?” 

“We always knew we’d have to move to the Capitol.”

“Why now? I thought at least another year or two,” you asked, sinking into the plush leather seat. Victoriosa pauses, looks up at you and for an instant you can see your father’s intense expression staring back at you. 

“Papa wants to finally establish himself as a prominent figure in the Capitol. He needs Capitol support if he is to fully absorb the rest of the ranches, you know that,” she states. “This is also our opportunity to reach our full potential, choose our own paths. Once you finish your career you can always return to Ten if you wish but that would be a waste,” she returns to flipping through her magazine.

“Silva, what do you think?” you turn to your only brother who is seated next to you. 

He gives a short shrug. “I don’t mind it much as long as I can continue my research,” Silva sighs from behind his thick textbook. 

Victoriosa tilts her lithe neck backwards, “Yawnnnnn.” A snort leaves your lips and you’re grateful your mother isn’t nearby to reprimand you for your ‘unladylike’ behavior. 

“Biodiversity is the pinnacle of our success as cattle breeders!” Silva scowls. 

“I thought you’d be missing a certain milkmaid Carpathia,” Victoriosa smirks and a wild blush spreads under Silva’s glasses.  

“Oh like you’ll be missing your ranch hand Bronco,” Silva snaps back.

“There’s always summertime. Plenty of time to catch up,” Victoriosa grins like the cat who got the cream. The three of you burst into a fit of giggles right as Mellona groggily rouses from her nap. 

“Are we there yet?” 

Another burst of laughter fills the private train car. 

It would only take a few more hours before you arrived at the Capitol train station, nightfall falling over the city. Unlike District Ten, not all the stars were visible, the Capitol’s bright lights polluting the sky. Peacekeepers were already stationed to help move all the luggage into the waiting line of cars. Driving through the streets towards your new home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the statues in the squares and the towering buildings. Most of all you were excited to finally see your father, it had been almost a month since you had seen him last. 

“Papa!” 

All of you crashed into Alicio Lupus’ awaiting arms, his rumbling chuckle bouncing off the high marble ceilings of the penthouse. Refugio joins in on the hug with teary eyes, reaching up to press a kiss on her beloved husband’s cheek.

“Welcome home my darlings,” he squeezes you all tighter. Any fear you held disappeared in an instant, as long as you had your family by your side, all would be well. 

The first few weeks in the Capitol had been a whirlwind- meeting other Capitol families for dinner, registration for coveted internships and school courses, and endless shopping trips to assure your home and wardrobes were up to Capitol standards. Refugio Lupus wanted only the best for her children, which included constantly coaching you all to leave behind the District Ten accent that made certain words in your vocabulary drawl. 

After dinner one day you thought you had finally caught a moment of peace before a knock at your door startled you from your book. Agnes, your family's nanny, rolled in a rack of dresses with Victoriosa in tow. Victoriosa was already dressed in a sleek blood red dress with a mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders. 

“What’s all this?”

“We’ve been invited to a soirée to commemorate the end of the 13th Hunger Games. Papa thinks it’s a good chance to introduce us to others in the Capitol’s high society,” Victoriosa swept her arm towards the rack of glittering and ruffled dresses. Nerves made your stomach churn, mouth turning downwards into a frown as you remembered people’s faces this past week when it was revealed you had recently arrived from District Ten. Most look startled before looking at you like you were some exotic bird at the zoo. 

“They’ll never accept us.”

A prideful look crossed her face, so similar to your father’s. No wonder your mother said they were cut from the same stone. “They will once we show them we are as refined as they are. As long as you lose that accent of yours you’ll blend in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she grinned, canines glinting in the light of the chandelier. Rolling your eyes you step over to the rack, feeling the fabrics under your fingers. Stopping at a silver dress, the sequins twinkled like stars entrancing you. Agnes helped dress you before getting to work on sweeping your hair up into a fashionable updo. You waved away the highly pigmented makeup, not ready to delve into that side of Capitol fashion quite yet. 

“Remember you’re a Lupus. We’re wolves among sheep,” Victoriosa pinches your cheek. The usual calluses that adorned her hands were gone, chemical treatments making them a long forgotten memory. 

Wolves among sheep. 

Victoriosa’s words replay through your head like a mantra as you step into the grand ballroom behind her and your father. Thankfully your sister was a gifted extrovert, introducing you to the friends she had already made. Soon you found yourself surrounded by members of the new Gamemaker class, a glass of posca in your hand. It took some time but slowly your shoulders loosened and your smile widened, confidence making you stand a bit taller. 

Across the ballroom, Coriolanus Snow was repeating his own mantra to himself- Snow always lands on top. A reminder that showing up for another Capitol soirée wasn’t simply a waste of time but another way to show all these sycophants how high he had made it. Now heir to the Plinth fortune he was dressed impeccably. Tigris had helped style him, no more handmade shirts, and the final touch- Grandma’am’s rose pinned to his lapel. Like at most parties he was surrounded by his former classmates who were all desperate to remain in his inner circle- he was an esteemed Gamemaker after all. A glimmer in the distance caught his eye, distracting him from the meaningless chatter before him. He recognized the group as intern Gamemakers but not the young woman, fresh faced and glowing in the candlelight. 

“Who is that?” Coriolanus feigned nonchalance as he tilted his head towards her. 

Festus Creed followed his gaze, “Don’t you know?” 

“How could he know? The Lupus Family only recently decided to establish here in the Capitol,” Pup Harrington said in between bites of hors d'oeuvres. The name rang a bell, stories and information from his various connections coming to mind. 

“I believe that’s (Y/N) Lupus. I saw her the other day with her father, Alicio Lupus, at my mother’s bank” Livia Cardew said, inching closer to Coriolanus. “They practically own all the ranches in District Ten, Alicio Lupus’ brother is the Mayor of the District,” Livia whispered, lips coming close to his ear. Festus and Pup exchange an eye roll at her shamelessness and Coriolanus resisted the urge to shrug her off. Offending a Cardew would never bode well.  

“She’s district, probably going back and forth from Ten to the Capitol like one of her family’s pigs,” Livia giggled, but it sounded like grating metal in Coriolanus’ ears. 

“Don’t forget cows! Oh Panem, I dream about those steaks-,” Pup practically salivated. 

“Imagine living all your life in that District, like poor Sejanus,” Festus tutted. Coriolanus immediately bristled at the mention of Sejanus, his icy blue eyes darkening like an impending storm. Festus must have realized his mistake because his eyes widened, apology on the tip of his tongue before Coriolanus cut him off. 

“I should go make her acquaintance then,” he announces, ignoring Livia’s scowl. It was an opportune moment he thought as you now stood by the bar alone. Perhaps you would be desperate enough to try and get in his good graces, and offer to introduce him to your father. Coriolanus would be a fool not to recognize the Lupus family’s wealth and influence, they kept the Districts fed and the Capitol fat. Any potential relationship he could make was more support he could need when he would take a position in the Government. 

As you took another swig of posca, you thought you had managed to escape more social interactions for the night until a voice made you jump. 

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus Snow. Welcome to the Capitol.”

Turning around you looked up at the man’s captivating eyes, as blue as the sky back home. His pink lips curled slightly at the ends as if he was holding in a secret. Blonde hair pushed back in a neat fashion, accentuating his cheekbones. For a moment you were speechless. Remembering yourself, you gave him your name but you had a feeling he already knew it. 

“Pleasure to meet you Coriolanus Snow.”

His stomach swooped. Coriolanus swore he heard a familiar lilt in your voice, but it was not as strong as Lucy Gray’s and those in District Twelve. No, yours was smoother and made your pronunciation of his name sound like it was dipped in warm honey. 

“How are you finding the Capitol?”, he forces himself to ask, to ignore those dangerous thoughts. 

“It's something...definitely not like back home,” you look around at the extravagant decor. 

“Ah yes, District Ten. I’ve never made my way there but I’ve heard wonderful things,” the lie flows smoothly past his lips. “How grateful you must feel to finally be brought to us.” 

Coriolanus would never miss a chance at making anyone District born feel inferior, all the posca he had been drinking making him loose lipped tonight. Indignation made your hands tingle, but you took a deep breath and clenched the glass tighter in your hands to ground you. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t assigned there as a Peacekeeper. I suppose wherever the songbird called from you followed,” you replied, taking a demure sip from your glass, relishing in the way his jaw tensed. You knew who he was, his story with Lucy Gray Baird. Victoriosa had heard it all from a friend and had no qualms in passing the gossip down to you. If he was going to throw thinly veiled insults you’d have to show him you wouldn’t take them lying down. 

“There’s that famous Lupus bite I’ve heard about,” he grins, taking a step closer to you. The scent of roses fills your nose, the sudden proximity to him making a blush rise up your neck. His hand reached out, moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear but the moment was broken when Victoriosa called out for you, pointing to your father who was making his way out the doors. 

“If you’ll excuse me it’s time for me to get home. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” you murmured softly, dipping your head in farewell. Coriolanus stepped back with a slight bow, eyes never straying from your figure as you sauntered away. Oh yes, like two stars crossing in the night sky, you would meet again. Coriolanus would make sure of it. 

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas

[bro-atz]

dancing with the devil

in which: someone wants you eliminate you from this world, and they hire seonghwa to do it.

pair: assassin!seonghwa/afab!reader

word count: 4k

content: angst, smut, bedroom sex, suspense, murder, seonghwa kinda being a sleazebag, plot twists?, completely consensual (sex)!

author's note: i listened to devil by wonho while writing this, but when arriba comes out, listen to that and read this. also... just know that i am truly very extremely horribly completely sorry for what i have done. (update: after listening to arriba... devil fits better oop)

tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis apply for the permanent taglist here! part one | part two

Seonghwa was the devil. Well, technically, he was human, but he was definitely not an angel. He was smooth, suave, sexy. He was manipulative, having a way with words like no other, and he was cunning, adjusting his plan to fit whatever situation he was in better. Above all, he was dedicated to his career. You could consider him to be Jason Bourne— a ruthless assassin hired by the powerful and feared by most, except he had all his memories and knew exactly what he was doing, and the number one thing that drove him to do what he did was money. Seonghwa was all about that money.

“Ah, Mr. Park. Come, I’ve been expecting you,” Seonghwa’s client greeted him as he entered the office.

Seonghwa looked around. It was a nice office with a stellar view of the city and high end furniture, bookshelves spread across the walls— the office of a corporate lawyer. Seonghwa started doing the calculations on his head on how much money he could milk out of this client.

“Please, have a seat,” the man gestured to the arm chair across from his desk with a smile on his face.

Seonghwa took his seat, crossing his slender legs and leaning back in the chair to make himself comfortable. “So, Mr. Song,” he said with a quiet voice. “Who’s the target?”

Mr. Song’s smile slightly fell, completely taken aback by Seonghwa’s no-shit attitude. Seonghwa was a man who liked to get straight to the point because time was money, and he liked to get through targets quickly.

“This woman, Y/N,” Mr. Song scattered a bunch of photographs on his desk. Seonghwa picked up one of the photos and looked at it as the lawyer continued, “She caught me burying evidence to manipulate a case, and she threatened me that she was going to do more digging and find all the cases I manipulated. I don’t want or need that to happen. Get rid of her.”

Seonghwa looked at the photograph with a straight face, but his heart couldn’t deny it— he was definitely attracted to you, and just through a piece of paper no less. He slightly worried for his sanity upon seeing you in person, but that was a later problem. Right now, he needed more information.

“Alright. Do you need me to follow her around or—”

“No need. She’s going to be at a party tonight for the opening of a new firm. Do it then. I need her gone as soon as possible.”

“Okay, Mr. Song, that’s going to cost you a bit of money for the lack of proper notice—”

“I don’t give a fuck. I’ll give you all the money you want, just fucking do it.”

A slight smirk appeared on Seonghwa’s face. He gestured for the man to give him a pen and post-it note, scribbled an amount on there, and passed it to the lawyer.

“I’ll have my secretary transfer this to you immediately.”

Mr. Song really wasn’t kidding when he said he’d give Seonghwa all the money he wanted— he wrote down six-figures as a joke, but he wasn’t going to say no to free money. He stood up and held his hand out for the lawyer to shake.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Song.”

“Great. Along with the transfer, my secretary will send you a copy of the invitation for tonight’s party. I would like you to get there before she does, then rid of her however you please.”

“Y/N! You should leave your firm and come work with me,” a man said cheerily to you upon seeing you.

“No thanks, Wooyoung,” you responded with a pleasant smile. “I love you and Yunho, but my last name plus Jung and Jeong would not be as cute.”

“If it’s the aesthetic that’s holding you back, then we can just get rid of him,” Yunho appeared by your side the second you mentioned his name. “We’ll be Jeong and—”

“Nope! My name comes first. Ladies first, after all.”

You laughed alongside the managing partners from other firms that had been invited to that night’s party— you knew most if not all of the managing partners and got along with most of them pretty well. There was one man in particular, though, that you were not keen on seeing.

“Looking for me, babe?”

You felt a hand slide along the exposed skin on your back, only for that arm to hug your waist and bring you close. Just from the first touch, you knew exactly who it was.

“Look at you in this dress… This backless, tight, sexy, white dress,” he whispered in your ear. “You look just like an angel. I could just eat you up, Y/N.”

“In your dreams, San,” you pushed the man away, your palm in his face.

“Also, what’re you doing in your free time eating angels?” Yunho questioned San.

“Ever heard of Angel Food Cake, dumbass?”

“So I’m a cake now…”

“Oh yeah, totally babes,” San returned right to your side and brushed his nose past your jawline. “Your ass in that dress? Double cheeked up on a—”

“Jongho! Can you get your horny managing partner out of here?” Wooyoung complained loudly as he locked eyes with the man, Jongho.

“San, I swear to God, I’m going to change our firm name from Choi and Choi to just Choi if you don’t leave that poor woman alone,” Jongho said with a heavy sigh.

“You’ll leave the firm?” San asked.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jongho pinched San’s ear and tugged him away. “We’ll be in the corner learning manners if you need us!”

You, Wooyoung, and Yunho all waved goodbye to the bickering firm partners, and your eyes returned to scanning the crowd. Little did you know that there was a certain someone keeping his eye on you, waiting for the perfect chance to introduce himself as you looked around the room to avoid the lawyer you had major issues with.

“Who are you looking for?” Wooyoung asked you, picking up on your silence.

“Oh, uh, no one really…” you answered trying not to divulge any information.

Before Wooyoung could press further, you heard a deep voice say from afar, “Wooyoung! There you are! Oh, and Yunho? Perfect!”

“Hi, Attorney Kang,” you greeted Yeosang with a wide grin when the man arrived at your little group.

“Hello to you too, Y/N,” Yeosang responded with a wink, intentionally using your first name to subtly flirt with you. “Would you mind if I stole these two jackasses from you?”

“Jackasses?!” Wooyoung and Yunho chorused.

“By all means.”

You laughed as you watched both Wooyoung’s face and Yunho’s face go from shocked to betrayed, and before they could say anything to you, Yeosang was already dragging them away with his immense power.

And so, you stood at the standing table alone, looking over your shoulder so you wouldn’t see Attorney Song or his firm partner, Kim Hongjoong, anywhere. In fact, you were so distracted, that you didn’t realize someone had joined you at the table.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a place like this? What if a disgusting senior partner tried to pull moves on you?” the person asked.

“Aren’t you the dis—” you turned to tell the guy off, only to immediately bite your tongue— there was no way in hell you were going to be able to call this man disgusting when he was drop dead gorgeous to the point where he was practically sparkling (making you wonder how you missed his presence in the first place).

“Aren’t I what?” he asked, amusement laced in his question.

“I thought you were someone else…”

“Like who?”

“Well, one of those disgusting lawyers you were talking about… But you definitely are not one of them.”

“No, I am not, angel.”

Along with the nickname, he smiled at you in what you could only describe as genuine and sweet, like he truly wanted to get to know you, and you were drawn to him instantly like a moth to a flame. You held your hand out for him and said, “Y/N.”

Instead of shaking your hand, he completely took you by surprise when he took your hand and left a light kiss on the back of your hand. Your face got hot instantly when he looked up at you with the most incredible sexy and yet soft eyes.

“Seonghwa.”

Not to sound like an absolute sleazebag, but female targets were always so easy for Seonghwa— just give them a few compliments and make them feel like the only girl in the world, and she’s in bed with you in two seconds flat. Also, it helped that he was an attractive man, but regardless, it was that easy for him.

Things with you, however, were different. The compliments Seonghwa fed you were not canned responses that he had at his disposal. They were legitimate. The attraction he felt for you carried from the photographs he saw earlier that day to the real you, and he was truly smitten. Of course, you didn’t know that. All you knew was that this stranger was oddly comfortable and made you want to let down your hair and go wild.

“Tell me the truth, angel,” Seonghwa said to you in a hushed voice as the two of you stood outside the banquet hall against a railing and under the starry sky. “What made you decide on wearing this dress?”

“What, this old thing?” you giggled. “It’s always fun to make the male lawyers ogle, especially the older ones when they’re with their wives.”

“Well, yes, you can do that with this dress, but you can do that with other dresses too. For instance…”

Seonghwa’s fingertips crawled over your exposed waist and to the small of your back, then he trailed a finger up your spine, your back arching and bringing you closer to the railing. You had to stifle a moan the further up your back his finger went.

“You went with a dress that’s shows off the beautiful curves of your waist and is fully revealing in the back,” Seonghwa’s lips were right next to your ear, his hot breath making you flush. He then turned you so that you faced him and continued, “But conservative in the front… When you could’ve found a dress that further enhanced your body. One where the neck line goes from here—”

He traced a line from the middle of your neck down to the space right in between your breasts. “—to here. And one without full length sleeves…”

His fingers tiptoed along your arm from your wrist to your shoulder, his hand then resting on the back of your head. He planted his fingers in the roots of your hair and yanked back roughly, but not painfully, sending tingles down your arms and legs. With his free hand, he hugged your waist and brought you close, your hands automatically holding onto his shoulders. You held your breath as he brought his face close to yours— you automatically shut your eyes thinking he was going to kiss you, but instead he brought his lips back to your ear and said, “However, I’d prefer if you wore nothing. I think other men would too.”

A hint of a smirk lingered on his face as he leaned back to look at your flustered face. You audibly gulped upon seeing the man’s eyes darken. His firm grasp of your hair loosened slightly, but you didn’t want his hand going anywhere. You placed your hand over his and held it while pushing yourself further into him.

“If that’s the case, then I can make that happen for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

Seonghwa held you tighter, his hand rooted in your hair once more. You had one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his shoulder as you gazed into his intense eyes waiting for him to make a move, any move.

“Yeah,” you responded with a nod.

His lips brushed past yours as he responded, “Let’s make it happen then, angel.”

With that, Seonghwa pressed his incredibly posh, ruby lips against yours, electricity running through your entire body. You felt your stomach flip and your pussy heat up the more intensely he kissed you, and fireworks erupted all throughout your body when you felt his hand move from your waist to your breast, only for the man to immediately smile against your lips.

“Ah, I was wondering if you were wearing pasties or not,” he snickered. “You went fully commando tonight, huh?”

“Anything for the dress.”

The second Seonghwa brought you to his place, he tore his suit jacket off, bent you over the kitchen countertop, and pulled the length of your dress up and over your ass, the material bunched up in his fist; and since you had gone commando, the first thing he did was kneel and run his tongue along your folds. Your legs trembled and struggled to keep you upright even with the added assistance of Seonghwa’s firm hands clenching your thighs then ass.

You gasped and looked up to the ceiling as you felt Seonghwa’s insane tongue flick your clit rapidly, waves of pleasure rushing over you one after the other. You were gripping onto the countertop with all of your might, your knuckles just as white as your dress by that point. He continued to suck and slurp your sweet arousal fluid, the noises of him just eating you out enough to send you spiraling.

“Oh, angel…” Seonghwa suddenly pulled away from you when he saw your grip on the countertop (and reality) loosen. “You don’t get to cum yet.”

“W-what do you mean?” you panted and blinked tears out of your eyes while attempting to turn and look at him.

Seonghwa stood up and unbuckled his belt. The belt fell to the ground, and moments later, he had slid his pants and briefs down just enough to release his throbbing, impatient cock. He immediately brought the tip to rub up and down your folds, one hand guiding his dick while the other worked on unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“You only get to cum when I say you can,” Seonghwa said roughly, his low voice turning you on even more— which you didn’t think was even possible at that point.

“Please, Seonghwa… I’m so close…” you whined.

You heard him tear open a condom packet. Seonghwa rolled the condom on, and seconds after teasing you and rubbing the head along your folds, he pushed his way into your dripping pussy, sending your waist into the marble counter. You thought that the impact was going to hurt, but it didn’t, and it was because Seonghwa was holding your waist and bringing you towards him as he thrust into you, making his thrusts twice as strong.

“Ugh, Y/N. You’re so tight— my dick is going to explode,” the man groaned, his lovely voice echoing in your ear.

Then, he changed the angle he was thrusting at. His cock brushed past your G-spot a couple times before stars fill your vision.

“Oh, oh, oh God, Seonghwa! Please, I wanna cum,” you begged him with a sob as you held back your orgasm to the best of your ability. “Let me cum. I want to cum so bad. Please, please, please.”

Hearing you beg and cry for him to let you finish excited him. He bent over and licked your back before whispering, “Go ahead, angel. Cum for me.”

You cried out and gripped the countertop as your legs and torso shook while you came. And, while you came, you clenched so hard that Seonghwa creamed as well, completely filling up the condom he had just rolled on. You heard him swear loudly, the profanity followed by a very sexually arousing groan.

“Fuck, you really did make my dick explode,” Seonghwa let out a light laugh as he pulled out.

While Seonghwa threw the used condom away, you sank to the floor, your legs completely giving out. You were panting and blinking tears out of your eyes as you stared right at the ground, unable to look up in fear of seeing the gorgeous man who just fucked you to heaven and back. Yet, you were forced to look at him when he scooped you off the ground and carried you bridal style into his bedroom.

“Hwa,” you said breathlessly the second you spotted his bed. “Wait, I can’t—”

“Don’t give up on me yet, angel. We’re just getting started.”

Along with his body weight, Seonghwa laid you down on his bed and immediately locked lips with you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe when he shoved his tongue down your throat and groped various erogenous zones on your bare body. You writhed under his touch, your cunt getting wetter and more sensitive.

Seeing you completely wrecked and desperate turned Seonghwa on to the max. He honestly wished he could fuck you to death— what a great ending that would be. Alas, that was not going to happen, so he just had to enjoy you as much as he could before finishing the job. He pushed himself up, rolled on another condom, and quickly thrust into you. Your back immediately arched, and a crying moan immediately left your lips.

“Seonghwa!” you cried as you felt him shoot through you with every thrust. “S-slow down!”

“Sorry, angel,” Seonghwa sighed out erotically. “I can’t stop. You— Ugh— You feel so good.”

You continued to let out loud cries as Seonghwa continued fucking you fast and hard to the point where you could hear the bedsprings squeaks even through the sound of blood rushing to your ears. The intensity of his love-making only increased when he moved your legs so that they were resting on his shoulders, his upper body pressing into you and folding you like a pretzel; yet, you loved it. You wanted him to abuse you further.

“Seong— Angh— Hwa!” you cried as you flung your head back.

“You like that, angel? You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Ye-es! Oh, God! H-harder!”

“Harder?! You were just telling me to slow down, now you want me to fuck you harder?” Seonghwa asked you with shock, amusement hidden in his words.

“Mmhmm— Hnngh— D-deeper, too!”

Seonghwa wanted to laugh. He did as you asked while suppressing his amusement, sitting up and bringing you with him. He knelt on the bed and had you sitting on his lap to ride him— well, you weren’t riding so much as he was lifting and dropping your ass on his dick repeatedly. You clung to his shoulders and ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, gripping and pulling whenever you felt his cock nearly reach your cervix. Your breathy moans echoed in Seonghwa’s ear, turning the man on further. You planted the lightest hickey on his neck, and he fully lost his mind.

“Seonghwa, I’m— I wanna cum…” you whimpered, your lips right next to his ear.

“You wanna cum?”

Seonghwa leaned back, the fire in his eyes blazing, your mind immediately blanking. You could barely keep it together at that point. You nodded fervently while biting your lower lip. In that moment, Seonghwa snapped. He pinned you down on the bed again and thrust at the speed of light, the slaps of his waist hitting your ass filling up the room. His cock finally hit your cervix, and pleasure washed over you. You tensed up and pushed your head into the pillow behind your head, your nails digging into Seonghwa’s arms.

“Oh, fuck! Y/N, I’m cumming!” Seonghwa groaned loudly.

With a final thrust Seonghwa pushed himself deep into you, spurts of thick cum filling the condom. With a deep, pleasureful sigh, Seonghwa dropped his head and caught his breath. Your heart was still racing, and your chest was still moving heavily as you took long breaths when Seonghwa pulled out.

You laid sprawled out on the bed for a solid two minutes. It was at the third minute that you questioned where Seonghwa went in his own home. You sat up in the bed and looked around, still unable to spot the man. You wrapped one of the bedsheets around you and were about to get up and off the bed when Seonghwa returned into the room swiftly, his lower body covered with clothes.

“You decided to get dressed before helping me?” you asked with a scoff.

“I had to.”

Seonghwa’s words were curt, and his tone was sharp, sending chills down your spine. It was as if in the three minutes he was gone his entire personality flipped. He went from being seductive and romantic to… Someone way worse. His eyes were cold and sharp, and there was no longer a smile on his face.

“Seonghwa, what’s going on?” you asked him carefully.

Your eyes went wide when Seonghwa pulled out a gun from behind him and up for you to see it. Your eyes flitted back and forth from the gun to the man who just fucked you.

“What is this?! What the fuck is going on?!” you shrieked.

You tried to move, but your ass and legs were shot to hell by Seonghwa’s cock, leaving you unable to escape him and getting shot to hell by his bullet.

“I was hired to kill you, Y/N,” Seonghwa said softly— he technically wasn’t supposed to tell you why he was going to kill you but, let’s face it. You were going to die, so it’s not like you could snitch to anyone about it.

“Who?!”

“Attorney Song Mingi. He hired me to murder you. So now, I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Seonghwa! He wants me gone? I’ll get out of the country! I just— I don’t understand!”

Seonghwa remained silent. He checked the bullets in the magazine as you stared at him with your jaw dropped.

“So, you fucked me… And now, you’re going to kill me? All of this just happened, and it meant nothing to you?”

Seonghwa quickly clicked the magazine back into place before looking at you and answering, his voice and face devoid of emotion, “It’s not personal, angel. It’s business. I have to do my job.”

“No… Please…”

You thought about shoving him away and mustering up whatever strength you had in your legs to make a run for it, but you knew that he would shoot you dead regardless. You trembled with fear as he approached you.

“Sorry, angel,” he whispered.

Seonghwa cocked the gun and held it right to your temple, the cool metal of the barrel pressing into your skin. You looked up at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your face. Seonghwa’s resolve flinched— He wanted to fuck the shit out of you and make you look like that because of his cock, not because of his gun. Gritting his teeth, he ignored his impulse and tightened his grip on the gun.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

Seonghwa was wearing a full sleeve turtleneck under his dress shirt the next morning. He self-consciously touched over the fabric the spot on his neck where you left a hickey as he walked into Mr. Song Mingi’s office. He stood by the door and locked eyes with the lawyer.

“Is it done?”

Seonghwa gave him a silent nod.

“Got rid of it?”

“Yes.”

Mr. Song walked around his desk and right up to Seonghwa, offering his hand out for the assassin to shake. Seonghwa shook his hand firmly then immediately let go, trying to make sure the man didn’t see the bandaids on his arms. With a nod, Seonghwa left the office and walked down the hall while taking out his phone, figuring out the location to meet his next client: Mr. Kim.

“Oh, you’re here early, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa turned around and nearly jumped. Mr. Kim was standing a couple feet behind him with a sober face.

“Mr. Kim?”

“Yes. Come with me.”

The two walked to Mr. Kim’s office, the door immediately closing behind them. The two sat on couches opposite each other, eyes locked on one another.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Kim Hongjoong?”

“I need you to kill Mr. Song Mingi.”

#park seonghwa #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa ateez #seonghwa ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa ateez smut #broatz #Spotify #cromernet

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [7].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. the usual amount of swearing and ruining the lives of men, jay goes through an crisis, mentions of hairballs, mc is extra menacing this chapter. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. here....it is..... this has been long overdue and i'm so sorry AHAHAH but i did say that i'm gonna update this whenever i want. anyhow, this is the jay chapter! and i hope this makes up for the one month long delay! enjoy, please let me know what you think<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish.

YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER GET SICK OF WAKING UP AND GETTING LULLED BACK TO SLEEP BY THE MOST COMFORTABLE MATTRESS IN THE WORLD. Seriously. You’re considering hoarding it back to your dorm once you leave at the end of the month. 

It’s the best thing about this house. The second best thing is having your breakfast cereal already laid out for you in the kitchen the moment you step downstairs. This princess treatment is going to get you spoiled. 

The odd thing about today, however, is that your usual bowl of Cheerios is nowhere in sight.

You rub your eyes, proceeding to squint at the counter because maybe you just aren’t awake enough yet. But it’s still not there. You look over to the sink. There is no evidence that someone ate your cereal. What happened? Did your cereal robot sleep in today? Did he die? Are you gonna have to make your own bowl of cereal from now on?

“Good morning.”

Sunghoon greets you upon walking into the living room, cereal-less and still groggy. Beomgyu is also there, cross legged on the couch and playing something on his phone. “Good—” you greet back, scratching your hand underneath your shirt with a big yawn, “—morning.” For some reason, Sunghoon suddenly looks scandalized. You ignore it and stretch out your arms above your head with another yawn.

“Please— oh my god, please don’t do that. I can see your un—underwear.”

You pause mid-stretch, arms up in the air, shirt hiking up a little. “What color?” you ask. 

“Grey! Why would you ask me that?!”

“Ooh, correct.” You drop your arms down. “I thought you were kidding. Sorry, my bad.”

You grin and shoot them a peace sign. “Sunghoon, go get the PD&J,” Beomgyu announces, eyes not leaving his phone. Your expression quickly moltens into a glare and a grimace. Dammit, you’ve been careful all this time. You blame your lack of early cereal nutrients for this carelessness.

“I’ll pay later,” you grunt. “Anway, where’s Jay? He didn’t make my cereal today so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Is he your slave?” you hear Beomgyu retort. You’ll deal with him later.

Thankfully, Sunghoon is normal(?) and answers your question promptly. “Out on the deck,” he tells you, and you look over to the open glass doors past your dining setup leading up to the sunlit deck outside. You squint, unable to spot a life form of any sort at first, but after a moment of letting your eyes wander, you finally see it.

Jay is laying flat on the wooden floor, shades on, facing directly at the sun. “What’s up with him?” you ask Sunghoon. There are pieces of paper with unidentifiable contents scattered around the motionless man. You fear he might be actually dead.

“He’s photosynthesizing,” he replies. You should’ve known better than to expect a correct answer.

“He’s not a plant,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s past nine. He’s not getting any more vitamin D at this hour.”

Sunghoon simply shrugs and Beomgyu is still busy yelling profanities at his phone. You sigh. Time to take care of things yourself, so saunter over to Jay’s tanning bed and crouch down near his head, arms crossed. Is he asleep? you furrow your brows and peer down a little closer. His pitch black sunglasses are making it impossible to tell.

“Wow. This is the first time I’ve seen you upside down.”

And he’s alive.

“Hey,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

Jay has his hands symmetrically placed on his abdomen, and he remains unmoving when he opens his mouth to reply. “Brooding,” he says, and you are granted more questions than answers. 

“Don’t people usually do that in the dark?”

“I don’t conform to society’s standards.” Jay sits up, so you lean back. You watch him as he adjusts the shades on his nose bridge, ruffles his hair as if there’s a camera pointed at him, then says, “I’m absolutely fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

Woah, there. Looks like Mr. Easygoing is going through some troubled waters.

“Alright.” You shuffle out of your crouching position, dropping to paneled wood to cross your legs for a more comfortable position. “Lay it on me,” you announce, ready to sunbathe and hear a very very long story.

Jay stares at you. There’s a wrinkle between his brows. 

“Go ahead.” You nod decidedly. 

After another pause, Jay shrugs and sets his head down on your crossed legs, laying back down but with you as his new pillow. That’s not what you meant, but you roll with it. This is an opportunity to braid knots his hair. “So I took a summer class, right,” he starts, and you dig your fingers into the dark strands. “Women’s wear design. Thought It’d be useful for androgynous clothing ideas, but anyway.”

Wow, it’s so soft, you think, finishing a single braid. “And then?”

“Well. For our final project, we need to have a live model to wear our design prototypes. To test their functionality and all. A friend of mine already agreed a few weeks ago, but she suddenly canceled yesterday, so I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

His hair slips out of your fingers. The gears in your brain start to churn. “When’s the presentation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Have you asked someone else?”

“Yeah. I’ve already tried calling everyone I know.”

“And?”

“I ran out of people,” he says. “I’m screwed, right?”

“I feel like there’s more to this.”

A third voice suddenly pops up and you flinch. “Holy shit,” you turn to see Heeseung sitting next to you. He looks like he’s been there for a while and you make your surprise very evident by how wide your eyes are staring at him. Jay props up, also looking at him. “When did you get here?”

Heeseung ignores you. “Jay,” he starts. You’re gonna get back at him for that. “What did you tell Eunmi when you asked for her help for the project?” 

Eunmi is a familiar name. You’re pretty sure she’s the one that stormed out of the house the other day. “I told her that I had a problem and asked if she could do me a favor.

Your brows knit together. Wait a minute. “And what else did you say?”

“I also asked if she didn’t mind taking her clothes off,” he says. “Why?”

Silence sets in. It simmers for a while. You and Heeseung share a look. “Jay,” you call out. He gets off of your lap and sits up, turning to face you. You press your lips together. How do you break it to him? 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she thought you were asking to hook up.”

You double over and nearly let out a gasp. So the mysophobe isn’t hasn’t completely eroded his social awareness. You are both horrified and impressed, and he’s looking at you like he can hear your thoughts, visibly offended. 

“Heeseung’s right. Girlie probably thought you’d be using your measuring tape for something else outside of measuring.” They both give you a look. Maybe you gave Heeseung too much credit. “What? After measuring her tits and ass, imagine her disappointment when you went off to measure her ankles next.” 

“Well, I’m a fashion major, what did she expect?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some dressmaker-themed BDSM shit!” you huff. “Don’t you know you know anyone else that can model for you?”

“I’m pretty sure all the girls in his contacts have him blocked,” Heeseung says. 

You grunt and lean back, the deck warm on your palms. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but—” You sigh. Your shoulders slack, and you run your fingers through your scalp with a deep inhale. Jay and Heeseung nudge themselves closer. You give them three more seconds of suspenseful silence— one…two…three. 

“But we don’t have much of a choice.” 

His dumb sunglasses are still keeping his eyes hidden, but you’re pretty sure Jay is looking at you like you’re the second coming of Christ. On the other hand, Heeseung looks suspicious. You assure them that you’ll take care of, telling Jay to go upstairs and prepare his design prototype in case he needs to make any alterations, and Heeseung follows you to the living room, where Sunghoon and Beomgyu are still lounging around.

They turn their heads the moment you enter. Sunghoon and Heeseung’s eyes are trained on you as you approach Beomgyu, who has now settled down his phone to give you a disgruntled expression— impatient and nervous because, “what the fuck are you up to this time?” he voices out. You spare him an extra second of agony and tell him what you came for.

When the words leave your mouth, Beomgyu nearly chokes on the air.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His eyes are wide, looking up at you. 

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you can pretend to be a woman for a day,” you repeat. Beomgyu is looking at you like you’re insane. 

“What the fuck?”

“C’mon!” you exclaim, hopping down on the plush sofa cushion next to him and he jumps and flinches away. There’s a reason why you adore fucking with Beomgyu the most. “It’ll only be for a day! Do it for Jay! Whoa. That rhymes.”

“Why me?!” he shrieks. The reason is he fights back. He makes it all the more satisfying when he inevitably admits defeat. 

“Because you’re arguably the prettiest one of the lot!” You bounce closer, trapping his between the armrest and your enthusiasm to see him in a fucking dress. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are like, really, really pretty? And your facial structure is already so nice and elegant, I really don’t need to do anything with makeup, you’re already perfect!” 

With each word you utter and with each centimeter you lean closer, Beomgyu’s face gets increasingly redder and brighter. “Your— your flattery won’t convince me to fucking cross dress in public, you psychos!” 

Before you can get the chance to say ‘so you don’t mind doing it in private?’ Beomgyu tries pushing you off, but he’s too flustered to put any strength in. The opportunity to grab his wrists and pull him closer simply just presents itself. “C’mon!” you tug him in. “Swallow the toxic masculinity, Beomgyu! I believe in you!”

“No!”

He manages to roll off the sofa and retreat to his room. As Beomgyu’s heavy and hasty footsteps fill the air, the sound growing weaker by the second, you turn over to Sunghoon, who is sitting on the individual seat. He meets your eyes. “No,” he says before you could open your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second to get up and follow Beomgyu’s escape pattern. “Sunghoon! Sunghoon, wait!” you yell after him. When he pads up the stairs, you stop at the bottom of the flight and watch as he scurries up the floor. “Are you upset that you’re the second choice? That doesn’t mean anything! You’re pretty too! I love your nose and your pretty face moles and—”

And he is gone. You turn back. “Well, I tried,” you shrug. Heeseung is wearing an expression you can only describe as severe perturbation. “Soobin and Jake aren’t home. That’s a bummer.” Then again, Jake would probably be down for it, which is no fun. And you can’t risk making Soobin cry again. Your list of crimes is already long enough. Beomgyu has the copy. 

“Of all the solutions you could come up with, I didn't think you’d go for the crossdressing route.”

Heeseung is leaning against the sofa, arms resting on top of its plush back. “Actually, I never even considered it,” he adds. “I thought you’d volunteer to model for him yourself.”

You make your way back to the living area with a yawn. Shrugging, you say, “I am.”

His brows scrunch, eyes narrowed. “Then why did you—” Heeseung stops thinking. He gives you a look of distaste. “You’re pretty evil, you know that?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you hop on the couch Heeseung is leaning again. He visibly flinches when you do, but he doesn’t move away. So you sit up with your legs still on the sofa, knees sinking into the cushions, and you poke your nose forward so that it nearly bumps into his. 

“What are you—”

You inch your face closer. “It’s not my fault that you guys are easy targets.” You can literally hear his breath getting taken away. You flash him a wide grin. 

“Calm down. I’m moving away, moving away. No need to run.” When you flop back to lie on the sofa, Heeseung’s pink-tinted face is in full view, and he’s trying his best to hide it from you all while still trying to shoot you a glare. At some point he’s going to snap at you, for sure. Until that happens, you’re free to mess with him. “Anyway, I’ll be off to Jay’s secret lair. That is unless you man up and take one for the team, and—”

“Bye.”

Like the other two, Heeseung stomps away. You let out a huff of air. “You’re all weak as shit,” you call out. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to give one of them a makeover. Maybe one day you can paint their nails and do their eyeliner.

Jay can’t express just how grateful he is for you.

No, really. He can’t. He tried telling you that he owes you his life when you told him not to worry about it and just go upstairs and prepare his things, but all that jumped out of his mouth is a measly, “you’re so cool,” before leaving you with Heeseung. 

That won’t do it. He’s gonna say thank you and a million more once you show up in the storage room-turned-office-slash-workspace next to his bedroom, and you’re going to be so impressed by his thanking skills. But the feeling is all muffled and fuzzy inside his chest— like a way too stubborn hairball he can’t cough out. So when you knock on his door and take a peek inside the extension of his room, all he can say is, “I made the carpet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Oh!”

Jay watches as you crouch down almost immediately upon his mention, feeling the mishmas of fabric texture with your palms. Your hands are running through a patch of faux fur, stitched to some leftover corduroy. You’re stepping on denim, and in between you and him is a large swab of linen. “Holy shit. This is pretty cool.”

There’s a thump in his chest. He’s pretty sure you’re the first person to say that after the other dozen people that have been here before you.

Then again, Jay’s pretty sure you’re the first for him on a lot of things.

He fears the hairball lodged in his throat just multiplied.

“So.” You pull yourself up from the ground. “What are we doing?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Let me show you the clothes first. It’s a dress. It may not look like one, but trust me it is a dress—” he quickly explains, walking over to the mannequin in the corner of the room, pulling it out from the corner with a bit of a struggle because the wheels get caught in the stringy fabric of his carpet. “You can try it on, but it’s made with Eunmi’s measurements. Tell me if anything doesn’t fit right so I can alter it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Hey, I may make fun of you guys a lot, but this time I’m being serious— this is so cool! What the hell, Jay?”

Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t think you’d like wearing something so avant garde. After Eunmi’s reaction to seeing it, he was pretty sure you’d be hesitant. “This will swallow my entire figure! I’d look like a jellyfish! You know what, I was already disappointed when you suddenly started jotting down my arm width. I’m going home. Don’t call me,” was what she said before storming off. But you’re all ooh’s and aah’s as you dig your nose into the thin sheets of intricately sewn on sheer, black fabric. 

“I was also serious about the carpet. Hold on let me try this on—”

You struggle taking the dress off of the mannequin. Jay helps you out. “You can change in my room.”

“Gotchu,” you shoot him a thumbs up, running off to the door with the dress flowing in your hands. “Don’t you dare peek. I don’t have any more spare change to throw into that stupid jar.”

“What if I pay for you?”

“Great. Door’s unlocked. Open if you have the balls.” Then you close the door with a still thinly open gap. It’s really is easy to talk to you. You don’t give him a weird look after he says a few words. He can hear your swearing slipping out of the crack in the door. Maybe he should have left you to fend for yourself against his admittedly unconventionally constructed dress.

“Need any help?” he asks, hesitantly inching towards the door.

“I can handle it— fuck, wait, where is my neck supposed to—”

After hearing a thump from inside the room, Jay believes he might have to intervene, else it’ll end up with either a torn ligament or a torn three month long project. He lands a knock on the door. “I think you need my help.”

“Give me a minute! I got this!” A minute. He starts counting down from sixty. And mentally counting down in nothing but silence and the occasional profanities from the other room is giving him some time to think. To think about how even though he’s gone through numerous dates, talked to numerous women, but for some reason they never last long. Well, all except you. You and his mother.

He’s lost count of the times he’s been ghosted (a ghost dress does sound like a pretty good idea), but the times they do communicate— they all communicate with a very familiar script:

“Maybe we should start seeing other people.”

Maybe his bonfire joke wasn’t as funny as he thought.

“Hey, Jay, is it supposed to look like this?” you call out before his sixty second countdown is over. “I think I’m wearing it wrong.”

When he opens the room to his door with a creak, his breath hitches in his throat. 

And it’s not the metaphorical hairball that’s been annoying him. Shit. Something about seeing you in a design he’s crafted with his own hands, conjured up with his own brain, is tying all sorts of knots in his stomach. Even when you put your arm in the wrong hole.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Jay walks up to you next to the bed. The clothes you’ve shedded on in lieu of the dress he made is scattered on his mattress. He swallows hard before laying a discreet hand on your shoulder, tugging on a loose part of the clothing to reveal the armhole.

“Oh! That explains a lot,” you say, slotting in your arm into the correct gap this time. The dress still looks a little off. “I haven’t zipped it up yet. Can you help me?”

He lets out a cough. “Sure.”

Ah, what is going on with him? He’s been sleeping in this same room for nearly a year now, but for some reason the air right now is arid and stuffy and it’s making his head spin. Jay turns you around, a hand on your hip, and zips up the dress that suddenly feels like fire. That doesn’t make sense. It’s supposed to mimic water. Why the hell are his palms burning? 

The moment the dress is secured, you quickly look into the mirror. “What...what do you think?” he asks hesitantly. Maybe you don’t like it as much anymore now that it’s on you. Maybe the dress is also burning you. Maybe this design is a failure after all— and he feels that fear being confirmed when your back is turned towards him, and you spend a good minute looking at yourself in the mirror in silence. 

Dammit. The damned hairball is back in his lungs.

“I feel…” you start talking. His heart is pounding. Holy shit, he’s never felt this nervous before. “I feel like a sexy goth jellyfish. This is crazy. I love it.”

And just like that, air starts flowing back into his chest.

“Exactly!” 

He grabs you by the arm, spinning you around so he can look at you, and the dress fabric flitters along in the air. “Whoa!” you squeak out. He steadies you by the arms. You look at him, wide eyed.

Jay breath’s are bated. The sunglasses he’s got perched on his nose this entire time got crooked from the rush, falling down to the tip of his nose, revealing a look on his eyes that he didn’t know he was capable of making. “You get me,” he breathes out. “You totally get me.”

Something swirls inside the confines of his room. It’s dark. The only light coming in is from the crack into his office and the warm bedside lamp you turned on.

The both of you stay like this for a moment. Until there’s a knock on his door and a voice rips through all of the tension.

“Okay, fine!” 

It’s Beomgyu’s voice entering the room along with the sound of the door swinging open. 

Creak!

“Fucking fine, I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it as long as—”

It’s not just him. Heeseung and Sunghoon are also there, squeezed between the frame of his now open door. “Oh,” someone says out loud. He’s unsure who. “Oh.”

Somehow, Jay isn’t feeling your arms anymore. He blinks, and you’re not in front of him anymore. He turns his head and sees you in between him and the three other guys outside. “Are you ready to become a sexy jellyfish, Beomgyu?” you taunt, moving further away from him by the second. 

Beomgyu looks at him. Then you. Then keeps his eyes on you. “I never said anything. I’m gonna go—”

“C’mon! Don’t I look great? You’d look just as— no, maybe even prettier than me if you wear— wait!”

And just like that you and his dress project run away from the room. Sunghoon’s head whips back and forth between him and wherever you’ve run off to before going after you and Beomgyu as well. Heeseung stays, albeit out the door. “So, did it go well?” he asks. Jay is still staring at the spot where you’d left.

“It went well,” he replies. “I think I’m gonna get a good grade.”

Well that’s not the only conclusion he’s come up with after all that. In spite of the loud noises, the yelling outside, and the threat of his dress getting ripped apart in the crossfire, he’s sure of two things. He is not only sure that he’s gonna ace this final summer project— Jay is sure that he might have just half fallen in love with you, too.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

#park jay x reader #jay park x reader #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #park jongseong x reader #jay x reader #txt x reader #enhypen scenarios #txt scenarios #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #lee heeseung x reader #park sunghoon x reader #sim jaeyun x reader

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than December Update

The update link:

Thicker Than Free Demo

Update info:

As of the 26th of December 2023

Finished Chapter Six

Started work on Chapter Seven (currently incomplete)

Added explicit scene with Freya in Chapter Four

Several bug and spelling fixes

Additional Words: 27,104 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 175,440 (excluding commands )

Other links:

Supporting me on KoFi helps ensures my ongoing survival, which I really do appreciate.

You can email me at barbara truelove writes at g mail dot com.

I have a website that I spent actual money on. I'm not sure why, but it's pretty.

If you like the way I write vampires maybe consider checking on the first story in this series, Blood Moon, which is about werewolves and is polished and pretty in a way this very much isn't.

Other free games can be found on my itch.io page.

My ramblings:

Merry Christmas and happy full moon. I really hope, wherever you are in the world, you’re having a great day. I won’t be able to see the moon tonight thanks to a circling storm cloud, but I’m hoping it’ll clear up tomorrow and I can do some stargazing.

I’ve managed to get quite a few words down this month, so I’m really happy about that. Chapter Six is finished, and I’ve started work on Chapter Seven. Chapter Seven is still in the early stages. Depending on your previous choices, it may not even exist yet on certain playthroughs. I’m sorry about that. It’s going to take some time to fill in all the different routes and bring them all together again.

I’ve also gone back to Chapter Four and added some more content in for Freya because several people told me they weren’t really vibing with her romance arc. I’m really glad I did that because I think speeding up her romance route makes a lot of sense and it flows better overall.

I’ve also done a lot of little edits scattered throughout. Nothing super major, but I hope it improves the flow of certain scenes.

On a more technical note: I’ve been having a weird issue with the automatic Choicescript tests in CSIDE. The random_test has been slowing to a crawl and/or freezing. It doesn’t spit out any errors, and the quick_test has been working fine, so I’m really not sure why this has started to happen. It may mean there is an infinite loop error somewhere in Chapter 6 or 7. If so, I haven’t been able to find it. If anyone encounters a page that loads forever but doesn’t show any text, please let me know. The game won’t be able to be submitted to Hosted Games if it can’t pass a random_test, so I really want to sort this out sooner rather than later.

If you spot any other errors, large or small, I’d be really grateful if you could let me know. Thicker Than is big enough now that it’s a little unwieldy to navigate, and hard to edit. I’m really grateful to the people who’ve taken the time to send me things which don’t look quite right. It’s so insanely helpful and really encouraging knowing you’re rooting for Thicker Than to succeed.

💙

#thicker than if #vampire #choicescript #interactive fiction #update

[sevdrag]

hello sev i am sorry to bother you but. if you have the time. could you PLEASE elaborate on how you thought elon musk was a tumblr meme i have not been able to stop thinking about it

So. The first thing you need to know about me is that I haven't been able to follow the news for the last, like, well. About 10 years. First I was in a black-hole-of-employment, and then once 2016 hit, reading the news just made me unhealthy levels of furious. So I stopped doing it for my own sanity. This, more than anything, allowed me to live a blissful life where Actual Husband could update me every weekend on anything important, while I had a drink in my hand. I ignored as much news as I could during those years, cause it turned me into something horrible. So! That's the foundation of this story.

I also don't pay attention to, like, famous people and stuff. At all. I thought the band was called One Directional, okay? I am happy in my little corner.

The second thing to note is that while I'm quite intelligent, I also am incredibly scatter-brained. It's the ADHD.

The third is to note that I'm a heavy Tumblr user. I've curated my dash here to show me, mostly, things I like to see. It's relaxing.

So I saw all the memes about Glup Shitto and Blorbo and a million other made-up Tumblr names (whatever they were back in like 2015-ish) during my daily lunchtime scroll, right? SO when I see a post about a guy named Elon Musk, paired with something absolutely fucking ridiculous, my brain just goes: Oh. Tumblr made up another meme guy. This one's rich. That's funny.

I don't remember, but I'm possibly even reblogging stuff about Elon Musk during this time, still thinking it's a meme name. I mean, look at it. Elon Musk. Sorry, dudebro, but your name be dumb.

Elon Musk wants to build his own spaceship. Okay, Tumblr. Sure. It's like a Tony Stark that's just buttfuckingly stupid. I get the meme. Cause, like, he does crazy fucking stuff, right? Crazy stupid stuff. Gotta be a meme. Tumblr's really going for it, I think. Alright.

Anyway, Elon Musk comes up in a Discord GC one day, and my friends are talking about him like he's a real person, and I just said:

Hold on. I thought he was a meme.

Chat, of course, is silent for a drastically embarrassing amount of time, and then explodes.

And that's how I learned, in front of a bunch of friends, that Elon Musk was NOT a tumblr meme character, but a real-life idiot doing real-life crazy ass shit. It took me a humiliatingly-ass time to realize it, and I DO still get Sevdragged about it to this very day.

tl;dr due to my head-in-the-sand tendencies and my love of Tumblr, unlike the rest of you, I had a blissful period in my life where Elon Musk was completely made-up.

I wish that were still true.

#elon musk #shitposts by sev #thanks jorts #sevdrag gets sevdragged #its okay #the story is actually too funny to not share #sometimes i am an idiot

[lilisettean]

Can you write more zayne x reader and implied!caleb? I’m a Zayne’s girlie and love to see more of the love triangle and dynamics between them three 🫣

(and let’s pretend Caleb’s still alive)

Hey! Sorry if this is delayed, was really busy recently so haven't updated much. And yes, I will write more of that love triangle! Jealousy is my jam and I LOVE it (in fiction ofc). I'm just waiting for Caleb to come back to have a bit more insight into his character and see if the game explores on their dynamic at some point!

For now though, please have this drabble and I hope you will like it :)

Custom Made | Zayne/Reader + Caleb/Reader

About: Zayne never minded paying for you. If anything, he liked buying you gifts; and if given the chance, he would gladly spoil you. However, he hadn't realized that he wasn't the only one.

Pairings: Zayne/Reader, Caleb/Reader

Notes: A somewhat part 2 to Unspoken Rivalry! Can be read separately though. Still follows the events of the Valentine's event but not by much.

AO3: Read here!

Warnings: Implied love triangle.

Zayne wandered around your apartment as he waited for you to get ready for the banquet. This was hardly the first time he had ever been to your place, but he hadn’t had the time to look around then. Usually you were ready by the time he even considered looking around. So when you claimed you needed more time to look presentable and told him to make himself at home while he waited, Zayne nodded and told you to ask if you were to need help or a second opinion.

Not that you needed it anyway. Zayne was sure whatever you did, you would look stunning.

But Zayne understood why you needed time. If the situation was reversed and you asked him to accompany you to some event wherein he would meet your colleagues, he would’ve taken time to pick a suitable and flattering outfit as well. Hence why he was now walking around your apartment, taking in your tastes and interests as he waited patiently.

Your place was very much… you, he found. A large plushie here, a few cushions and a throw blanket there. Combined with the fresh flowers and natural lighting you preferred, this place felt homely; a stark contrast to his modern and sleek, yet somehow impersonal, residence. 

Stepping away from the balcony, Zayne was about to approach the mirror perched on the cabinet to examine his appearance when something caught his eye. 

It was a lone empty photo frame settled next to the mirror, and under it, was an assortment of pictures taken. 

Unable to stifle his curiosity, Zayne gathered up the scattered photos and shuffled through them. There was one with Grandma Josephine, a few with whom he recognized as your colleagues, one with a sleeping blond hair man with squiggles drawn all over his face, and one with a famous painter whose name he cannot recall at that moment. 

What made him pause the longest while examining however, was one with your mutual childhood friend, Caleb. You two stood side by side in front of a house, his arm around your shoulder while you tucked your hair behind your ear, caring not to have it tangled with your earring, and smiled for whoever– Josephine perhaps– was behind the camera.

Normally Zayne would’ve continued on, looking through the other photos as if he had not seen it and pointedly ignoring the fleeting what ifs that spawned in his mind. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop staring at the look Caleb had on his face, his mind unable to stop thinking at what the soft smile on his face meant while he was looking at you, instead of facing the camera.

Caleb gazed at you as though you were the only person that mattered, as though you were the only reason for his entire existence. 

Zayne knew that look. He had seen it on countless people’s faces. On his patients, on his colleagues… and even on himself, on a picture with you. The same picture he had secretly used as your chat background.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the picture as though he could burn it with his gaze alone, until you snuck up to him, peering at what he had on his hands.

“What are you looking at?” Your voice snapped him out of his suffocating thoughts, his form rigid as your hand came contact with his. 

“You okay?” You asked, gasping when you felt his icy fingers against yours as you turned the picture towards you. The edges of it were coated with tiny ice crystals, its frost melting away as you wiped it. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Zayne replied after shaking his head, purging his mind of the coiling jealousy that took root. The past did not matter; you were here with him now, instead of with Caleb.

“Are you ready to go?” Zayne asked after flipping over the picture and slipping it under the pile. He awkwardly sidestepped your question, hoping that you would pick up on his reluctance and drop the matter entirely. He quietly sighed in relief when the dubious look on your face changed, replaced with a hesitant smile.

“Yes. What do you think? Am I overdressed or under dressed?” 

Zayne watched as you stepped back to allow him a better look at your outfit. Despite your protests, he had paid for the dress and heels in full, citing that it was only right for him to provide as he was the one who added you to the guest list. 

“You needn’t worry about that. You look immaculate.” Zayne said after giving you a once over, pleased that the dress he had picked out for you was to your tastes and suited you perfectly. He would’ve chosen accessories that would’ve gone well with the dress as well, if it weren’t for your insistence that you had the perfect match for it already. 

Well, Zayne took the liberty to pick out an accessory for you anyway as a gift. But that was not the focus now. 

Speaking of which… “Those earrings suit you well.” He stated as he admired the visage before him. The pair of earrings you chose were elegant in its design, subtly accentuating your features whilst drawing people in. It was as though they were tailor made for you and you only.

Despite having never seen you wear them before, a sense of déjà vu settled in. He had seen them somewhere, but he couldn’t name where…

“Really? Thanks.” You replied with a laugh, unaware of his sudden fixation upon your earrings. “They were a gift.”

“From who?”

“From Caleb! It was a gift for passing the licensure exams!”

A gift? Caleb?

Something immediately clicked within him as soon as repeated those words to himself. The picture of you and Caleb quickly appeared in the forefront of his mind, linking the two seemingly unrelated pieces of info together.

Of course. The earrings you were wearing now were the same ones you wore in the picture. 

While you told Zayne how you unsuccessfully tried to figure out where Caleb got the gift from so you could pay him back, Zayne examined the earrings you wore with great scrutiny, wondering where Caleb had gone to purchase these while listening to your failed attempts at espionage. 

The earrings you wore had a unique charm to them, and lacked the sterility and sameness that came with other pieces seen in boutiques. Zayne quickly drew to the conclusion that these were not only custom ordered, but handmade as well, with how well made they were.

There were only a select few stores that did handmade jewelry in Linkon. And to this quality… There was only one place that would be able to craft such a timeless art piece.

Zayne had to admit– albeit reluctantly– if these earrings were ones that Caleb had chosen without any prompting, or even designed himself, he had quite the taste, and an excellent eye for what would suit you the most. 

“...Zayne?”

Zayne blinked, realizing that he had unconsciously leaned forward to inspect your earring in detail. Pulling his hand away after tucking your hair behind your ear once more, he straightened himself and replied. 

“I know where they are from.” He said, huffing in amusement when he saw your face lit up at his response. “No. It would be impolite of me to reveal that.” 

“But Zayne–”

Said man huffed in amusement as you tried to persuade him, citing that you wanted to repay Caleb somehow. But Zayne remained silent, only replying with a small smile. 

It would be a horrible idea to do so. Despite the earrings being a gift from someone his darker, more jealous side considered as a rival, it was not his place to speak of its origins. But that was not the main reason why he maintained his silence.

Zayne slipped a hand in his slacks’ pocket while you were busy getting ready to leave, thumbing over a slim velvet box that contained a ring commissioned from the same place Caleb went to for your earrings.

It would be quite troublesome if you were to figure out how much they had spent, and were willing to spend, for you, after all. 

#love and deepspace #love and deep space #love and deepspace zayne x reader #love and deepspace caleb x reader #this dynamic is so good im..... devs pls give me caleb #i want him already... pls

[winterchimez]

Read Your Mind | Lee Hyunjae

SUMMARY: both you and Hyunjae had a mutual agreement to begin this whole friends-with-benefits relationship from the start, but now his contradicting actions and behaviour make you question what you both truly are at this point.

PAIRING: fwb Hyunjae x f!reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive

WARNINGS: kissing, making-out, arguments, unrequited love (like the first ⅔ of the fic, but there's a happy ending folks 🥹), mentions of s*x

WORD COUNT: 3,661

A/N: i've been jamming to sabrina carpenter's read your mind lately, hence this fic was born! special shout-out to my fellow sabrina enthusiast @heemingyu for hyping me up throughout the process & reading it through for me as well 😭🫶🏻

update!! this is now part of emails i can't send fwd: series (collab with @heemingyu) ✨

You slammed your laptop down shut as soon as you saw that the clock on the wall struck at half-two. Not wasting any time, you quickly packed all your belongings into your backpack and left the lecture hall immediately. 

Oh, how you’ve always dreaded long lectures like today, which lasted for approximately three hours since your lecturer insisted on finishing up the modulus before letting you off for the long weekend ahead. 

As you made your way out of the hall, you were immediately joined by your group of friends, who were quickly catching up with you, telling you how there’s this new Korean BBQ restaurant in town and how you guys must try it since there’s a limited promotion going on there. It was a Friday night—of course, you had to agree. 

That was until your phone from your back pocket buzzed. 

You took out your mobile and quickly scanned through the notification that just popped up on your screen. 

🎁: Hey, meet me at my place tonight at 8pm? The usual.

A long exasperated sigh left your lips as soon as you saw that message since you knew what it exactly meant.

And how you have been doing it constantly for the past 6 months without anyone besides you two knowing about this whole deal. 

Your friends clearly noticed how quickly your facial expressions shifted and began asking if something was the matter. As usual, you brushed them off and told them how your family issues had come up again and that you wouldn’t be able to join them for the night.

Using your usual pouting facial expression to convince your friends that you’ll definitely make it for the next one, you hope that it will indirectly tell them how you feel sorry about it and stop making them pressure you with more questions. 

Waving them goodbye, you turn your heel in the opposite direction, making your way to the destination that your so-called friend has been expecting you to be.

Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath before you eventually mustered up the courage to head to where you had to be. 

Here we go again.

You were now on his lap, straddling his waist while his grip tightened around you. Both of you were having a steamy makeout session, lips exploring each other’s like there was no tomorrow, while both of your hands began touching one another, which increased the arousal that you both were feeling at that moment.

Finally, after a while, he gives you a little moment to have a breather while he travels down to your neck and begins leaving a trail of kisses all the way down to your collarbone. Once he got there, he began sucking it a little too hard, one that you knew would definitely leave a hickey behind, and you’ll definitely need to use your handy-dandy concealer to cover them up the next day. 

His hands begin travelling up to your chest, where he begins squeezing one of your breasts, which is where he gets an elicit moan in return, turning him on for the next move he is about to pull. 

“Can I… take your clothes off, Y/N?” 

“Go ahead, Jae.” 

The next thing that happened was that both of your clothes were scattered throughout the floor, and you were now lying in bed with Hyunjae hovering over you. Both of your lips are now reconnected, tongues intertwining with one another, leaving no room for a breather. 

Just as you thought things would get a little spicier, the male suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

“No.” 

“Hyunjae? Is everything alright?”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t do this anymore.” 

Hyunjae then gets up and sits on the bed, and you follow by sitting up next to him. Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, you looked at him with the look of concern and sincerity in your eyes. 

“Care to share about what’s going through your mind?” 

Hyunjae sighed deeply before furrowing his eyebrows as he stared off into the ceiling. “I’m not sure, Y/N. I know we both agreed on this from the start. But lately, I just don’t feel like this was the same as before.” 

It was true. You both began this whole friends-with-benefits situation because Hyunjae had recently broken off with his ex, and he was feeling slightly lonely. Both of you were only coursemates and nothing else. Eventually, you both got close with one another when you were assigned to be lab partners in one of the subjects within the course.

You noticed how Hyunjae wasn’t as goofy and bright as he was previously, and you decided to check up on him and asked if anything was the matter and if you could at least extend a helping hand to him. Initially, he was reluctant to tell you the truth. After a period of time, he made the deal and spat out what had been bothering him for so long.

Making it clear that he was heartbroken and needed a company, you somehow convinced him that you could do that if he desperately needed them. Though both of you had made it clear to one another that he would not envision you as his ex whenever you did the deed, he merely needed company to satisfy his sexual desires. Adding to the fact that neither of you would fall for each other. You were more than happy to do that so long as you both did not break each other’s boundaries. 

Things started out fine in the beginning, and he started to feel better and presentable at lectures, which made it seem like everything was working out fine. In return, you got to expand your knowledge on romance since you have never had a partner in the past 22 years of your life. In other words, it was kind of a win-win situation for both parties. 

However, you have begun to notice how things have changed from all of your recent makeouts with the male himself. There was this awkward tension in the air, contradicting what you both had agreed on beforehand. There are multiple times—like tonight when Hyunjae suddenly breaks off the kiss and tells you both how you guys are done for the day.

Something was bothering him, and neither of you knew what it was all about because the male himself did not understand his emotions. 

Every time this happened, he felt guilty about it and constantly apologised for everything that had happened. 

But tonight, something was different. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But I think I really need some time alone to myself.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll just go to bed-” 

“I’ll walk you home, at least.” 

Oh. 

This was the first time Hyunjae asked you to give him space. Usually—even during the recent not-so-good makeout sessions, he would always insist that you stay for the night, reassuring you that his flat is way safer than going back home with the dimly lit streets at night. 

But this? It was something you had least expected to happen, though you didn’t question the male as you could tell it wasn’t the right timing to do so. 

Instead, you just nodded and quickly packed away your stuff before the both of you were ready to head out towards the front door.

The entire walk back to your flat didn’t take that long—it was about a five minute walk, to be exact. But what made this whole short-distance road feel like an eternity was how neither of you spoke a word throughout the whole journey. You could tell Hyunjae wasn’t in his right mind, his face was pale. Hence, you decided to just wrap your arms around yourself and walked close by next to him, respecting the peace and silence for now. 

As you reached your flat, Hyunjae didn’t say much and rather just muttered a simple “goodnight” before he smiled weakly and turned his heel back towards the direction of his residence. 

Whatever happened tonight, you knew that something had changed between the both of your relationships. 

This went on for an entire week. Ever since that fateful day, you’ve noticed how Hyunjae slowly returned to his previous self, where he always seemed so lonely and gloomy. He was quiet for a few days, but the usual message came in, and you find yourself back at his flat two days later.

However, it ended up the same way as it did, pausing suddenly when you both got down to the climax and decided to call it quits before walking back home once again. 

The cycle then continued. He would tell you that he needed to be alone and work on his thoughts for some time before eventually typing down the usual that would keep you busy and occupied with him throughout the night. You would return to him every time, knowing how you’d be left feeling confused and unsatisfied with the entire ordeal.

Yet, your heart yearns for the man, and you’re always hoping that you’ll at least be able to ease his pain and loneliness, even in the slightest bit. 

But tonight is when you decided that enough was enough and would confront him about it. What exactly was bothering him? Or rather, if he was actually getting bored of your company.

You needed to know. 

“Hyunjae, I’m here to talk.” 

When you replied to the male with your usual messages, being the gentleman he was, Hyunjae welcomed you immediately at the front door when you arrived. The usual deal would be that the two of you would get straight down to business without having much say, to begin with. Tonight was when you decided that this would not work out, and you both have to come to terms with one another before things go straight downhill. 

He looked at you with a surprised look, where you could tell that he was definitely taken aback since you were usually the quiet one and would let the male take control of everything. A deep sigh left his mouth, and he invited you into his living room, where you both sat on the couch, distancing ever so slightly from one another. 

You hesitated for a moment before you decided that it was the right time to put together the right words to ask the male what exactly had been going through his mind for the past weeks. 

“What exactly am I to you at this point?” 

It seemed as if the male knew that the day would come when he would eventually have to face the question he had been avoiding for so long. In the beginning, he has always seen you as a good friend who would understand his point of view of where he was coming from and how he deeply appreciated the help you were willing to give him.

But lately, he has been having second thoughts and has begun questioning himself about what he truly felt about you.

Are the both of you still in this whole friends-with-benefits situation? Or even, are you both still good friends at this point? 

It took a minute or two for the male to speak up finally, and what he replied was something that had never once crossed your mind. 

“I fear that I might be crossing the line, Y/N.” 

“And why is that?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know myself.” 

This uncertainty back and forth has really started to get on your nerves, and the fact that you came here tonight to clear the air proved nothing at all. Hyunjae wasn’t sure of his emotions, yet you were desperate to know his point of view. 

Frustrated, you stood up from the couch and raised your voice slightly, facing the male to express your frustrations throughout the past week.

“Hyunjae, you keep telling me that you always needed some time alone, and yet you always want me back by the end of the day. If we’re not going to do this like how we have intentionally started with, then we’re both just wasting all of our time, really.” 

“Y/N, I thought that we could just be casual about all of this-”

“Casual?” You scoffed. “You never were my best friend to begin with. We are just lab partners, and I was merely concerned about your well-being, so I decided to help out a little.”

“And because I love you.” You choked. 

Hyunjae’s eyes widened upon that statement, and he was about to refute it until you managed to fire back again.

“Have you perhaps fallen in love with me?” 

Hyunjae? In love with you? That can’t be. Both of you agreed upon the rules at the start that all of this was merely helping one another out, and there was no room for falling in love with the other party at all. 

You knew that you had already broken the rule from the start, but it didn’t matter to you as long as you were aware that Hyunjae was getting all of the necessary help and support he needed. But with what Hyunjae has been going through lately, he knew that it was why he had begun to see you differently and how he could not touch and feel you like before. 

The question was if he was ready to move on from his ex. With your help, he should have gotten over it and begun to take things a lot easier, right?

If only your theory were right. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

That was enough to tell you that all of the efforts that you have put in over the past few months have gone down the drain that easily. 

You were getting teary-eyed, and you began stomping towards the front door, wanting to escape this suffocating environment that you were in. 

With one final sigh, you fired back at the male once more. “Why the fuss, Hyunjae? If you just say you wanna be mine?” 

Just as quickly as you opened the door, you were instantly gone. Tears begin pooling down your face as you take that long, dark, dimly light road back to the comforts of your flat.

Is it that hard to just admit you have feelings for me, Hyunjae? 

Back at Hyunjae’s flat—he was standing there still, fingers running through his hair in a frustrated manner as he took his phone and dialled the only number he knew who could knock in some sense of mind at this hour. 

“Sangyeon-hyung, I messed up real bad.”

You have never felt so dead over the next few weeks ever since that incident at Hyunjae’s flat. Neither of you has spoken a word to one another or even come close to having eye contact at all.

It was tough when you were both assigned lab partners for your chemistry subject and had to talk to your advisor to have your partner physically changed for the rest of the year. It was tough coming up with plausible reasons as to why you wanted him to be switched out with someone else—but ultimately, your request was approved. You were now paired with one of the girls from the class with whom you were not too familiar with, but that was fine by you so long as it wasn’t him. 

Obviously, your efforts did not go unnoticed, and the male eventually tried his best to reach out to you again. But every time you managed to get a slight glimpse of him walking your way, you have always done your best to keep yourself occupied or even walk away to avoid starting up a conversation with him. 

You even tried blocking him off of all of your social media and on your contacts list—he was already swarming you with calls or messages, trying to just talk to you or even apologise for what happened. But honestly, you were just not ready to hear whatever he would say to you, especially when you fell for the man before you started this whole friends-with-benefits relationship. 

I have been such a fool to think he would eventually love me back. 

It was a quiet afternoon when you decided to spend the rest of the day finishing your assignments before the final exams were due in about a week. The library has always been your comfort place to be on campus. Not only can you take a little breather from all the chaos on campus, but you also could take a little nap in between, especially during times like this when you’ve always pulled an all-nighter and your sleep schedule was all messed up. 

Standing up from your seat, you decided to walk down towards one of the halls to get some textbooks that would be helpful as your source of references for the current report you were typing on your computer. 

The peace wouldn’t last long, though, as you felt a presence behind you that you had avoided for the past month. The cologne was what gave his identity away, you would’ve recognised it immediately without a doubt because you used to spend the nights with him all the time. 

You tried your best to ignore the male, constantly trying to fidget through the shelves until you finally grabbed enough materials to return to your table. 

That was until he decided to grab hold of your arm, and now you were left with no escape and choice but to come face-to-face with the person you have been avoiding at all cost. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. But please, at least, hear me out for a few minutes.” 

Taking in a deep sigh, you laid your head down and looked at your books before muttering to the male. 

“Five minutes.” 

He then lets go of your arms and straightens his back as he clears his throat to finally muster up the courage to tell you what has been trying his best to tell you over the missed calls and messages. 

“First of all, I’m an idiot. I messed up so bad, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have done nor said what I did back then-”

“Cut to the chase, Hyunjae. I have no time to waste.” 

“Listen. I haven’t been able to look at you the same nor touch you the way I did before because… I am starting to care a lot about you, Y/N. I’m not talking this from a friends-with-benefits stance, but rather as a friend.” 

You scoffed. “So this is what it’s all about? Coming here to apologise and tell me you have changed? I have to laugh if that’s what it is, Hyunjae. Look, if you are sneaking up on me just to tell me that you need me back to do whatever shit that we used to do, then I’m sorry, but I’m done with that phase.” 

He now grips both of your shoulders, trying to knock some sense into you. “No, Y/N. I’m not seeking a sexual relationship with you anymore. I’ve been a jerk not to notice how, during this whole time, I have begun to care a lot about you because you mean more to me as a friend.” 

“And because I have fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

No. 

No way, it can’t be. Hyunjae has made it clear how he only needed company back then, and he was nowhere near or wanting to begin a new relationship after how messed up his and his ex’s one was. You’ve got to be hearing things, maybe your lack of sleep lately was the key to this. 

“You don’t, Hyunjae. You don’t love me. I was just merely a company for you.” 

“That was before, Y/N. But not anymore.” 

He now takes a step closer to you as he pins you against the bookshelf. 

“And I’m going to make myself clear, miss Y/N. I can now confidently say that I am ready to start anew and begin this new chapter with you. The old Lee Hyunjae that you have known is now gone, and I am willing to spend the rest of my life with you as your boyfriend.” 

Tears began forming in your eyes, and you had to try so hard to fight back the tears and respond to the male. 

“I can’t read your mind, Hyunjae. One day, you told me you needed space and to be alone, and the next thing that happened, you came back to me saying you wanted me back. I do not enjoy this joke in the slightest bit, Hyunjae.” 

He notices how your tears are on the verge of streaming down the beautiful face he has longed to yearn for over the past month, and he now closes the gap between you two, lips now brushing against one another.

“Then let me prove it to you.” 

He shuts you up by placing his soft, gentle lips against yours, and with that, the tears that you have held back for so long begin pouring down like there’s no tomorrow. 

He rests one of his hands around your waist while the other seemingly rests on your right cheek, slowly catching each drop of tears as he wipes them away. 

Oh, how badly you have missed this—the familiar sensation, his cologne, presence, and the soft, luscious lips against yours. 

Both of you were kissing one another as if it was just like the first time you both had done it—tongues were now intertwined, and neither of you were planning to let go anytime soon. 

“Hyunjae—God—Don’t—Stop.” You said in between the kisses as you tried your best to catch your breath. 

“Never planned to do so, Y/N.” 

As he breaks off the kiss and travels down to your neck to nibble and leave a trail of kisses behind, he whispers into your ear before continuing the deed. 

“You may have fallen for me first, but I have fallen for you harder.”

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu (join my permanent taglist here!)

#deoboyznet #kvanity #k-labels #kflixnet #k-films #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz x imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #tbz scenarios #hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae x reader #lee hyunjae x reader #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae angst #hyunjae suggestive #the boyz angst #the boyz suggestive

[thefallennightmare]

Arranged-sixteen

credit to whoever made the gif. found on google/pintrest.

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: So I have to close the tag list for this! Tumblr is stupid and wont let me tag anymore of you. Sorry! Also, were getting to the really good stuff now! I’m hoping for another update or two tonight.  

Tags: @alexxavicry @mdpplgtz03 @broadwaybabe18 @samsgirl93 @cherryflavoureds-blog @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @capsgrantrogersclqrosmgc @loumaaria-blog @queerqueenlynn @pampeop @cjand10 @purplerain85 @savannahcole99 @evanstanhoney @sebastianstansqueen @portrait-ninja @honeyglee @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @lilya-petrichor @valsworldofcreativity @buckycallsmeaslut @romanoffjohansson @themayzittcha @sapphiredreamer26 @buckybarnessimpp @itjustkindahappenedreally @mavrellover91 @esoltis280 @playboystark @legendarytrashcopeclipse @pansexual-4-all @elizacusi-blog @dnc331 @tee-swizzle @lovsalpkn @yourfavunsub @madebylilly @cerberusmybeloved @lclove2012-blog @onelmstreetett @tesseract69 @monique2281 @wayward-gypsy @wholesomewhorelol @ozwriterchick @pono-pura-vida @bogwaterswamp @s0urw00lf @daydreaming-mood @maggiemae5 @big-heart-ninjasblog @alexa4040 @screaming-les-bean @loustan90 @buckys2lut​ @marnle

Arranged Masterlist

My eyes fluttered open, the golden rays of the upcoming sunrise painted the room and I slowly sat up to take in my surroundings. I was back in my room, suitcases and clothes still scattered throughout, but what made my heart drop was that I was alone, Bucky nowhere in sight. 

“Bucky?” I called out. 

His voice didn’t call back. 

I gave a quick glance to my phone and noticed that I had been out for a few hours. The constant revelation of truths tonight had done a number on my mental capacity and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed to sleep it off. Even if I felt slightly better about the situation, I still wasn’t happy about how Bucky had to deal with the whole Jason situation. But in the end, I wasn’t going to change the outcome of what happened. 

With a soft sigh, I decided that I should let him know that I was awake and feeling better, mostly. I made my way towards the one place in the house I knew that Bucky would be. 

His office. 

As I made the turn down the long hallway, I noticed Sam was leaning against the wall with his phone pressed to his ear. He had been so engrossed in his phone call that he hadn’t realized I had walked up behind him.

“They’re in there with him right now, it’s not pretty but we have to get somewhere.” 

My brows knitted together as I halted in front of Sam who quickly ended his call when his eyes landed on me. 

“Is Bucky busy?” I nodded towards the closed office door behind him. 

“Yeah, I’ll let him know you stopped by,” Sam said. 

I snorted. “What are you, his receptionist?” 

“He’s in a meeting.” 

“I heard. I guess it doesn't look pretty in there?” I questioned. 

I was unsure what kind of meeting Bucky would have at the early hours of the morning and I made that clear to Sam. 

He sighed. “Y/N, you can’t go in there.” 

“Why not?” I had my arms crossed over my chest. 

A bellow of screams came from behind the door and I tried to move past Sam but he blocked my path. 

“I can’t let you in, Y/N.” 

More screams sounded and I looked at Sam baffled. “What is Bucky doing in there?” 

Sam shook his head with hesitation. “It’s not Bucky that’s screaming.”

“Sam, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on. I'm so tired of being left out in the dark with everything. Please.” 

He ran a hand over his face and let out a large breath. “There’s a lead in your parents' case.” 

My heart jumped at not only hearing news of a lead in my parents’ case but also because of the way that Bucky and Steve were finding out more information. Sam didn’t have to tell me exactly how they were doing it, the screams that echoed told me. 

Not bothering to hear Sam’s protests, I pushed past him and barreled into the office. The door had slammed against the wall. My eyes doubled in size with the sight in front of me. 

Bucky and Steve had their backs to me but that didn’t stop me from seeing the blood on their knuckles and the array of knives on the desk. However, what made my stomach drop was seeing the man tied to a chair, blood pooling from a variety of cuts on his face, arms, and thighs. There was a puddle of blood forming at the man's feet. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I gasped. 

The two men turned on their heels when they heard my voice and Bucky cursed as he wiped the blood on a towel. 

“What the hell, Y/N! Didn’t you see the closed door?” He seethed while blocking my view.

I ignored him, only pointing to the man in the chair. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Bucky was now gripping my elbow to force me out but I ripped it from his grasp. 

“NO! I’m done being the girl stuck in her room with the wool over her eyes as to what’s going on.” I fought against him. 

“Y/N, leave. Now.” Bucky’s voice was calm but firm. 

I shook my head and pushed past him, now standing close to the tied man. Beneath the blood and bruises that were forming, I could tell that he was younger than me, just a kid. 

My blood began to boil as I looked back at Bucky. “He’s just a kid, guys!” 

“Y/N, you need to listen to Bucky and leave. You shouldn’t be here for this.” 

Steve was the next to try to get me to leave but I pushed his hand off of me. 

“Screw you, guys! He knows something about my parents' case, right?” I asked. 

It was Steve who gave me the answer I was looking for. “Yes but he’s not giving it up willingly.” 

A gargled cough sounds behind me. “Oh shit. It was your parents that got wacked?”

Anger flashed over my eyes as I went to smack him, only to be held back by Steve. 

“Let me go!” I did my best to break free from his grasp but failed. 

That damn serum.

“I deserve to be here if it involves my parents!” I pleaded while looking between Steve and Bucky. 

With a quick lick of his lips, Bucky eventually nodded. “You only ask questions, understand?” 

I didn’t bother wasting my breath on him and turned my attention back to the man in the chair. 

“Who killed my parents?” 

The man chuckled but remained silent which seemed to anger Bucky, who grabbed a knife off of his desk. It twirled between his vibranium fingers. 

“She asked you a question,” Bucky said. 

Seeing the way Bucky had flipped the knife so effortlessly in his hand made my core twitch with a new, confusing desire. 

I stared at it with a tilted head. 

Oh…oh.

That’s why I felt this burning below. I had found myself becoming turned on by seeing Bucky play with the knife. 

I pushed the feeling to the back of mind, knowing now wasn’t the time to explore this new kink. 

“This is your bride?” The man said before looking at me. “Damn baby, why are you wasting your time with this freak? I’ll show you what a real man is like.” 

Bucky’s boot landed into the man’s chest, knocking him to the ground, and pressed the knife deep into his neck. 

“You’re lucky I need you alive for answers otherwise I’d kill you right now for even looking at her,” Bucky spat, drawing blood from a new wound on the neck. 

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from protesting Bucky’s actions. 

Once the chair was placed up properly, I knelt down in front of the man again. 

“What’s your name?” I asked. 

“Let me guess, you’re the good cop?” 

I shrugged. “Someone has to be.” 

He looked at the two men that towered behind me and sighed. “Daryl.” 

I gave him a small smile. “Okay, Daryl. I’m only going to ask you one more time. Who killed my parents?” 

“Screw you.” 

Skin on skin echoed throughout the room only it came from my hand as I slapped Darly, hard. 

He spat blood on the ground, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Damn, that’s all you got?” 

This time, I punched the same cheek I had previously slapped. 

“Y/N!” 

I ignored Bucky and kept my attention on Daryl. “Who killed my parents?” 

My patience had begun to grow thin, I needed answers now and I didn’t care what I had to do in order to get them. 

“I’m not fucking around. Who killed them?!” 

He looked up at me with a sinister smirk under all of the blood. “Why don’t you ask your husband? I’m sure he’s got a list of people that want revenge.” 

My hand reeled back, ready to land another blow, but vibranium fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me away from Daryl. I burned a gaze full of hatred towards Bucky as he pinned me against the wall. 

“I said talking only,” he reminded me through gritted teeth. 

“Look at him, Bucky! Clearly you two gave up talking to him a long time ago.” 

Bucky nodded. “For you! This is all for you, Y/N. I can’t have you come in here still upset with me for what happened to Jason and risk making this guy clam up.” 

A dry laugh fell from my lips. “You think that’s why I’m so heated? I don’t care anymore. You killed someone. I’m not happy with it but I can’t change that for you. It’s who you are and I have to live with it.” 

There was a sadness that glossed over Bucky’s eyes and he sighed deeply. “I don't want you to stoop to my level. You’re too good for this, doll.” 

“It’s my parents, Bucky,” I shrugged. “I have too.” 

A soft finger raised my chin up, closer to Bucky’s lips, and I molded into him as he placed a gentle kiss on mine. All of the anger I had felt slipped through my fingertips, only for a moment, as I allowed him to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. 

“How sweet. You want to know what your parents said before a bullet was put into their brains?” 

Bucky’s head snapped towards Daryl. “Keep your fucking mouth shut.” 

I pushed past Bucky and reached for a knife on the desk. “What did you say?” 

Daryl chuckled darkly. “They begged for your life to be spared. They knew that we would come after you next, unless they gave us what we were looking for.” 

His screams filled our ears as I dug the knife deep into an open wound in his stomach, twisting and turning it. 

“What did you want?” I asked. 

No answer so I dug the knife deeper, more blood pooling over my hand. Daryl’s head hung low, another dark chuckle erupted from his throat. My fingers snaked through his hair and yanked his head back. 

“What were you looking for?!” I yelled. 

The knife dug even deeper which caused Daryl to hiss in pain but that didn’t stop him from spitting a large amount of blood into my face.

“That’s enough! Steve, get her out of here,” Bucky’s loud voice demanded. 

The knife clattered to the hard floor below as arms wrapped around me from behind, lifting me away from Daryl. I kicked and writhed against Steve’s grasp, a slew of curses falling from my lips and being taken away. 

“He knows! He knows who killed them!” 

Steve continued to carry me until we were in the main entry of the house and once my feet touched the ground, I did my best to run past him but he was two seconds too fast. I ran right into his hard chest. 

“Steve, please,” I begged, tears filling my eyes. 

He gave me a sad look. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t let you in there.” 

My shoulders slumped, defeated. “But he knows.” 

Steve cupped my face with both of his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. 

“Bucky and I will find that out but you need to go take a shower. Get cleaned up and take a breath. You only woke up a while ago from passing out. We don’t need that to happen again.” 

Truthfully, I knew Steve was right. My body had been so stressed out with everything the last couple weeks that I hadn’t had time to simply sit and decompress; take a breath. 

“Will you fill me in on what you find out?” I asked. 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

With one final sigh, I slipped through his gentle hands and climbed the stairs towards my bedroom.

#mob!bucky barnesmob!bucky barnes x readermob!bucky barnes and readermob!bucky barnes x ynmob!bucky barnes and ynmob!bucky barnes reader inse

[ssouhekii]

ʲᵉˡˡʸᶠⁱˢʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇˡᵃᶜᵏ ᶜᵃᵗ - ☆ .° • . °

☆ ˢⁱᵍᵐᵃ & ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ!ᵒʳᵃᶜˡᵉ!ʸ/ⁿ - * ☆ . °

wc - 4.4k ☆

Sigma didn't go into this month's Decay meeting expecting for them to induct a new member. He really didn't expect this member to be a little kid. He really, really didn't expect this little kid to be staying with him.

warnings: implied/referenced child neglect & experimentation, nothing too serious though, yet, kind of uneventful because it's the first of a series, nobody will tell poor sigma y/n's name and there's lots of awkward pauses

a/n - I haven't written in a very long time, so sorry if it's a bit dry. i promise the next chapter will have more interesting interactions and dialogue. I only wanted the conversations to be stiff for this chapter so that you can feel the tension between sigma and the reader. also, i know the word oracle is used incorrectly. more on that later

The Decay of Angels sat around a white plastic table in white plastic chairs. Behind each of them lay a beige wall, and under their feet a tan carpet.

Fyodor had perhaps chosen the blandest room to ever exist for this meeting, and the worst part was he couldn't even complain.

Sigma had spent their last meeting at Nikolai's elegant Oakwood dining table, stepping over streamers and stray cards scattered everywhere. Each member had taken a seat in a wildly abstract chair, ranging from Fyodor in a bean-bag on wheels to Nikolai, in his dramatic red velvet throne at the center of the table. Sigma had taken his place at a plastic folding chair that he was sure had been taken from a wrestling gig.

So, he had felt a sick sort of relief walking into the most unsettlingly mild room known to man. He listened to a hung-over Fukuchi drone on about that month's objectives, their current business affairs, financing updates, and upcoming social events. Each member of the Decay stood and gave a rushed report of their activity for the previous month, Sigma noting his Casino's gains, Nikolai his undercover diplomatic efforts, and Fukuchi his outlook on the political environment. Bram had nothing to share, and closed his eyes once again in his coffin as Fyodor stood from his chair. He gave a calm glance around the room and closed his eyes, beginning his proposal.

"As you all know, news of a certain ability user affecting affairs with underground organizations have been circulating as of late."

Sigma cast a worried glance to Nikolai, who seemed invested in his dear friend's speech.

Sigma cast a worried glance to Nikolai, who seemed invested in his dear friend's speech.

"It has come to my attention that this ability user is completely unaffiliated with any organization, and is quite out of control. Thus, we must take control of them before another group has a chance to do so."

The casino's manager set his elbow on the table and looked at his fingernails. They were glazed white and slightly pointed.

Sigma hadn't quite expected Fyodor to initiate inducting another member to the Decay. He had a habit of coercing Fukuchi to let talented people slip out of their hands and into the palms of the Rats. Despite the losses, Sigma could never help but be relieved at the Decay's stable member count. Four was enough for him.

Fyodor continued.

"While we already have this ability user in our grasp, it may be difficult to keep them in our hand, so to speak. It is confirmed that the subject has difficulty controlling their ability. However, that should not be a problem for Fukuchi and I to address."

Fyodor opened his eyes slowly and flicked his lashes while glancing to his side, making eye contact with Fukuchi before looking away.

"The difficulty in inducting this.. person into the Decay lies in controlling their temperament."

Sigma's calmness and relief shook itself off immediately. For Fyodor to express trouble with controlling someone meant they were stubborn as a stone, or even a genius on the same level as him.

"A discussion between Fukuchi and I has taken place, and we believe the best course of action should be for a member of the Decay to welcome them into their home. This would be convenient for surveillance, as the subject cannot be left alone for long. It would also benefit training."

The casino manager became even more nervous. It was precisely with his luck they'd announce it was him who had to take in a new member with behavioral issues.

"The subject may also not live alone as they are not... of age to do so. The ability user in question, a child of six years, cannot be trusted to manage their own household properly."

A lump formed in his throat. Deep down, there was a part of him that almost begged to recieve this child. That begged for that almost ill-concieved notion of a family. He pushed that notion down in favor of disdain, and to any unassuming citizen he would almost look sick at the thought of taking in a kid with behavioral issues.

Fyodor continued.

"It is known that some members-" Nikolai came to mind, and Sigma noticed Bram glance to the clown too. "-cannot sustain an environment suitable for a child either."

Sigma was nearly sure this would be him.

"Given Fukuchi's alcoholism, Bram's lack of... appendages, and Nikolai's.. preferred environment, that leaves two options out of the Decay," Fyodor and everyone else eyed Sigma, and he felt like this attack was premeditated. "However, given my circumstances involving myself and those currently living with me, I cannot guarantee the safety of a young child in my household."

"So, you'd want me to take the child in?"

Fukuchi rose from his chair and stood beside Fyodor.

"If you'd be willing to take on this job, it'd benefit the organization greatly. We're willing to use the Decay's funds to pay for any living costs for the subject, including recreation. You are not obligated, but the subject's safety is of utmost importance towards our future plans."

Sigma was pretty sure that "recreation" just meant toys.

"Paying for living costs is no problem. With all due respect, the casino allocates for about three-fifths of the Decay's income, while also sustaining itself. However," Sigma paused, searching for his words. "However, I am in no way prepared to handle a child. I have no prior experience."

"Well, Sig, you can learn! You got a hold of the casino in no time!" Nikolai had broken his silence, no longer entranced with Fyodor's little speech. His encouraging words only set Sigma off.

"Yes, Nikolai, the casino is a whole other issue! I cannot be expected to manage an entire business while watching over a superpowered child with supposed behaviour issues! While I am fine covering financial management for the Decay Of Angels, I was never in any way propositioned to join for babysitting. I do want to stay professional here, but you can't just spring a job like this on me!"

Sigma finished his little rant. The entire table remained still, exactly the same as they had been before. Sigma wasn't even sure when said child would arrive, but he was sure he required some sort of notice before they even mentioned it to him.

He should have known Fyodor would see through him.

"No, Sigma, you were never "propositioned for babysitting" or anything of the like. However, we may very well compensate you-" Nikolai cut in. "Yeah, yeah! We'll raise your paycheck and find more people to cover the casino! We've already got ya covered, Sig!!"

"Thank you, Nikolai," Fukuchi grumbled, clearly holding back a sigh. "We will indeed compensate you and cover both your costs and time lost. As for experience, none is needed."

"Fukuchi, I can't be expected to raise a child with no guidance or skills pertaining to.. to children."

Fyodor made eye contact with Sigma, chilling him to the bone. The rat's sickening smile curled upwards.

"You haven't got to raise any child, Sigma. Just make sure the subject is alive long enough to complete training. Once that is finished, they will sustain themself."

It wasn't until later, much later, that Sigma had realized why the idea of training a living weapon for the Decay made him so, so ill.

"So you expect me to, what, keep a six year old under lock and key?"

"Sure, as long as that works for you."

Sigma, much more unnerved but slightly less opposed to the idea, decided he'd need to shoot more questions. One, in particular, ached in his mind.

"Why is this child so important? What plan is so dire to you that it involves keeping a specific ability user so close?"

Fukuchi leaned forward, and Nikolai whipped his head towards him. "Again, this ability looks to be a danger if not controlled, and an even bigger danger if controlled by a group other than us. As for our plans with her in the future, those remain private."

"Well, what's this dangerous ability, then, and why am I subject to deal with it?"

"As said, you are the only one with a household safe enough to keep a child alive and healthy. As for the ability.." Fyodor narrowed his eyes as Fukuchi finished talking, taking this as his turn to convince Sigma.

"The subject's ability is called, quite simply, Oracles. It can be supposed that she is able to see any place and hear any word without actually being in the area. However, this ability may only view what is going on at the exact moment. In addition, it has been confirmed that the subject cannot control nor will a vision at any given moment, making them completely unprompted."

Sigma cut in as soon as Fyodor paused.

"So how is that dangerous?"

"You know very well how, Sigma."

He had only asked the question to stall a little further. This conversation, the way these people spoke about this child, made him sick. He didn't want to answer their question.

Nikolai tapped his feet, while Fukuchi and Fyodor eyed him cautiously. Bram was asleep. Quietly, Sigma uttered the only question he could think of.

"What will happen to her if I refuse?"

Fyodor's smile faded slightly, but there was no malice in his eyes. Fukuchi's gaze narrowed and Nikolai frowned.

"Sig, don't do that. We kinda need you to do this!"

"It's alright, Nikolai," Fyodor hummed. "I can keep the ability user myself. Though, Ivan hasn't reacted well to their arrival, I'm sure he can adjust. He may not trust their ability now, but he'll warm up as they.." Fyodor was tuned out as Sigma recalled what he knew about Ivan. The tall, unsettling man whom Fyodor had done brain surgery on, making him into some sort of passive servant. Sigma almost shuddered. The thin man had been almost violently obsessed with Fyodor, though not in the way Nikolai was. In fact, Ivan had outright threatened Nikolai more than once for even grazing against his beloved master.

Sigma was sure he understood now why Fyodor hadn't wanted to keep a child near someone like that.

Damn Sigma for being so mild.

He decided to use his last resort before declining the offer. The child would simply have to deal with Ivan's distrust.

"Would it be alright if I could... meet this girl first before allowing her into my home?"

Though Sigma had completely cut in, the room remained unresponsive for a passing moment before Nikolai jumped up onto Sigma and let out some sort of high-pitched squeal. "AHH! I KNEW you'd give her a chance! Thanks for doing us such a favor! I'll go grab her right now!!"

Nikolai disappeared before he could even hear Sigma mutter something about not having said yes.

☆ . ° • . ☆ * .°

The strange tall man with a white braid and striped pants unlocked the door to the room and strutted in, humming a tune. He, not even looking at you, grabbed your wrist tightly and began to drag you somewhere yet again. You'd been in that little beige room for almost twenty minutes now, but it'd felt like you had barely sat down.

"Time to go, kiddo!" He chirped as he almost lifted you out of your metal folding chair with a single tug to your wrist. You had tried not to budge, but the man proved to have incredible strength. So, you walked out with him, struggling against his grasp even though it was futile. In fact, he ignored your muttering and wriggling, continuing to almost skip down the hall.

At last you two arrived at a door, and the strange man squatted down to meet your eyes. You thought he was unsuccessful, as the card covering his own left eye prevented him from looking into both of yours at once. He compensated for this by quickly darting his right eye back and forth.

"You're gonna go meet the man who's gonna take care of you, okay? Yeah? Make sure to be re-e-eal nice, alright? Let's put on a big smile, okay?!"

You continued to stare blankly ahead as the excitable man pushed open the doors and again dragged you into the room. There were more tall men, and your blank stare dropped into a scowl.

While being pulled forwards, you stopped struggling in favor of analyzing the odd characters before you.

Your eyes were first drawn to the pale, grey-haired man, asleep to your far right in a large wooden box. It was lined with some sort of soft-looking red texture, which you were sure you could've fallen asleep in too. However, what caught your attention the most was the man's striking lack of appendages and a sword where his stomach should be. You were sure it must've hurt a lot, and were glad he was getting rest.

You still scowled as you looked to the left of the sleeping man, you spotted two other figures you'd seen before. The grey-haired man in the red coat and the eery black-haired man. The grey-haired man annoyed you. When he had first caught you, scampering around in a forest near the abandoned cottage you had made into your home, he had picked you up and slung you over his shoulder like a sort of package. You had been incredibly frustrated and screamed until your voice gave out, pounding your fists against his back. He hadn't ever responded, and only spoke in short commands like "Stop" and "quiet." Worst of all, his breath smelled sour and dry, like those fermented drinks that the adults always had on rough nights.

You disliked the black-haired man too, but for different reasons. Where his grey friend paid almost no attention to you at all, you could always feel the dark man's eyes on you. He spoke in a saccharine tone and called you things like mishka and little one. His gaze almost felt full of contempt, and he kept physical distance from you like you were some sort of beast.

Looking around, you didn't see the black-haired man's other friend, the one with the bandages around his head. You were glad, because you didn't like him. He had said if you spied on his master he'd throw you out, and then spied on you himself the whole night.

Finally, right in front of you, was a man with choppy hair in half-purple and half-white. The inside of his coat sparkled like the sky when it was dark, which caught your attention. Being speedily pulled towards him by the man with the striped pants, you noticed the half-and-half's gaze on you.

You weren't surprised at his stare, as that tended to be a common reaction to your appearance. You weren't sure why. Maybe it was because your hair hung in your face like vines on the fence of an overgrown house, abandoned for years with no care. Maybe it was because your nearly-empty eyes had deep bags under them from all the times you'd lost sleep after seeing a vision. Maybe it was because you had only ever wore a musty hospital gown, if only for lack of better clothing options. Or maybe, maybe it was just because everyone thought your visions were the most important thing about you, and that you were some mystical oracle that knew their fate.

You gazed up at Mister-two-tone, not noticing his friend mouth "introduce yourself" to him before he knelt down and looked into your eyes, and glanced to the floor briefly before slowly offering his hand to you.

"My name is Mister Sigma. What's your name..?"

His voice was deep and serious, but gentle. You looked at this strange Mister Sigma's hand. You weren't sure what he wanted you to do with it, so you ignored it and kept staring into his eyes. Silence overwhelmed the room. Over a minute passed without your response, and Mister Sigma retracted his hand while you continued to stare him down.

It wasn't that you were shy, or that you'd forgotten your own name, or even that you didn't ever have one. You had been little y/n in your town until the people in white coats took you away and started calling you Subject Oh Thirty Eight, or Zero Three Eight, or even just Thirty-Eight. Then, the sterile white building had been flooded and you had run into a nearby forest, and suddenly you hadn't got any name at all. Or maybe you had, but it didn't really matter that much.

You were drawn out of your thoughts by that Mister Sigma interjecting again.

"So, I uh.. What's your favorite animal, kiddo?"

You had often enjoyed the company of feral cats in your town, and had seen some strange, fat striped-tail ones in the woods you occupied. However, you didn't understand why he would need to know, so you kept silent.

After about fifteen seconds of still staring into his eyes (you counted yourself), you were brought back into focus by his voice breaking the room's silence a third time.

"Is it true that you can see anything, anywhere?"

Oh, you knew the answer to this! Everyone who met you had asked. You noticed the eery black-haired man behind Mister Sigma narrow his eyes at you.

"I can't see the visions you want at will. I'm sorry."

Your voice was scratchy, both from the screaming you'd done the day earlier when the grey-haired man caught you and the fact that you barely talked anyways. This response, however, was easy to say after dozens of live practice sessions.

The two-toned Mister Sigma's eyes softened and he glanced to the side with an almost nervous look before looking back at you and smiling.

"That's alright, I don't need anything. I just wanted to know."

You continued to stare at him as he stood up and motioned his colleagues to come near. Card-face dropped your arm and sped over to the two-toned man along with everyone else, and they huddled around you in a whisper.

You stood silently and continued to stare.

☆ . ° • . ☆ * .°

It was at that moment Sigma swore he wouldn't get attached.

Hearing the first words from a glassy-eyed child be "I'm sorry" formed a new feeling of contempt for the world around him. He almost felt angry, hearing someone so young apologize for being unable to be of use.

Damn Fyodor for picking a child he saw so much of himself in.

Though the little child had seemed a little cold and almost feral, they seemed considerably easier to handle than what Sigma had expected. He'd almost expected a younger Nikolai. However, he wasn't relieved to find that their preferred form of conversation was a cold glare.

"So, Sig? Whaddya think, whaddya think? Don't keep us waiting any longer!!"

Sigma felt his colleagues' eyes on him. He glanced at his feet, then at the child (who made eye contact with him through their messy, overgrown locks. Sigma almost shivered.) then finally moved his eyes across his coworkers.

"I will take in the child," Fyodor and Fukuchi smiled while Nikolai nearly burst into joyful laughter. "Provided that the Decay covers all costs, time lost on the casino, and training efforts. This is my only offer."

"Ah, Sig, we knew you'd take her! Great, great!!" Nikolai sprang onto Sigma and hugged him, while Fyodor clapped politely. Fukuchi gave an almost half-hearted bow, clearly tired from this indecision.

"Thank you for doing this, Sigma. Route me your receipts every month and you'll be compensated. I'll have any documents needed for a front mailed to you soon."

Fukuchi took his leave soon after. Bram was carried out with him. Sigma pushed Nikolai off of him and looked to Fyodor.

"I'm glad I could convince you. Good evening, Sigma." Fyodor also left quickly, clearly wanting out before Sigma changed his mind.

Sigma turned to Nikolai, who had made his way to the little child and was shaking their hand furiously. They squirmed and grumbled.

"Bye bye, kiddo!! Have fun with Sig, okay? I'll drop by soon!"

He leaped up and trotted to Sigma, grasping his hands and staring into his face almost excitedly.

"Hey, Sig, good luck!! Congrats on your first kid!" Nikolai skipped out like some sort of madman, leaving Sigma and the child alone, watching each other.

He couldn't believe what he'd just agreed to.

☆ . ° • . ☆ * .°

As the strange white-haired man finally left, you were left alone in front of the table with Mister Sigma. He turned and stared at you. You kept watching him as you had. The way his hair moved was interesting to you. Every time he turned his head, it made a swishing motion. It was like some sort of fish you'd seen in the aquarium a long, long time ago. You couldn't remember its name.

"Well, it's getting late. I guess we'd, uh, better get going, yeah?" He asked, seeming slightly unsure of himself. He stepped towards you, and you instinctively stepped back.

He held out a hand to you slowly. You weren't quite sure what to make of it. Did he want you to take it? You weren't sure whether he knew that he could just take your hand himself, but you didn't tell him that. You'd had enough manhandling for two days.

He retracted his hand and let out a slight huff, glancing toward you before turning away towards the door.

"Come on, let's go home."

Mister Sigma walked towards the door, and you passively followed behind him. Leading you down the hallway, the only sound he made was the soft clack, clack, clack of his shoes on the floor. The two of you twisted and turned down the halls past several bland brown doors before exiting the building through a set of large glass sliders.

The twilight glistened, though not as beautifully as the inner liming of his coat that swayed along with his hair as he walked. The man pulled out a ring decorated by a large plastic button and a few metal keys. He clicked the button and one of the cars in the lot lit up and let out a quick honk. He turned to his car, a small white Toyota with sleek lights on the front and the back. Its interior consisted of grey leather seats, and a pair of red plush dice hanging from the mirror.

You followed him to the left side of the car, and he opened the front door before looking at you in confusion.

"You can sit on the other side, unless you'd like to sit in the back. This is the driver's seat, though, and I have to sit here."

He spoke cautiously for some reason, stepping over each word as if simply telling you to go sit on the other side was a mortal offense. It wasn't that important to you, but you did appreciate the explanation. You hadn't been told why you had to do something in a very long time, so it was a breath of fresh air.

You paced to the other side of the car, and mimicking how he did it, took the door handle in one hand and pulled it. The door barely budged, and you pulled again. On your third try, you set both palms on the handle and heaved it open.

You stepped into the car proudly, and sat down.

"Could you close the door, please?" Mister Sigma interjected, interrupting your sense of accomplishment. You pulled the door shut with both hands and glared at him. His eyebrows raised slightly, and he squinted a little at you.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

Your mild frustration was dissolving quickly, and you relaxed your gaze. He looked down beside you and raised his pointer finger.

"Could you, uh, buckle your seatbelt?"

You weren't quite sure what that meant. You'd seen cars before, but any memory of being in one was hazy. Lightly tilting your head, you opened your mouth a bit.

"Do you need help?"

You shifted in your seat and nodded. He slowly reached over, watching you all the while, and dragged a large grey belt out of the seat and reached over you, placing it into a button on your other side. It made a little click, and he retracted his hands.

"Now we're ready to go."

Mister Sigma set his keys down beside him and started the car. It made a hum as he pulled out of the parking spot. You watched him closely, paying special attention to how his hair moved as he looked around. You could only see the white side right now, but it didn't matter that much to you.

You continued to watch him, his reactions, his movements as he drove. Whenever another car got in front of him, he seemed to purse his lips. Whenever the big light on the road turned red before he passed it, he'd let out a little sigh before relaxing his grip on the wheel. Whenever he stopped, he nervously glanced to the side. As soon as he met your eyes, he turned away, his hair swishing after him.

About halfway through your little drive and almost a dozen awkward glances, he parted his lips while looking forward towards the road.

"Why are you watching me so closely? Do you need something?"

You continued to watch him.

"No."

"Alright.. if you do, please let me know."

"I don't need anything, thank you."

He kept driving and looking ahead. You kept watching him, and at the next stop he turned to you and met your eyes in an uneasy gaze.

"I'm sorry, it's just... it's a little unsettling to have you watching my every move and I..." he trailed off.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop."

"It's alright, you're not in trouble, it's just that.. I'm just a little confused about why you're watching me so much. We've passed plenty of interesting things on the road, but you haven't taken your eyes off me since we started driving." He looked intently at you.

"Your hair."

"What about my hair? Is it the color?" He seemed to grow a little more nervous.

"It moves. It goes swish, swish when you move."

"Yes, I suppose it does..."

"Are there many people with long hair where you're from?" He seemed to pause at the end, searching for what to call you. The space in his words was filled with another long glance. The car continued moving.

"There aren't many people at all."

"Oh, I see."

The long drive continued in silence.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x you #bsd sigma #sigma bungou stray dogs #sigma x reader #sigma x you #sigma x y/n #strictly platonic but you get the idea #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #nikolai gogol #bsd nikolai #bsd fanfic #x y/n #my writing ☆

[youaremyhome]

Pieces of the Night: Resisting the New Moon

Warnings: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader, 18+ NSFW, smut, HEAVY non-con/dub-con, drug use, possessive behavior, blackmail, manipulation, DARK. More to add. Read at your own risk!

Notes: 3.0k words. I just to thank everyone that has been patiently waiting for my updates and i am SO SORRY for how long this took. Bad news: this is pretty plot-heavy so no smut, good news: next chapter is Rafe's POV! so i really hope yall like it so tell me if you do or don't, i just wanna hear from ya'll!! it means so much to read what you guys think as you read and i find it just as entertaining as writing the series lol

Taglist: @belcalis9503 @ACRAZYBIOTCH374 @fangirlwithlou@malfoytargaryen @RAFECAMERONSBADUSSY @takin-care-of-business@watersquirtpewpewboomm @magnificantmermaid @mk15x @abbybarnesstuff @lavenderhue

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! (And I’m sorry if I missed you, I love you)

Coming home should be relaxing.  

Instead, a ball of dread sits in your esophagus as you turn the key, inching the door open. Silence greets you, shoulders dropping with the weight rolling down your back. You’re truly alone now, with no greedy hands or nipping teeth to get you.

It was a struggle to leave Rafe’s apartment. A wake-up call of kisses and an encore of his performance in the alley started your morning off, followed by an insufferable breakfast with his roommates, Topper and Kelce. Both boys seemed confused as you sat at the dining table, dressed in Rafe’s t-shirt and boxers as he placed the coffee in front of you. The boyish leers and whistles followed you down the hall when you excused yourself, their eyes pinned to the various bruises scattered on you like exploded stars.

Rafe tried insisting on you skipping class with sweet promises that escalated into whispered threats. Fortunately, you were able to escape. It costed you another pair of underwear.

Dragging yourself to your room, your body and mind argue about who’s more exhausted.

While muscles felt strained and bones felt weak, your mind had no inner voice for once. On autopilot as you change, dumping your things to the ground. A muted consciousness fogs your senses, moving like a sim controlled by a child; clumsy and aimless. Collapsing on the bed is the last thing that happens before the screen turns black.

“Get up!”

Your name is being yelled in layers, crusty eyes peeking open as your friends storm in like an army brigade. Andi squeals and jumps into your bed as their voices overlap.

“How could you keep this from us you bitch?!”

“Everyone’s talking about it –"

“Talking about what?” Your sleepy voice cracks.

“You and Rafe, duh!”

Springing up, an instant flush blisters your face, the girls hitching up an octave as they point it out. Their eyes and questions are like needlepoints poking at your skin.

Rubbing your face with both hands, you press the heels to your eyes. “It just sorta… happened.” Little specks of black and silver sprinkle your vision once you’re done squishing your eyes. There’s no point in lying to them. Well, more than you have to.

Looking between the three of them you ask, “How’d you even know so fast? I left his apartment this morning.”

“Oh, please.” Dan huffs, flicking her wrist. “Those frat boys are worst gossips than us. I heard from Mary, who got a text from Liz whose sleeping with Matt, that Topper told him how you did the walk of shame straight to your class."

Louise strikes out, pulling the neckline of your sweater down, revealing the fresh bruises on your skin. They titter, the girls settling on your bed as you pull your knees up, hugging them tightly to your chest. You tell them what they want to hear.

How Rafe had been persisting you in class while you secretly – hated – loved it, cautious because of his reputation. Leading him to beg for a date and the modified version of the dirty details. As you weave the story, struggling is replaced with play fighting, crying with giggling. The lies stumble through your dry mouth, but they assume it's from your shy demeanor.

“So, do you like… like him?” Louise asks with an impish grin and wonder in her eye. Ever the romantic.

“Personality-wise?” You can’t help the grimace on your face. “He’s alright, I guess.”

Clearly, it isn’t the answer she was hoping for; she shrugs, saying people start dating from being fuck buddies nowadays. Controlling your bodily reaction to your relationship named as that is difficult, a weak nod is all you give.

You can see the excitement they hold for you like little offerings you’re supposed to lap up. In any other case, you would be squealing along with them, maybe even having butterflies in your stomach with fuzzy wings instead of knives.

They probe for more intimate details, something you all do after a new boy. Only this time feels…dirty, that these details should never see the light of day for how dark they are. Further despising Rafe for another thing he has unknowingly ruined: the enjoyment of gossiping with your friends. You’re holding back now and it doesn’t feel right. You should be telling them how you cry at the sight of him, not that you orgasm every time (though that is begrudgingly true, too).

“Just be careful, okay?” Danielle says after the conversation winds down. Reaching over, she lays her hand on yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s a simple caring gesture that has you almost breaking. The touch is innocent and good-natured, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

It reminisces the first time you had told them about Rafe. Danielle always had a better judge of character than you. Repeatedly telling you how there were some people that rather burn than put a fire out. Now, you were encircled in a hellish blue fire that licked at your skin.

You hold eye contact, a wall trembling to fall but you reinforce it with a smile. “Of course.”

Over the course of the next couple weeks, other Greek life people you knew were asking about you and Rafe. You knew the community was big enough to not know everyone, but small enough for word to spread like a slow forest fire, contained in an area before it latches onto a lingering branch, lighting its way through the whole campus.

Questions of if you were dating seemed constant, a hardy no was always the answer. Not understanding the fuss of a random frat boy sleeping with a random college girl. Frustrated with it, you had asked a sorority girl that shared the same class with you and Rafe why it even mattered.

“You’re kidding, right?” You frowned and shook your head. “Everyone knows the rich, crazy VP that loves partying more than girls has never had a girlfriend. Especially one so nice.”

You repeated to her and anyone with ears that you and Rafe were absolutely not dating.

That didn’t stop him from heightening the rumors, walking you to and from classes, a kiss hello and goodbye. Arm stretched behind your chair during lecture, playing with the ends of your hair. Public displays of affection that curdled low in your belly. It only reminded you of the leash he has on you. So taut, that with any wrong move, he’ll turn it into a cage.

Even parties weren’t as fun anymore, Rafe making an appearance more likely than not. Those nights usually ended with you drunk, high, fucked out, or a combination of the three. It didn’t matter if you tried hiding somewhere in the packed houses or fought with him there, it ended with you in his bed.

Today you were especially ticked off.

Hungover and crabby, you’re grumbly and feeling like all over shit. You don’t know why your body hurts more, from your intense hungover or the way Rafe had slammed you down to the bed last night. He was already up when you awoke, only in sweats as he ruffled through his desk drawers. He gave you a distracted morning as you got up and dressed. Though you’ve been appeasing him as of late, you don’t bother with a response.

The sound of sharp inhaling has your eyes rolling to the back of your head in annoyance. After a few moments, you feel his stare as you push your last night's clothes into your bag.

“Wanna bump?” He thumbs his nose, lounging back on the chair. “Make you feel better.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

The words are clipped and maybe a little sarcastic, focusing on getting everything you need so you can leave. Easily ignoring him as you round the bed to head to the bathroom.

“It’ll get that stick outta your ass you woke up with.” He mutters, but you know you’re meant to hear it.

Mild annoyance flicks into anger. Anger that has you whirling back to him, letting it dominate you like he has done so many times. Arm lashing out, you swipe the rest of the cocaine off the desk. The collected powder floats into a cloud of dust as its disturbed, satisfaction thrumming through you.

“What the fuck?!”

Rafe’s up in a blink of an eye, chair clambering back to the floor. Your delight dries up when livid eyes pierce you, and before you know what you're doing, you're running away.

There’s shouting of your name, bare feet slapping the floor as he gives chase.

The hallway between his door and the entrance narrows before you, distorting into something longer, inescapable. You don’t know where you're going to go with being shoeless and phoneless but you need to get out of here before –

You’re pushed to the side, inches from the front door and your temple bounces off the wall. Hands spin you around, facing Rafe with his eyes wide and skin taunt as he gives you a jagged shake.

“You stupid bitch –"

“Fucking jackass –"

“Hey, woah!”

You both freeze.

As Rafe turns his head to look behind, you cock your head to the side. Topper stands at the small dining table, dimpled chin hanging low and a bowl of cereal sitting in front of him. Bewildered eyes asses the way Rafe is hunching over you, the twisted grip on your upper arms.

“Rafe, man…let her go,” Topper says calmly, one hand lowly reaching out. Something akin to concern filling out his expression.

With a grunt tickling your ear, Rafe releases you, his chest still pressed to yours. He commands under his breath, “go back to the room.”

If it weren’t for the essentials you left, you would’ve disregarded him completely. Glowering, you check shoulders with him as you go, Topper’s worried questions echo down the hall.

Fear, anger, and misplaced embarrassment from the witnessed scuffle rattle up your head down to your chest. The scene plays in your mind’s eye over and over, a loop that changes only in perspective like a movie. One that doesn’t happen to you, only to a girl that’s looking for her lost voice. She had it before.

Only once under the shelter of being in public does relief settle over you like a cool mist. You don’t know what would’ve happened if Topper hadn’t been here.

🌙

“So, what are your plans for spring break?"

“Um, to go home?”

Confused, you tilt your head to stare down at the phone, Lauren combined with numerous heart emojis displayed on the screen. Your laptop is set on your knees as you complete homework while chatting with her. Hair still wet from your shower and Rafe’s texts unanswered. Apologizes filled the text history from him, all left on read which led to missed calls and increasingly agitated texts.

“Uhhh, no.” The crinkle of fabric as Lauren packs for an upcoming trip accompanies her words. “Dad didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He and mom are gonna go back to that little island we stayed at for Christmas.” Your heart drops, your oblivious sister continues, “…yeah, apparently Dad and that Wade guy hit it off and they’re doing business.”

Your dad’s a commercial architect, designing retail and office spaces across the west coast. He sometimes takes the odd job at the beginning of the new year so your family would be able to enjoy your summer in a new city. It usually took months of permits and construction to fully finish the project, your dad liked to stay with them till the end. You don’t even know what Ward does, just that he must’ve made a good impression, yet you can’t remember because you had a nuisance sitting beside you.

A gnawing pit opens at the bottom of your stomach, feeding on the fear that drips like a broken faucet. If this deal with Ward goes through, you’ll be spending your summer in Kildare, possibly longer with no job lined up for yourself.

A summer of Rafe. A summer of suffering through all the shit he’ll pull. No doubt he’ll be hearing of the news soon, having been privy to the calls with his dad, wanting to be a part of the business.

Before now, you’ve resigned yourself to placating him until May, until graduation and then you’d be across the country, far away, and never looking back. As Lauren’s voice hums in the background, your eyes stare at the keyboard in thought. A hand grazing over the tender spot of the side of your head.

This changes how you’ve been dealing with the situation. Handling Rafe like a spoiled child, giving him limited access to his favorite toy. It was the best strategy you had, believing you had an end date to this mess. However, with summer looming towards you with its long shadows and unrelenting heat, you know you can’t do it any longer. You can’t deal with the constant touching, the faux sweet gestures, and the rough treatment. It makes your head flutter with sickly butterflies just thinking of it, your chest feels light as you breathe in deeper.

You need a new plan, now. One that frees you from the shackles of Rafe Cameron. How you were going to do that…you had no idea. Once he learns of the deal, he won’t let it go. He won’t let his dad say no to it, and won’t let you say no to coming with.

The rest of the phone call is a distant thing, the laptop closed and you don’t even know if you saved your work. Amongst the quiet of the night, you drift into your mind, visualizing an alternate world.

A world where you never saw Rafe on the beach that night, or even went to the Outer Banks at all. How after winter break, you still would’ve had a class together. Still had that fated reunion. With no pogues around to deface him, you might’ve liked the attention from him.

Played it coy, compelling him to make the first move, maybe after lecture one day and walk you home. Having a nice, normal conversation with him. How you would’ve agreed to see him again, to have sex with him again.

This other you gets the Rafe you had first met. A jerk, yes, but one that listened to you, that had self-control. Was soft with you. She gets the normal progression of fuck buddies to a situationship. Because despite all the faults he clearly has, other you would’ve been able to look past them. Giving him leeway with his transgressions, not considering it a big deal since it wasn’t a serious thing anyways.

Other you has weeks and months to see the red flags rising up, one by one. The excessive drinking turns him nasty, the blow that levels him out and becomes emotional. Other you would’ve ignored them, chalked it up to typical college behavior until he eventually hurt you. You’d like to think other you would immediately end it, no matter how much he had manipulated you into liking him.

It's at this point of the dark tale where you know the universe is out to get you, an age-old revenge set upon your very soul. Because if other you tried to end it with him, would he have turned just as vicious as before?

Yes, you think, yes, he would in a heartbeat.

Separate paths: one with a smooth, sandy trail as the other grapples with high seas. These two lives are so separate, so unlike the other but still converging in the end, the same destination. A desisted beach with just a blond boy, ready to meld hands and bodies together. No path to take and no boat to ride on.

Gusts of wind brusquely whip around you like nature herself is propelling you forward, toward him. A warp of stumbling and muted colors as the rough waves crash to the shoreline, deafening and ferocious. The blond stays there, waiting. As if he knows you’ll be coming to him, even though you don’t want to. Like he knows no element will stop this journey of yours deeper into the sand.

You can’t see his face but fright ghosts over you like a disembodied entity. You want to go the other way, back to what was before.

The sand starts to flow, gentler than the water, luring you nearer to him, closer to what you know is bad, bad, bad. You think you scream, or maybe there’s another roaring of the waves as your arm's length away now. Details filling out his face come into a sharp focus, the edges around him blurry as Rafe smiles at you.

He seems unaffected by the storm happening viciously around the two of you. Spontaneously, you’re in his arms and you’ve never felt so small. Resisting only seems like it's the sand moving your bodies to and fro, not the intense effort you give. There are words being eaten around you, Rafe telling you something with that giant grin of his.

What? You mouth, your voice is sucked into the vacuum of noise and boomerangs back at you.

YOU’RE MINE. Rafe shouts with a manic glee like a god’s voice booming down below from the heavens. His laughter pushes the waves closer, sand and sea mixing together.

Terror is all you know, from the beginning of time to the end of your days. Rafe’s hold feels more like tentacles than hands, squeezing and capturing you tight. There’s merely the scream of delight by the ocean and the sob of horror from you.

Just as you’re there, you’re not.

Woken in a slick sweat that coats your hairline to the back of your knees. Your heart sputtering from the nightmare and the harsh yank back into the conscious world. After taking a moment that this is reality, that you’re not being swallowed into the vortex of Rafe; do you relax back into bed. Smothering your face back into the pillow, you whimper with the ruminants of irrational fear. That little nub in your brain is lightened up, alarming you that there is real danger near you.

A danger you have to face head-on.

#pieces of the night #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #smut #dark!rafe cameron #dark fic #tws #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx smut

[bumblebugwrites]

chapter 6: bite the hand

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: Over the next four years, you speak only five times with Treech, each conversation proving more confusing than the last.

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Weapons, Violence.

Word Count: 6.6k

Taglist: @nekee-lilac02, @mr-panda357, @yourfavmiki, @blackoutdays13, @dialuvsbangtan, @emgunther

A/N: Well, this is admittedly late, sorry y'all. Also on that note, the update schedule is about to be completely fucked for this fic. As it turns out school is lowkey catching up to me so unfortunately I think I may need to move to posting every two weeks. Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter, which according to my original outline puts us at about halfway through No Evil Angel But Love!

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“I just think that it was a mistake. It should never have happened, and– And it won’t happen again.” And just like that, your heart was shattered, scattered across the floor in a million pieces. Well, maybe not just like that. In fact, for a moment, you’d thought the whole thing was a joke of some sort. But then his eyes had caught yours, cold in a way you’d never seen them before, and you had to stop yourself from staggering back, from hitting the wall, because this Treech, the one standing before you, he looked just like the man who’d put an axe through your heart in a dream you’d tried so hard to forget.

“I don’t understand. Does this have something to do with the fact that you disappeared this morning?” Sure, you had been out of it when he’d left, but it didn’t take long for the panic to set in, waking once more to a cold bed, mind reaching out to a memory formed only an hour ago. A mystery phone call to your room. Treech disappearing out the door.

“No, I– No. Just listen to me. This is it, it’s over.” Not the phone call. Him. He wanted this, and next to that, the phone call felt like something to be forgotten in its entirety.  But why?

“You came here last night. You showed up at my hotel room, saying you couldn’t take it anymore, and now, what? You’ve changed your mind?” Anger was quick to follow confusion in those fleeting moments, and as you surged forward, hands tangling desperately in his shirt, you weren’t sure if the intent was to pull him in or push him away.

“You’re just not–” And his hands were on yours, brushing a sweet, delicate pattern across your knuckles, bringing you that soft, quiet feeling he always had. And for a moment, you could feel him leaning in. To hold you? To kiss you? You weren’t sure. “I don’t want you.” 

It is like a punch in the gut.

“I was enough last night.” Tears cloud your vision as you hold steady willing him to look at you, to pull his gaze from the ground, to wrap his hands around yours once more. They are limp now, hanging uselessly at his sides.

“Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you never were.” You want to scream. To cry. To lash out and disappear and explode with the unmistakable rage inside you. You cannot. You can barely speak.

“Treech, I–”

“We’re done. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.” And with that, he pushes you away, spinning to exit out the door just behind you. Leaving you to crumple to the ground. Alone. Unwanted. 

Over the next four years, you had five more conversations with Treech alone, each leaving you more confused than the last.

The first time you spoke was just over two years after he told you that night had been a mistake. That you had made a mistake.

It was harder to stay away in the beginning. Hardest at night when you could hear his screams, telltale signs of the nightmares you knew he fell prey to. The nightmares that formed mirror images of your own. Several nights, you found yourself frozen outside his door, compelled for some unearthly reason to stand guard, to make heavy, unyielding eye-contact with the painted number 7 as though waiting long enough might make it open without any necessary action. You knew then what you really wanted. To go inside. To assure him it would be okay. To offer him the same place in your room you always had. But then, he didn’t want that. He’d made that clear enough. And so after minutes, or sometimes, hours of waiting, you would escape back to your own room before your presence could be noted. Afraid of the harsh words, he might have stored up this time, lashings for your petty emotions.

It was one of those nights, the first time you spoke, although the nightmare was yours, not his. It had left you in a cold sweat as you jerked yourself from the duvet, still sobbing, and you found yourself wondering when the room had become so unbearably large. A glass of water, you’d thought. A coffee, maybe; chances are you’re done with sleep tonight anyway. You’d wondered how Treech was. You always did when your own nightmares exceeded their typical limits, and the thought had infiltrated your mind until the minute you’d pulled the door open, revealing his seated form just outside your door. Alert. Awake, as though certain his presence alone might ward off any oncoming evil. 

He appeared nearly as shocked as you at the reveal, quickly launching himself to his feet and plastering a grimace across his features, darkened by the little light in the hall. And just as you’d opened your mouth to speak, to question his attendance at the foot of your door, he’d bit with words of his own.

“Could you try not to be so loud? Some people here are sleeping.” You did not populate the hall outside his door so much after that. You did not populate his presence at all.

The second time was out of necessity. It was that same year of the 13th Games, and you had found yourself down a tribute, the girl, Rhea, having lost her life in what was beginning to be known as the bloodbath. Skinner was older, the boy. Eighteen and a walking tragedy, so close to escaping. That was the year before they stopped locking you all in the Academy. Before Lux convinced them that sponsor relations could only bear to improve if mentors were allowed the ability to mingle with the people of the Capitol, within reason, of course. Before the Games grew longer, sometimes lasting over a week. 

The night was young, but you were on your third cup of coffee, unable to tear your eyes from the screen. From Skinner’s restless movements as he sat back to a tree, with eyes that scanned his surroundings in wide, impatient arcs. He was alone, and no allies meant no sleep, so he clung to the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, begging it to carry him to safety. 

On your right, Teff fidgeted with his screen, clearly agitated by an increased sense of anxiety at the prospect of both of his tributes escaping the mess of fighting that began the Games. It was harder that way; you had come to learn. Longer survival meant hope. Hope that will infiltrate your thoughts. Your emotions. Higher risk of attachment. And with two tributes, a higher risk that the death of one would only serve to destroy the other. Or worse, a higher risk that they would be forced to take each other on. You’d seen it happen. In the 11th Games, both remaining tributes came from 2, and while Octavian remained firm and unmoving in his seat, Antonia could barely force herself to watch.

Still, you had liked Skinner, cursed with the gangly limbs of a teenager on the verge of adulthood, with a crooked smile and a biting sense of humor reserved only for Rhea in their short days together, so you pushed on. And if the lingering claws of hope had curled their way around your heart, so be it. Maybe this would be the year you could save one. Maybe this would be the year you saw a kid survive.

To your left, there was Treech. Always Treech, who endlessly invaded your thoughts in those weeks you were forced to travel back to the Capitol. In the years since your first visit, the trips had only increased, with Snow managing to find a reason to gather you all in the ‘Gem of Panem’ at least four times a year. Press, he called it, and Hilarius often assured you that networking of the sort was necessary, but it was hard to believe even from his mouth, and you often felt yourself feeling more inclined to believe Teff’s theories. They just want to remind us who’s in control.

Treech was down a tribute, too; though both had escaped the initial violence, the career pack had managed to track the pair, quickly ending the boy’s life and leaving only his girl to escape. Arbor. It had been some time since you had noted her presence on your screen, but you didn’t dare to even attempt casting a look in Treech’s direction, fearing a rash display of the temper you had come to know as reserved for you and you alone.

And you wouldn’t have had to, really, if it weren’t for what happened next, the crushing of underbrush underfoot, the cacophony of voices infused with a false confidence. Skinner’s head shot up in an instant, fear plain on his features. He stood slowly, pushing himself up from the ground with the bark of the tree cutting into his palm for support. The career pack was coming, and he was as good as dead.

Several low branches stuck out to you, and silently, you begged him to climb in spite of a display earlier that day which assured you he did so with the elegance of a toddler. Still, it was all that was left, and you were clinging to hope. Stupid, useless hope. He turned to size up his route upwards, and the voices grew nearer. It was now or never. The pace was the first problem you noticed as Skinner inched up the tree with the speed of a snail. You realized in passing he’d probably never climbed a tree before. Sure, they weren’t a rarity in 10. There were plenty out on the ranch, and as a child, you often sought solace among their branches when your father had allowed you to tag along with him to work. But for a kid like Skinner, confined to 10’s more industrial parts, spending days cooped up in the slaughterhouse, climbing a tree wasn’t exactly within the realm of knowledge he should possess. 

“Fuck. Come on.”

The second thing you noted was the noise. Certainly, there aren’t many silent ways to climb a tree, with the continual brushing of leaves against the fabric of your clothes, but the footfalls were doing little to help in the way of masking his presence, and though he’d made a bit of progress, you almost wished Skinner would stop moving completely. 

The third and most glaring problem, however, was that you’d finally managed to find Arbor, crouched and observant several branches above Skinner. No weapon. That was good. What wasn’t good was that it would be well within her rights to give him up. And beneficial, too. You suck in a large breath. 

The pack has reached the foot of the tree, though doesn’t seem to note the two tributes hidden within its branches. Still, they idle for a moment, and your whole body tenses with anticipation. Skinner’s foot slips. And you know you shouldn’t, but you shield your eyes, waiting for the impact, incapable of watching him fall into death’s open hands. It doesn’t come. Instead, as you remove several of the fingers obscuring your vision, you find Arbor, hand clinging to the back of his shirt, and her face screwed up into a scowl from the effort of keeping him upright. Skinner’s clumsy hands manage to catch a branch, and he pulls himself up, mouth already opening in a question, but she is faster, pressing a hand to his lips and shaking her head with a vehement look that encourages only silence.

And so he says nothing, and for a while, that’s how they remain, waiting for the pack to move on, her hand over his mouth, simply taking each other in. It’s only once the coast is clear that he dares to speak.

“Why did you save me?”

“Well, I didn’t need you making a bunch of noise and giving me away,” she says, releasing any hold she has on him, and for a moment, her face only serves to support the harsh words, cold in its regard, but the instant his eyes shift towards the ground, it softens, revealing the true intention, simple and unbridled care. She reminds you of Treech.

“Are you gonna kill me now?” Skinner sounds almost defeated, and he does not even bother to meet her gaze as he asks. Her expression, safe from his sight, twists into one of concern before she masks it once more.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to. I don’t have any weapons, and the chances of me strangling you are low at best.”

“I don’t have any weapons either,” Skinner admits before appearing embarrassed by the confession. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not a threat, so– please don’t try to kill me.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you could kick my ass,” Arbor returns, her tone flat and a small smirk gracing her features. Skinner flushes at the expression before admitting defeat with laughter of his own when she lets out a chuckle.

“So where’s your partner?” He asks.

“Dead.” The response is factual, but the traces of pain on her face remain obvious. “Yours?”

“Dead.” It is quiet for a moment, and though neither of them speaks, you note Arbor eyeing Skinner's rope.

“Maybe we could make a deal?” She asks.

“Like what?” He is slow to respond but less guarded than before.

“Like allies?” And she extends a hand in a truce, only continuing after noting Skinner’s hesitation. “Listen, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted, and if I’m gonna sleep in this tree, I’d prefer to do it tied down and with someone to watch my back. We could take shifts. Even if it's just for tonight?”

“Okay.”

It is not then that you speak with Treech. Nor is it over the following days, watching the pair grow closer. Watching them reach the final five with the boy from 11 and the girls from 1 and 2. No. The days register simple interactions. Nods indicating bread and water will be sent, and curt conversations regarding strengths and weaknesses. It is only on the sixth night that you share more than a handful of words, and even then, it isn’t much. And yet, it is more. Heavier than any of the terse exchanges you’d held since you stopped speaking altogether.

Because, on the sixth night, Arbor and Skinner share a kiss. He had fallen earlier in the day. No simple fall either. His leg would only carry him so far, but Arbor remained loyal, and the two traveled as a unit. Under the moonlight and the cover of darkness, she had stopped them to take a look at the injury, steady hands unraveling the makeshift bandage she had torn from her own shirt. Skinner only cringed in pain, regardless of her soft-spoken attempts to comfort him as she poured water from a nearby stream on the wound.

“It’s no use. I’m dead weight. You should go. Get out of here before I accidentally screw you over.” The defeat is evident in his tone, but so is something else, something more. A need for her to make it out. To survive.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her jaw is tense as she focuses on the work before her, but you sense it is not out of a need to concentrate.

“Arbor, I’m not gonna let you die for me–” He is exhausted, eyes heavy with sleep and glistening with pain. Sweat collects at his brow, and he raises a lazy hand to wipe it away, but she gets there first, swiping her thumb across his forehead before speaking again.

“Well, I’m not gonna let you die, period. So, just drop it.”

“Arbor.” His hand moves to still her own, as though begging her to meet his gaze.

“Skinner?” She asks, annoyed by the disruption but looking up nonetheless.

“What happens if it’s just us?” And you could hear a pin drop in the Academy lecture hall; not even Lucky Flickerman bothers to present his input.

“Well, we aren’t– That’s not… I’m gonna get you out of here,” she states with finality. Beside you, Treech stiffens, the scene beginning to appear all too familiar. Two kids from 7 and 10, with nothing and everything on the line at the same time.

“I wouldn’t let you do that. I wouldn’t be able to let you do that.”

“Why? Why are you being so selfish? Just let me save you–” And she pounds at his chest, but there is no feeling in her attacks. It takes Skinner no effort at all to stop her fists, collecting her hands within his own.

“I don’t want to live if it means you have to die. Because I– Well, I know I haven’t known you that long, but I– Well, I–” And suddenly she is kissing him, telling him wordlessly she feels the same. And suddenly, the world is crashing down, fear pooling in your stomach at the consequences you are sure will come, and you can’t help it, looking at Treech, who is already looking at you. Your mouth is dry.

“I don’t– I–” Your chest is constricting, and the room feels hot, hotter than ever before, and your mind is spinning at a million miles an hour. You cross to the entrance in mere moments, not even noting Treech directly behind you until you have shoved your way out, back slamming into the wall just outside as you crumble to the ground.

“I– I–”

“You’ve got to breathe. You– We have to get back in there. It isn’t something until we make it something.” His tone is cold, but he’s crouched before you, and when his hands reach to pull you off the floor, you swear his thumb runs carefully over your arm once. Twice.

“But it is. You know it is. And if those kids die at the Capitol’s hand, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wondering if it's my fault. If it’s our fault.” And it's true. It may not have been love for him, but for you, the echoes are everywhere. And though you’re sure the Capitol never saw what happened that night, Dr. Gaul knew enough for the connection to be dangerous.

“You don’t know if that’s what they’ll see–”

“Is it what you saw? Because it’s the first thing I thought about. And I know you hate me now, but you can’t be stupid enough to think that Coriolanus Snow could miss it.” His face only grows more tense before it passes to stone once more.

“What other choice do we have?” He’s right. Of course, he is right. So you reenter and take your places, fix yourselves with masks of unbothered poise, and for nothing. They are dead by morning, carcasses wrapped around one another in a pile of bones and flesh once the Gamemakers’s mutts have finished. And as the camera pans away, you swear you feel a lingering gaze on you, but you do not look, only fake a cough as you brush the tears from your cheeks and fix your steady gaze ahead.

That was the year Teff’s boy won, Reed, and once more, before you are allowed to return home, you are forced to attend a party at the President’s mansion, this time with the inclusion of a Victor’s dance. 

“Teff, come on, I am begging you–” You begin, but the older boy is already shaking his head.

“I can’t, alright. Octavian already asked me if I’d dance with Teresa, and I gave my word that I would. He registered us a week ago,” he sighs, and you want to scream; how could you have been stupid enough to forget about this?

“What about Reed?” At this point, anyone will do. Anyone who isn’t Treech.

“He’s not doing the dance; his leg is broken, remember?” And you do; the boy had fallen off the top of the cornucopia while securing his win, landing on top of the girl from 1, whose neck broke on impact.

“Well, do you think Mags will switch with me?” You are grasping at straws, aware the answer will be no the moment the suggestion passes your lips.

“You know the deal, the only reason we are allowed to have partners from other Districts is because–” But you interrupt him, already knowledgable of your oncoming defeat.

“We don’t have any from our own. I know. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“It’s one dance, it can’t be that bad.” He reassures, but you know better.

“We haven’t spoken in years.”

“You spoke the other day–” Teff corrects.

“That was different; I was basically having a meltdown.” You recall that moment in the hall. His thumb on your arm. Part of you is convinced it never happened at all.

“I don’t know what to tell you; take it or leave it; this is your only option.” He shrugs, and the conversation is over; you both know it, but not before you vocalize your frustration one last time.

“Fuck.”

That is it, the third time you talk to Treech, at the President’s mansion, surrounded by Capitol citizens. Before you take the floor, you recall your last dance in this place with a certain Heavensbee. Your mind drifts to the events of that night. To what happened after you departed. You shake the thoughts away. Now is no time to linger on what used to be. 

When it is time to go, Treech appears at your side, extending his arm to lead you onto the floor, and you note that he seems to flinch away from your touch, which barely grazes the crook he creates for you. You are already seething. Was it really so painful for him to even touch you? Were you really that deplorable? It is a simple waltz, one your escorts were able to instruct you on with ease, and though the first few steps are taken in silence, as the music continues, you hear the other victors around you begin to chatter. You and Treech remain quiet, your eyes fixed on the floor below, watching the pattern of your steps. Thinking about anything except his hand on your waist and the other delicately gripping yours.

“You’re not supposed to look at your feet,” he mutters, and that gets your attention enough to force your gaze away from its previous target.

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t supposed to look at your feet. It makes it easier to screw up the steps.” You don’t answer, only fixing your sightline over his shoulder instead, fully expecting the silence to engulf you once more.

“I hate dancing.” He sighs bitterly, and you almost have to resist a smile because it makes sense that the stoic boy before you would loathe the exercise in trust and coordination, ripe with opportunities for embarrassment. For creating holes in his well-kept facade.

“I don’t.” And you aren’t really sure what prompts you to speak, but maybe it is his clear discomfort with the practice, evident in the way his shoulders bunch awkwardly with each turn and his eyes, in spite of his own advice, continue to flit down towards the floor.

“There’s lots of dancing back in 10. Line dances, mostly from a long time ago. But there’s other stuff, too. Once a month, there's a big dance at City Hall. There’s this big open barn connected to the back, and they decorate it, and everyone goes. My dad taught me how, so it reminds me of him.” You can’t help but smile at the memory of your father, pulling the hat from his head and dropping it onto your own before spinning you around the kitchen in preparation for your very first dance. When the day finally came, you’d already forgotten all the steps, but he didn’t mind setting your feet atop his own, the two sets of boots moving in a stilted pattern around the barn, all shrieking laughter and love.

You feel Treech’s shoulder relax beneath your touch, his gaze now fixed on you and nothing else. The movements become more fluid, and by the end of the dance, it feels like flying. That is until something else seems to catch his attention just outside of your sightline. And suddenly, his grip on your waist tightens, ushering you closer, but his eyes grow cold. For a moment, you could have sworn he was shielding you from something until he wasn’t. Until the music came to an end, and he was pushing away, but not before leaving you with a cutting remark.

“Thanks for the story; I’ll remember that the next time I’m pretending to give a shit about you.” You almost gape at him, unsure how to respond, but as rage, hot and untethered, licks its way up your spine, you give into the cruelest thing you can think to muster.

“I hate you.” And he flinched as though the words had hurt him. As though he hadn’t spent every moment of the last three years trying to probe that very reaction from your lips. And you knew he must not have meant it. That it was nothing more than the residual regret leaving his body, but a part of you relished it. Relished causing him pain after the torture he had put you through.

“Good.”

Victory Tours weren’t uncommon by then, so when it was announced the tribute from 11 and his mentor would be making their way to 10, people were well prepared. Lennox in particular seemed to be veritably jumping with joy, unable to sit still after having received the knowledge that you would be hosting the visitors in your new home in the Victor’s Village. Even Fawn who at the now ripe age of fourteen was determined to allow nothing to faze her seemed excited at the prospect of the celebration that typically occurred in tandem with the arrival of a victor. 

You on the other hand were simply happy to see Teff, pulling the taller man into a warm hug the moment he set foot off the train. He seemed not to mind, laughing as he pulled you tighter against him and after a long day of festivities including a night of dancing and the best food 10 could offer, you found yourselves sat around your kitchen table, enjoying one another’s company and a couple of drinks.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened at the mansion? That night, at the party? Quite a scene you two caused,” Teff asked, finally digging into what you knew he’d been itching to talk to you about. You allowed your head to slump forward, burying your face within the comfort of your arms with a groan.

“What am I supposed to say? I was being very civil. He’s the one that ruined it.” Teff only nodded in understanding, having come to know the events that made up your rocky relationship with Treech through snippets divulged over the years.

“You know I’m just worried about you is all. Just wish you would fly under the radar like the rest of us–”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Tell me about you. About home. How’s Harvest?” Teff was quick to relent, never displeased when talking about his favorite subject, his wife of two years. 

“She’s good. She’s– Well actually I’ve been meaning to tell you this– She’s pregnant.” And though the news reeks of joy, there is an uneasy smile on his face. Still, you are quick to rid him of it.

“That’s incredible! I’m so happy for you.” And you are, beaming from ear to ear, but a part of you aches, just as you know it does for him, for that unborn child. For the world they will surely face.

The fourth time you spoke, it was your fault. At least, that’s what Treech told himself. It was the year of the 14th Hunger Games, and in preparation, the Capitol was running a television program highlighting each of the Districts. It was for that reason Treech told himself it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when the small screen in the corner of the hotel bar filled with Lamina’s face, especially given that she was his District partner and, as he was the only existing victor from 7, an obvious choice for closer study. Still, it didn’t stop the shock from cutting to his core like a knife. 

You had taken the seat beside his, though clearly not intentionally. It was the only place left in the whole bar, and upon your arrival, he had watched you hesitate to even stay, but with the Games set to start in two days, you needed a drink, exhausted by the prospect of another year.

It was as though you could sense his discomfort, gaze clearly flitting in his direction and dragging across his tense form. The television program blared out, filling any gaps in conversation left by the bar’s occupants, and you observed it keenly following Treech’s reaction.

“She seemed kind.” And there you were, attempting to comfort him after all he’d done to push you away.

“She cried a lot.” It is easier than telling the truth. Than admitting he had known Lamina long before the Games. That she was family, a cousin on his mother’s side.

He often saw Lamina in you. In your quiet moments of soft kindness and generosity. Even in moments of fear, watching you steel yourself and move forward in spite of the difficulties. Sometimes, he would imagine a world with no Districts or Games. A world where a gentler version of you who had not been left hardened by survival had met Lamina, and the two of you had become fast friends, spending your days whispering confessions among the branches of the tallest trees or stretched out in a field, you with a pencil and paper and Lamina fashioning a crown of flowers.

“You remind me of her.”

“Because I’m weak?” Your brow furrowed as you gazed down into the drink before you, preparing yourself for the harsh words you had come to expect of Treech.

“Because you’re brave.” He couldn’t help it really, the way it sprang forward from his lips, toppling out before he could fight to keep it in. He suspected somewhere in the wide universe, the spirit of Lamina was laughing at him. That she was somehow responsible for the admission. He hated her for it. Hated himself. Your own face revealed little more than an obvious state of shock, blank blinking eyes staring back at him when he finally summoned the courage to fix your gaze with his own. Your mouth moved, jaw seeming to hinge and unhinge, but nothing came out. Nothing until the soft syllables of his name slipped from your lips in a stilted sort of way, like a sharp breath. 

Treech was on his feet before you’d finished, the remainder of his drink easily downed in his haste to depart, but as he turned one last time to eye the television in the corner, he could have sworn your eyes were brimming with tears.

The final time you spoke to Treech, it felt as though he had something more to say. Like the words he wished to express had caught on his tongue like glue, unable to escape. It was the final day of the 14th Games, five years exactly since your own. On days like that, you forced yourself to remember the things that often felt too painful. The names that sunk like stones in your chest, fading each year into more distant memories. Rye, with his eyes like two wide saucers. Orion, who was so close to victory that he had nearly succeeded in having it. Baron, the boy from back home who’d lost his life within minutes, figure slumped and unmoving in the center of the arena for the remainder of the Games. And, of course, there were others. Brandy and Tanner. Bee and Colt. Rhea and Skinner. Kids from home. Kids just like you. Except here you were, not dead, while they lay, presumably rotting in some mass grave deep within the Capitol’s walls. The thought made you sick.

That year, your fourth as a mentor, your tributes hadn’t even managed to outlast the bloodbath. The second Rochelle’s body hit the ground, you knew it was over, but it didn’t keep you from hoping. Hoping against reason, she would find a way to fight it. To get back up. She hadn’t. And that year, as the buzzer rang out and the bile rose in your throat as it always did, you noted that the pain was less. Less intense. Less crippling. And then the disgust was back again, drowning you, with its aim pointed inwards, armed and ready to feast on your heart. How could you be so cruel? How could you allow yourself to become so hardened and unfeeling? 

Because it is easier. Because there has to be a better way. Because you will never survive this if you cannot learn to leave some things behind. Still, you’d never left a single thing behind your whole life, clinging to every passing thought, person, or feeling like it might be the last. So when Rochelle was gone, signaling your Games had finished, you pulled the small notebook from the inner pocket of your vest and scribbled her name just below Gavin’s with its own set of notes. 

Rochelle. Two sisters, no parents. Lived with her father’s brother and worked nightshifts at the slaughterhouse. 15. Kind. Enjoyed the color green. Was learning to knit with some of the excess wool from her uncle’s work at a nearby farm, sheering the sheep.

Your fingers traced over the list, gently passing each name with the pad of your thumb. So many names. It was easier now to write them down. It was easier now to emote, to feel openly without the watchful eye of the Capitol analyzing your every move just behind Lucky Flickerman. Well, at least without it trained directly on your soul.

A bit further down the bar, Lux sat by herself as well; Beau tucked into the seat beside Trawl, the two having become closer over the years. Maybe even too close, you thought regretfully, mind flitting to a time you had caught the former making a quiet escape from Trawl’s room in the dead of night. Still, you’d bit your tongue, refusing to lecture someone you were aware already knew of the potential consequences. Besides, words often fall on deaf ears when spoken from a position as precarious as yours.

There were three kids left then, each with no alliance in place to keep them safe. A boy from 2, a girl from 5, and Maple, Treech’s girl from 7. She was ruthless, doing little in the way of preserving any image of humanity with her kills, but you understood that there was more than what appeared to pool on the surface. That those who seemed the most heartless were often the most human of all, filled with an unparalleled desperation to return. For a loved one. For themselves, hoping to go back to some semblance of a childhood they would never see again. Your heart swelled for her. For all of them. Still, you’d been doing your best to avoid her mentor since your last encounter. Afraid that he might snap once more, leaving you frustrated and hollow. Or worse, that he might plant some ridiculous seeds of hope as he had with your fourth conversation, calling you brave before disappearing completely. He was infuriating. Aggravating. Annoying, vexing, and completely incensing. 

He was also sitting directly across the bar, arm draped over the seat of the woman beside him with the same lazy arrogance you had come to register as a part of his Capitol persona, a smirk painted light and unshakable across his face. It was as though you could not even recognize the man before you. Still, he looked good. That much, you could easily admit, curls on the lengthier side now compared to the more cropped cut you’d last seen him with. You wondered if they still felt the same, if running your hands through them would still have the intoxicating effect it had years ago. You want to punch yourself in the face for the indulgence of a thought like that, forcing your gaze away with the heat that rises to your cheeks, and just in time, it seems, as the screen switches to capture Maple, finishing off the girl from 5. It is over in a second, and all of the sudden, there are only two remaining. 

Your heart aches for her, the dead girl from 5, without a mentor or guidance, left in the dark. Still, you cannot stop your gaze from traveling across the bar again to fix on Treech, only to find he is already looking at you. The woman beside him has rid herself of all pretense and is curled into his side, back arched like a cat. And yet, he appears almost regretful, eyes trained on your face with the sort of steely focus that rarely graced his features these days. 

Hours later, when Maple does win, pushed over the finish line with the help of several grandiose sponsorships, you can’t say you are all that surprised, no. The real shock comes as you move to exit the bar when a hand catches your forearm within its grasp. You almost ignore it. Almost push to continue on your steady path toward freedom, but it pulls hard, whipping you around, nearly sending you barreling into the chest of your assailant. Treech. And he stands there, blubbering like a fish, features painted with the unsubtle earnesty of a boy. And that alone is enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I– I–”

But not for long. You’d learned your lesson long ago. Wrenching your arm from his grasp, you spin on your heel before he so much as forms a second word, making for the elevator. You would not fall prey to him again. Not now, not ever. In your eyes, Treech was as good as dead.

It was another month before you saw him again, although, on the morning of the Victory Tour’s arrival, you were nowhere to be found within the awaiting procession. Despite the Capitol’s wishes, you’d continued work on the ranch in your free time, and this morning was no exception. Especially considering you’d requested the shift, putting as much distance between yourself and the upcoming ceremonials as possible. 

Just last night, you’d sent notice to the mayor that you’d been feeling unwell, vomiting, and the like, pleading to be kept from the tour for the safety of those involved. He’d kindly agreed, considering your consistent attendance in previous years, and so you’d spent the last few hours with Bluebell, who had grown over time into as much your horse as one could be, walking the ranch’s perimeter and assessing the different pastures for any sign of intrusion the previous night. Finding none, you dismounted, ridding the creature of everything but her bridle and allowing her to graze within your sightline as you sat in the grass, pencil at the ready and sketchbook perched easily in your lap. 

And so the morning passed in easy silence between the pair of you, only returning to the barn just before lunch due to necessity, though you nearly turned on your tail as the building came into view. The form was clear enough from afar, leaned up against the side of the old building, and at first, you felt your chest fill with anxiety, concerned that perhaps the mayor had caught onto your lie from last night to come get you. But as you drew closer, you noted that familiar head of curls you would recognize anywhere, accompanying the lanky form of a young man. Treech.

#treech #treech fanfiction #treech x reader #treech thg #treech tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #hunger games #thg series #district 7 #x reader #neabl #no evil angel but love

[ecto-hazard]

THE HFJONE DEHUMANIZED AU

***BIG OL FUCKIN SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE AND SERIES AS A WHOLE***

Behold!!! The masterpost!!!

Overwhelmed by the amount of shit about this au that's scattered across my different social medias? Well I'm gonna compile all that shit here baby.

And now for the first time ever anywhere: the shit about Airy.

Basics:

The batch 1 contestants were all originally human. Everyone on their version of earth is human, not objects

Upon being brought to the plane, batch 1 contestants were transformed into their respective objects and stay that way until they can go back to their earth

The form characters take in the waiting room is reflective of their internal view of themself

General Story and How the Universe Works:

(Aka the Airy stuff)

Airy was a human on earth. He dies in the truck crash and goes to the waiting room.

Airy messed with the radio for a bit, and it turns out that in some universes, your form changes to sort of adapt to it.

Airy finds the forest dimension place. Here, inexplicably, he takes the form of a lamp. It's weird but he's been wandering around for so long and this place is nice so he goes with it. Eventually gets used to it, especially since there's not really any bodily needs to worry about now.

General plot of ONE plays out the same, he makes the plane and summons the first season contestants. Like him, in this universe they become objects and freak out about it. The contestants get killed by accident and Airy starts over.

Fast forward to the events at the start of One. Airy teleports the batch 1 people and they have to deal with being literally dehumanized by him. Which is like super jarring obviously cause they all have these new bodies suddenly so on top of the already weird competition, they have to adjust to not being human anymore

The Incident tm occurs and many contestants are trapped on the plane for a while. This makes Liam and Amelia notably lose their sense of being human and become content with being objects

Liam returns to earth after so long to suddenly being human again and doesn't know how to cope. He finds Bryce and even though they don't initially recognize each other, they figure out who they are and work together to do the rest of the shit.

When they get to the waiting room, since their forms are a reflection of the view of the self, Bryce is more human while Liam’s just. Backpack. Shenanigans and angst ensue

The rest of the plot is more or less implicit. There’s just another layer of shenanigans that oh so conveniently covers a layer of suffering

Some specific character things that are totally still up for interpretation:

As a human, Charlotte suffers from a fungal infection she got from a head injury

Julien spent so long trying to get home in the waiting room, he lost all sense of identity at all and just became a haze

Variants of this au that people seem to enjoy

Permabackpack: Liam (and sometimes other characters) stay in their waiting room forms after they get back to earth

Batch 1 + 2 earth: Batch 2 contestants also come from the Batch 1 Earth, but are living objects from that earth and not humans

I think that’s the gist of it. Sorry if the formatting on here is whack. Will update with other info if needed

#grey art #hfjone #dehumanized au #hfjone spoilers

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

I'm so obsessed 'SbITILYP' it makes my day whenever it updates! I wonder when Hiccup will be able to get his hands on some roses, especially the protagonist's reaction to receiving flowers?

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 26

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,983

Berk is a whole new place and you just might have opened up a whole new door for yourself. It’s probably a good one.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Reader’s POV, Hiccup’s POV, unedited

<Previous - Next>

You kept your eyes glued to the ground.

The leaves of a plant that were scattered across the floor were somewhat recognizable, though you couldn’t place where you’d seen them before. 

Today, though, there seemed to be an excess of them littering the paths around Berk.

You followed a beige dirt path up from the fields, staring at the ground as you carried up a short woven basket full of wheat. It was your day’s payment, the farmer having felt very generous with his store of things.

You didn’t really have a kitchen area, but you weren’t going to refuse a gift. Maybe you could trade with Mrs. Ingerman for something later. It was worth a try.

It had been a while since you’d been into town, having skirted around it for the majority of the day. It’d been a while since you’d seen anyone important, much less Hiccup, and the more time elapsed, the more you avoided, the more antsy you got.

It was noon, and you could feel the sun through your sleeves, a warm thing that made you want to melt into a puddle, like a cat. A nap would be very nice.

It was much quieter than it had been in a while. Things in town had been busy since the Outcasts had been taken into custody. Mildew had been arrested and subsequently exiled and the Outcasts, Alive the Treacherous especially, had been awaiting trial, locked away in the dripping, jailed caves under the Great Hall.

Things had also been very, very quiet and very, very intense. The air was stiff with tension and just about ten times the number of words left unsaid. It was a world of difference compared to the quick gossipy phrases usually exchanged in town.

There was something going on today, though you didn’t care, ready to enjoy some you-time by the cliffs by the coast doing simple jobs and laying in the grass.

Did that have anything to do with the leaves?

You perked up at the call of your name as dirt became wood plank, glancing back towards the fields but not lingering long enough to make out many details. 

You could tell easily, though, that it was Hiccup.

His voice, nasally though it was, set your heart beating like a whole stampede of bulls was pounding dust and you were just about to get trampled encierro style.

“Can I walk with you?” He asked.

You paid only vague attention to his voice in an effort to keep calm, a line of sweat running down your face and hitting the dirt.

There was a strained quality to it; it sounded like he was trying to keep normal. It wasn’t strained in a way that made you believe he was upset so you didn’t worry, more as if he was holding his breath, though for what you had no idea.

Was this how he felt?

“Maybe… Keep looking?” Hiccup hedged, “I’ll follow the path with you, so you dont trip.”

You nodded.

You walked into town like that, eyes on your feet.

The ground turned to wood turned to dirt a few times, your boots tapping and padding against both.

You picked up a leaf once or twice and kept them flat in your palm.

You adjusted your basket twice, though at Hiccup’s insistence, you kept your eyes focused on the ground.

Until you spotted something.. Out of the ordinary.

Something bright red, saturated as the most visible shade of blood drifted down onto the path. It was round, though slightly light at one of the edges, which came to an almost blunt point.

You squinted down at it, bending further with fingers outstretched.

Your fingertips brushed against dirt as you scooped it up, before taking a step as if you were going to keep walking, and then stopping again.

The flesh of it was soft, with what felt like a film on top that was almost like satin, though the flex and feel of it was much different. It felt as if it might split under your nail if you pressed into it, which you nearly did, holding it between the crook of your pointer finger and your thumb.

It was… A petal.

“So…” Hiccup started, coming to a slow stop beside you, “Notice anything different?”

You turned up and looked at him, the sun was inviting and cozy on your cheeks as you pulled them out of your own shadow.

And then you started.

And you dropped your basket, its bottom landing against the ground with hardly a pat.

What you focused on wasn’t Hiccup himself, but more what was behind him. Something you’d missed as you’d walked with your eyes focused on your feet like you were Sherlock Holmes, which you felt funny about now.

It was flowers. 

Roses. Everywhere. 

…Mostly. 

“What…” You said, for the first time.

There were some other species planted throughout donned in multiple different colors, planted alongside houses in various states of bloom, some with thin pipes made of wood connecting to a larger, thicker one, lifted over the lot.

Some in blues and small, wild whites were hanging from planters above, both shelves nailed into the sides of huts and sturdy metal pots with holes in the bottom hanging by tightly woven and painted rope with small strings dangling from the sides.

You could tell that quite a few plants had been the kind repotted from fields and nooks out in the forest, herbs and farm foods planted closer to huts and lined by stones for the sake of convenience, and suddenly a whole lot of things made sense. 

Nearly magenta pink thistle with its spiky green body, hanging purple bluebells, and pink lavender-esque, black spot dotted heather -even one pink Foxglove plant with its many hanging lantern-like flowers sectioned away from the rest in a small metal cage- peeking out from around corners and around huts.

The rose bushes lay large and mostly flowering in large planters, fenced-off using small pikes, fallen leaves and petals bleeding into the space all around, marking your path from the fields all the way to the places in the clearing they’d been planted. 

Up on the hill, you could just barely make out a small rose bush planted just by the pen up by the Chief’s hut.

You had to turn wildly, tracing them back with your eyes, “What…?”

You said it again.

Pale, dry dirt still made up the majority of the clearing, yet leaves and bushes lined the sides of buildings, spilling over upturned, dark earth which dotted the open space, marking boot and dragon tracks across. 

Small carvings of Vikings like gnomes were dotted around the place, arranged in a way that seemed more respectful and worshipful of their depictions than fanciful.

Off in a corner, a small stone fountain in multiple layers, with a little sign which, after many recent, sleepless nights thinking about boys with brown hair and green eyes and stupid freckles and large teeth, you were certain said ‘prototype.’

Vines grew from some thin wood rods to match the metal rods sticking out from the dirt standing, taller than most of the houses, which seemed to be a lot like lightning rods.

“It was a volunteer project,” Hiccup interjected quickly at your silence. 

In your periphery, you could see him step forwards slightly. Jerkily. 

His hands were close together, closer to his torso than away.

“This is…” You started. But you didn’t have the words to express just how you felt. Not yet, when you hadn’t even finished processing the life in front of you.

You inhaled deeply, so quickly your lungs hadn’t time to work it or for you to really feel satisfied by it as you turned yourself bodily, ogling the sight. 

His Dad, the Chief, and the Riders, the Twins egging each other on with dirt gloves, Astrid standing still and attentive as if to involve herself somehow in the conversation the Chief was having with Spitelout, both Chiefly hands pushing back red hair and resting against a mighty back.

Some serious talk about the Outcasts, it looked like, from the way Spitelout was shouting. It seemed that even during the good times, the Chief stayed alert and Spitelout stayed on edge, but there was a softer quality to it here, one that said ‘of course’ and made it seem more funny and fitting than worrying.

“Hey!” You heard the small Larson kid shout as he chased after a girl with bright blue ribbons in her straw-colored hair which held two thick braids together. 

Your attention was briefly drawn towards the indignant shout.

It was then that the Chief briefly turned his attention towards his son, causing your focus to snap back and forth between him and Hiccup with a loud, “Hiccup!”

Hiccup shook him off with his head, despite the fact that you were sure he’d approach, but the look on his face seemed to beg you to keep taking in everything. 

There were dragons lounging on the treetops, all of the Riders’ dragons plus Thornado, off in the far distance, napping on a roof, yellow, which had been covered in soft, grassy plants and clovers, a viking below shouting up at him with a shaking fist.

Stormfly was bobbing her head like a chicken, sitting at the head of a mounted head, which tipped and cracked dangerously under her weight. 

Barf and Belch were off causing chaos, wiggling their heads over a crown of kids while Meatlug was being pampered with fish from a shaded barred and scratched by her rider.

Everyone seemed surprisingly not displeased by the change. 

You could tell who’d helped with the planting by the dirt caked onto their hands and under their nails and by how close they were to the various shovels and buckets piled along the clearing.

Some Vikings had ripped sleeves, others were sweating, arms over their heads to block out the sun, trousers rolled up and helmets displaced off to the side in the shade by huts and under benches. 

Even Mrs. Thorston had come down at one point, harping at other various Vikings and sending googly eyes and comments the Chief either didn’t hear or pretended not to towards his back

You weren’t sure how you missed the sound of chatter, deep and thick all around you.

The two blonde ladies who’d roped you into beadmaking before stood side-by-side, your laundry partner standing tall with crossed arms, gloves dirtied from digging, staining the crooks of her elbows.

She was sewing, needle held over a worn, dirty smock, a dark brown dress and boots packed underneath.

She nudged your laundry partner in the shoulder, pointing towards you with the hand holding her needlepoint.

You even caught a glimpse of the brown-haired fisherman keeping to the more empty alleys and shaded sides of the village clearing, looking as if he’d kind of enjoyed the festivities but also very overwhelmed.

You knew Vikings easily took in the down time given before the storm hit. It was human nature, and with the time to work off restless energy, it seemed a taut line had been released, the air filled with laughter and the bustling, joyful and indignant arguments of children.

The flowers mixed with the paints on the huts and the traditional wood-carved builds on Berk’s homes, which had in fact only grown more complicated since the fall of the Red Death, Berk looked absolutely beautiful. Like everyone here had been born into some sort of eternal festival, and you had just been transported into it; a human in a world made by people who existed beyond reality.

“How did you-... You convinced them to do all of this?” The ‘for me,’ went unsaid. You were too scared to say it, afraid that if you did, the illusion might break and this would all turn out to be a pretty lie, and a pretty lie it was.

You slowly looked back to him, your waist carrying the bulk of your turn.

Someone had just finished clapping him on the back, having must have had at least some exchange of words while you were turned, sharing congratulations as they passed to a hardy woman with a large pitcher of something probably cool and a few mugs. Was it Gobber? 

You couldn’t tell.

You didn’t know Hiccup was such a landscaper.

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, arms behind his back and stance wide as he shifted his weight on his feet, “They loosened up to the idea after I brought up what they’d do to cover the pipes.”

You noticed the dirt on his elbows, the lack of twine on his sleeves and the splashes of yellow and red paint on his cheek that told you that the color on the houses had looked brighter and more plentiful for a reason.

“I, ah,” You said, stepping closer; leaning closer until you stopped just right in front of him. You could have said something about root damage, maybe, or, or… Anything that would have come out coherent in any sort of way. 

But instead, you felt static, and there was nothing to lead you but the fresh feeling in your chest and the prickling in your toes, intense in a dizzying way that nearly threw you off balance.

“You… Planted all this, for me?” You asked, astonished. Against your will, your face began to heat up in a way that must have looked obvious; you felt blotchy and out of place and absolutely light, airy on the inside in a way that brought you both closer to the moment and into the third perspective. 

You were here and with Hiccup. 

Were you going to do it? You weren’t sure where the question had come from, dazed.

He was looking at you with wide eyes as you grabbed his shoulders and leaned closer, closing your own so hard they must have looked like they had been pinched, though you were incredibly aware.

For a moment, it felt like the whole world was watching, paranoia and embarrassment filling your back, each hair on your neck raising in tune with the number of eyes focused on your spine.

You didn’t have to see to know it, though you spotted people stilling and staring in your periphery.

You weren’t sure whether you did or didn't purse your lips though you knew Hiccup was watching, his shoulders stiffening under your hands.

What if you read this all wrong and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of everybody?

…What were you going to do? Were you really going to try and kiss Hiccup for the first time in front of all his friends and family?

Your back and neck felt hot as if you were sweating, heat fluttering and writhing and squirming in your stomach, rising in a quick crescendo though you knew it wouldn’t be until a few moments yet that you’d feel the first bits of moisture against the small of your waist.

It was too much.

You were brought back into yourself with a jump like the cracking of a stick, able to feel every raw edge like a breeze on an exposed nerve or an out-of-place note in sharp.

“I can’t do this!” You squeaked and slapped your hands over your eyes as you quickly turned and ran away, face burning with embarrassment.

“Wait-!” Hiccup stood, dazed for just a moment, watching your cramble away, running sightlessly back onto the path away from the village through the minor crowd that had gathered there. 

He felt slightly robbed, hand extended. It was very, very hot out and his insides burned in a way that, put together, made him feel on fire in a way that was nearly unbearable.

He stepped over a rose, the rose, a nice enough red one he was sure you hadn’t noticed. The petals had been slightly crumpled and ripped as he’d pulled it from his coat, hastily shoved in when he’d seen you walking up to the village from the fields. 

 It had fallen from his hands after his hands had fallen to his sides as you’d stepped closer with-

Hiccup stared intently at where you had run off to, brows furrowed, feeling very determined.

He needed to catch up to you now.

“Woah,” Tuffnut said, voice dragging distantly, standing in awe a few measures behind him, as people began to laugh and gossip, “That was lame.”

It seemed Hiccup was the only one who’d taken it seriously, the other Vikings happy to play and gossip while what seemed like the most pivotal moment of his life happened right in front of them -No, he was not exaggerating.

His prosthetic creaked as he whipped around, calling for his dragon, “Toothless-!”

He ignored the excited murders beginning in the background, heart racing. 

You’d been… very close.

His dragon was there, giving him as much of a look as there was possible for him to give, as if he himself was somewhat embarrassed by the whole event.

Hiccup gave him a look of his own, wordlessly asking his dragon, ‘So what?’

Hiccup didn’t know what he expected from him as Toothless turned and started trotting away, snorting and grawping as he disappeared into a heavily planted alley, just before he jumped up onto one of the many ramps covering Berk lining the rear ends of some of the houses.

“Aw, come on-” Hiccup started before very quickly running after his dragon, like he did way back across rooftops when dragons were nothing to him but bloodthirsty monsters, arms outstretched, nearly tripping as his foot caught on a tuft of grass, “Toothless!”

#httyd #x reader #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #female reader #fem reader #toothless

[crystallizabethine]

In Which PIXAL Updates Her Relationship Status: A Pixane Valentine's Day Oneshot

Takes place sometime between March of the Oni and Secrets of Forbidden Spinjitsu

AO3 link HERE

(5158 words)

The sun had barely risen when Pixal got out of bed to start her day. Normally she allowed herself more time to recharge, but for some reason, she had awoken prematurely and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. She didn’t really mind though. There were plenty of things to be done, like getting a head start on the new project she and Nya were working on together. They had blueprints drawn up for advanced security updates for the monastery, as well as plans for making a bigger tech lab underneath their home. Pixal looked forward to having all of that open space down there to work on projects in. However, if they were to have their dream workspace, they’d have to build it first.

Pixal knew that Nya always slept in as much as she could help it before inevitably being woken up by whatever shenanigans the guys got up to, so she decided to leave her to her rest for now. She instead went to the living room and flipped on the overhead light (which she knew would have to be exchanged for the smaller lamps once Nya joined her) and started examining the papers scattered across the coffee table from last night’s brainstorm session. For once, Jay, Cole, Lloyd, and Kai hadn’t been hogging the couch. They had gone out with Zane for what Kai called a “bro night” and had refused to say where they were going. Nya and Pixal were able to actually get some work done with those hooligans (Nya’s words, not hers) out of the house. Pixal was grateful for what they had accomplished, but she had sort of missed Zane.

Speaking of Zane, Pixal heard clattering noises come from the kitchen a few rooms away. Zane must have gotten up early too to make breakfast for everyone. Either that or Master Wu was searching for one of his tea boxes. As Pixal made her way to the kitchen to check, she heard her beloved’s voice, frustrated as he rambled to himself.

“Is it that hard to stack the pots so that they don’t fall over when I open the cabinet? No, it isn’t! And why is the strainer in here?” Pixal stood in the doorway and watched for a minute as her partner kneeled before several open cabinets, roughly pulling things out, rearranging them, and then putting them back. “I have told them over and over that the strainer goes next to the mixing bowls! I swear I’m the only one who actually cares about organization in this damn kitchen.”

“Zane, do you want help with those?”

Zane whipped around, and the look of a crazed man was in his eyes, until they registered Pixal standing there, and softened.

“Pixal,” he began, “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to understand that you are agitated about the state of the kitchen and may require assistance.” Pixal replied, and gently took a pot from him, setting it in the cabinet where she knew he preferred it to go.

“Thank you, Pixal.” Zane gave her a small smile. “I am sorry you had to see me like this. I do not like to lose my composure like that around others.”

“Do not worry about it,” Pixal dismissed, “You have seen me in some of my worst moments. This is nothing. Also, I agree that the cabinets are usually organized in a lackluster manner whenever it isn’t one of us performing the task.”

Zane sighed, “I am glad that at least you understand my frustrations. When I tried to confront Kai about it, he acted like I was crazy.”

“Kai is a hooligan.” Pixal stated, matter-of-factly, and rummaged through the cabinets to find ingredients for pancakes.

“True.”

A comfortable silence settled between them as they mixed batter and started flipping pancakes.

“Pixal?”

“Yes?”

“. . .are you familiar with the concept of Valentine’s Day?”

“No, I do not think so.” Pixal was painfully aware that she had missed out on a lot of Ninjagian holidays over the years, due to little circumstances like the world being hellbent on trying to end every six months or so. There hadn’t been much time for anything more than a few Day of the Departed observances, and exactly one Winter Feast celebration. Pixal smiled in amusement at the memory of Kai and Cole accidentally getting tangled up in the monastery’s festive lights. Their faces had gotten so red.

“It is a holiday dedicated to lovers,” Zane explained, “a day set aside for couples to express their love for each other through the giving of gifts and spending time together.”

“Ah, I see.” It sounded lovely, Pixal thought. “When is the next one?”

“It’s. . . today, actually.” Zane launched a pancake into the air and caught it with the skillet. After putting it with the growing stack of golden cakes, he diverted his full attention to Pixal. “I was hoping that you would agree to go out on a date with me this evening.” He took her hand and held it to his chest. Pixal found herself mesmerized by Zane’s bright blue eyes, staring back at her with such passion. Such beauty. Pixal figured she could get lost in those eyes.

“I would love to, Zane.”

“Good,” Zane said, relieved.

Pixal realized something suddenly, “I am curious why you waited until the very last minute to ask me this though. That is not like you at all.” Usually when they planned a date, it was at least a week in advance.

“You are right and I apologize for not giving you more time to prepare.” Zane said, looking rather embarrassed. “I must admit that I have been preoccupied with a personal Project, and time flew past me. I also may have assumed that I’d already asked you. Thankfully, Cole and the others reminded me that I in fact hadn’t, last night. . . They also thought it was funny.”

Pixal sighed fondly, “Oh, my Zane, for a nindroid, you can be so scatterbrained sometimes.”

Zane smirked at her, “Yes, but you love me anyways.”

“That is true.”

* * *

Pixal had no idea what she was going to do for Zane’s gift. Luckily, she knew just who to go to for advice.

“You’ve never done Valentine’s day before?” Nya asked, confused. She tightened a bolt on one of the generators she was repairing. “Haven’t you and Zane been together for like forever? I need a bigger wrench, could you grab the one next closest to you?”

“Well yes,” Pixal mused, handing her friend the tool. “It is unfortunate that Zane and I have never gotten the opportunity to do this before. He perished to the Overlord before we were able to spend any domestic time together, then I was scrapped by Clouse’s men and shortly after, got stuck in Zane’s head for months. Then I left his head to become Samurai X. I have not even been reunited with him in my physical form for a full year.”

“Yeah, and it doesn’t help you two that the almost-year has been full of jerks trying to end the world,” Nya added in sympathy. “But you know what? That changes tonight!” She put her tools down and wiped her dirty hands on her apron. “So, what did you have in mind?”

“That is the tricky bit. I have no idea,” Pixal admitted. “What are some traditional Valentine’s Day customs? Zane told me about the rituals of giving gifts and spending time together, but what does that usually entail?

Nya thought for a minute, “Well, it honestly depends on what you and your partner—or—partners’ are interested in, but chocolate and flower bouquets are a popular choice for gifts.”

“Zane does not have a sense of smell, nor taste buds.” Pixal stated.

Nya smirked sheepishly, “Right, yeah, I forgot. So that rules out a dinner date then.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“That’s okay, “Nya reassured, “There’s still plenty of options! What are some things you guys like to do out, just the two of you?”

“We often go on patrols together.”

“That’s. . . something I guess, doesn’t seem very romantic though.”

“Why not?” Pixal asked, puzzled. “We enjoy each other’s company immensely and have had many meaningful conversations. Between that and our battles together,  I always feel myself grow more fond of and more attracted to him during each mission we spend together.”

“Noted, but that’s something you do all the time! What could you do tonight that’s extra special?”

Pixal had never really thought about doing anything else with Zane. They had their routine, and to her knowledge, they both enjoyed it equally. But maybe Nya had a point. It couldn’t hurt to try something new could it? It was supposed to be a special night, after all.

“How about this,” Nya proposed, “you think on it, and I’ll take you out around Ninjago City to find Zane a gift!”

“That sounds satisfactory, and also enjoyable.” Pixal agreed. She had never been shopping with another person before, and she was excited by the prospect of trying something new with Nya.

* * *

The first place they went on their adventure out was a little place called Ninja Subs. A bell tinkled as they entered, and Pixal immediately noticed the abundance of food pop art crowding the walls as well as the counter at the end of the room filled with an arrangement of sandwich toppings.

“Why are we here exactly?” Pixal asked, not seeing how a sandwich place would yield much in the way of a Valentine’s gift.

Nya approached the counter, eyes shining as she looked at all the food options, “This stop’s for me actually. If we’re gonna be shopping all day then I need some energy. And I’ve also really been craving their buffalo chicken sub.”

After Nya’s lunch break, they went to a variety of small shops in the downtown area. Unfortunately most of their wares fell into the “needs a sense of smell” and/or “needs taste buds to appreciate these things” category.

“How about this?” Nya held up a set of pale blue ceramic bowls across the room from Pixal, who had been trying to make sense of some abstract paintings that were also being sold there.

“Those would be a practical gift,” Pixal considered, then remembered, “but I think he is planning on purging our current kitchen wares, so I probably shouldn’t buy him any new ones until he is finished. He has a very particular system, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Nya grinned, “He chewed Kai out the other day for just—throwing all the silverware in the drawer without sorting them. I didn’t even know Zane could get that mad! It was kinda amazing to witness, not gonna lie.”

“One would think that the same person who refuses to use a big spoon would also care about organization.” Pixal commented while checking the price on some oven mitts.

Nya giggled. “We love Kai.”

“Yes, despite his odd behavior at times.”

“Oh by the way, don’t tell anyone, but apparently Cole is going to ask him out tonight!”

“Oh , First Master, finally!”

They left that shop soon after. Pixal hadn’t been satisfied with anything in the end, so they continued on, emptyhanded. None of their other stops proved fruitful either, and Pixal was beginning to grow irritated.

“None of these places seem to have anything important enough for a Valentine’s gift worthy of Zane!” Pixal groaned in frustration, “I do not understand: he has given me so much over the years, and I cannot even decide on what to give him for the first proper celebration of our love? I feel so pathetic! I do not want to disappoint him!”

Nya put an arm around Pixal, “C’mon, Pix, you got to give yourself more credit and appreciation than that! You’re amazing! It doesn’t take being head over heels in love to see that you’re a wonderful person. And Zane would be happy with whatever you give him, no matter how unimportant you think it seems. And honestly, knowing Zane, you could probably show up with nothing and he’d just be overjoyed to spend time with you!”

Pixal’s heart warmed at her friend’s kind words. “Thank you, Nya, but still, if this holiday is as special as you and Zane have made it out to be, then I truly want my gift to make him feel the happiest he has ever felt.” Pixal thought for a moment, then an idea struck her. “Nya, what is your happiest memory of being with Jay?”

Nya didn’t answer right away. She pursed her lips in thought, taking a minute to ponder the question suddenly thrust upon her. Then her face brightened. “Honestly, even though I was pretty sure we were about to die, it was when he asked me to be his Yang.” Nya gazed at her necklace and played with it with a soft look on her face.

Pixal fixed her eyes on the pendant. It glistened in the light, and the light sparked a realization:

That was it.

“Then I will ask the same of Zane.”

Nya’s attention snapped back to Pixal, eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, Pixal, really? Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Pixal answered with determination.

“It’s a really big commitment,” Nya reminded, “Are you positive you’re ready?”

“Absolutely. Zane and I already share an unbreakable bond, but I think it would be nice to make an official promise to each other.”

Nya beamed, and quickly pulled Pixal into a crushing hug, “I’m so excited for you then!” Pixal hugged her back, anticipation rising in her chest at the prospect of what she had just planned to do.

When Nya finally released Pixal from the hug, she said, “Come on, before you pick out the pendants, I want to take you somewhere.”

* * *

“I do not understand why we are here.” Pixal looked around the store they’d just entered. There were shelves and shelves of folded up clothes, and rows of dresses hanging along the walls. Some of the dresses and several outfits were displayed on mannequins with varying body types.

Nya started pulling dresses from racks and holding them up to Pixal. “I just thought we could find you something nice to wear, since tonight’s going to be extra special!” Nya grimaced and quickly pulled her hand away from the dress she had just grabbed, wiping it on her pants. “Well, that was a horrible texture! Don’t touch that one.”

            “Is there a problem with what I normally wear?” Pixal asked, perplexed.

            “No, of course not!” Nya assured quickly. “But I find that when I’m about to do something big, looking extra nice gives me an extra boost of confidence. So, I want to help you feel that too!”

            “I suppose that makes sense,” Pixal mused. “Although I feel like I always look my best, no matter what I wear.”

            “Yeah you do, girl!” Nya agreed, smiling.

            “I think you always look your best too.”

            Nya’s cheeks tinted, “I mean—if you think so, thanks! I wish I had your confidence about that.”

            “How do you mean?” Pixal asked, incredulously, “You are one of the most confident people I know!” Pixal couldn’t imagine how someone as unapologetically herself as Nya could possibly have low self esteem about something as trivial as personal appearance.

            Nya shrugged, “It’s cause Kai and I grew up poor. We barely had enough money to feed ourselves, let alone buy pretty things. Because of that, a lot of the girls in my village treated me like worthless garbage, just because I couldn’t take care of my body as well as they could. It really sucked and I hated myself for a really long time because of it, even though Kai told me they were being stupid.”

            Pixal took her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze, “I am so sorry, Nya, that was extremely shallow of them and you should not have had to suffer like that for something out of your control.”

            Nya squeezed back with a small smile. “Thanks, Pix. I’m just glad that I eventually learned to put more value in what I can do to help people rather than in how I look.” She reached for another dress, “though looking good while helping people doesn’t hurt anything. Ooh, what do you think of this one?”

            Pixal ended up picking out a sleeveless, knee length, sparkly purple dress. Despite her initial protests, Nya had insisted on buying it for her. Pixal had relented only when Nya had told her to call it a valentine’s gift from a friend.

Next stop was to pick out the Yin Yang pendants.

Incense was burning as they entered the dimly lit jewelry store and were greeted by the person behind the counter, though Pixal noticed the crystals first. There were baskets of them, stuffed into every nook and cranny that could spare an inch of space. Next she noticed the sound of chimes softly tinkling from the ceiling. They must have caught the breeze from the shop door, Pixal figured. Crystal shaded lamps cast marbly, colorful shadows over everything.

“This feels like the kind of place Mystake would have enjoyed visiting,” Nya whispered. Her eyes were wide as she took in the serene beauty of the shop.

“I wish I could have met her,” Pixal remarked. After a short scan of the store, she found what she was looking for: a glass case full of necklaces stood by the payment counter, its contents sparkling under the lamplights.

The store owner came over, “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

Before Pixal could answer, she felt an arm drape across her shoulders.

“Yeah, actually,” Nya replied, flashing an extra friendly smile at the shopkeeper. “This lucky girl is going to ask her partner to be her yang tonight! Got anything extra special?”

The store clerk’s face lit up, “Well, congratulations, then! Yeah, I actually got a new batch of them about a week ago! One of my partners, Jade, actually makes them herself! There they are in the corner!” the storekeeper excitedly pointed to an androgynously dressed person with tattoos on their arms, who was busy organizing one of the many baskets of crystals. They gave a small wave of acknowledgement and kept sorting.

“Love you, Jade!” the shopkeep called fondly, then turned back to their customers.

“Anyways those necklaces have been selling like crazy.” They continued, “I had to put them in a box behind the counter because some dumbass kids kept trying to steal them! Can you believe it?” They went back behind the counter and bent down to retrieve the box. With a proud flourish, they set it on the counter and opened it.

Pixal gasped softly at the sight; the lamp light shone gently on the intricately carved pendants. Some were made of wood, some of metal, some of glazed clay, but all were astoundingly well crafted. Each set had its own unique details too: there was one pair that had tiny stars etched into the edges of every groove, and another with vines and leaves meticulously painted on.  However, Pixal’s eyes were drawn to a particular ceramic set. They were painted the respective Yin Yang colors of black and white, but there was also gold imbedded in both. Thin, spidery veins of gold, following what looked like cracks in the charms, but was all held together by the gold, as well as a transparent glaze that coated both pendant pieces.

“May I get that one?” Pixal pointed to the set.

The shopkeeper’s face lit up, and with enthusiasm, then said, “Absolutely!” As they handed it to Pixal, they called over their shoulder, “Hey Jade, I told you this one would sell!”

“The ugly one? Really? I mean to each their own, but. . .”

Pixal wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I think it’s beautiful,” she said.

The shopkeeper rolled their eyes. “Don’t listen to them, she’s just salty because it wasn’t supposed to shatter like it did. But you made it work, didn’t you?” they called back to their partner, “I’m telling you, the gold infused really adds a special touch! And the cracks make it more symbolic in a way! It could symbolize broken people coming together and becoming whole or something!”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so!” The shopkeeper retorted as they processed Pixal’s payment. “All of your art is beautiful and I’m proud of you every time you make something new! You are SO talented!”

“Augh, no, too many compliments!” Jade covered their face, “You’re gonna make me cry!”

Pixal felt Nya’s hand grab her arm, and they both left quickly, unsure what to make of the odd couple. Especially when they peeked through the shop window and saw that the two were now passionately making out.

“You know what. . .” Nya said, “Good for them, I hope they stay happy together.”

Pixal nodded in agreement, and then turned her attention to the small bag that contained her precious purchase. Excitement bubbled up inside her and let itself out in a giggly squeal.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, Nya!”

“Me too!” Nya squealed back, and hugged her tightly once again before they started walking again, their mission fulfilled.

* * *

That evening, Pixal made her way down to the foot of the monastery and felt her face light up at the sight of Zane standing next to his ice bike. He wore light blue and white sweater vest with a bow tie and khaki pants. He looked just as excited to see Pixal as she was to see him. The amount of adoration radiating from his face warmed her inside.

“You look beautiful, Pixal.” Zane whispered, almost like he could barely get the words out. Pixal looked away shyly, smiling from the praise.

“Thank you, Zane, so do you.”

Pixal could have sworn that in that moment, if Zane had blood, he would have blushed bright red. Instead he just looked surprised and embarrassed and muttered a thank you while smiling. He opened the car door and gestured for Pixal to enter the vehicle.

“So where are we going?” Pixal asked, suddenly remembering that she had forgotten to brainstorm possible activities. Honestly, she was just as bad as Zane sometimes!

“Somewhere special,” Zane replied, “but it’s also a surprise.”

Relief flooded Pixal and she smiled sweetly at him, “I will look forward to arriving, then.”

They drove out to where the sea of sand started. The sky was beginning to turn pink as the car went over a hill and Pixal saw something tall and glittering in the distance. As they got closer, Pixal realized it was a temple, and her scanners indicated it was made of. . .ice?”

“Zane, did you build this all by yourself? Pixal asked in wonder as they parked near it and got out of the car.

“I did!” Zane beamed with pride. “It took me all afternoon to complete.”

“It’s magnificent!” Pixal exclaimed in awe, and it was! The structure towered upward at six stories tall, and the attention to detail was astoundingly immaculate. From the individual roof tiles to the glowing, ice crystal lanterns hanging from every corner.

“This only took an afternoon??”

Zane chuckled, “Wait until you see the inside!”

He took her hand and led her to the double doors, which opened at a wave of his hand. The room they had entered was full of gently glowing, heart shaped ice sculptures. The glow was a peaceful looking pink, and the color’s warm hue contrasted nicely with the surrounding, chilly blues of the walls.  An ice chandelier hung from the ceiling, and starting along one wall, a flight of stairs wound upwards and out of sight.

Zane tugged on Pixal’s wrist with the excitement of a kid showing off their bedroom. “Come on!”

He led her up the flight of stairs. On the second story, there was a door. Zane opened it. and it showed a life-sized ice rendition of what Pixal recognized to be part of the lobby at Borg Tower. Two sculpted figures stood there, facing each other. It was Zane, how she had first seen him, and herself. Ice Pixal's face was neutral as she stared at Zane, frozen mid-scan. Zane’s face could only be described as lovesick. Pixal smiled fondly.

“I hope you understand that this was the most important day of my life.” Zane said, also smiling at the memory’s depiction.

“Even though I tried to kill you later that night?” Pixal teased.

“Yes,” Zane chuckled, “even then.”

The next story's room showed them doing spinjitsu together in Ed and Edna’s junkyard.

“That was right after you had given me half your heart!” Pixal remembered aloud.

“Yes, and even though I had just given a part of myself away, it was the first time in my existence that I had truly felt whole.”

“I had felt whole for the first time as well! Like I had finally found my greater purpose: a purpose to help others!” Pixal felt a surge of nostalgia for that moment.

The next room was one that Pixal didn’t recognize right away. A sculpture of her hugged a sculpture of Zane, who appeared to be cowering in fear beneath the gaze of a fearsome dragon.

“It was in that cave on Chen’s island, after we had all been freed, and you were—”

“In your head,” Pixal finished. “But. . . I was not present physically in that event. Why do I appear to be here?”

“You may not have been there in person,” Zane started, “but you were closer to me than you had ever been, and it truly felt like you were present beside me as you guided me through my hallucination. You helped me face my fear and become stronger despite it, and I will be forever grateful.”

The next room showed the aftermath of the Destiny’s Bounty’s crash into the Primeval’s Eye. Ice Pixal stood facing Zane, her Samurai helmet freshly removed, and Zane’s ice counterpart stared back at her with an expression of pure joy.

The same expression Pixal hoped he would wear on his face when she asked him to be her Yang forever.

Lastly, there was a room where there was no sculpture. It was the top floor, Pixal realized, and there was a balcony that looked out over the sunset on the white sands of the winter desert. Pixal could almost forego logic and imagine it was snow she was looking at instead of sand. It was truly so beautiful. Everything Zane had shown her was beautiful. The palace, those tender moments from the past, the kind words and gratitude he had given her throughout the evening,  it all made her feel so special! Despite the known importance of her planned proposal, a little part of Pixal wondered if she’d done enough.

“You’re so quiet,” Zane remarked, “do you. . . like it?” He looked at her with excited expectancy.

“I—yes, Zane, of course I like it, how could I not?” Pixal gestured wildly to everything around her, “It is obvious that you put so much care and thought into every miniscule detail of this place. It is truly incredible, and I. . . I love it! And I love you.”

Zane smiled in relief. “Good. I have one more gift for you.”

“Before you do that,” Pixal interrupted, “I would like to give you the gift I have prepared.” She continued on before Zane could protest. “Zane, you have given me so much. Not just today, but ever since we met. You gave me free will, a new chance at life, your ever-growing trust and support, and your continued companionship. However, in the past, I—despite knowing it to be irrational—found myself feeling that I could never come close to paying you back for everything you have done for me, even though you have done nothing but express your gratitude for my involvement in your life since we arrived here. You have made it clear that simply being myself is enough to make you happy. So, as of now, I am done second guessing my worth in our relationship, and now stand before you with a wish to further strengthen our already unbreakable bond.”

Pixal kneeled, head raised, looking her beloved Zane straight in the eye. “I do not know what the future holds, but I know that no matter what happens, I want you to be there with me always. So. . .” She revealed the necklace to him, “. . .will you be my Yang?”

Zane didn’t answer, but simply stared at her with wide eyes and lips slightly parted.

Pixal felt a twinge of worry, had she said something wrong? “I am sorry I didn’t plan anything more for tonight. I “psyched myself out” as Nya put it, and couldn’t figure out any other gift that I thought you might want.

Zane continued to look at her. Pixal was unsure of his expression.

“Please say something, Zane, it doesn’t even have to be yes. I understand if you wish to keep our relationship how it is, and I will respect whatever your decision is. I will love you no matter your answer.”

Zane finally snapped out of it and grabbed Pixal’s hands. “Of course, Pixal, yes, an infinite amount of times, yes!” Zane’s blue eyes shone even brighter than normal as he picked her up, spun her around, and then pulled her into a kiss after he’d set her down. When they separated a few seconds later, Zane began to giggle.

“What is it?” Pixal asked.

“I was so nervous about tonight,” Zane explained, reaching into his pants pocket, “But you ended up beating me to it!” He pulled out something and put it in Pixal’s hand. Upon examination, Pixal gasped at the sight of a handcrafted necklace set. The pendants were made out of intricately woven silver wires and bright blue crystal, and she realized the halves combined looked like—

“It represents your—our—energy core!”

“Yes! I know it does not have the appearance of the traditional charms, but I felt it would be right for us.”

Realization hit Pixal suddenly. “Oh no, I ruined your moment, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Zane!”

“Pixal, it’s alright.” Zane assured her, caressing her face. “I definitely was not expecting it, but it was a nice surprise. I’m just glad you feel the same way.”

“Of course I do!” Pixal assured, “You are so wonderful, Zane, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

           

“And I with you, my beloved Pixal.”

The last thing the sun saw before dipping behind the horizon was two titanium lovers holding each other tightly, promising never to break their bond as long as they both shall live.

@ninjago-valentine-exchange

#ninjago valentine exchange #pixane #ninjago fanfiction #pixal x zane #they're my otp for real #lego ninjago #ninjago pixal #pixal borg #ninjago zane #zane julien #nya ninjago #nya smith #nya jiang #ninjago nya

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt. 1

This is literally my first post, please go easy on me lmao - the slowest of slow burns between AdoptedWalker!Reader x Keegan P. Russ. TW: Kidnapping and Torture. Set two years after the events of COD Ghosts.

On AO3! Semi-Regular updates :)

This has barely been proofed - so, sorry in advance!

"NO!"

It's a man's voice, you don't recognise it. He sounds panicked, his voice is ragged and hoarse. His scream grows louder and louder until it's a deafening ring and-

You jolt awake, crying out in pain. Every part of your body hurts and the ringing in your ears is agony. 

Your chest feels tight as you try to orientate yourself, you're in a room you don't recognise. It's sparsely decorated and looks medical, it's not often used. 

It takes you only a second to notice the three silhouettes that stand in the corner of the room, effectively blocking your only exit. You lurch into a sitting position, pushing yourself backwards in the bed. 

Panic floods your system, you don't recognise any of them. You have to get up, get back to-?

Get back to who?

The man standing closest to your bed is older, with greying hair and lines around his eyes. He pushes himself of the wall and you take note of the sheer size of him. He's muscular and clearly disciplined. A threat. 

Your eyes scan rapidly for any sort of weapon, something that could offer some vestige of protection. Nothing. 

He raises his arms in mock surrender as he approaches, "How do you feel?" His voice is deep, gentle and entirely unfamiliar. 

W--g. Wrong. Wrong. 

Your voice wavers, "Stay back!" You're pushing yourself even further away from him as you frantically try to assess the best way to escape these men.

"Hey, hey" he continues, your breathing is rapid and shallow. 

Where's ----? I am - ------ and I am ---. I have been ---------. 

Your hand instinctively reaches to the top of your thigh, your fingers find only the thin medical gown you're wearing. 

Where's my -----? 

What are you looking for?

"Do you know where you are?" He asks, he's at the end of your bed now. You realise that you can't escape this situation in your current state, you try and level your breathing and maintain eye contact. 

"No." You grit the words out, you hate the way your heart sinks. 

The man nods, a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. 

Stop it. Stop it. 

"Do you know who I am?" He continues, his voice still calm as he moves to sit at the foot of the bed. His movement spurs you into action, you carefully swing your legs off the bed, just in case. 

"No" You answer again, your hands fisting the bedsheets as you focus on keeping your breathing level. What the fuck is happening. 

"Control your breathing ----. You're --- ------- when --- -"

Whose voice was that?

"I don't-" your voice falters and cracks. If they didn't know you were scared before, they do now. Stupid. 

"Stop giving them the advantage"

His eyes meet yours and he exhales deeply, "My name is Gabriel. You and I work together, you were part of the Federation. Do you know what the Federation is?" As he speaks you realise he is truly unarmed, dressed in civilian clothing. The other two men are in standardised uniform, armed to the teeth. 

At his words, you almost sigh in relief. It's the first bit of information you recognise. The Federation sounds familiar. It's-? E--m-. What was the Federation?

"Yes, but- I...I thought the Federation where-? I'm not part of the Federation? My house was-?" You're stumbling through scattered memories, trying desperately to assign meaning to abstract thoughts. The more you try to pin something down, the quicker it escapes. 

A sudden wave of nausea washes over you. The man in front of you will hurt you. What?

"Dad! Wait! I'm not as fast as ----" It's your voice. You're young.

Where's my Dad?

The man at the end of your bed reaches towards you, covering the hand that's clutching the sheets, "It'll come back to you in time, Sweetheart". You would have flinched if you hadn't locked up in fear. Your heart thundering in your chest. 

"Why can't I remember", you feel a tear roll down your cheek. You're not sure if it's borne from frustration or fear. 

Safe. You're safe. Calm down. 

He tenses and stands abruptly, "You were taken from us, you-" he cuts himself off, "we will get the men that did this to you- I'm just sorry it took us so long to find you".

His back is turned to you, the men that stand guarding the door seem to stand further to attention under his gaze. 

This man, Gabriel, is important. He said you were someone he worked with. Were you important too? 

He came back for you. He said you were taken and he came back for you. 

"I don't-" you feel overwhelmed, unable to breathe. 

You were taken? Why? Who took you? When? What did they do? How did you get out? Are they coming back? Are-

You shake your head, as though you can physically dispel these thoughts. 

Gabriel turns to you again, "you will remember us, and you will help us get revenge for what they did to us". 

Your eyes snap to his, "Us?" You stop trying to hide your fear. 

He returns to your bedside and clasps your hand before he repeats, "Us". 

3 Weeks Later

The chair is still the same uncomfortable plastic one as last time. You fought every urge to make yet another complaint to the man opposite you. You'd asked him to replace it for you, he'd raised his eyebrow, made some notes and said nothing. 

You can remember everything since you woke up in the hospital room, just not a lot before that. However, the nightmares and flashbacks of your time with the Ghosts were becoming more vivid and frequent with each week. Sam made more notes about that. 

You'd see this man almost every day, his name was Sam and that was about all you knew about him. He was assessing you apparently, monitoring your progress before you could go back to work. He applauded your short-term memory progress in the most unenthused tone you'd ever heard. 

He clearly didn't want to be here any more than you did. 

He'd ask the same questions every time before delving into other recovery topics. 

"What's your name" his voice was monotonous, uninterested. 

You reeled off your first name easily, before meeting his unamused gaze and sighing, "I'm not sure". You slouched in your seat, eyes scanning each crack in the cold concrete walls that surrounded the two of you. 

"----? st-----! Get ----!" A man's voice, deep, urgent. 

You fidget in the seat, "Something with a W in it? I don't know". It's the first time since you regained consciousness that you heard one of the voices. You decide not to tell the man opposite you that fun tidbit of information, you're not crazy.

He looks momentarily surprised at the omission before resuming the blank facade and furiously jotting down notes. 

You knew your first name but Gabriel made it clear he wanted you to recall as much information as possible before he told you anything else. He said it would set a good foundation and allow them to track your progress better. It sounded like bullshit to you at the time but you had agreed to it all the same. 

"What's your mother's name?" he continues. 

You wait for another voice, a scattered memory. Nothing. 

"I don't know," your teeth hurt from clenching them, you have to wriggle your jaw to ease the tension.

"Any brothers or sisters?" he pushes his glasses further up his face. Dickhead. 

You hear laughing. "Got---! Yo--- -- ---o-" your hands are skimming the top of water, throwing it suddenly as ----. You hear a laugh and then your own. The sun is blinding and you can't focus on anything. Ha--y. Yo--- -a---.

"I don't know, maybe?" your eyes are closed as you try to concentrate. The sudden onslaught of shattered, unclear memories hurt to try to piece together. 

"How do you know Rorke?" It's a new question. 

"We worked together," you reply almost instantly. It's the only question you can confidently answer. The only answer you've been told the answer to. 

“Where's —-? You came back witho—--?! —---” This time, you recognise it’s your voice. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re screaming.

You bring your palms up to rub your eyes at the screaming. A headache is taking root and your eyes sting in frustration. 

"Who is Elias Walker?" Another new question, you don't like this. 

There are no memories, except a heaviness that settles on your chest. You physically shift in the chair to accommodate the weight and hope he doesn't notice. 

"I wish I knew," your head is still in your hands, your elbows resting on the table. 

The name is a whisper. It should mean something. 

"Are you alright to continue?" His voice is absent of any concern that should be present in that question. God, you hated him. 

"Yes, just annoyed" you manage.

Annoyed with you, with my situation. 

Why the Federation believes that this is the most effective way of getting back your memories is beyond you. You make little to no progress with piecing together your life. Your memories are still undecipherable and scattered. 

You're escorted back to your room, which lies opposite Gabriel's. You're aware that everyone on the base calls him Rorke except for you. He introduced himself as Gabriel and so you're hesitant to deviate away from this name. 

He spends most of his time in the control room, meticulously planning the Federation's next move. 

You'd been around him long enough to know that his main objective was the annihilation of the group of men who'd captured you. A particularly tricky group of men known as the Ghosts. An elite task force that managed to use the Federation's own weapons against Rorke. They also had an unnerving ability to kill droves of Federation soldiers without being detected. 

From the limited number of redacted reports you'd been allowed to read, the Ghosts had managed to infiltrate the Federation ranks an embarrassing number of times. 

It was remarkable, there was only a handful of them and yet the threat they posed was severe and entirely warranted. By the time I was retrieved, only the most loyal remained as active members. 

The Ghosts had taken everything. 

Rorke had succeeded in killing two of them, a man named Ajax and their former leader, 'The Scarecrow'. 

It had been the remaining men, that had ripped you apart over two years of continued torture. 

Gabriel had told you that the Ghosts had targeted you to get to him, you didn't ask why. You had ignored the implications of that statement. He also said you had valuable information, so you left it at that. 

"Damn ---, what the ---- you doing on this?" It was a deep voice, a new one. It was almost entirely intact. You could hear the smile in their voice. It wasn't Rorke, it wasn't anyone here. It was someone you knew before.

You exhaled deeply as you crossed over the threshold of your room, closing the door and sprawling face down across your bed, groaning. You had wanted to make some notes on the voices you heard. You didn't want to forget them, but you didn't want to share them with Sam. 

Any rest that you could have had was ripped away from you by two sharp knocks to the door. 

"Just me," Gabriel yelled before opening the door, not waiting for any invitation to do so. He smiled at you as you scrambled off the bed to a presentable, standing position. 

"You alright?" You ask, despite your initial unease about Gabriel, he was the only one to reach out to you and make you feel comfortable at the base. He was the closest thing you had to a friend. 

"Jus' checking in with you, how was this morning?" He keeps his distance, crossing the room before taking a seat at your desk chair, swivelling it to face you. You follow his lead and sit at the foot of your bed. 

You laugh, feeling tension roll off you, "Same as always, delightful" he seems to smile in response but says nothing else for a moment. 

Gabriel doesn't come to just check in with you, he wants something. 

He moves closer to you, grabbing your shoulder heavily and squeezing. It feels so familiar and yet-? 

It shouldn't be him. 

What? 

"I'm proud of you," he says, "I know what you went through wasn't easy". He looks sincere and you feel your throat tighten. 

You shrug him off playfully, smiling, "Alright, alright, what are you actually here for?"

He laughs, sitting back in his seat, "We've got some leads, need you to get on them - might have something for once". He's relaxed, crossing his arms in front of him. 

You're taken aback, you'd essentially been signed off indefinitely, "You think I'm ready to - y'know, come back?". You're so hopeful and you can hear it in your voice. 

Finally. You could get back to doing something you were good at. Something that had made you important once. 

He laughs and you both move to stand, his arm wrapping over your shoulders as he leads you towards the control centre, "never doubted you for a second". 

You're smiling. Actually smiling. 

It's nice having someone believe in you. Someone who can attest to what you used to be capable of. The rest of the soldiers here avoid you, keep their eyes low as you pass them in corridors. As though you were a higher rank than them. As though you really were important. 

Who were you? 

#keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #logan walker #cod keegan #call of duty ghosts #what am i doing lol #i am sorry in advance #the slowest of slow burns #not proofread