#victor frankenstein x reader

[spaceagebachelormann]

hii can i request headcanons of how finnick odair would be as a bf? maybe if ur also a victor

finnick odair and victor frankenstein as bfs !

✧ warnings: spoilers for thg and frankenstein maybe?

✧ additional info: erm i didn’t know if u meant i could do victor if i wanted 😔 so i js did anyway cause i will use any excuse to write for someone from that masterlist!! if u did mean i could put victor if i wanted ily and pls send more victor reqs i barely get any for classic monsters in general <3 erm aleo i haven’t watched thg in ages so finnick might be ooc

✧ m.list — nav.

ೃ༄ finnick odair

he’s very sweet and calm and overall js like amazing to be around and have as a bf <3

despite the fact bro is majestic and could have 6 girlfriends or boyfriends or whateverfriends if he wanted he’s very loyal and respectful of u

doesn’t even dare to look at anyone else while with u

also very willing to take things slowly if that’s what u prefer

it’s honestly what he prefers too

yk because of everything the capital put him through

he js prefers taking his time to get to know u before anything

but he will take u on the cutest dates ever even before reaching first base

will wrestle ur date preferences out of u. not literally. by that i mean he tricks u into telling him what u would wanna do then surprising u

he’s also like so soft and nice with everyone but with u it’s like 10x more

bro can be literally screaming at someone if needed at one moment and then braiding ur hair for u the next

also he’d LOVE braiding ur hair

u don’t even have to ask he js puts ur head on his chest and plays with it

also he’s still v flirty with u for funsies

esp if u get embarrassed easily

he thinks it’s funny (cute) that’s why <3

and i feel like he’s oddly good at singing

like he js taught himself how to sing once because he was bored and needed smth to do

so he was like “yk what imma learn to sing”

and holy fucking shit is he good at it!!

his voice in general is rlly calming

and he knows it is so he likes reading to u and singing to u or js talking to u and literally anything where he can use his voice

i don’t think he’d be very huge on pet names but he’d def call u honey more than anything (cause this is gn)

ik because im his gf actually!! /j

and shit like beautiful and gorgeous if ur fem don’t tell me he wouldn’t yk he would

and he loves kissing ur face

also if ur fem or js have lipstick he’d let u leave lipstick marks on his face <3

i rlly feel like he’d wanna be with someone who he knows well and feels like he can trust

especially if he’s known them for a few years

and he genuinely doesn’t care abt looks!!

go get urself a finnick odair

ALSO THIS MAN CAN COOK!!

AND BAKE!!

and his food is genuinely the most scrumptious shit u will ever taste

ೃ༄ victor frankenstein

ugh this bitch

he’s definitely very loyal to u and wouldn’t even think about other people but he’s kinda. neglectful.

he doesn’t do it on purpose and always makes up for it but there’s long periods of time where he’s sorta cold and rude to u and distant

but he feels bad after and always makes it up to u

he also would wanna be with someone who he’s known for awhile, but that’s because his dumbass would realize his feelings rlly late

but based on his canon AND fanon love interests he seems like he’d want someone who’s rlly compassionate and nice

unfortunately he might care abt looks

erm anyway!!

probably just calls u by ur name but will throw in a my love here and there if he’s in a rlly good mood

because he’s sorta neglectful he doesn’t rlly kiss u a lot because he’s never actually near u alot

but when he is he likes kissing ur shoulders and forehead and hands and wrists n shit

he’s like cold to everyone else but soft with u <3 (when he’s actually with u)

and he’d love it if u got along well with his family and henry and elizabeth

especially his brothers

and would love it if ur nice to justine because typically people wouldn’t be nice to her cause she’s a maid (/lh ily justine u deserved better)

pls let him yap to u

sometimes he js wants to rant abt his day or ideas to someone and would love it if u sat there and listened

and if u let him yap after he makes his creation and it starts slaughtering everybody he’d love it if u were understanding

after elizabeth dies he becomes 12x more protective of u to the point where he won’t even let u be alone by urself cause he left elizabeth alone for 5 mins and she died (they’re js friends here obv)

his love language is gift giving <3 he likes making u little handmade gifts everytime he sees u

also quality time. whenever he can he likes going on picnics and walks

he’s also not the best at comforting but he’s a very good listener and will let u rant to him

his presence in general is comforting

i’m laughing my ass off at this but he wakes u up to show u bugs in the middle of the night

“victor wtf is that” “goliath beetle :)” “put it back before i make u move in with it.”

he also has the most entertaining days for no fucking reason and has a crazy story to tell u all the time

and his hands are fucking freezing. that’s all bye ily

#mars writing 🧈 #frankenstein (marlee’s version 🫀) #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #frankenstein x reader #victor frankenstein x reader #the hunger games #thg #the hunger games x reader #thg x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader

[jeffnotbezos]

Idc how much of a red flag Victor Frankenstein is, I’d let him do anything to me. His Best friend, Henry too. I’m a simp and someone needs to write a fanfic.

#victor frankenstein #frankenstein #marry shelley #henry clerval #my two favorite babygirls #idc i love them #Victor Frankenstein x reader #henry Clerval x reader #PLS SOMEONE WRITE 273626262663 FANFICS FOR THEM #Smutty smut smut #smut #Elizabeth can get it too idc #my favorite red flags #lomls #red is my favorite color #they’re so silly #cutie patootie #my fav sillies

[fandom-go-round]

Please….NSFW headcanons for the Code:Realize boys….(bonus points for additional Guinevere)

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Chase Kink, Rough Sex, Marking Kink, Oral Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Mild Pain Kink, Embarrassment Talking about Sex, Bondage, Begging

Arsene Lupin:

He loves to make you laugh in the bedroom. Not all of the time of course but Arsene will give a few teasing comments if he feels like you’re too tense. He’ll nip playfully at your skin and talk about something completely off topic to get you to relax. He always wants you to have a good time.

Arsene has a bit of a chase kink, even if he’ll never admit it. Nothing gets him going like you flashing him a smile and then disappearing into a crowd. He might find you faster than he lets on but it’s fun to spook you and watch you take off again. Just make sure to run in the direction of the house because if he catches you before you make it back, he’s not going to be able to control himself.

 Abraham Van Helsing:

Abraham isn’t going to bring up sex unless you mention it first. It isn’t because he doesn’t want it, he just doesn’t know how to talk to you about it. Once the subject is on the table, however, he’s all for it. He’s not shy about what he likes and he doesn’t want you to feel shy either. It can be a shock, going from not talking about sex to him bringing it up when you least suspect it. He might be doing it on purpose to see your shocked face but you have no proof.

His favorite thing is when you ride him, especially if you let him leave marks. He’ll bruise up your chest and neck as you use him for your own pleasure. Abraham will never do anything to permanently harm you but he does like leaving marks on your skin. If you leave some back, he’ll be thrilled. Bruises, bit marks, nail scratches; he’ll take anything you give him and more.

 Victor Frankenstein:

Victor likes things to go slow. The first few times it’s because of nerves but you notice that’s just how he likes to take things. Sex is very much making love for him and he wants it to be a detailed affair. He’ll do a quickie if you want but he’d much prefer to spend an evening inside, just the two of you. If you hint this is something that you want, he’ll jump on it, going out of his way to make sure that it happens soon.

He loves to eat you out, even if he’s not the best at it. Victor is nothing if not eager and will happily stay between your legs as much as possible. It can take you a while to convince him to let you return the favor but he enjoys it just as much. He’s a big fan of oral and any time you indulge him is a treat.

 Impey Barbicane:

Impey wants to see your face the entire time that you’re together. He loves seeing how you react to him and is able to gauge how to move forward. He takes all his ques from you and checks in with you often. He wants to make sure that you’re comfortable every step of the way.

He likes it when you boss him around a little, happily following your orders and worshipping you. He gets embarrassed when you do it back, especially if you praise him. Impey will melt if you start telling him how much you love him and that he’s your favorite. He finds it reassuring, even if he knows that you would never leave him for anyone.

 Saint-Germain:

He has a lot of experience and while he doesn’t talk about, he sure knows how to use it. Every time you mention something (and even if you don’t), he seems to know what you mean and pulls out all the stops. You’ve never had a bad time and you’re sure you never will. It can be harder for him to let you pleasure him but if you insist, Saint-Germain will let you do as you wish. It takes a little while but he soon learns to appreciate your give and take in the bedroom.

Saint-Germain enjoys tying you up. Holding your arms and legs open and letting him have his way with you is the ultimate form of trust. He relishes in it. Sweet talk him enough and he might let you tie him up but not often. He prefers being in control and teasing you until you beg for him. He likes it when you’re desperate and he’s not afraid to admit it.

 Guinevere:

She has the most wonderful fingers out of anyone. They’re gorgeous and powerful and she knows how to take you apart with them. She’s always happy to finger you if you ask and know that you enjoy seeing her hands. Guinevere does like to wrap her fingers around your neck, if only to see your eyes go wide. She won’t squeeze if you don’t want her to but she does like to place her hand there.

She loves to when you sit on her face. Guinevere likes to be in control and this is one of the easiest ways for her to be in charge. She isn’t a hardcore dom but she will pinch your thighs and tease you if you try to fight back. If you want to return the favor and turn around (literally) to take care of her, she won’t say no.

#code realize imagine #code realize #Arsene Lupin #arsene lupin x reader #abraham van helsing #abraham van helsing x reader #victor frankenstein #victor frankenstein x reader #victor frankenstein imagine #arsene lupin imagine #abraham van helsing imagine #Impey Barbicane #impey barbicane x reader #impey barbicane imagine #saint germain #saint germain x reader #saint germain imagine #guinevere x reader #guinevere #guinevere imagine

[bonniebird]

Victor Frankenstein x Reader

Requested by @gatefleet

December event

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“Vanessa! Vanessa!” You called through the house. You had let yourself in and the door banged shut behind you. Vanessa smiled to herself. 

Though darkness troubled her there was ever a touch of sunlight streaming into her life, chasing after you as you made your way.

“What is it?” She asked when you found her and stopped short, panting a little as you looked half made with a tale.

"I just found out that Mr. Chandler and Dr. Frankenstein swapped secret santa gifts. I may. Have put a crazy love note in one of the gifts." You explained in a rush. She tried not to chuckle as she stood from her seat and set aside the book in her hands.

“Well, we must make haste and try to intervene before disaster can strike.” She said and let you tug her from the room. 

“I shall go and find Dr. Frankenstein. You o and find Mr Chandler.” You explained. Vanessa agreed before stopping and turning back as you left the house and went separate ways.

“Which was the love note for?” She asked curiously. You went quiet for a moment before timidly confessing.

“Dr. Frankenstein.” Your reply was given a curt nod as she turned and hurried in the other direction. You hurried your way through town and found Victor drawing on a bench at the entrance of a park not too far from his home. He spotted you and gave you a nod. Or you thought he had. Perhaps he looked right through you because as you approached you seemed to startle him slightly.

“(Y/N). I apologise. I was so busy…” He glanced down at his sketches as he quickly shut his folder of papers and brushed charcoal off his lap.

“It is no worry. I thought you might not have noticed. You tend to get so wrapped up in your work.” You said and smiled shyly. You sat with him for a while. He explained that he was watching how people moved around in the cold. The crisp chill of winter had seeped into the city and you noticed the way people moved about more quickly to get inside. You hadn’t noticed the chilblains or the way the drunk that had stumbled to the gutter had a red face because of the cold and not the brown bottle in his hands. So long had passed as the two of you talked that you entirely forgot about the gift until you spotted Vanessa making her way up the road. She had your neatly wrapped parcel in her hand. You had wanted the note to stay secret and the thought of handing it over now seemed rather large. But there was a sly way to Vanessa’s smile as she handed you the gift and sat with you both.

“Oh. This was yours. I was the one who had… you for the gift party.” You explained quickly and tried not to nervously stutter and fidget. Victor’s eyes went wide as he realised he must have caused some upset by exchanging the gift.

“Well. I shall save it for the right day. It may be my only gift this year.” Victor muttered. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” Vanessa said and smiled as you gave her an inquisitive look. Victor chuckled at that and left, explaining that he had more work to get to.

“What did you mean by that?” You asked Vanessa.

“Well, I took out your note and hid it in another gift. It’s a book on anatomy. It should arrive shortly. Your note will be in there so it shall be a secret.” She smiled wisely as you linked arms and made your way down the road together. You glanced back at Victor but his head was down and he hurried away too quickly to glance back at you.

“I shall never be able to pay you back for it.” You mumbled.

“You shall. By attending the parties I have to go to this week. You will come with me and keep me company. I hear that your dear Victor shall be attending a few as well.” She smiled at you as you beamed at the thought of a part with Victor. In truth, she hated the parties but she had promised to go and you would cheer her up to no end. Plus she’d get to see how things went on with you and Victor. She and Mr. Chandler had a bet on how long it would take for the two of you to confess your feelings and she planned to win.

Victor tags:

@savagemickey03 @zoomdeathknight @pheonix4269 @bloodrose @sarahbullet235 @lovelyy-moonlight @stellasblog @DeanWinchestersgirl87 @thekayarlene @linkpk88 @babypink224221 @lisainhell @spiderwebs-blog @gryffindorqueensworld @rockyrascal @twerp8999 @bluebear142077 @alexxavicry @kaylantus @supernatural-wolfie @love1deandra @archaeologydigit @im-eating-rn @bucketbunny @littlefreakingfangirl @hardladyheart @gatefleet @hardladyheart @hc-geralt-23 @plumes-de-nuit

#victor frankenstein #penny dreadful #victor frankenstein x reader #bonniebird #december2022

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Hi!! Could you please do Vanessa Ives x fem reader with some angst?? 💗💗

A Little bit Broken- Vanessa Ives

A/N: Hey, I hope this is close enough to what you wanted, there wasn’t much to go off of aside from the angst so I took some creative liberties.

Warning(s): Alluding to smut.

I hadn’t wanted to believe that Vanessa had fallen so quickly and irreversibly into despair but when the proofs staring right back at you, there’s not much of an argument you can muster to try and convince yourself otherwise.

I’d tried to leave her be, to give her time and space. Even though my heart and mind kept fighting against my decision, I loved her and I would do anything for her even if it meant leaving her for some time.

Yet when I’d received a private letter from Mr Lyles and he’d told me of the state of Vanessa, I couldn’t believe, I didn’t want to believe it but deep I knew what the letter contained was true and it had broken me leaving me in tears.

I’d only received the letter an hour ago in the late evening, it was now terribly late and dark but I couldn’t wait until the morning to see her and to hold and make sure she was safe.

I had to force my way through the back door the kitchen, it had been stuck and the handle would barely move. At the time I couldn’t tell whether the door had been locked or whether it had some how sealed itself shut in the two weeks that I’d left Vanessa to herself.

Now I stood bare the stairwell, I’d just walked through the living room that had letters and papers scattered across floor and dust had seemed to be as common in the as oxygen.

Looking at the hallway and the grand stairs, things didn’t look anymore promising. The floor no longer held a clean sheen of polish or its dark mahogany colour, instead it was almost black with some sort of dirt and dust, everything seemed to be in a desperate need of care.

But that was all beside the point, I wasn’t hear to worry about the state of the house or it’s decor, my mine and only concern was the woman that I knew would be hiding upstairs in her room, hiding herself away from the world.

It took me a minute to gather the strength I knew I would need to be able to face her. What had become in the weeks I’d left her alone, had she been eating? Drinking? Sleeping? I knew I wasn’t going to get the answers to any of those questions, until I braved the stairs upwards.

And so I did, lifting the skirts of my dress I took one step at a time, not to certain of the security of the stairs, considering the state of the rest of the house, I knew it wouldn’t hurt to be cautious.

Once I’d made it to the top of the stairs I began to walk down the darkened hallway that I’d mesmerised by heart, my final destination being the last room at the end of it.

At first I walked at a somewhat cautious and silent pace, not wanting to alarm the ravenette I knew was here.

“Vanessa!” I called out to the silence of the corridor, a few seconds past and no reply came but then I heard a loud bang and then crash and sound of shattered glass penetrated my senses and I didn’t even have to think twice before break out into a sprint to her room.

It didn’t even take me ten seconds to reach the end of the corridor and into Vanessa room, to where I heard the shattered glass. My eyes darted quickly around the room and then they landed on their target.

She was there, disheveled but alive and suddenly a wave of relief washed over me, and as my face broke out into a wide smile and my eyes began to water with tears, I took a step forward to run to her and embrace her.

But then I stopped myself, my eyes quickly caught the glimpse of shattered glass that was lying on the floor next to the writing desk Vanessa was sat at.

I might have scared her when I called and she must have accidentally knocked the gas lamp off her desk and it must have smashed upon impact.

“Vanessa I…” I began to say but then I stopped myself when she looked at me, her eyes locking with mine and their usual bright blue that always seemed as if they were sapphires, were now a dull version of what they once were, clouded and glassed over and I almost struggled to read her expression.

“What are you doing here?” She’d spoken to me but her voice was almost lifeless, almost bleak sounding and my heart broke at not only the tone of her voice but also the question she’d asked me.

It was so blatant and sharp, did she not want me here? Had I don’t something wrong? My mind began to reel with all these questions and suddenly an anger I didn’t know I had began to let itself loose.

“What am I doing here? What do you mean what am I doing here? I’m here for you!” I started to shout, I didn’t want and I’m not sure where it came from but suddenly I was angry and upset all at once.

“I didn’t ask you to be here,” she responded back, her voice colder than before, louder and almost steel like.

She continued to stare at me, only now she was getting up from her seat at her writing desk. She wasn’t wearing an awful lot, just a simple black, almost sleeveless dress. And then some of questions began to be answered.

I could quickly see she hadn’t been eating properly, she hadn’t been starving herself, from what I can see but she’d certainly lost some weight. Her face was a little more hollowed and her hair didn’t seem to have been brushed in several days and suddenly that anger I had was stunning into a rage but it was a caring rage.

“You didn’t have to, I got a letter of Lyles and ran out of my home as quickly as I could.” I began to explain the bite was still in my voice. “I was hoping what he said wasn’t true, that you weren’t letting your self perish in a hellhole, it seems my hope was stupid.”

I stood closer to her, now only a foot or two away. There were so many things I wanted to do, I wanted to scream and shout her for what she’d done to herself, I wanted to take her downstairs and make her eat a proper meal but then I wanted to pour her an nice bath and sit with her and wash her hair and just take of her.

“What did you expect!” She shouted and screamed at me and suddenly I wanted to jump out of my skin and walk away. I’d never heard her about like this before and it scared me, more so than the demons and witches that had plagued us for so long.

“Everyone’s gone, Ethan’s off to the American gallows, Malcolm’s burying his dead children and you were tortured and almost killed and it’s all my fault!” She screamed again and suddenly tears were falling quickly down her cheeks and she began to shake in her spot standing on the floor.

All of it was true, Ethan had been shipped, Malcolm was burying his dead sun and I had almost died but none of that was Vanessa’s fault. We’d all made our own choices and we new that going into this, she couldn’t and shouldn’t blame herself.

“How is any of it your fault? We all made our choices Van and we chose to stand by you, at least I did, I love you!” She knew I loved and she exactly how much and the. Suddenly the tears became less and her eyes darkened and suddenly she was running towards me.

Her lips crashed upon mine and suddenly I was kissing her back. Her normally soft lips were now harsh and rough and I couldn’t tell whether this was out of passion, anger, lust or a mix of all three.

Then before I could understand it, I had accepted it and soon we were pulling each other free of the clothes that confined us both.

Though as Vanessa was trying to get my corset off, I stopped her movements and looked at her. “Why now?”

“I’ve missed you and I can’t bare the thought of not being near you for a moment longer.” It was a simple answer but it was good enough for me and as such I allowed her to continue unlacing my corset and soon we were spending the rest of the night together entertained in each others bodies, enjoying the intimacy of one another.

#actress #eva green #eva green x fem #eva green gifs #eva green story #eva green x reader #vanessa ives #vanessa ives x fem reader #vanessa ives x reader #penny dreadful #miss peregrine #miss peregrine x reader #french actress #victorian #london #victorian london #victor frankenstein #ethan chandler #sir malcolm murray

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Frankweenie Masterlist

Notes: Anyone you see missing here, I don’t write for. Reminder I don’t write smut or suggestive work for minors nor do I age up minor characters to sexualise them.

Here are my other Tim Burton works.

Codes

🦋 = Headcannons

💄 = Fem Reader

☘️ = GN Reader

🌷 = Fic

🖤 = Angst

🏳️‍🌈 = Gay

✨= Fluff

🌚 = NSFW

Victor Frankenstein

To Be Continued…

Elsa Van Helsing

To Be Continued…

Mrs Frankenstein

To Be Continued…

#stitched #stitched talks #stitched mouth #stitched writes #frankenweenie #frankenweenie x reader #tim burton #victor frankenstein #elsa van helsing

[awearywritersworld]

i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend

sukuna x reader summary: you persuade sukuna to play go fish. the two of you have a small disagreement (he really can't stay mad at you). he confides in you about his past as a sorcerer. w/c: 3.4k tags/warnings: the teeniest bit of angst. mostly fluff. banter. cursing. aged up!yuuji. slight yuuji x reader. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: the first section could be read as a brief(ish) stand alone. and for context, the world's shortest frankenstein synopsis: victor frankenstein brings a creature to life using dead body parts and thrusts him into a world he doesn't understand, then promptly abandons him and wishes him dead. alone and regarded as repulsive by every human he comes across, the creature begs frankenstein to create a wife for him too. when frankenstein refuses, the creature is further driven to hatred and violence. series masterlist // masterlist

"we should play a card game!" you exclaim as if you've just had the world's greatest idea.

"i'll pass."

sukuna sounds listless, like it's quite possibly the worst proposition he's ever heard.

"why's that? scared i'll beat you?"

"i'm opposed to mind numbing boredom, more like."

"you really need to expand your horizons," you suggest, making your way over to where you keep your playing cards. "all you do is read and brood."

"it's gotten me this far."

you don't respond, too busy rifling through your bookshelf. just as you spot your cards, a book catches your eye and you pull it from its place.

making your way back over to him, you drop it in his lap. "since you found jane eyre so insufferable, here's one you might actually like."

he surveys the cover, which reads: frankenstein or the modern prometheus

you take a seat across from him at the kotatsu table and shuffle the deck, while sukuna flips through the pages with new found intrigue.

"what's it about?"

"the dangers of playing god. should be right up your alley."

"your subtly never ceases to amaze."

"i'm just kidding." you laugh. "there's a lot more to it than that— revenge, loneliness, personal responsibility..."

he turns the book over. "it's written by a woman?"

you raise your eyebrows at him. "what, you don't think women have enough depth to write about those kinds of topics?"

"no, it was just an observation," he says off handedly. "you are evidence enough to the contrary."

he doesn't say it as a compliment, more so as a statement of fact. you hope your astonishment isn't written all over your face.

clearing your throat, you begin dealing while explaining the rules to him.

he takes up his cards and seems to understand the game after only a turn or two, but you're narrowing your eyes at him soon thereafter.

"go fish," he says for the fourth time in a row.

your gaze shifts down to his hands. there's just no way. "show me your cards."

"wouldn't that defeat the purpose of this stupid game?"

"not if you're cheating, now let me see."

"no."

you reach across the table, hoping to snatch them from his grasp, but he just holds them out of your reach.

swiftly rising to your feet, you launch yourself at him in a sad attempt to catch him off guard.

with only one arm extended, he easily fends off your attack. "do you actually think you have a chance here?"

you sink to your knees in defeat and sit with your legs folded beneath you. "not really, but i have to know if you'd stoop this low."

"that so? had you believed me to be above cheating?"

you gasp. "so you admit it?"

"i told you i didn't want to play," he deadpans.

"that doesn't mean you had to cheat! now we have to start over!"

he carelessly tosses the cards onto the table. "i don't think so."

"please?" you lean forward, jutting out your bottom lip.

he just stares at you with an air of disinterest.

sukuna can be so haughty sometimes, and frankly, it drives you a little crazy. you'd give anything to wipe that look from his face— to prove that he doesn't find this as miserable as he lets on.

leaning forward even further, your hands meet with the carpet to support your shifting weight. now he's watching intently as your face approaches his, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

unbeknownst to you, sukuna's breath catches in his throat once he sees your gaze shift, though his mind struggles to catch up. it happens so fast that he hardly registers the quick peck you place on his lips (though maybe it's not the speed of the occurrence, so much as his shock).

"please?" you repeat.

he looks off to the side and stays silent, though his demeanor is indicative of some heated internal debate.

sukuna can't let you win, not that easily. you'd be under the impression that you actually have power over him! and for what? some measly kiss?

no, he simply will not allow that. "i already told you—"

grabbing him by the chin, you cut off his words with another kiss, but this time it lasts a few beats longer. your lips don't move against his, they just linger there in a way that that makes him question whether all of the oxygen has vanished from the room.

when you pull away, you're looking at him expectantly with the same pout still playing on your lips.

"fine!" he barks, grumbling something afterwards that sounds a lot like "evil little minx."

"human earthworm two is definitely still the best."

you're walking home with yuuji after a late night showing of the newest movie in the series.

"no way," you contend. "this one was even better."

he gawks at you. "in no world is the seventh film in an anthology the best! you're crazy—"

sukuna's mouth appears, always eager for a chance to undermine his vessel. "she's right, brat."

yuuji can't believe his ears. "what?! you haven't even seen it!"

"i don't know," you interject slyly. "i'm willing to look past that. it really seems like he knows what he's talking about."

"you mean the guy who's existence predates cinema?" yuuji asks, his eyebrows furrowing as a thought occurs to him. "what'd you do all day anyway? watch plays?"

"..among other things, yes." sukuna answers.

"if you look at it logically," you reason, "we probably wouldn't have movies without theater, so we should definitely consider him an expert in this case."

"oh please, baby. when the topic is ancient civilization or being a homicidal maniac, i'll be sure to solicit his opinion then."

"i resent that," sukuna declares, his conviction forcing a giggle from your lips.

"why?" you question. "was it the part where he called you old as shit, or the part where he called you a murderous lunatic?"

yuuji brings a hand to his mouth to stifle a snort, but you're freely laughing now.

sukuna scoffs indignantly and bites back a comment about how partial you seem to be toward said lunatic. "and to think i defended your opinion."

his response has you clutching at your sides and struggling to see through teary eyes.

but perhaps karma is real, because not a moment later, you step off the curb in a way that sends a sharp sensation through your leg.

you gasp in pain and brace yourself for the impact of falling to the concrete, but it never comes. instead, you're left with fingers clamped tightly around your wrist and a strange sense of deja vu.

you turn your head just before the dark lines fade from yuuji's arm completely.

"tch, watch where you're going idiot," sukuna scolds, his mouth disappearing as soon as he finishes speaking.

"are you okay?" yuuji asks worriedly.

"absolutely," you claim, but when you try to put weight on your left foot, you let out a hiss.

yuuji's hands find your waist, hoping to keep you steady. before you know it, he's crouching in front of you with his back turned and beckoning you to wrap your arms around his neck.

once you do, he hooks his arms under your thighs and easily stands up. "this okay? you comfy?"

"yeah. i can't believe i just did that." you hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder. "thanks, yu."

when you get home, yuuji sets you up on the couch with icepacks, heating pads, three different drinks, two different books, and the tv remote.

he still asks if you have everything you need several times, then kisses you sweetly before heading to bed.

around thirty minutes later, sukuna's leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"hey," you greet. your eyes never leave the tv, as you're privy to the slight tension between the both of you.

he skips the evening's pleasantries. "i could heal it, you know."

you finally turn to face him. "really?"

"of course." he rolls his eyes. "some of us can actually use reverse cursed technique."

"and you've just let me hobble around the past hour anyway?"

he shrugs. "you pissed me off."

you blink at him a few times, rubbing at your temples. "well what about now?"

"i don't know," he begins, making his way over to you. he towers over where you're seated on the couch, so you have to crane your neck to look up at him. "just doesn't really seem like something a homicidal maniac would do, but maybe if he were to receive an apology..."

you cover your face with your hands and groan. "i didn't say that. this is really something you should take up with yuuji—"

"i don't make a habit of conversing with the brat, so if that's the way you're going to be..." he turns on his heel and starts for the bedroom, but you grab onto his sleeve just before he's out of reach.

"wait. please don't go."

just like that, your words have his resolve crumbling and any of his lingering irritation ebbs away. he urges himself to stay strong though, especially after the go fish debacle.

when he doesn't speak, you let out a breath.

"i'm sorry, sukuna." he can tell right away that you're being entirely sincere. "i would never purposefully hurt your feelings. i only meant to tease you, but i can see how i was being mean."

are those... are those tears swimming in your eyes? are you in that much pain, or did he just make you feel that badly? in any case, he endeavors to remedy it immediately.

moving around the couch until he's in front of you, sukuna kneels between your legs. he grabs your left foot gingerly, situating it on his thigh before hovering his hand over top of it.

he sighs. "i don't care if you tease me and you weren't being.. mean." the words sounds so juvenile to him.

you weren't necessarily wrong either, goes unsaid.

well, he'd like to consider himself a little more sophisticated than 'maniac' would imply, but that's beside the point.

"then why are you upset with me?"

his jaw flexes as he tries to find the right words. "i would prefer you do that when it's just.. us."

"oh." realization dawns on you, as does another heap of guilt. you know he despises being trapped in yuuji's body, and you completely failed to consider how ganging up on him might make him feel. "i'm... fuck. i'm really sorry, sukuna—"

"stop apologizing," he urges you in a low voice. it's partly because what he just said makes him feel pathetic, but more than that, it's because the look of self reproach you're wearing is akin to a thousand needles in his chest. "it's fine."

he can't believe you're sitting there with so much remorse over a man like him because you... what? wounded his pride?

he probably deserves it anyway.

why should you give a shit when he's done things a thousand times worse, a million different times?

oh, right. because you care about him.

you can't see the cursed energy at play, but you can tell it's working as your pain begins to dissipate.

once he's finished, he carefully moves your foot to the floor and looks up at you. it's not unlike the way a person might gaze at one of the wonders of the world, like they're lucky to be there in the first place.

with the intensity of his gaze, it feels like he can see right into your head— read your every thought and pick apart every emotion. has anyone ever looked at you like that before? you're having a hard time remembering. you're having a hard time thinking of anything at all, really.

so it goes without saying that you don't think about it when you lean forward and kiss him.

it's not at all like when you were trying to convince him to play cards. no, this isn't light hearted or frivolous.

and it's not like the other two kisses you've shared either. it isn't heated or desperate, nor does it leave you gasping for air.

it's tender. it's so fucking tender, in fact, that sukuna wonders whether he's going to crumble beneath your touch.

he grips the area just above your knees, as if needing something to tether himself to before he withers away completely.

his lips move with yours in a way that's slow and careful.

your hands are on either side of his face, ghosting over his skin as a testament to your hesitance— like you're not certain if this is something he would want.

he wonders how in the world you could ever second guess yourself.

when you pull back, you examine his face for a moment before a small, shy smile tugs at your lips and you murmur, "thanks 'kuna."

he just peers at you wordlessly and it makes you nervous, so you attempt to fill the silence. "it feels so much better. a-and i'm sorry again abo—"

his hand finds the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his for a moment longer. "don't mention it, angel."

ever since you gave sukuna your copy of frankenstein, he's spent a decent portion of your nights together reading, his brows drawn together in concentration.

upon finishing, he stares at the page after taking in the final line: "he was soon borne away by the waves and lost in darkness and distance."

he's deathly quiet and wearing some unreadable expression. his eyes seem far off.

you leave him be for a little while, as it's clear he's lost in thought, but eventually you grow a bit concerned. it's been nearly half an hour since he last moved.

"sukuna?"

he turns to you. "why did you think i would enjoy this particular book?"

you consider his question carefully, his mood evoking your own seriousness. "it's... elegant and tragic. i suppose i appreciate the moral grayness of it. why do you ask?"

"no reason."

"did you enjoy it?"

"yes."

"why?"

he ignores your question. "frankenstein— do you like his character?"

you can't help but feel like you're answering some sort of riddle. "i think he's foolish and arrogant, but i guess i pity him to some degree."

"and the creature?"

"i'm much more sympathetic toward him. he's very... complex and certainly less culpable for the events of the novel than his creator."

you're surprised when he laughs. "of course you would think that way."

and with that, he's flipping through the pages of the novel. you move to sit beside him and once he finds what he's looking for near the middle, he begins reading:

"remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. but i will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, and i will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. remember that i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywhere i see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous.”

his voice is strangely even, almost bordering on robotic. you're struck with the notion that he's attempting (with rare difficulty) to mask his emotions.

you regard him quizzically and wait for him to speak. the last thing you expect to hear tumbles from his lips.

"you know they called me the disgraced one?" you nod. "do you know why?"

"i know the story that sorcerers have passed down."

he hums. leaning back into the couch, he looks fixedly at the ceiling before continuing. "i was just a boy when i was orphaned and no one knew anything about my heritage, including me. jujutsu society took me in and raised me as a sorcerer."

"and you didn't care for it?"

"oh, quite the opposite. i reveled in it. my strength was unprecedented, that much was clear from the start. i surpassed my teachers with ease, and eventually, i took to training alone— reading primitive texts and honing skills that they couldn't teach me."

your hand finds his thigh, hoping to offer him some consolation before beckoning him to continue. "then what happened?"

"the men who had been my teachers, who had been the only.. family i'd ever known.. they scorned me. deemed me reckless and dangerous to jujutsu society. plotted my demise."

your voice is small when you ask, "were they right?"

he wants to hate the question— wants to hate you for asking it— but he knows that it's warranted.

"no. i admit i was forward thinking and a bit.. unorthodox, but i wasn't..."

"what they thought you were?" you offer gently.

he nods. "not until they made me that way— not until they abandoned me and backed me into a corner like some animal."

you struggle to find the right thing to say, if any such thing even exists. you're amazed that he's confiding in you, and while it makes your heart swell, you really don't want to fuck it up.

he looks back down at the book, his eyes scanning the paragraph before repeating, "i was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

he says it as if he's coming to terms with the circumstances of his life for the very first time.

"the creature was remorseful at the end of the novel," you recall somewhat bravely. "are you?"

sukuna thinks for a great deal of time before replying. you wait patiently for him.

"no," he answers decidedly.

looking over at you for the first time since he began his story, he's relieved to find your face is free of rebuke. instead, there's a warm willingness to understand him. a sadness because of the way he was alienated.

he's curious whether anyone would be able to read the sentiment on your face, or if he just knows you better than most.

is that a privilege he's worthy of? he doubts it.

"you didn't deserve what they did to you," you whisper, reaching up to rake your fingers through his hair, nails grazing his scalp before your palm rests against his temple.

his head leans almost imperceptibly into your hand, and any regret or unease he may have felt at relaying his past to you disappears. watching a single tear slip down your cheek, he wipes it away with the pad of his thumb.

he means to say "don't cry. not for me," but the words die in his throat.

for once, your tears are for him rather than because of him and it's utterly riveting. the fact that someone like you would cry on his behalf seems to contradict every horrible thing he's ever been told about himself.

he could sit here and bask in the feeling forever— he's always known himself to be selfish after all. and you know it too, don't you?

his eyes flicker between each of yours, studying your face. "do you want to know why i don't regret the things i've done?"

you tilt your head to the side. "why?"

"because even if it's made me into a monster..."

for a moment, he contemplates not saying anything more. he considers forcing himself to pull away from your touch, even if it's the only comfort he's been given his entire life. he might still be able to salvage whatever tiny, laughable pieces remain of his pride—

"all of my actions have led me to you."

your eyes soften before you're wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body to his. he returns the gesture after a few seconds pass.

you know he's awful. you know he's cruel. you know that what he's been through doesn't excuse his actions. but still— you want so desperately to take away his pain. to make up for all the things in his past. to wipe the blood from his hands.

as you embrace such an incredibly complicated man (one who is infamous for unrivaled wickedness, yet has his face buried in your hair), you ponder the creature's plea: "make me happy, and i shall again be virtuous."

a/n 2: if you're still w me, thanks for reading!! i'm not sure how i feel abt this part, so feedback is both welcome and appreciated!! also, how do we like sukuna using angel?? in my head he picked it up from the "my good angel" line in jane eyre, so i hope it doesn't seem too unnatural. alsoooo, highly recommend frankenstein. it's one of my favorite books!! mary shelley popped off and literally created the entire genre of science fiction at 21! anyway, thanks for all the love yall, it means the world<3

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

[forlix]

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative, alternating perspectives

warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia. again, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED.

warnings (cont'd.)・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack. alcohol is consumed. lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication. latter half is just kind of sad in general tbh but what do u expect from a fic based off alex turner lyrics

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?” 

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause. 

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path. 

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.” 

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there. 

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.” 

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour. 

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

 “Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?” 

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall. 

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze. 

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter. 

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds. 

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session. 

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete. 

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person. 

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe. 

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels. 

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you. 

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand. 

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system. 

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod. 

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?” 

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane. 

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #skz smut #k-labels #hyunjin imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids #hyunjin #*writing #*oneshot

[queenendless]

👻🦇🎃 Spooky Lovin' (Various JJK ft Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Female!Reader) 🎃🦇👻

A/N: Just my headcannon on an imagined scenario with the JJK cast celebrating Halloween together and they're all A-OK and happy and 😭🤧❤️‍🩹 There are ships/pairings in this here and there plus the costumes I thought of for them all that took forever to think of! Spooky romantic fluff. Cause writing that vampire AU 18+ piece is ... hard.

Pairings: Yuji x Megumi, Nobara x Maki, Yuta x Rika with hints of Yuta x Toge, Kokichi x Miwa, Shoko x Utahime, Nanami x Haibara, Mai x Momo, Yuki x Choso, and Satoru x Suguru x Fem!Reader at the end.

All credit for JJK cast goes to Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy. And —

HAPPY HALLOWEEN~!

THE CAST'S HALLOWEEN ATTIRE!

🎃Yuji in a tiger onsie and his usual sneakers with black face paint on for the whiskers and the nose.

🎃Megumi as wolf boi with just a wolf ears headband on … he was willing to put those on for his Yuji bae and that's all you're getting.

🎃Nobara as OUAT Aurora with a sword because she is a cute badass.

🎃Maki as OUAT Mulan because I like her warrior armored suit. Blame the fanarts I've seen.

*Plus seeing fanart of those OUAT girls together made something click.

🎃Toge as the Mummy. Better that than automatically putting him in a sushi roll suit.

🎃Panda as Frankenstein's Monster. In the torn up black Frankenstein jacket, stitches painted on, Frankenstein bowler head wig, and bolts in the neck. It was either this or Killer bear.

🎃Yaga as Dr Frankenstein. Labcoat, gloves but with his shades still on. Makes perfect sense.

🎃Yuta as Bendy the Dancing Demon.

🎃Rika as Alice Angel

*They both start off cute then become quite terrifying but in the best way.

🎃Kokichi as Victor from The Corpse Bride.

🎃Miwa as Emily THE Corpse Bride.

🎃Nanami as Captain America cause I got the idea from @TimieTate on twitter. But he keeps said cap off. He'll keep the shield just to see the fanboy within faces Yu, Yuji and Ino come to life.

🎃Yu Haibara as Iron Man cause I like Stony and it all fits now. Also he used face paint to add in the beard goatee combo.

🎃Ino as a zombie with the usual horror makeup with green skin, bloody cuts, and he's a cutie wanting brains~

🎃Shoko as Sally

🎃Utahime as Genderbent Jack Skellington with a Zero plushie.

🎃Momo as Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Just the poofy velvety black dress, witch's hat, It was the broom's fault.

🎃Mai as Salem Saberhagen/Cat. It's just in a velour jumpsuit with an attached tail, layered choker necklace, cat ear headband, and ankle boots.

🎃Todo as a crossdressed Takada … cause why not.

🎃Choso as Netflix's Castlevania Dracula, with his hair loose to match. Also because of the whole blood thing.

🎃Yuki as Lisa Tepes also from Netflix's Castlevania cause they're both independent and stubborn and it just made sense to have them pair up.

🎃Riko as Wednesday Adams

🎃Kuroi as Morticia Adams

🎃Toji and Shiu as Sam and Dean Winchester. Just wearing leather jackets, rustic shirts, torn jeans and boots for the rugged look. Doesn't matter who's dressed as who. They can both make either roles work.

🎃Noritoshi Kamo as Hellsing's Alucard

🎃Junpei as Ash Williams. OG Classic. With detachable chainsaw toy hand.

🎃Nanako as Mitsuri Kanroji

🎃Mimiko as Nezuko

🎃Tsumiki as Shinobu

*They all got the wigs and custom made toy Nichirin swords. Also because Tsumiki and Shinobu share the same seiyuu. It was either her or Yor from SPY X FAMILY. Lord knows Gojo, Geto and Megumi would never want to see this girl in that kinda getup; overprotective they are.

🎃Mei as Disney OG Ursula. They both have white hair and do business with high rewarding profits. I had trouble figuring out a costume for Mei, okay!?

🎃Ui as a Flotsam Jetsam Mashup. Devoted brother/minion, so be it.

🎃Kusakabe as a Scarecrow. Apparently he's a fearful man that is courageous when it counts. It all fits.

🎃Akari Nitta as OG Disney Cinderella. Cause why not? It's cute!

🎃Ijichi as Zorro. Be a brave badass, my man!

*Those two are doing a callback to A Cinderella Story; the OG one, where Sam is Cindy and Carter is Zorro. Ergo, neither pair are couples.

🎃Arata Nitta as just a bedsheet ghost. He's timid as hell according to his wiki so there.

🎃Satoru as Wassup Ghostface

🎃Suguru as Viper Ghostface

🎃You as OG Ghostface

*Cause I gotta put my favorite horror character of all time in this and seeing fanart of them as Ghostface is a big turn on~! Plus Gojo gives Wassup vibes. And Viper looked so cool for Geto. And yes you be representing the OG!

🎃👻🦇 🎃 👻🦇🎃 👻🦇🎃👻🦇🎃👻🦇🎃

Fall has come.

Warm colored leaves whisking in the cold blowing winds.

And so much rambunctious chatter teemed the atmosphere.

The annual Halloween carnival fair has arrived.

"Fushiguro! Let's go on that ride next!" Yuji cheered enthusiastically as the pair rode the flaming pumpkin head shaped go bumper car.

"Fine fine! Just keep your eyes on the – ACK!" Megumi grabbed those mochi cheeks of Yuji's to make him face forward, both jerking forward as they got slammed in up front by another go cart.

"Itadori-kun! Eyes on the road!" Junpei laughed.

"You two can get it on later, ya know~" Ino teased, grinning, innuendo jokes going hard.

"Ino-san, please don't egg him on." Megumi grumbled, bashfully avoiding eye contact.

"If he wants to, sure." Yuji made it all seem so simple.

"WHAT!?" All three exclaimed in shock, startling the other drivers and passerby, earning him a hard yank on his tiger hood.

Mingling outside a food booth

"Mmm, umai~!" Nobara's eyes lit up with actual stars in them as she eyed her crepe with bat and spider sprinkles paired with chocolate sauce. "Delicious and Insta-worthy~! Maki-san, what do you think?"

She smacked her lips in afterthought, eyeing the"With the black and orange dyed cone, matching sherbert ice cream gave off that spooky pizzazz to put one in the festive mood "Not bad. Too much though."

"Hmm … then finding the best cammable sweets for Maki-san is our goal for this all Hallows Night!"

"Don't go overboard, baka." Maki bopped her on her crowned head, endearingly smiling. "Cause we're burning all this sugar in our workout tomorrow."

Nobara saluted. "Yes ma'am!"

From down the road, sitting at a mini table set up outside another food both, Mai scoffs at the sight. "Maki, what do you see in that girl?"

Giving heated glares to some passerby that were giving cat calls to Mai, Momo "Your envy is warranted but not tonight. Now have a spooky berry." Momo plopped a bloody frosted one from her decorated strawberry coffin into her partner's mouth.

"Out of all the people, she chose to date … her." Mai muffled through her full mouth.

"I heard that, you know." The Kyoto pair looked up to see Mai's twin and her bae standing there; Maki a bit facially irked whereas –

"We BOTH heard!" Nobara's seething face was too close for Mai's comfort; Maki restraining her from going feral, though Mai looked undisturbed.

Oh? I didn't see you there." Mai's false smile had Nobara shooting steam out of her nostrils.

"She means well." Momo; understanding Mai's protectiveness over her twin, just sat there and ate those berries away.

The baseball struck gold as the bottle tower collapsed with ease.

"Alright Nanami-san! Perfect aim as always!" Haibara cheered, clapping before pointing at the prize he wanted hanging above their heads. "How many prize booths does that make now?" Haibara beamed, arms full of stuffed toy prizes.

"This would be the fifth one. I believe we've reached a moderate amount at this point." Nanami stated, adjusting the strap keeping the star spangled shield on his back, as they walked off with their reward.

"Yeah. This is more than enough for my sister. Thank you. So here." Picking up his latest prize, he handed the Iron Man chibi doll to his beau. "As a token to remember this night."

Nanami was so taken back by the gesture. "Then you keeping this one would even things up." He plopped that Cap chibi plush right on Haibara's face.

Haibara nuzzled the Cap plush with his cheek. "I'll follow you to the ends of the Earth … Kento."

God, Nanami's heart was getting ready to burst right outta him! "Yu …" Looking straight ahead, he shyly blushed as he kept a hand on Yu's back just in case. "I'll never forget."

On a park bench, viewing the fair from across the way, the two ruggedly dressed drinking buddies were hogging the bench.

"You know spying is a bad look for you, Zen'in."

"Shut it. It's Fushiguro now, remember?" And yet, propped against the back of the bench, Toji kept glancing at his wolf eared teen son walking with his fellow sorcerer buddies through the festive grounds evidently content regardless if he was smiling or not.

"Just go say to your kids already, you big old wuss."

Downing some booze, Toji sighed. "Nah. It's better this way. Besides, his two new papas would kill me in cold blood if I got even close."

"You're actually pissed you didn't get invited to their group gathering." Shiu drolled, getting bonked in the back of the head by Toji's half empty bottle.

"Still though, nothing like a drink and a smoke outside to spend the night away." Shiu mused, smoke slipping through his lips.

Toji's semi bored eyes suddenly became focused as they trained on a former target that now alluded to his sights after slipping inside one of the many houses of horrors littered around the fair grounds.

Holding hands tightly, Riko and Kuroi jolted and squeaked among the many other costumed attendees from every jump scare triggered by the gory horrifying figures coming every which way.

"Riko-sama, it's okay if you don't want to keep going."

"No! I can be brave through this! Just to rub it in those two's smug ass faces! I can do this – mmph!" She bumped into someone's back amiss her self encouragement. Looking up into the blackest eyes of Count Choso who bluntly uttered.

"Boo."

Riko's terrified screams didn't startle Choso in the slightest as she flailed, losing balance, and falling into Kuroi's arms.

"Sorry about him, Amanai-chan. Just trying to get him in the spooky spirit is all." Yuki's head popped out from behind him, apologetically smiling.

"An incarnated object … in the flesh!" She was as terrified as she was astounded at being in his presence, especially when he punched a screeching animatronic that got too close for comfort.

"Another former Star Plasma Vessel." Choso pointed out dryly.

"I chose my own path going forward of my own free will, same as you. No need to be so blunt about it." Riko stuck her tongue out at the somewhat irked hybrid man.

"Riko-sama, let's get going. We're holding up the others behind us." Kuroi cautioned.

"Yes yes, we're wasting precious time here! The night is still young after all!~!" Not wanting to get kicked out and sued by those running the house, Yuki dragged those three out to the exit, barreling through puzzled exclaiming normies.

In a mock up Haunted Mansion ride, Kokichi stayed stiff but flustered as Miwa held his hand, hugged his arm, and cuddled up next to him in their automatic carriage seat for two.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" She curiously wanted to know.

He nods, fidgeting a bit. "And you?"

"Yes … I'm with you, after all." Miwa's genuine smile spoke volumes to how true she meant it.

"Good." He kissed her cheek all feather-like, earning a glow from her face before she peppered his face all with lipstick kisses, to his dopey smiling face.

"Oh my precious students!" That alerted the two as they spotted their sensei tearing up, to which her date used her Zero plush to pat away those tears.

"Just ignore us. We'll keep mingling with our brethren, that's all." Shoko waved to them, lounging in the fake graveyard setting.

"Not if we get kicked out over it!" Utahime panicked.

"Eh, no big deal." Shoko's usual apathetic shrug.

"You promised me you wouldn't act like THOSE TWO – MMPH!" Utahime got shushed by a smooch. Zero's nose lit up red, smooshed in between them, pouting as they parted. "You don't play fair."

Shoko rubbed her nose against Utahime's, mixing her faded blue powder with her white face powder, smiling proudly. "You make it too easy."

Outside, in a corn maze, Toge was looking ahead over the tops, carried on Panda's shoulders,

"Tsuna Tsuna."

"Go right?"

"Shake."

"Got it. Oh, Yuta, why must you leave us in your wake!? We barely see him anymore! Now he left us behind in this maze!" Panda dramatically tearfully shouted to the heavens.

"Mentaiko."

Turning this and that way, they finally found Yuta. On the hay covered ground. With Rika laying atop him.

"T–Toge! Panda! Uh … I can explain everything! I – It was just a slip –!" Yuta sweated bullets.

"He still cushioned my fall. You're always looking out for me, Yuta, my love~!" Rika gushed.

While he remained calm on the surface; that and his mouth was covered in wraps, Toge was irked at seeing his close friend being smothered by his lifelong love.

"If you two wanted to be alone, all you had to do was say so." Panda suggestively said.

"Uh, that's not – AH!" Getting pulled up to their feet, Yuta blushed at how intense Inumaki's gaze held him with such devotion. Ruffling his hair, Toge was now turning red from what those wraps didn't hide, Yuta laughed a bit at the cute sight, before Panda bear hugged them all. "I – I missed you all too!"

Leaning against the fenced borders of the exit, Kusakabe-sensei stood beside his fellow Scarecrow; a display maybe but still, staying steer clear of any unwarranted hassle.

"Kids … naively enjoying normalcy despite our true reality. As long as I don't get screwed over in the long run, I'm –!"

A clown faced balloon got thrusted in his face.

"Take one. Enjoy yourself. I mean it."

Principal Yaga, handing out spooky themed balloons to adorably costumed kids passing by with their parents, still noticed the somber fear in his eyes. Speaking of kids –

"Come on, uncle! Mom is waiting for us!"

Yaga smiled at seeing Atsuya being dragged off by his Batman dressed nephew, willing to let his guard down for the little guy, a bat shaped balloon in his small gloved hand.

Mei cackling as money rained the sky. "Thinking you can trick me out of my wits," Men with wounded pride crumbled around her. "Only to be treated to my heart's content." They should never have bet straight outta their wallets. "Now that's what I call the best treat ever~!" She was that good at the shooting ranges. And darts. And slamming the hammer to ring the bell.

"Nee-sama, on top, as always~! Perfection~!" Ui applauded in his own odd unsettling way that only his elder sister enjoyed as she laughed madly.

Noritoshi hoped Miwa and the girls' choice of costume for him wouldn't make him feel so … out of his comfort zone. And yet, the various fangirls that adored the character he portrayed had them taking him up on both sides, hugging him arms and giggling nonstop at how fine he looked. Guess letting his hair down and loose made the look really sell. Still …

"I cannot tell if this is better than dealing with curses … or worse."

Getting dragged off to God knows where, an overwhelmed Noritoshi passed the masked Ijichi-san who was mesmerized by Nitta-san as the princess she is inside and out, twirling on the bridge. "I'll make sure not to lose my glass slipper~!" She cheekily jokes.

"I'd gladly carry you should you ever lose them." Ijicji bravely offered.

"Oh thank you Ichiji-san, but I'll manage. Right, Anata?"

All she got from the tarp draped ghost of her teen brother was jerky nodding and an "Eep!"

"He's really shy. But that makes him that much more precious to me~!" She hugged her startled embarrassed tarp brother.

It brought tears to Ichiji's eyes, sniffling. "Ah sibling love … so pure!"

And for Todo. Yeah, a Takada-chan Halloween themed concert was happening nearby. And yes he got tickets to see her. Cross dressed as his #1. The man will wear it with the utmost unbridled pride and joy for his Takada-Chan. And he'd lose it seeing her dressed as the best half angel half devil in history. "Pure and forbidden to all … the perfect balance … that's my Takada-chan~" He'd be on Cloud 9 yall!

SNAP!

"Ooh, another one!" Nanko cheered.

FLASH.

"New pose time." Mimiko softly suggested.

CLICK!

"Okay, one more!" Tsumiki added.

Posing and taking photos with cosplayers of their fave online idols in their demon slayer outfits was too much fun for all those involved.

"PHOTO BOMB!"

A Wassup Ghostface popped up above Nanako's head. Followed by a Viper one appearing between Mimiko and Tsumiki's faces. Startling away their cosplaying acquaintances.

"Our own papas giving us heart attacks, unbelievable!" Nanako complained.

"It was a good scare, though." Mimiko clapped a bit.

"It made my heart jolt right out of my chest!" Tsumiki exclaimed.

"Huh? Where's Mama, though?" Nanako asked.

"She's missing." Mimiko noted.

"I thought you three would all arrive together." Tsumiki reminded them.

Gojo pulled up his mask to beam at them. "Not to worry, girls. The Mrs is fine. Quite fine, actually~" Gojo's purring tone at how fine you looked in your costume did not go unnoticed as the girls mock gagging into their hands.

Geto also pulled his mask up to peck their foreheads. "You girls keep having fun…not too much, though." Geto wanted the best for his girls too, but not around unsavory company.

"Yes, Geto-sama." The twins kissed his cheeks before dragging Tsumiki off to rendezvous with Megumi's group.

The big question.

Where are you in all this?

Photographing the moments, of course.

Entrapping these precious once in a lifetime memories.

Looking over them all from afar, your tender smile gave way to a wave of attachment as tears pricked your vision behind that mask.

This fragile tender peace amiss this cursed world was what you sought-after.

Swaying from the overflow of sentiment, empathy and affection you felt for this found family had you shaking in your actual costumed boots.

"Tell me …" You felt his cursed energy appear immediately, hovering right behind you. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

You felt giddy, butterflies flocking your nerves, smiling nervously underneath your mask. "This one." You pointed at yourself. "Duh." You giggled as he glomped you from behind, lifting your mask off to see your red cheeked beauty. "Lord forbid I wanna remember this night, digitally and soulfully. Doing group hangouts takes lots of planning, coordination and effort – AAH~!"

You squealed as Satoru lifted you up bridal style, spinning you around, marveling at your form highlighted by the moon while the fair lights made your e/c eyes sparkle like the universe laid in your gaze. Matching his Six Eyes perfectly, hypnotized by them as ever, as he kissed you openly.

"Heaven sent … you truly are." Tuffs of his snony bangs tickled your forehead and nose as his face beamed with pride and joy, unbridled love stretched from both ends of his wide smile, all for you.

"An angel for our depraved souls," Feeling those giant clothes hands cup your cheeks from behind, your toothy smile looked up to see Suguru sharing the same twitterpated expression.

"Ghosts having guardian angels … huh. Who'd have thought?" Your attempt at joking only made them give loud, slobbering, open mouthed smooches all over your face as you became a flailing giggling mess.

"Selfie time~!" Satoru chirped as he took tons of them with his phone, lots of laughs and kisses exchanged amongst the many goofy, creepy, and ecstatic faces you three made.

When midnight would soon be upon you all.

"Looks like we're right on schedule." Suguru mused as you three saw everyone that you personally invited eventually convening where the end of the fair grounds and the park meet, fairy lights hanging among, between, and around the tall hanging trees, various spooky tune favorites playing in the background to set the mood.

"Precisely." You threw the heavy ginormous bag you brought with you.

You popped it with the signature cursed energized finger gun.

It rained candy for all assembled.

While some – Yuji, Panda, Toge, Yuta, Rika, Junpei, Ino, Nobara, Miwa, Riko, Yu, Todo cause his lovely Takada-chan's concert had ended early, Nanako, Mimiko, Tsumiki, Satoru who yes scrambled over to get some too – clamored for every piece they could get their hands on.

Others – the adults at least – had restraint or not much interest.

As the fireworks went off to signal the end of the night, so much lively chatter bounced off everyone in animated mayhem, and you could only stand there and watch in amusement, content, and peace.

You wanted to freeze this moment. As well as many others. From back then to going forward.

This world – this reality – was something else.

You found more meaning, a sense of belonging, and heart in being here.

You would shape, bend and change it all to make it the kind of world you wanted it to be.

One where you could protect the smiles of those you feel attached to. Keeping this little slice of semi-normalcy intact, this somewhat safe haven of a life.

And should any curses wreak havoc upon the city – they will be most active on this night after all – this league of sorcerers would exorcise the hell outta them.

Sitting down on the grassy grounds, you were lost in the glowing sight that you got startled as Suguru slung an arm around your shoulders, nuzzling your humming self with his own.

"Truly a memorable night. Well done, love~"

You two jumped as Satoru collapsed before you two, candy stains smearing his lips, but smiling too much to care. "Best Halloween thus far! But next year we gotta top it! We should throw a bash! At our place!" Satoru's eyes were crazed and high at that point.

"Satoru, no more sugar for you tonight." Suguru lightly scolded.

"But Suguru, I feel so good right now~!" You and Sugu sucked the sweetness right off Toru's lips. "Like that but more~! Please love~?" Those puppy dog eyes and pouty lips have you kissing his lips. "Thanks you two~"

Helping Satoru sit up enough to rest on his elbows, you three spent the moment relishing the youthful scenery. Satoru's head rested on your left shoulder, Suguru's head rested on your right shoulder, and you hummed at how warm and cozy and right it all felt.

Calling out to everyone assembled to do at least one group cheer before the clock struck twelve.

Finishing the night off with one last –

"HAPPY HALLOWEEN!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk au #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #itafushi #nobamaki #shokohime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #halloween #gojo x geto x reader #hainana #mechamiwa #gojo x reader #geto x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #yutarika #chosoyuki #satoru x suguru x reader #jjk ships #inuokko #happy halloween

[fluentmoviequoter]

Literary

Requested Here!

Pairing: college!Victor Vale x fem!reader (literature student)

Summary: You take it upon yourself to show Victor the beauty of literature.

Warnings: fluff, spoilers and references to: The Outsiders, A Merchant in Venice, Invisible Man, The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Lord of the Rings, An Ideal Husband, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Hamlet, Frankenstein, The Most Dangerous Game, Pride and Prejudice. I also reference some of Schwab's other books

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

Victor is leaning over a book, scribbling notes every few lines.

“What are you reading?” you ask quietly, sitting beside him.

He flips the book up, showing you the cover of one of his many textbooks.

“Hmm. I thought you were actually reading.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re studying.”

“What’s the difference?”

You sigh, shaking your head as you murmur, “Maybe the two different world we lived in weren’t so different. We saw the same sunset.”

Victor ignores you, returning to his notes on adrenal responses.

“Vic, what’s the last book you read?” you ask. “I mean, what’s the last thing you read that wasn’t a textbook, required reading?”

“I think you know.”

“You really need to stop reading your parents’ books, but that’s not my point here. What’s the last fiction piece?”

“I don’t read fiction.”

Your jaw drops, shock evident in your features as you fail to speak. Finally finding your voice, you momentarily forget you’re in a library as your voice raises to repeat, “You don’t read fiction? Why?!”

“Nothing to learn from it,” Victor replies with a shrug.

“Vic.”

He glances at you as a few people whisper for you to be quiet.

“Why read something that isn’t true, that you can’t learn from?” Victor asks.

“Who says you can’t learn from fiction? Just because it didn’t happen doesn’t mean it can’t teach you something. We learn from trees, fish, paintings… literature is no different.”

Victor shakes his head, and as you look at your assigned reading, you realize you must do something.

“Meet me in your dorm after your class tomorrow,” you whisper before standing. “I have a lot to teach you.”

Victor watches you leave, shaking his head before trying to focus again. He has trouble remembering how you became friends sometimes, but then he remembers how you met…

✯✯✯✯✯

1 Year Ago

Someone decided to put Shakespeare on the top shelf. You sigh, looking around to see if anyone is nearby to help you.

“Who puts one of the most-read authors in history up so high?” you ask under your breath.

Stepping back to gauge if you could jump and reach it, you run into someone. Warm hands land on your biceps for a moment before dropping away.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize.

When you turn around, his arm is over your head.

“Which one?” he asks.

You blink at him, growing distracted, before whispering, “A Merchant in Venice. Please.”

He nods, pulling it off the shelf and lowering it between your chest and his.

“Thank you.”

He nods again and steps back before you rush to introduce yourself.

“Victor,” he offers.

“Nice to meet you, Victor. I’ll see you around.”

His pale brows furrow and you immediately decide you will see him again, no matter what it takes.

✯✯✯✯✯

Present Day

“You’re late,” you chide as Victor enters his dorm.

“How did you get in here?” Victor asks, ignoring your comment.

“Eli keeps a key hidden under the doormat.”

“Idiot,” Victor mumbles.

“I concur, but we’re not here to talk about Eli. In fact, I wish I could forget his name.”

Victor neither agrees nor disagrees, but asks, “What are you here to do?”

You raise your brows, smiling as you tease, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’d like you to leave,” Victor replies flatly. “But it seems unlikely.”

“What and how much had I lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?”

“What is that?”

“Invisible Man, H.G. Wells,” you reply, smiling.

“Why do you make everything about books?”

“Look, I’m here to convince you that fiction, that literature, is beautiful. Vic, there are more lives in literature than we could dream of living; whatever you want to do, learn, be, it’s all in there.”

“Is this going to become another debate on whether pride or prejudice is more detrimental to character development?”

You sigh, looking at the stack of books you brought. Victor watches you, and when he realizes that you’re serious, he removes his trench coat and joins you on the couch.

“You have ten minutes,” Victor tells you.

“Okay, then I get to ask questions, too,” you counter. “So, first, what is your issue with fiction?”

“It’s fake, unbelievable.”

“They don’t have to be about an immortal woman finding her reincarnated lover or parallel earths. Being made up and being unbelievable aren’t inherently connected. Middle-Earth isn’t real, but the imagery makes it realistic.”

“One out of a million, well, I’m convinced,” Victor says, hitting his thighs.

You stretch your arm out past him to stop him from standing. “What kind of fiction did you read before coming to this conclusion?”

“Uh, I remember reading fantasy in middle school.”

Waiting for more, you ask, “And?”

“That’s it.”

Chuckling, you lean toward him. “Literature isn’t about one type of story, Vic. You don’t have to choose a genre and stick to it. No two books are the same because no two people or stories are the same. There isn’t fiction or nonfiction, mysteries or romance, you can read any and everything you want. It’s both/and, not either/or.”

“If your argument is now ‘read what you want to read,’ why can’t I stick to my textbooks?”

You groan, laying your head against Victor’s shoulder. “Because I can’t rest until I help you see why literature is so beautiful and impactful. Why do you think I’m studying it, giving my life to it? Because it changed my life, Victor, and if you give it a chance it can change yours, too.”

“Then what is it you want to do?”

“Is this an invitation?”

Victor sighs as he nods, his shoulder warm from your touch.

“Then, I’m going to teach you and you’re going to be patient and give it a chance.”

“Fine. Where do we start?”

“I mean, your parental trauma is begging for a look at Hamlet, but we’ll ease into it.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You intentionally left a copy of Invisible Man by H.G. Wells on his table when you gathered your things after visiting Victor. While you walk to the library to meet him, you hope he’s read it.

“Hey,” you greet softly.

Victor nods, sliding an anatomy book onto the return shelf.

“Glad I caught you while your friends are busy,” you tease, taking the chair closest to him.

“Alone—it is wonderful how little a man can do alone! To rob a little, to hurt a little, and there is the end.”

“You read it. Even though it’s completely unbelievable and unrealistic?”

“All men, however highly educated, retain some superstitious inklings.”

Your eyes widen as you realize that he not only read it in its entirety but enjoyed it enough to remember it.

“Racism, symbolism, foreshadowing,” Victor lists off. “It wasn’t completely incapable of teaching something.”

“Did you just admit you were wrong?”

“No.”

“So, are you open to more?”

Victor shrugs, and you slide a worn copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles to Victor. He picks it up, touching the cracked spine before looking at you.

“Sherlock is famous,” you answer, smiling brightly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Stapleton was a deceiver,” Victor says, rushing to your side as you exit class.

“What?” you reply, surprised to see him.

“The hound- it’s a symbol of his deception and the entire time the moor is symbolizing the cloudiness of the mystery because it wasn’t a real mystery. Stapleton’s death was completely avoidable, yet he isn’t even the one to be attacked by the hound.”

You stop, grabbing Victor’s coat to stop him as well.

“You read the entire book last night?”

“I- I couldn’t put it down,” Victor admits lowly.

“Do you see what I mean now?”

“I’m- I’m starting to. Uh, what next?”

“I don’t have another book for you right now. We can go get-“

“Yes. Please,” Victor adds.

“Ready to try fantasy again?” you ask with a smile.

Victor inhales deeply before nodding. “I trust you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When Victor closes the book, he stares at the cover.

“Well?” you ask. “Don’t say anything bad about Aragorn, that’s all I ask.”

“He and Legolas portray a really- a perfect friendship,” he answers.

“Amity.” Victor glances up at you, and you explain, “Amity is usually associated with Shakespeare. His male friendships were built on this mutual respect and beneficial relationship qualities, but Tolkien used it in his creation of the Fellowship as well.

“I think…” you pause as you look at your overflowing bookshelf. “It’s time for a play.”

“Please no Shakespeare.”

“Okay, one, we need to get you over your irrational fear of the Bard.”

“It’s not irrational, he makes me want to puke.”

“Because he makes you feel things; must be weird for you.”

Victor rolls his eyes, and you smile as you find what you’re looking for.

“Oscar Wilde. An Ideal Husband.”

“What’s it about?”

“An ideal husband.”

Victor huffs, and you quote, “Seriousness would be very unbecoming of him. Pray be as trivial as you can.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Victor, the point of books is to read it the way you’re supposed to read it. And if you want to talk after finding out what it’s about – in your eyes – then we can. As you gain experience it will be easier to find the common ‘accepted’ views too. But the point is to read for yourself.”

“Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.”

You gasp, rushing to stand over Victor. “You’ve read Wilde before!”

“Just Dorian Gray when I was a kid. Thought it might help me escape the cookie cutter I kept getting shoved into.” Noticing your smile, Victor asks, “What?”

“You’re getting symbolic and theme-y. My literature lessons are rubbing off on you.”

“Something certainly is,” Victor replies, looking at your leg pressed to his.

“Are you ready to admit I’m right?”

“Not if it means the lessons end.”

“Oh, never. We’re a two-man book club now, Vic.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Are you here to speak to me as Lord Goring speaks to Mabel?” you ask, blocking the doorway.

“More like Mrs. Cheveley to Robert.”

“If you keep using literature references, I’m going to fall in love with you, Vic.”

“I have a request,” Victor says, drawing your attention (and his) from your comment.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He moves to your bookshelf after you open the door, quickly finding what he’s looking for. He holds it up, and you cross your arms.

“You sure?” After he nods, you say, “Go for it. It’s short, read it here if you want.”

Victor doesn’t have to be told twice, tossing his coat over the back of your couch and making himself comfortable with a copy of Hamlet.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This is too long,” Victor reads.

“It shall be to the barber’s, with your beard,” you reply.

“Don’t spoil it,” Victor reprimands.

“Though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Within a few hours, Victor is done with the play and pacing.

“Still want to read your parents’ books?” you ask.

“Yeah. But- if Hamlet can deal with an actual ghost, I guess their passive aggressive advice isn’t so bad.”

You chuckle before pointing out, “Hamlet was troubled when Horatio, Marcellus, and Barnardo told him. If it assumes my noble father’s person, I’ll speak to it isn’t an outright acknowledgment of who it is. It isn’t until he talks to the ghost that he seeks revenge on his uncle.”

“Which applies to me in no way,” Victor argues.

“What does Hamlet do to get revenge?”

Sighing, Victor answers, “Nothing.”

“Hamlet changes his reaction because of his morals and his thoughts. You can change your view of your parents like that, too.”

Victor sighs, and you see his poorly hidden smile after you say, “Though I personally won’t decide to forgive them for what they did to you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s your favorite book?” Victor asks.

You answer without hesitation, then ask, “Why?”

“Can I read it?”

“Sure. If you admit you were wrong.”

“I was wrong. Literature can be good, and it is possible to learn from fiction.” He quiets to add, “And you have good taste.”

You lean closer, turning your ear toward him as you ask him to repeat that.

 “I’m not your Lord Goring or your Mr. Darcy or any other dashing soulmate,” he says.

“No, you’re not,” you agree. “You’re my Victor Vale.”

Victor’s phone buzzes, and he rolls his eyes as he reads Eli’s message.

“Is he still working on the EO thing?” you ask. When he nods, you murmur, “Someone never read Frankenstein.”

“Would I like it?”

Nodding, you sit beside Victor. “Be careful with Eli, though. Books can teach a lot, but anything short of Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game won’t prepare you to deal with him.”

“What’s that about?”

You consider not telling him, but he nudges you with his elbow, and you concede. “A man who hunts other men for sport.”

Victor hums, looking back at his phone. “Can I admit something else?”

“Depends.”

“I didn’t lie about my thoughts on reading, but I learned something else.”

“When?”

“The week you forced me to read Pride and Prejudice.”

“You learned that you must be in want of a wife. I suppose I could be convinced to consider a proposal.”

“No. Darcy taught- he said, ‘My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me.’”

Twisting toward Victor, you lay your hand over his heart. “The only people for me are the mad ones.”

“Is that a yes? A maybe?”

“It’s a yes,” you whisper. “I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“I told you; we’re easing you into it,” you remind him, kissing his jaw and chuckling when his breath catches.

Bonus: 10 Years Later

“What happened in Merit, Victor?” you demand.

Victor stiffens at your use of his name, no ‘Vic’ or pet name. Rather than telling you the exact truth, he takes your hand and says, “I was benevolent and good: misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous.”

You relax, pulling him close as you reply, “We’re not having the argument about you being a monster again, but you know I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

Victor returns your hug, and you feel a small paperback in his pocket, smiling at how much has changed.

“The world is made up of two classes – the hunters and the huntees. No one will blame you for this, Vic, but it will never be the same.”

“I have you and your books,” Victor replies. “There is no one more equipped for change than us.”

“I can’t believe you used to be against fiction and now you carry around a barely legible copy of my favorite book.”

“What can I say? It is love. Love, and only love. For both of us a new life is beginning.”

#victor vale x reader #victor vale #vicious #vicious ve schwab #requests #fem!reader #as an english major I both love this and know I could have done better lol

[suddenlybambi]

as long as you stay here [1] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 1.9k

chapter 1

next | alaysh masterlist

main masterlist

a/n - okie dokie this is gonna be a longer one friends! i plan on updating twice a week (hopefully)

this chapter is kinda just the introduction so i'll probably post chapter 2 soon 🥰

let me know if you want to be on the taglist 💕🦜

Y/N and Bebe had been struggling to make rent after Wendy moved in with her boyfriend, Stan. It wasn’t that they weren’t friends and didn’t want to live together anymore; it was more the issue that Wendy and Stan didn’t get any privacy in the apartment. Plus, Y/N and Bebe were fed up with having to wait to use the only bathroom because the couple were in the shower together. Meanwhile, Stan’s roommate was apparently the sort of guy who just studied in his room all day, so they had plenty of privacy there.

That was when Bebe suggested that her boyfriend move in with them. According to her, they had broken up in high school but remained friends and had just resumed their relationship a month prior.

A lot of South Park students ended up in Denver for college and got apartments together. Wendy and Bebe needed a third roommate, and Y/N needed a place to live as she was the only one from her hometown to attend that college, so she didn’t know anyone. Things just worked out, and they moved in together, a friendship forming easily between the three.

Bebe’s boyfriend had supposedly missed the deadlines when it came to getting an apartment with roommates, so he was stuck with two guys he didn’t know or like. He jumped at the chance to move in with Bebe and Y/N when Wendy left.

Y/N hadn’t met him before but trusted Bebe’s judgement. At least, that was until she heard Bebe loudly moaning his name on the first night, and she realised that she did, in fact, know exactly who he was.

“Just because you think he’s-” Bebe started to protest to Y/N, but she was cut off.

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Y/N pointed at her as though she were catching her out in a lie. “I don’t think in general!”

“Can’t you just be happy for me?” Bebe pleaded, holding her hands up to cup each side of Y/N’s face, squishing her cheeks together a little. Y/N pulled Bebe’s hands away and held them.

“Babe, I’m your biggest supporter. I would be happy for you if you were dating a literal toad. But Clyde?” Y/N knew Clyde. She sat behind him in English Literature and constantly got distracted by the games that Clyde would play on his laptop instead of listening to the lecture. Particularly when the games were anime-girl dating simulators which featured a lot of boob action. She was guilty of playing them herself, that wasn’t the problem, but she didn’t play them in the middle of a lecture. It was hard to listen to her professor talk about how the mountains in Frankenstein portrayed Victor’s emotional state when the limits of jiggle physics in games were being tested right in front of her. “I mean, really, of all people, it had to be Clyde? Clyde?”

“What?” Clyde appeared in the doorway to Bebe’s bedroom, or rather, what was now their shared bedroom. Instantly, Y/N covered her eyes.

“Goddamn it! Put some clothes on!” She yelled, having seen far more of her classmate than she ever wanted to. 

“Oh shit!” Clyde looked down at his completely bare form and darted back into the room. Y/N only knew the coast was clear to lower her hand when she heard the door slam shut.

“Don’t give me that look!” Bebe sighed.

“My eyes are singed! I can’t give you any sort of look right now.”

“Give him a week?” Bebe asked, putting on her best puppy dog pleading expression. “Please? For me?”

“You’re so lucky you’re the hottest person I’ve ever met, and I would let you step on me repeatedly if that’s what you requested.” Y/N sighed, giving in instantly.

“Flirt with me all you want; it won’t make me dump him,” Bebe rolled her eyes playfully.

“One day, it’ll work!” Y/N shrugged. She had a habit of flirting with her friends for fun. It didn’t really mean anything. It was just a playful little joke. If someone wasn't comfortable with it, she would instantly stop, but it was so much fun when they played back.

“I gotta admit, you’ve come close before.” Bebe teased, throwing her a little wink.

“Come close to what?” Clyde emerged from their room again, now, fortunately, with some pants on. He was still shirtless, but he had attended lectures shirtless on multiple occasions despite being told he would be kicked out if it continued, so this was nothing new to her.

“Your girlfriend was just admitting that I’ve come close to seducing her,” Y/N proudly stated. “So if you don’t treat her right, I will.”

“She means that,” Bebe added with a nod.

“Wait-” Cogs started turning in Clyde’s brain. “Are you the one that almost split Stan and Wendy up when he wasn’t treating her right?” Y/N nodded, though the whole situation had been blown a little out of proportion when the information was passed around like a bad game of telephone.

Y/N hadn’t intentionally tried to break them up. She hadn’t even really flirted with Wendy in that way. Stan kept on bailing on dates, but Wendy would always forgive him. Y/N simply took her on a date when Stan bailed and showed Wendy how she deserved to be treated. She took her out for a nice meal, they went on a walk, they went to the theatre, and Y/N walked Wendy to her door at the end, which, since they lived in the same apartment at the time, was right across the hall from hers. She even gave her a little kiss on the cheek as they parted ways.

It succeeded in giving the couple the wake-up call they needed to get their relationship back on track. Stan needed to show his girlfriend that he actually loved her and treat her better, and Wendy had to be reminded that she was deserving of love and better treatment.

“They call me the homewrecker,” Y/N shrugged, deciding it was best not to elaborate on the whole situation with Wendy and Stan to Clyde so she could use the same technique if he dared to treat Bebe poorly. “And not just because I’m terrible at DIY.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” Bebe pointed over to their small kitchen unit. The living room and kitchen were smooshed together, and both looked pretty pathetic, but it was livable. “Don’t touch anything under the kitchen sink. It is duct-taped together and holding on for dear life because someone is too stubborn to admit she can’t fix it.”

“Oh, no, I freely admit I can’t fix it!” Y/N held her hands up in surrender. “I just refuse to pay that asshole plumber to fix it.”

“After what you did to him, I don’t think he could be paid any amount of money to come anywhere near our building to fix it,” Bebe mumbled. “And he was the only one we could afford.” 

“Look, it’s not leaking currently, so the duct tape is working. Just… don’t breathe on it,” Y/N instructed Clyde. “Or look in its general direction or even think about it because it really is as fragile as my ego.”

“This is the most I’ve heard you talk,” Clyde suddenly pointed out. “You’re so quiet in class.”

“HA!” Bebe let out a loud snort of laughter, pointing at Y/N. “This one? Quiet?”

“When there is no one worth talking to, I don’t see the need to waste my breath,” Y/N explained.

“I’m in that class?” Clyde seemed confused and a little hurt.

“My point exactly,” She mumbled, looking down at the ground.

“You’re talking to me now,” He pointed out, now seeming smug. In response, Y/N turned around and wordlessly walked past him to get to her room, closing the door behind her without so much as looking back at him.

“Give her time,” Bebe assured Clyde, placing a hand on his arm encouragingly as he watched the door close. “She’ll warm up to you.”

“Did it take her a while with you and Wendy?” Clyde asked, turning back to face his girlfriend.

“Noooo! We were instant BFFs! She started talking to us and hasn’t stopped since. I don’t think she slept for three days when we first met because she was so excited to make friends,” Bebe laughed but stopped when she saw that Clyde looked genuinely dejected over the fact that he hadn’t hit it off with his new flatmate. “Just… buy her a drink or something while we’re out, and you’ll be in her good books.”

“She’s coming out with us tonight?”

“Of course! She’s our friend!” 

“I thought it would just be the South Park group?”

“If Kenny and Tolkien can bring their girlfriends, we can bring Y/N.” 

“I’m not going,” Y/N suddenly spoke up from behind Clyde.

“What the fuck?!” Clyde spun around, clutching his chest as though he were having a heart attack. He hadn’t heard her open her door or walk back up to them. “How did you do that?”

“Sorry, I should have warned you about that,” Bebe winced as she watched her boyfriend try to catch his breath again. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Are you a vampire or something?” Clyde questioned Y/N. She could tell he was completely being serious. “You have to tell us if you are, right? Like undercover cops?”

“Yes, Clyde, obviously I am a vampire,” Y/N nodded, her voice oozing sarcasm. “I am an immortal being who decided that she wanted to spend her eternity going to college and living in an apartment where everything is broken. Now you know my secret I have to kill you.”

“She’s a dancer, so she’s light on her feet,” Bebe explained, ignoring Y/N. “You’ll never hear her coming.”

“Unlike your mom,” Y/N couldn’t stop herself from making the joke. It may have been childish and in poor taste, but she had to. Bebe ignored it, and Clyde didn’t understand, still caught up on everything else.

“A dancing vampire?” He asked. Y/N couldn’t help but snort in laughter at how serious Clyde looked.

“This is your man?” She questioned Bebe, pointing at Clyde.

“Yes!” Bebe groaned, feeling a little secondhand embarrassment from her boyfriend. “You are coming tonight.” 

“So is your mo-” Y/N started to repeat the crappy joke, but Bebe’s glare silenced her. “I’m not going.”

“See! She doesn’t want to!” Clyde insisted. “She’s not going!”

“Wait, do you not want me to go?” Y/N asked Clyde, who hesitantly nodded in confirmation. “Oh! Well, in that case, I’m definitely going.” Clyde deflated at the realisation that she was going purely to annoy him.

“Yay! Come on, let's find you the perfect dress!” Bebe grabbed Y/N’s arm, dragging her to her bedroom.

“Wait, why are we going to your room?” Y/N questioned, trying to wiggle away. Bebe could be quite strong when she wanted to be, and her grip on her arm was like a vice. “I have my own dresses.”

“Not the right sort! This is a nightclub, not a barbecue at your grandparents’ house.”

“I’ve always felt my style was more ‘I’d rather be at the ren fair’ than family barbecue, but you’re the one studying fashion, so what do I know?”

“I say this with love… You know nothing.” Bebe shook her head in pity at Y/N. “Now let’s get you in a dress that shows off your cute ass.”

#kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski fic #south park fanfiction #south park fic #kyle broflovski x reader #south park x reader #as long as you stay here #alaysh #alaysh suddenlybambi

[spaceagebachelormann]

Platonic hcs for Adam Frankenstein and a gender neutral reader that befriends him? hope you’re having a great day btw!

platonic adam frankenstein hcs !

✧ warnings: some swearing

✧ additional info: oh my god i got so excited when i saw this request by all means pls send more for my classic monsters m.list and/or phantom of the opera (if you’ve seen it ofc) this made me so happy ur an angel. also can be read as either the book or movie versions <3

✧ m.list — nav.

so like

he’d probably be intimidated when u first come across him

like he doesn’t trust you but he isn’t going to hurt you because he doesn’t have a reason

you probably need to show him ur not gonna do anything before he stops trying to get away from u

and when that happens he’ll still be a bit suspicious

just start by introducing urself and explaining ur intentions and he’ll calm down

he finally introduces himself to u as gently as he can cause he doesn’t wanna like. scare u away ofc

once he gets comfortable he’s such a good friend

one of the first things he does is ask u abt ur life cause he feels like it’s important to know what ur friends lives are like (he’s right go check up on ur friends rn if ur reading this 😒)

he knows he can’t like stay with u (probably) and u can’t stay with him so he gets kinda sad when u leave

goodbye hugs absolutely happen!!

and he’s super gentle cause he’s really strong and could easily crush u

also def gives head pats

erm anyway

typa guy to walk into ur house like he lives there (if u live alone)

but if he doesn’t i feel like you would be going to wherever tf he is more than him coming to u

and he gets so happy if u just show up unexpectedly

like that shit makes him more happy than showing up on scheduled time

and if ur ever late cause u had a problem for someone else oh my god

a) u came to the right person because he’s very sweet and understanding and will listen to u and give input if u ask

b) he’ll stomp that mf like a bug if u want him too

c) his hugs are fucking amazing

he’s so good at comforting <3

other than that he’d probably know how to cook from living alone so he’d like making u food

even if u don’t ask he has something ready for u

and you WILL eat it or i’m gonna come after u 😒

would also randomly bring u gifts as a thank you for befriending him because now he isn’t as lonely and has someone to talk to! <3

the thought of him like getting all happy when u come through the door to see him is making me so happy and sad at the same time he’s such a cutie patootie

this one might take some time. but once he’s rlly rlly comfortable he’ll prob tell u abt what happened with victor

was mainly afraid of telling u cause he wasn’t sure how u would react

has so much more respect for u when u aren’t rude to him abt it <3

if u have any random drama bro is invested

“SHE DID WHAT” core

will think ur in the right literally no matter what

u could’ve done some shit scandalous and he’s defending u

u could probably help him come outside more cause he’d always be inside

just say to him “hey we should go for a walk!!” and with a bit of convincing ur suddenly outside in the woods on a walk

THE ANIMALS LOVE HIM SO MUCH

like it’s so cute he’s sitting on the ground trying to pay attention to 15 animals at once

even if he’s deformed they know hes rlly sweet and wouldn’t do anything to them

also he’d fucking love picnics

like just sitting there and listening to u talk abt whatever

he loves it <3

#mars writing 🧈 #frankenstein (marlees version 🫀) #adam frankenstein #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #frankenstein x reader #adam frankenstein x reader

[cannibalizedyke]

❤︎︎ character list ❤︎︎

key: bolded - characters i enjoy writing for | italics - characters i’ve written for before

❥ 10 things i hate about you

cameron james, kat stratford, bianca stratford, patrick verona, michael eckman, mandella

❥ marvel

natasha romanoff, bucky barnes, steve rogers, carol danvers, stephen strange, sam wilson, gamora, gwen stacy, tony stark, kate bishop, loki laufeyson, may parker, peter parker (tasm & mcu), peter quill, pietro maximoff, wanda maximoff, thor odinson, yelena belova

❥ pirates of the caribbean

jack sparrow, will turner, elizabeth swann

❥ grishaverse

alina starkov, the darkling / aleksander morozova, malyen oretsev, genya safin, david kostyk, zoya nazyalensky, nikolai lantsov, kaz brekker, inej ghafa, jesper fahey, nina zenik, matthias helvar, wylan van eck

❥ the school for good and evil

agatha of woods beyond, sophie of woods beyond, tedros of camelot, hort of bloodbrook, hester of ravenswood, anadil of bloodbrook, dot of nottingham, rafal

note: sophie x hort x reader is a fav

❥ the hunger games

katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, gale hawthorne, haymitch abernathy, finnick odair, johanna mason

❥ harry potter

harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, ginny weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, draco malfoy, neville longbottom, luna lovegood, cedric diggory, oliver wood, theodore nott, daphne greengrass, blaise zabini, tom riddle, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, lily evans, regulus black, mary macdonald, dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon

❥ miss peregrine’s home for peculiar children

jacob portman, emma bloom, enoch o’connor (MOVIE ONLY), olive abroholos elephanta (MOVIE ONLY), millard nullings (BOOK ONLY), hugh apiston (BOOK ONLY), fiona frauenfeld (BOOK ONLY), bronwyn bruntley (BOOK ONLY)

note: i will write for book- or movieverse jacob & emma. please specify which you would like when requesting or i will default to bookverse.

❥ shatter me

juliette ferrars, aaron warner, kenji kishimoto, nazeera ibrahim

❥ the folk of the air

jude duarte, cardan greenbriar

❥ percy jackson

percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, thalia grace, jason grace, piper mclean, leo valdez, frank zhang, reyna avila ramirez arellano

❥ avatar: the last airbender

katara, sokka, zuko, azula, mai, ty lee

❥ a series of unfortunate events

violet baudelaire, klaus baudelaire, duncan quagmire, isadora quagmire, quigley quagmire

❥ newsies

jack kelly, davey jacobs, katherine pulitzer, crutchie morris, spot conlon

❥ frankenstein

victor frankenstein, the monster, elizabeth lavenza, henry clerval

❥ little women

jo march, meg march, beth march, amy march, theodore laurence

❥ star wars

anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, padme amidala, luke skywalker, leia organa, han solo, rey, finn, kylo ren, poe dameron

❥ my babysitter’s a vampire

ethan morgan, benny weir, sarah fox, rory keaner, erica jones

❥ yellowjackets

shauna shipman, lottie matthews, misty quigley, taissa turner, van palmer, natalie scatorccio, jackie taylor, laura lee, mari, akilah, jeff sadecki

[mistymem0ryy]

Il Dottore x Assistant!Reader

(Or rather an amalgamation of thoughts unable to string themselves together)

My brain is currently turning itself into a mush of rotting matter but I cannot stop thinking of Dottore x Assistant!reader where they happen to be in their current situation out of sheer coincidence (or is it?)

Like imagine Dottore after having all of his clones destroyed and now facing the harsh reality of not having any lending hand in and outside of scientific endeavours? Do not get me wrong even though this guy decided to pursue the career of a Victor Frankenstein kinnie by dropping out and succumbing to madness, he still needs aid in certain aspects of his research and would consequently need to be on the search for at least a competent assistant capable of dealing with his… ‘aspirations’…

And that is when Assistant!reader comes in! I have honestly mainly thought of 2 possible backstories for the reader to find themselves pursuing being the auxiliary of a mad scientist as a professional career:

- First one, you are a member of the Academia, even though you are quite known for your curiosity and intelligence you can never be too safe in an environment as competitive as the one found between all the various students in the establishment. Besides your interest in the sciences you’ve always had an inclination towards history, especially the one related with civilisations of the long lost past, so what do you do when you’ve read most of the material available to students? Do you accept the fact that due to your lower position in the social hierarchy of the Academia there always will be information secured out of your reach by those ‘superior’ to you? Of course you don’t. So you start finding ways of accessing private archives during the dark hours of the night… And that’s when you discover more knowledge about those civilisations that were never made public… but also about a certain Zandik…

- To cut things short you are eventually found out and punished accordingly by being expelled from the Academia, but since you were such a renowned student, be it in academic grades or research, the superiors had to craft a narrative capable of explaining your absence without giving away the true reason behind your leave… and when Dottore hears it, be it because it turned into communal gossip or because it was wrongly served as intel… Oh he laughs himself into the night… He knows a halfassed cover up story when he sees one, and after working his way into obtaining as much information on you as he can in the span of a few hours he has crafted a whole profile of you and has decided to recruit you as his new little assistant… You find yourself baffled when, while begrudgingly leaving Sumeru towards your native land, are surrounded by a group of Fatui agents led by a man whose mint coloured hair brings forth a reminiscence of the one found in the crumbling picture of Zandik…

- The second one is quite the turn, while in the first one the reader could be seen as possessing some sort of reverence towards Dottore (due to later finding out that he is Zandik), in this new scenario the situation is completely different.

- You and your family leave from your original country towards Sumeru, even though you are far from living in luxury you can still make ends meet but the situation only worsens with the passage of time… At one point some Fatui agents knock forcibly on your feeble door and your family is either given or forced into accepting the ‘opportunity’ of having one of their children sold… I mean… recruited by the Fatui! In order to obtain an advanced payment for their diligent services of course! (there could even be developed a backstory where the reader is Snezhnayan and their family has a military history that was eventually led to ruin, but I’m just rambling at this point).

- To get to the point your family is disturbed in the beginning but you know what they say, ‘When poverty comes in at the door, love flies out of the window’. The reader could give themselves up in order to protect their siblings, or there could be a whole scene were their mother grabs 2 of their children and goes ‘this one take this one…’ ‘No, no, no, take the other one; the OTHER ONE!’ (totally not a reference to that one scene between Johan, Anna and their Mother from Monster).

- You are taken in by the Fatui, most probably never to see your family again, and now you have become one of the countless Dottore’s human lab rats.

- In the beginning you let your hopelessness consume you, allowing yourself to wither away with every experiment a random clone performs upon your fading body, but once you grasp the fact that you are capable of slowly amassing a body of knowledge of the different maps of the labs and of all the experiences conducted in that hellhole, you make a promise that once you find your way out you’ll avenge yourself for what these people have done to you, for no one will do it besides your own self.

- After being foolishly mistaken as a dead ‘subject’, your body is discarded along all the remnants of those that weren’t capable of surviving the savagery that infests those laboratories. You successfully escape the grasp of the Fatui and now being considered officially dead you begin the new stage of your plan, you are actually going to make it… and you are going to make it big…

- You use all the knowledge you acquired during those inferno like periods of being experimented upon to your own advantage, you move to Fontaine and begin to work as an auxiliary for some of the marionettes from the various theatres. Your perception and understanding of how human anatomy functions permits you to be able to weaponise these creatures devoid of life through the usage of elemental power upon them, and it is then that the terror begins.

- You fashion a new identity for yourself, a genius marionette maker capable of destroying lines of fighters with a single movement of the hand, and that power… it happened to caught the attention of a certain Archon of ice…

- With Harbingers dying or disappearing here and there you could say that the Fatui were in need of at least some replacements for these power vacuums, and that is the reason why you are recruited (initially as an assistant but perhaps eventually as a Harbinger), someone as powerful and ingenious as yourself could not be made into an enemie of the Snezhnayan army… but rather a member of it.

- Dottore doesn’t remember you, maybe he didn’t even got to be in the same room as you since perhaps you simply happened to be part of a project led solely by his clones… but you remember… his face has haunted you for as long as you can recount and-

- “I must say that, when I first heard of a vision holder capable of manipulating the bodies of various marionettes simultaneously, it did indeed caught my attention”… a silence, a deafening silence that is quickly filled yet again by the previous voice-“As a scientist myself I would love to hear the scientific reasoning behind your process…”

- You turned towards him and feel yourself smiling a calculated smile…

- Revenge never tasted so sweet.

Note: And that it’s all I shall share for today my people. I’m not going to torture myself through any grammar checks since I have got to go back to studying and that happens to be enough torture for itself :’)

#il dottore #dottore #zandik #sumeru #genhsin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #il dottore x reader #dottore x reader #fatui harbingers #genshin harbingers #harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers x reader

[miscelliteeous]

Sorry if this is weird but maybe Adam Frankenstein x pregnant reader headcanons?

Oh hell yeah absolutely! I hope these are alright!

Adam Frankenstein x Pregnant Reader Headcanons:

Even though the pregnancy would be intentional, Adam really wants to be a father, he’d panic a little once he realizes you’re actually pregnant.

Like, he hoped and prayed it would happen, but now that it actually is, well, he’s excited, but he’s worried, but he’s excited, but he’s worried. It’s just a lot of emotions building up in him at once and he’s not used to it.

He’s the kinda guy to dote on you and take care of you even before you got pregnant, but while you are? Yeah, good luck doing anything on your own. He doesn’t want to risk anything happening to you or the pregnancy.

Cooking, cleaning, using stairs, getting dressed, bathing. Hell, he’d carry you around 24/7 if you even remotely hint that you don’t wanna walk around.

You’re like a fragile glass vase to him, even if you tell him to stop he’ll still be treating you as such.

Adam is ready to be a father, but he’s also not as ready as he would want to be. Every day, when he’s not taking care of you, he’s doing something to prepare, getting the house ready.

Builds a bassinet and crib, tries to sew little outfits, looking through name books, moving furniture. Hell, he’d probably add another room on to the house himself if he thought there wasn’t enough for his future offspring to have their own space.

He’s got a bit of ‘baby brain’ going on, like for nine months that’s gonna be the main thought on his mind.

Adam would be a bit hesitant to get outside help, but he’d realize that his general dislike for most people would have to be put aside to find you a midwife. Probably takes him a while before he can find one that’s not immediately terrified of him.

He stays up late many nights secretly worrying about so much. What if the baby hates him? What if the baby looks like him? So many questions that stress him out and keep him up.

He calms down when he looks at you and realizes how strong you are, how much he loves you, and tells himself that everything will be alright, since he’s got you by his side.

If you let him feel the your stomach and the baby kicks, he will cry. That is a guarantee. He’d just be so thrilled and overwhelmed.

When he’s feeling a little petty, he thinks about sending Victor a little letter rubbing it in his face that he’s going to be a father despite Victor’s fears, a good father at that. But he ultimately decides to be better than that and decides Victor isn’t worth the effort.

He’d help out during delivery, even if it’s just him holding your hand, he would be there, he would be ready, and he would let you break the bones in his hand if it meant you got even a tiny bit of relief.

#adam frankenstein x reader #adam frankenstein #frankenstein's creation #frankenstein #selfship #lite work

[athenodora-sulpicia-writer]

Hello! <3 first i hope you're doing okay, do you think you could write for vanessa ives x fem reader pls?

The Clairvoyant's White Witch

Summary: After witnessing the events of Mr Lyle's Friday evening party, a woman seeks out Vanessa Ive's and Sir Malcom to offer her assistance in finding Sir Malcom's missing daughter but at first she will only speak to the infamous Miss Ives and soon a fleeting feeling becomes so much more.

Warnings: (social anxiety, quick mention of death and demon possession)

After the events I'd witnessed at Mr Lyle's London establishment, I couldn't force the images out of my mind. I'd never seen a possession of such a magnitude before and the vile things that poor woman had been put through made my stomach churn. So after a quick conversation with another woman in attendance, I soon learned the woman's name and the name of the man she had accompanied and I knew I had to do something to help.

The streets of London were frigid the next night, as I walked through the aristocracy sector of the city. It hadn't taken me very long to learn of the address I required and now, with only the light from the gas lamps and the moon, I found myself standing before a grand manor house, with my hand coming up to knock at the door.

I gave two firm knocks before the door was opened by a man that I presumed worked for Sir Malcolm, who owned this home. Out of instinct upon realising my close proximity to the man in the entrance I took a step back and waited a moment before I spoke.

"Good evening, I'm here to see Sir Malcolm and Miss Ives," I spoke quickly and politely before being allowed to enter the home. Upon walking into the entrance hall, the man who had allowed me in asked for my shawl and coat though the request only made me pull the material of the shawl closer around my shoulders, though I soon relented and handed over my coat.

I was now standing in my blush pink and white gown with my shawl being in a secure place around my shoulders. "Ma'am if you'll follow me into the Drawing Room please," The gentlemen who welcomed me in requested and I began to walk towards what I believed to be the Drawing Room.

The door was then opened for me and I soon caught site of two people already occupying the room. Suddenly I felt terribly self conscious, perhaps it had been stupid to come, maybe I was being to impulsive or I'd had to much to drink the night before.

Yet when I actually thought about it I knew, deep down, that I still wanted to be here and I still wanted to offer my help.

"Hello Miss, I'm Sir Malcolm and this is Miss Ives," an older gentlemen introduced himself and then gestured to the woman who stood to his right. I knew he was the one who owned this establishment, I'd tried to do a little research before arriving tonight, if only to quell my anxiousness.

Then my blue eyes wondered and I found myself looking at the woman I'd seen last night. I thought she had been beautiful the night prior, regardless of what occurred but looking at her now, I could only attest that she was even more stunning. Her black hair was uncharacteristically down for a woman of her status and she wore a lovely yet simple black laced frock.

"Good Evening, I'm Lilian Damar and I um...." My sentence quickly broke off as Sir Malcolm began to walk over to me to presumably shake my hand in greeting and I could feel my palms begin to sweat and suddenly my hands needed something to do, so I unconsciously began to tug at the sleeve of my dress.

"A pleasure Miss Damar," Sir Malcolm began to announce as It seemed he hadn't seen my change in demeanour but before he could walk passed the couch that divided the room Miss Ives spoke up and halted him.

"Sir Malcom could you please excuse myself and the Lady Damar, I'd wish to enquire as to why she's here first." This had Sir Malcolm coming to halt and soon his back was facing me as I wondered if perhaps the two were now having a silent conversation.

It seemed it didn't matter as quickly after Miss Ives had spoken, the older gentlemen was leaving the Drawing Room, now leaving just myself and the ravenette.

The room's door soon closed and I was quickly looking back at the woman that stood on the opposite end of the room to me. She hadn't even met me yet and already I saw how her eyes looked at me with something more than interest and I could only hope it wasn't pity.

"I do hope I made the right judgement in sending Sir Malcolm out," She began to say walking over to the couch that sat close to the fireplace, with a gentle hand gesturing for me to sit with her.

As I waited for her to continue, I quickly took her up on her silent offer to sit down and soon found myself seated a mere foot away from this enchanting woman.

"When I saw how your hands tugged on your sleeve I thought it may be best for now." That's when I saw how she smiled at me and now I realised it wasn't pity in her eyes but understanding and suddenly I felt far more comfortable now, then when I had entered in before.

"You did Miss Ives," I reassured, struggling to loose my more upper class voice but perhaps my natural tongue would come through soon enough, once I became a little more comfortable here.

"That's good to hear, now down to business, why is it you have come here tonight?" Her tone only shifted slightly as she spoke and even then it only became more confident not sounding harsh at all.

"Well, you see Miss Ives," I began and then took a quick steadying breath before continuing, "I was in attendance at last nights festivities and I witnessed what happened so I've come here to tonight to offer my help."

That certainly wasn't as hard to say as I thought it was going to be and that only served to make my confidence grow. Then I looked at Miss Ives intently, as I watched the gears in her head turn and move as she thought over my words.

"And what is it you believe us in need of help with, if you don't my mind me asking?" Her tone was skeptical now and her brows furrowed together as her icy blue eyes narrowed soley on me.

"I heard that Sir Malcolm's daughter has gone missing and after last nights... ordeal, I believe that it is no common disappearance but instead apart of something that isn't within the control of the mortal realm." I was originally unsure how to refer to last nights events, I didn't want to upset the ravenette that sat across from me and I knew how hard it was to live with things inside you that could sometimes be outside of your control.

"And how is it you came to that conclusion?" She was a smart woman, I could feel it as soon as I stepped inside the room, her demeanour practically exuded intelligence and a knowledge stronger than most women of her age and status, she truly did seem to be the diamond within the rough.

"I don't commonly see women being possessed by the supernatural and certainly not to the extent that you were, which I truly am sorry I couldn't prevent but I believe that to be evidence enough to back up what I have said."

It was so tempting to place a comforting hand over her own paler one and perhaps I would have, maybe I did, I had started to at least but then I quickly retracted it. I knew, much like myself, she wouldn't want my pity and though that wasn't what I would've been trying to give her, I knew she wouldn't have seen that immediately.

A scoff then came before she shook her head in somewhat annoyance, "How could you have possibly prevented it?" She asked me almost mockingly.

"Perhaps I couldn't have prevented it but I could have maybe weakened it's effects, perhaps I could have even expelled the demon sooner than it had left. I'm not sure, I couldn't even guarantee such a thing." I had truly wanted to do something but everything seemed to happen so quickly and there were so many people, if I'd intervened then I probably would already be dead.

"There's nothing you could have done," Her tone had certainly lost the the gentleness of earlier but there was still a hint of kindness left. She probably thought I was lying, making something outlandish up just to gain attention but I knew my next words would put to rest such thoughts.

"Perhaps not but a White Witches job is to help those who need it Miss Ives and that's what intend to do. You can have Sir Malcolm come back in now."

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Part 2 is now out.

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