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prettyflyforawhitelie · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff)

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcast their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower…

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better.

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises.

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep.

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges.

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you.

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you.

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible.

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel.

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams.

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment.

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it.

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him.

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you.

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick.

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

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azzo0 · 2 months

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Cookies and Flowers

Summary: Bakugo doesn't like Valentine's Day. But this year is different. tw's: none. just a little cliché Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Bakugo Katsuki despised Valentine's Day.

He wasn't a big fan of all the chocolate on his desk. He didn't want his teeth to rot anyway. He found it annoying how all his friends, sidekicks and workers kept popping by his office to leave him cookies, chocolate and other sugary delights. He'd just grumble and dump them into the stash in his desk drawers.

It wasn't just the sweets that annoyed him. Everywhere he turned, he saw lovers on dates, holding hands, hugging, doing what lovers did. Usually, he paid no mind to it, but pushing thirty, the thought sometimes crossed his mind. He longed for the feeling of loving and being loved. It annoyed him.

But this year was different.

This year, he was secretly hoping to receive something from a certain someone. That certain someone being his secretary he hired around seven months back- you. Ever since you started working at his agency, he's been buying an extra cup of coffee on his way to work, finding little excuses to barge into your office with silly questions he already knew the answers to.

He loved the way you fussed around him, scheduling his meetings, making sure he was on time everywhere, getting his documents ready, and organising the files. Just you minding your business and doing your job made him a mush.

So this year, he was okay with Valentine's.

After the patrol, he made sure to pass by your office to ask if he had any appointments or meetings. You were giving out chocolate to one of the sidekicks, a bright smile on your face. You caught his eye, giving him that big grin of yours that made his heart ache for you. When the sidekick left the room, Bakugo stepped in, walking over to your desk.

"Good morning, sir." You greeted.

"Mornin'. Told ya to call me Bakugo."

"I keep forgetting." You tried not to blush under the presence of your boss, looking away from his scarlet eyes, diverting your attention to your laptop screen instead.

"Do I have any meetings or appointments?" He asked.

"Let me see," you bit your lip as you opened the calendar, looking into Bakugo's schedule.

Bakugo was preoccupied by your lip being attacked by your teeth. He put a hand on the desk, leaning over, the other hand reaching to free your lip. Your head snapped up to him, your jaw almost dropping when he smirked at you and crossed his muscular arms across his chest. You gulped, quickly looking at your screen again, feeling the sleeping butterflies wake up.

"Um- looks like you don't have any meetings for now." You told him, forcing yourself to look up at him and give him a shaky smile. He gave you a plain 'okay' and stomped out of your office.

You leaned back in your chair, bringing your fingers to your lips where his thumb once was. With a sigh, you half-heartedly went back to working on your laptop.

---

Bakugo felt childish. It was closing time, and he received a ton of chocolates, cards and sweets, but none of them were from you. He was aware you gave out chocolates to everyone at the agency. Why not him? Not that he got to complain. He didn't have the guts to give you the roses hiding in his locker.

He felt like a whiny middle schooler complaining about not receiving chocolate. He muttered a curse at himself and got up from his revolving chair. He had to make sure everyone left and then close the agency. He swung the door open, not expecting to see you standing there.

"What are you doing here? It's closing time." He said after a few seconds of staring at you blankly.

"Well... I baked some cookies for you last night." You said shyly, holding out a decorative cookie bag for him. He froze in place, eyes darting back and forth between you and cookies. He finally took the little bag from your hand, undoing the ribbon to see heart-shaped cookies with white frosting and pink lines.

"Thanks," he scratched his cheek. Just the fact that you went through the trouble of baking him cookies made his chest feel warm and fuzzy.

"Anytime." You smiled at him, turning to leave.

"Oi, wait." His voice stopped you. He went to the lockers in the corner of his office, unlocking it and pulling a big bouquet of roses. You gaped at it, your lips parting in disbelief. You were receiving flowers from your boss, also known as the number two hero you had a crush on.

"For me?"

"No, they're for the wall behind you." A roll of red eyes. "F'course they're for you, dumbass."

You took the bouquet from him, looking up at him with a blush, half your face hidden behind the roses. "Thank you."

"It was nothing," he said, bringing a hand behind his head. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, looking for the courage to say the words he wanted to say.

"We should finish closing." Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "I really love the flowers, by the way. Thank you again."

"Stop sayin' thanks over and over again." He grumbled, closing his office door and locking it, still holding the cookie bag.

Together, you two switched the lights off and locked the doors before stepping outside the agency and locking the main door. The wind hit your face, bringing some of your hair onto your face. You pushed them back and glanced up at the tall pro hero, already looking at you.

"See you on Monday, then." You smiled.

"No."

"Wh-"

"Are you free tomorrow?" He asked, cutting your question short.

"It's the weekend, so yeah." You replied.

"Okay. I'm taking you out tomorrow." He said, savouring your baffled reaction, a smirk dancing on his lips.

You were trying to figure out if he was asking you out on a date because that definitely wasn't asking- that was ordering. Either way, you weren't complaining. "S-sure. I'll be waiting."

"You better." He couldn't fight the smile creeping up on his face.

#this has been sitting in my drafts 10 whole days before valentine's day #;-;#katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo #bakugo fluff #katsuki #bakugou #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha #bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou katuski x reader

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nkogneatho · 1 year

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"𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔" - 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐍

—cw: gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff, smoking in geto's, suggestive

—wc: 1k+ #Tip me here

—a/n: Tell me what your favorite one. Scn=scenarios. not proofread.

#mlist #whoreclub #liawot smau #taglist

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Satoru has a very strong obsession with sweet things. You were surprised how your boyfriend not had diabetes yet.

"Aren't you worried that your teeth might fall off?" you questioned him, as soon as you came out of the sweet shop with a white polythin bag in your hand. You went to buy him the mochi he likes so much, as a result of losing your bet.

"Don't worry. You know I am the strongest. So is my teeth, baby" You rolled your eyes at the comment. It was annoying enough that you lost the bet, and he was now just getting on your nerves acting like a hotshot. Your mind couldn't help but wonder how he would act if you mess with him. Taking a step forward to the sidewalk, you left your boyfriend behind. He followed you like a puppy as he always does. Toru noticed the noise of plastic wrapper. When he skipped two steps ahead to face you, what he saw was you chewing his desert.

"Hey!" he frowned cutely.

"Quite tasty," a subtle smile on your face, internally laughing at his reaction. Oh but you were stupid. You really thought he would let this go? Your boyfriend scanned you for a minute and then—

*kiss*

He caught your lips, tasting the faint relish of the chocolate syrup on your lips. He pulled back after a few seconds, leaving your body stunned on the sidewalk.

"You were right, baby. It is quite tasty." You were taken aback. You never new your first kiss with him would be like this.

"Toru wha—"

"In fact, I love it. I think I wanna taste more." You couldn't help but blush at the suggestion.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Geto never shared his cigarettes with anyone. But with you, it was different.

"Ugh, this is the worst," you groan in frustration.

"Chill out. You can cover it up by the next month," suguru comforted you. He lit up the cig and took a whiff.

"But how can they just ignore all my presentations? I think they were pretty amazing. Don't you think they were amazing?" you looked at him in hopes he'll take your side. He did.

"Okay first of all, it was surreal, sweetheart. And second of all, forget about it because your lovely lovely boyfriend is here," you laugh to which he shoots you a confused look. "What? am I not lovely?" He probably didn't get that you were laughing because how cute he sounded. Not because he wasn't lovely. He was. He was the loveliest matter of fact. Suguru pouts and looks away, taking another drag.

"ah fuck it. Gimme that." You take the cig from his hand. You can feel the tip slightly wet. "We are indirectly kissing haha," you laugh, eyes closed to smoke it. When your hands fall down with cig, you could feel a body moving closer, and a set of lips locking with yours. The bitter-cold taste of mint tobacco flavor on your tongue. When you opened your eyes, Suguru had already taken the cigarette from your hand, which completely when unnoticed by you. Maybe you were too busy feeling his lips.

"Indirect kiss, my ass. I want to kiss you directly. Ya got that?" He is adorable, getting pressed over some unserious thing you said.

"Got it. My lovely boyfriend.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

Toji was straight forward. He didn't like beating around the bush. But when it came to you, he suddenly became a highschool teenage girl from a rom com who's so nervous that she unknowingly comes off mean to her love interest.

You found it adorable. The little things he did subconsciously that you found so adorable. You remember once you told him how you found sausages cut in octopus shape cute. So now you caught him making the same cuts, while he cooks breakfast for you, in his apartment.

"Wow. A grown scary looking man making cute shaped breakfast. Aren't you too old for that?"

"Shut up, babe. Ya know they're f'you. D'ya want me to poison them?" He shot a glare to you.

"Meanie," you frowned. You took a step to the stove, watching the sunny side up egg turning into an eclipse in the pan. "Uhm, Chef Toji," you called. "Your eggs are burning." You watched him place the knife on the chopping board, hastily rushing over towards the stove, turning it off. Toji sighed. But he heard someone laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Aw, aren't you a adorable little thing," you wiped away the tear from all the laugh. "It's hard to believe you're an assassin." You looked over at the counter with the octopus sausages, so perfectly cut. "Only good with blades, are you?"

The smile on your face slowly started fading as you found the big hunky man moving closer and close to you until there was no step for you to take back. Until your back hit the wooden cupboard. Toji ran his emerald iris on your lips. But before you could hide them away from him, biting it in, he captured them. Toji pushed his tongue past your lips, making your legs jelly.

"Not just blades, 'm also good with ma' lips." The attitude you had earlier, evaporated all of a sudden. Toji leaned to your side. "Wanna see what else 'm awesome at?" he whispered in your ears, totally making you lose your usual smug self.

—Reblog for part 2 🤍 :)

Tags: @eros-lives @milophiliac @denji-star @bbytamaki @thebrokenkitkat @his-saiko @loml-riri @aztecbrujeria @mwagii @kitashousewife @sugies @mrsackermannx @lilitudemon @wobblewobble822 @tohokuu

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #gojo fluff #geto fluff #toji fluff #jjk drabbles #jjk scenarios #gojo x y/n #geto x y/n #toji x y/n

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

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Thots of Matt eating reader out after she just shaved??🤭

love the way you think🫠

wrote this late last night, so not sure if all coherent - maybe just rambling brain rot. too lazy to edit it rn

matt murdock x fem!reader, mdni (18+ only!!)

aaaa so okay SO!!1

firstly I gotta say, and I quote forever and always, matt is a pussy eating fiend !! he don't care what you got, he's gonna eat. got a 70's bush? he's gonna chow down. haven't had time to clean yourself up beforehand? again, he's gonna gobble you up. he may have a preference (bc of his senses etc) - but he doesn't let that be known

BUT?? there's something just so addictive about eating you out after you just shaved, when you're all soft and smooth and silky - folds and pubic bone velvety to the touch and free of hair

I feel like it would be even more satisfying and enjoyable for him than usual, and he may even forget about getting you off. like the way your soft folds feel when he sucks them into his mouth, or simply just how good your pussy feels on his tongue

he would take all the time just leisurely licking you out, soft, pleased groans and moans muffling between your thighs - fingers digging into that crease, holding you still to his face. he'd be slow and teasing with it, changing things up without realising - unintentionally edging you. one minute, his tongue would be curled up into your pussy, tongue barely poking inside of you. the other he's on your clit, flicking over it. the next, he's sucking on it. the time after that, licking faint stripes up your slit

he also pays attention to other parts of your body without acknowledging it. maybe he trails kisses between your very inner thighs, spreading soft, open-mouth kisses over your heated skin - giving your poor, sensitive pussy a small time-out. his hands comfortingly stroking down your sides as if to reinforce his love for you

he also def reaches up to cup your tits when he eats you out, just saying ! just him extending his hands up to knead and squeeze them, as if to ground himself from his almost painful hard-on.. WHICH he has most definitely rubbed against the mattress a few times

more thots bc I can't help myself. but he doesn't let you get away, no matter how much you protest and push his head away - all you need to say is that small little word and it will immediately seize his movements. but you won't say it bc you don't actually want him to stop.. and he knows that

maybe he likes it when you get just shy of overstimulation, when you're moments away from tapping out. when you crush his head with your spasming thighs, or when you make those strangled and choked moans, or when you're just twitching and jolting against his face, or when your grip in his hair tightens, or when you shimmy up the bed, or when your cry half of his name in a breathy whine, or when you cream on his tongue

lastly, mr. matt murdock isn't about waste around here, so he never wastes a drop !! !! drinks you all up !! EVERYTHING !! since he can't see the messy state of your pussy after, instead, he runs his first two fingers over you - feeling the slippery and soft and puffy, soaked folds coated in spit and arousal. smearing everything around with A COCKY GRIN SLAPPED ON HIS FACE - feeling the literal mess he made of you

also also, he snogs you after to make you taste yourself 🫨

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

#ask #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock #matt murdock headcanon #daredevil #thots

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ravenelyx · 6 months

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I need you. - Sebastian Sallow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader

Words: 1.1k

Chapter Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, angst and comfort, Sebastian needs to be snuggled, Sebastian is also sad, and Sebastian needs love, neck kissing, cuddling and snuggling, Soft!Sebastian Supremacy, House or gender is not specified, (implied) established relationship, use of 2nd person for the reader

Summary: Sebastian has different ways of dealing with being hurt. One of them is burying his face in your chest while you cuddle him

A/N: IT'S SALLOW SUNDAY and since people seem to like my soft!seb heacanons, I wrote a whole fic instead <3 I woke up feeling snuggly, sooo...

Masterlist

you can find the whole fic on ao3 as well <3

Ominis' version

You didn't even hear his steps, yet when you saw a grimace creep up on Leander's face as he spoke to you, and strong arms wrap around your torso, you knew.

Sebastian left a soft kiss on the top of your head, looking at Leander with a small frown. You thought it must be one of those things only boys understood, because Leander sighed and nodded, without saying a word. Sebastian relaxed against you.

Pair of eyes looked between the two boys, as if expecting a fight to come out of it, but Leander just smiled in acknowledgement. "Sallow." Then his eyes met yours. "I'll see you in class. Don't forget your Leechjuice again."

You rolled your eyes. "It was one time."

Many people mistook it for possessiveness. You knew the real reason for it.

Leander walked away, waving you a goodbye, and Sebastian leaned his head against yours.

"Hi," you whispered with a small smile. He nuzzled your cheek, leaning his weight on your back.

While you never reproached him for showing his touchy side in public, you were starting to feel a little self-conscious of all the curious eyes piercing the two of you, so you turned around in his arms — albeit with great difficulty as his iron grip on you seemed unmovable — and cupped his cheeks.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You swore you saw a few tears collect in his eyes as you spoke, so you walked him backwards to a more secluded bench. He sat down and immediately pulled you onto his lap.

After two years of dating, Sebastian had no more qualms about showing you his need for affection. You were there through it all: when Anne was cursed, when Sebastian desperately tried to find a cure, and even now, when he was diving into a dangerous path with his new friend. He had begun to rely on you, and on something only you could give him.

Security.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, affectionately scratching his scalp, and he let out a soft whine – a whine of pleasure, and a whine of something else. Something sad and guilty and that made him tighten his grip against you and bury his face in your chest.

"He has sent another letter!" he began, running his hands along your back and hips. You learned it was a way for him to reassure himself and calm down. "He told me the if I don't stop, he'll never let me see Anne again!"

Your face softened, hand now cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer. Usually, when Sebastian had a fight with Solomon, he'd retreat in the Undercroft, angry and incensed and ready to burn his own rage to the sound of very loud Confringo's. But there were times when his uncle's words got to him, made his heart sink with the need of a love that was stripped from him. A love he tried to silence by hugging his pillow tight at night when he was young. A love he found in you.

"He won't actually do it. Anne will always be your sister," you reassured him softly. "She'll want to see you, and he can't stop her from that."

He breathed heavily in your chest, pressed his palm under your thighs to pull you further in.

"She doesn't agree with what I'm doing…" He muffled his broken voice in your shirt.

"I know…"

"And she might stop loving me…" he said tearfully.

"She won't." You said earnestly. "She's your twin. In her heart, she knows she'd do the same for you."

He trembled a little, emotions threatening to explode.

"You don't trust Solomon," you began, stroking his hair, "but you can trust me. And you can trust Anne."

He stopped quivering, and you could almost feel the gears turn in his brain at your words. He began to kiss you through your shirt in gratitude.

You thought the position must have been uncomfortable to him, even if he didn't show it, so you slightly pushed his torso back, his face leaving your chest with a displeased frown, and leaned him on the seatback a little, then nestled in his arms, face nuzzling his neck. He sighed in relief as you cuddled against him.

"I know I'm too much sometimes…" he said in a small voice, hiding his face in your hair.

"You're not," you answered immediately. You could see his insecurities start to creep up on him, and you wouldn't have that.

"I annoy you."

"You don't," you protested, looking up at him in concern.

"I always come to you—"

"I'm glad you do."

"—and I'm always too needy."

"I don't see a problem with that."

You sighed and cupped his cheek again, drawing him down to press your mouth to his. It took a small touch for him to ignite, leaning his whole torso over you to deepen the kiss, desperately tugging at your lips. He pulled back with a grimace again when he noticed, and turned away, almost guilty.

"Don't refuse my affection," you whispered.

"I will consume you."

"I'm yours anyway."

He looked back at you, eyes fleeting over the gentle smile on your lips.

"Now come and kiss me a little more."

The battle in his mind seemed to settle immediately, and he lunged forward, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you in place as his lips feasted on yours. His other arm circled your waist, holding you impossibly tight against him. And he was everywhere — his body caging yours, lips hungrily pulling and biting and bruising, hands desperately kneading your flesh, prising your shirt open to touch your bare skin. You felt dizzy at the force of his affection, and you knew he was right. He would consume you, like a wildfire, an eruption, a cataclysm about to blow your heart in a pulp of blood and passion as his tongue claimed yours. And you'd stop feeling like a person at his touch, so overcome by him you'd lose yourself. And then he'd settle it all right, kissing the blood off your lips with reverence, caressing your bruises gently, putting order into your feelings and reminding you once again that you would do anything for him.

"I need you," he breathed out, dipping his head in the crook of your neck. "Every day…"

You didn't stop him when he sucked a love bite into your skin.

"It's a good thing I feel the same," you chuckled.

"Even if you don't need me as much as I need you—"

"I need you more than you can imagine."

He looked up at you, and you kissed his lips again. This time he was gentle as well.

"Don't stop coming to me. Ever."

He nodded and kissed you again. And again. And again. And again, until Professor Weasley reproached the both of you for inappropriate behaviour and sent you to detention for a week.

And he'd kiss you there, too.

918 notes · View notes

ystrike1 · 5 months

Text

Ashe: the coveted maid - By Yoo Rang Baam (9/10)

This is a lovely yandere fairy tale. The art is fairly generic in some panels. It is short. If the art consistently matched the cover page it would be an instant classic. Two lost, unwanted young lovers take over a corrupt mansion. They're damaged, and devoted. There's mutual love and happiness galore, after the true heir dies a gruesome death.

Ashe is a pretty dummy. She's been sold to a certain family. The heir, Lance, is a giant perv. He uses his maids as his personal harem. Ashe is just another body.

Lance is handsome. Perfect. Most of his maids are noble women who are actively trying to marry him. His blue blood protects him from any and all consequences. Ashe fears him. She humiliates herself for him, but it's never enough.

Ashe is skittish and uneducated because her mother disliked her. Her sister was even prettier than her. Her sister married a wealthy man. She secured a huge dowry for her mother. Her mother put a huge amount of pressure on her. Told Ashe she somehow had to bring home more bacon than her super lucky Goddess of a sister.

She, of course, collapsed under the pressure. Her mother eventually sold her to Lance to make a buck.

Ashe eventually meets Tristan, the bastard son. He's sort of like her. Everybody treats him like a ghost. He must live in a secret basement. He is the son of a maid. Nobody really knows why he's still alive. Lance could have killed him, but Lance is evil.

He likes to taunt his brother, and leave him in squalor.

Eventually, Ashe and Tristan become lovers.

Lance hates his competition. He's the type of heir that knows he isn't that impressive deep down. All he has is his family name and money. He scarred Tristan to make him a monster. A tainted thing. He knows he's not that smart, so he calls Tristan a fake. He abuses his brother to make himself more powerful.

Tristan changes when he watches Lance abuse Ashe. He decides to let it all go. He cannot win. He wants to be happy. He tells Ashe he will run away with her, after he scrouges up some money.

He's free of the stupid chains Lance wrapped around him.

Her honest love saves him from life as an abused doll.

Lance falls down a cliff.

Now, I don't think this is a coincidence. The author specifically mentions that Lance abuses noble ladies. No doubt an angry father paid off his coachman and well...now he's even more horribly mangled than Tristan.

The house turns on Lance.

They lock Lance in the secret room, bloody and angry.

Ashe has no idea what's happening, but the house needs a leader. Tristan has been given the chance to take over.

He plans to marry Ashe (she was sold, but her mother is a noble)

Ashe runs to the secret room. Tristan used to see her almost every day. When he doesn’t visit for a week she panics.

When she checks his bed she finds Lance.

He stabs her eye out.

He has gone mad.

Why?

Well, everybody abandoned him as soon as he became disabled. He has no friends to speak of and his only good feature was his looks. One sign of weakness was it. He was deemed unfit and left to rot.

He stabs Ashe because she truly cares about Tristan, even though he has nothing to his name but kindness.

Tristan fetches his foolish love.

She tries to run.

She tells him she is ruined.

He laughs and says he will destroy anyone who dares to mention her disfigured face. She belongs by his side, proud and happy.

When they have their blowout wedding he wears lace over his scar from Lance. She wears lace too, to cover the missing eye Lance took from her.

They live happily despite his cruelty.

He definitely died off screen on Tristan's order, after he stabbed Ashe.

A tradition becomes the norm in the mansion. Every staff member and every guest must wear lace on their face. No one will ever see or comment on Ashe's face, or Tristan's. They are above reproach, and the lace masks represent them moving on. Forgetting about those who abused them.

Also, of course, it is a warning.

Any comments about the disfigured Lord or Lady will not be tolerated.

Beware.

It's not easy to anger the Lord of the house, but if you do you will lose.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #Ashe: the coveted maid

422 notes · View notes

redbullgirly · 3 months

Note

Hellooo 👋, can you write enemies to lovers with fernando alonso maybe with some angst? 🤭

It's totally alright if you don't want to! Thankssss :))

EL DESTINO [FA14 oneshot]

Fernando Alonso x reader

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N works for Alpine, and even though Fernando Alonso isn't part of the team anymore, they can't forget their distaste for each other. The driver seems to think she's just an irresponsible party girl and Y/N doesn't like him because he's, well... annoying and mean and doesn't care about anybody but himself. Though could they be both wrong in their prejudices?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Not much, maybe they're kind of mean to each other and stupid at the start, but that's the point of enemies to lovers, right? XD

Author's Note: Hello Anon and thank you for the request! I didn't expect it to turn out so long, but hey XD. I hope you and everybody else will like it. Also I tried for a little bit of angst, but I'm not sure if I'm good at it... you can let me know :).

If anyone could read your thoughts at the moment, you’d probably end up locked behind bars and with the key from your cell thrown far away. Whoever's great idea was to allow the group of inexperienced interns to touch the important data and statistics deserved to rot seven feet underground. Chopped into small pieces. And doused in poison that eats their lifeless body until there's nothing left.

Okay, that's maybe a bit too violent, but still not far from the truth.

You rubbed your tired eyes, not caring about smudging the mascara anymore. There was basically no one left in the building, just a few mechanics desperately needing the cars to be in perfect condition tomorrow – or should we say today? And then there was you, who stupidly agreed to fix the disaster caused by too much excitement and not enough cautiousness. You knew the interns didn't do it on purpose, and blaming them wasn't going to help you, but still. It wasn't them who had to sit there long after their working hours ended, staring into a too bright computer screen.

When you finally managed to save all the damaged data, it was almost three in the morning, and before you made it back to the hotel, you weren't sure if it was even worth going to bed. Because of the emergency, you didn't have time to finish your usual duties. And even though it wouldn't be fair to want the analysis from you, that wasn't how the game was played in motorsport.

Legs almost giving out under you, you dragged yourself to the elevator. The poor lady sitting at the receptionist desk looked at you skeptically, but didn't say anything as you stepped in and pressed the button with the number of your floor on it. Generic music started playing, numbing your brain even more.

The metal door was about to close, but then a hand came between it. Before you blinked and processed what's happening, a man slipped into the elevator right next to you, pressing his own number.

You see, everything could have been fine. You could've just survived the thirty seconds of embarrassing silence, then mumble a polite goodbye and go to sleep in peace. But no. Fate apparently had other plans for you.

Because as the man turned to you and the bright light hit his face, you realized it wasn't just some stranger.

Suddenly, the silence shifted from the normal elevator weirdness to tension. You pressed your lips together, silently cursing the higher power that decided to mess with your life just today, when you looked like a zombie. With smudged mascara. Perfect.

For someone, maybe it would be a fulfilled dream to be in an elevator with Fernando Alonso. Two time World Champion, great driver, loved person. And a dickhead that almost ruined your whole career.

“You look like you had a wild night,” he murmured with a thick Spanish accent. You narrowed your brows, trying to control the anger bubbling inside of you. Was he trying to insult you? You wouldn't even be surprised.

“Perhaps I did, thank you very much.” Your voice lacked any signs of friendliness, clearly trying to provoke him. It was quite funny, really, how a minute ago you didn't have energy to think clearly, and now you were ready to argue with this man over anything. Almost like the magic of despising someone.

You noticed his jaw tensing and knew it wouldn't be good. But still, his words hurt: “Maybe if you focused more on doing your job instead of wild nights out, Alpine would do better.”

The sting in your chest was strong, but by some miracle the elevator finally stopped, and the robotic voice announced the twenty-sixth floor. Even life itself took pity on you, it seemed.

Without any other word, you turned away from Alonso and walked into the empty hallway, hearing a quiet scoff and then the door sliding closed again behind you, leaving you all alone in the darkness. How poetic.

Every door you passed looked exactly the same, and you just hoped you remembered your room number correctly.

You didn't even remember taking out the card and entering your temporary home for the weekend. You didn't remember taking your clothes off, removing the remaining makeup with a tissue because you were too tired for your usual skin care routine. You didn't remember responsibly setting up your alarm and then falling into the soft mattress.

All you could remember before the exhaustion took over were his words that cut deeper than he thought, and deeper than you'd like to admit.

-----

You couldn't believe it.

As you walked out of the debrief, you could basically feel everybody's frustration crawling up your spine, mixing with your own. The team, all the mechanics and engineers, pit crew members and marketing, hundreds of people worked so hard the whole week. And for what?

It was already bad when both cars didn't finish the last Grand Prix in Silverstone. But for it to happen again? That was downright embarrassing. Not only did it bring exactly zero points in the Constructors' Championship, but the drivers were angry, disappointed. You could see that in the team, the motivation level decreased quickly. And honestly, you couldn't blame them.

Last year, Alpine was the fourth-best car on the grid. Best of the rest, as they'd call it. But this season, everything was going terribly. You honestly weren't far from crying.

To lighten up the mood, some of your colleagues decided to enjoy a night out in Budapest before you'd have to fly to Belgium tomorrow, to prepare for yet another racing weekend. At first, you declined the offer, insisting you needed to catch up on some work, do analysis for the car and figure out exactly what happened to it. But then, one of the mechanics you were friendlier with saw your drooping shoulders, and pulled you into the club despite all your weak protests.

Soon enough, you let loose and after an hour, you were a few drinks in. Your head was spinning, a big smile planted on your lips and giggles coming out of your mouth uncontrollably. Not that you had low alcohol tolerance, but the last time you got properly drunk was some time ago. Perhaps you just forgot how it felt. The freedom, the sweet mist of oblivion clouding your mind.

Currently, you were sitting at the bar, sipping on a cocktail. You already enjoyed your time on the dance floor, which tired you more than expected. Thank God you went to the club right from the paddock, so instead of high heels that'd kill your feet, you had comfortable sneakers on.

As you waved at the young barman to give you another round of whatever he mixed for you before, you felt someone's eyes on your back. You didn't bother to turn around, thinking it was just another drunken man checking out half of the women in the club.

Then, someone stood behind you. “The drink's on me, hermosa,” the man said, voice smooth like honey. You froze. You knew that deep, thick Spanish accent too well. What the hell was Alonso doing here?

He clearly mistook your silence for an impressed one, or so you thought when he came to sit down next to you, his hand gently brushing your back. That was the moment you turned your head towards him, eyes wide, and his face dropped. So did yours.

You hoped for a split second you could pretend you were total strangers randomly meeting in a bar for just a little longer when he instantly frowned and his demeanor changed from charming gentleman to pain in the ass.

“Y/L/N,” he uttered it in a way that made you wonder if there was something wrong with your last name. “Guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here.”

And here it was — the instant wave of anger and hurt he managed to bring up by just a few poking words.

“Says the right person.” You rolled your eyes, the flowing feeling the alcohol gave you before now gone. You felt like you were going to be sick. “I bet if it wasn't me you tried to hit on, you'd bring the poor woman to your hotel room tonight.”

“Careful, or you might sound jealous.”

“Oh, you wish, Alonso,” you laughed humorlessly.

The bartender chose that moment to bring you the requested cocktail you already forgot about. You gave him the cash, though you had no intention of actually drinking it. As always, Alonso left a sour taste in your mouth.

“I see you're drinking the team problems away,” he pressed harder, knowing damn well it was a sensitive topic. You gritted your teeth, reminding yourself to be the better person.

Then you looked into his dark eyes, and your self-control was gone. For some reason, you couldn't stand the look he was giving you. It was full of something that was too similar to disappointment. You hated people being disappointed in you, even if you hated that very person.

Out of nowhere, the alcohol kicked in, and you remembered why you didn't drink in clubs too often — it made you emotional. So stupidly sensitive that you couldn't stop your eyes from tearing up. You shook your head, opened your mouth, wanting to tell him something. Anything that'd make him just as much hurt as you were.

Instead, you bit your trembling lip and abruptly stood up. You almost knocked over the bar stool, though at the moment, you didn't really care.

Was it cowardly to run away from him and his harsh words? Yes, you knew that. But you did it in the elevator, and so you could do it again.

In a rush, you got through other people enjoying their night out, oblivious to the lump forming in your throat. You needed to get out, breathe in the fresh air and just forget about everything.

It was probably nearing midnight, and even though it was late July, you still shivered when you stepped outside the club. Just then you remembered you left your jacket back in the paddock. And you also realized the mechanic and his group of friends drove you here, and you had no idea where you were or how to get to your hotel room.

“Great. Just fucking perfect,” you mumbled to yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks. You wiped them away, willing yourself to calm down. Budapest couldn't be too different from other European cities, so you'd just walk to the nearest public transport station and then see what you could do from there. Yes, that was exactly what you're going to do, and it's going to be okay.

Having a plan calmed you down, at least a little. You walked in a direction you hoped would get you to the center and took your phone out. The battery was low, and you cursed yourself for not charging it during the day.

“Where are you going?” You winced and nearly dropped the phone when you heard the loud voice calling after you.

When you turned around, you already knew exactly who was standing before the club entrance.

“That's not any of your business,” you tried to sound tough, but it came out tired and weak. So instead, you lifted your head, trying to save the remaining bits of your dignity.

Alonso tilted his head, brown eyes studying you for a moment before he made a step towards you. “Don't tell me you don't have anyone to take you back to your hotel?” The undertone of his voice was strange, and if you didn't know better, you'd think it was worry seeping out.

“Oh, then I won't tell you,” you fired back, satisfied with your own answer as you turned around and left him standing there.

You made it around the block when a strong hand suddenly grasped your hand, and you screamed, prepared to fight whoever attacked you.

“¡Ay dios mío!” Alonso cursed and held his red cheek, where there was a clear hand print now.

You stared at each other in shock. You wanted to kill him for scaring you to death, but at the same time, you were relieved it was just him and not a creepy kidnapper.

“I'd say I'm sorry… but I'm not,” you managed to mumble. A weak attempt, you knew that. But it still seemed to wake him from his trance and make him scoff at you in annoyance.

However, he didn't let go of your hand.

“Let's go,” Alonso urged you back towards the direction you came from.

“I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“Y/N, if you think I would let a drunk girl wander around a city she doesn't know, alone, at night… then you clearly don't know me at all.”

It took a few seconds for his words to hit you, and all there was left for you to do was to look up at him with surprise written all over your face. That seemed to annoy him for some reason, but with alcohol still very much present in your system, you didn't have the capacity to think about it too much.

“Let's go,” he repeated, though this time you didn't protest when he started walking towards what turned out to be his car. You knew it very well, from the years you used to work together, for the same team. Silently, you wondered how the hell did he get it to Hungary, but you soon forgot about that.

Fernando unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. Your mom would probably tell you to be more cautious about getting into the car of a man you didn't like and were sure he didn't like you as well. But hey, it's still better than being lost in a foreign city, right?

So you sat down, and before you could reach for the seatbelt, he took it and strapped you himself, mumbling something about safety hazards with drunk people. You were so surprised by that unexpected action you didn't even have time to feel offended.

You closed your eyes, the comfortable seat making you sleepy. You heard him get in the car as well and join the night traffic. For a moment, silence reigned and for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel horrible and tense.

“Isn't it illegal to drive with alcohol?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“I didn't drink anything in the club. Too busy with you.”

Just then, you realized you actually asked the question out loud.

“Sorry for ruining your celebration night. Probably didn't want to leave it with me,” you laughed quietly. When he approached you in the club, he thought you were a random pretty woman with whom he could share a drink and take her to his bed for a fun night.

“Whatever.” You could hear him shrug his shoulders. “Sorry for ruining your night. Though you don't have much to celebrate.”

That made you open your eyes and gaze at him. He was looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road ahead. The lights of the other cars occasionally landed on his face, and you wondered if he was always so handsome, or it were the cocktails speaking for you.

“Wow, even in an apology there's a hidden insult,” you snickered, though there was a small grin on your lips now. Yes, definitely the alcohol speaking for you, you told yourself.

This time, Fernando actually looked at you before he averted his sight back to the traffic. “I wasn't insulting you, Y/N. I was insulting the team.”

You raised your eyebrows, but didn't comment on it. It was pointless to argue over this, he had his opinion about Alpine and given the fact both your cars didn't finish two races in a row, you didn't have exactly the best arguments to convince him otherwise. After all, he was part of the team last year. And the year before.

For the rest of your ride, there wasn't much more said between the both of you. You were tired — not just because of the night out and drinking, but from the whole week, from the whole season.

Finally, he parked the car before a building you recognized. You didn't ask him how he knew which hotel your team booked, perhaps he remembered it was the same one as the year before. Honestly, you were just glad he helped you get out of the car and walked you inside.

Then, you found yourself in an elevator alone with Fernando, again. Though unlike a month ago, he gently held your hand for support this time.

You told him your room number and somehow, he got you all the way in front of the door. You thanked all the saints in the world when you dug the keys out of your purse. After three unsuccessful tries at unlocking the room, Fernando's patience apparently ran out. He took the keys out of your hand and silently opened the lock.

“Thanks,” you muttered, and let him lead you inside your own hotel room.

When the light switch turned on and illuminated all the papers lying around, he looked at you, flabbergasted.

“What's all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look at him like he was stupid. Which he was, at least in your humble opinion. “Work. What else?”

“Yes, yes. But why is it… here?” He motions towards the desk, nightstands, and bed.

“Because I don't have time to do it all in the office.”

“You work overtime?”

Now you were starting to get irritated.

“Yes, I work overtime. Maybe if you weren't so insistent in thinking I'm a dumb party girl ever since I made one stupid mistake in your car's analysis a year ago, you'd see I'm actually trying my best.” You hated how hurt you sounded, pathetic in your own ears.

But honestly, who was he to judge you? You never actually stood up to him before, defended yourself against his mean words. You always sucked it up, let him complain about you to your boss, who almost fired you because of the driver's obvious distaste for you. And when he left the team at the end of last year, you never tried to contact him, talk to him. Fix your non-existent relationship.

Today, though, you had enough. Maybe it was the alcohol giving you courage, maybe it was his shocked face when he realized you actually did your job.

“Y/N, I-”

“Get out,” you said in a tone that didn't allow for any objections. Fernando seemed to understand, but the pained expression didn't leave his face when he slowly walked to the door. Like he didn't really want to leave, like he desperately wanted to tell you something.

You didn't care about him. He never cared about you before as well, did he?

And so, with one last, regretful look in his dark eyes, Fernando Alonso left your hotel room. When tears ran down your cheeks, you weren't sure why you were even crying.

-----

You were avoiding him after that. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, but you managed and after surviving the Belgian Grand Prix in Spa, you were excited about the summer break as never before. Almost a whole month without races, which meant you wouldn't have to meet anyone from the other teams, including Fernando.

Usually, the team worked tirelessly through the summer break — it was a great chance to have a proper look into the car's engine and come up with new ideas and improvements. God knew you needed that. Typically, you were amongst those loyal employees, basically living in the Alpine headquarters.

However, this year you really wanted a break. So you used your vacation days and stayed in your flat, finally sleeping like a normal person for once, eating home-cooked meals instead of team catering and enjoying the summer, though the weather could be better in England.

It was the start of August when you started finding flower deliveries on the threshold of your door. First, you thought it's a mistake, though what woman would refuse a beautiful bouquet of her favorite flowers. When it happened a whole week in a row, you thought about having a secret admirer or, in the worse case scenario, a stalker. Though, you still took the flowers inside every morning, cherishing them.

And then, one day, there was an envelope attached to the bouquet, and you had to curse yourself for being so, so stupid. Of course it's him, Fernando. Begging you to talk to him, to let him explain. One dinner, he said. One dinner, and then he'll let you go on about your life.

When he tried to write a poem in the middle of August, you finally gave in. You found his old phone number saved amongst many other contacts and sent him a simple “okay”.

The next morning, there was a time and address of the restaurant in the envelope.

You didn't let yourself get too excited about any of it. It's Fernando Alonso, the man who almost caused you to get fired from your dream job, the one that was so mean to you after making wrong assumptions about you and your way of life. Yes, he was trying now, but was that enough?

When the taxi dropped you off in front of the fancy restaurant, you took a deep breath. You had a simple dress on, light makeup, and a few accessories.

You walked into the empty restaurant. The waitress smiled at you when you told her the name of the reservation and led you to the only set table. You could see the deep brown eyes looking directly at you from afar.

Suddenly, nervousness settled in your stomach. If you didn't know better, you'd think this was a date — it certainly felt like one.

Without a word, he helped you sit down on a chair across from him and the waitress handed you the menu. It was without prices, but you were certain this place was lavish and expensive. Perhaps Fernando didn't want you to worry about it and let you order anything you wanted. And you tried not to be too impressed by that.

“You look very beautiful, hermosa,” he spoke after a minute of tense silence while you pretended to be interested in the menu. You didn't miss the fact he used the same nickname like that night in the club, when he thought you were someone else.

“Compliments won't make it easier for you.” Maybe you lied, because you liked him calling you beautiful.

“I know, but I couldn't help myself.”

The waitress came back with a bottle of wine that Fernando must've ordered before you arrived. You took a sip and it tasted like heaven. It almost made you forget about everything, almost.

“Please, can we talk?” You never heard his voice sound so… unsure.

“Aren't we talking right now?”

“Y/N.” The way he said your name was so soft, so delicate.

“Fernando.” You saw him flinch, and you realized it was probably the first time you called him by his first name. Suddenly, the whole situation felt more intimate.

He gulped, but there was determination written all over his face. Fernando Alonso wasn't the type of man to give up, you knew that. His amazing racing career was proof of that.

“Listen to me, please. I know that you have the right to never speak to me again after how I treated you. But I want to fix it, Y/N.”

Those brown eyes were going to be the death of you, burying themselves into your soul, your heart.

“I want to fix all of it, Y/N,” he repeated with all seriousness. “If you let me,” Fernando added.

And how could you say no to him? Deep down, you always admired him. Liked him, even. Before that fuck up with his car's analysis, you thought he might like you back. You always wanted his approval, and that was one of the reasons why his words and insults hurt so much.

Sometimes, people deserved second chances. Especially when they were looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

Slowly, you nodded. “I think I might let you, Fernando.” You smiled, liking how his name felt on your tongue. “But it's not going to be easy, I'm telling you that,” you warned him with a raised finger.

“I wouldn't dream of anything less,” he replied with a thick Spanish accent that was stronger when he felt emotions. Fernando returned your smile and clinked his glass with yours.

-----

Brazil was a good race. Both Alpine cars ended up in points and Fernando, your Fernando, got another podium. You clapped along with others during the podium ceremony, eyes just for him. A proud feeling settled in you, and as he accepted his trophy for well deserved third place, he looked down at the gathered crowd. Mostly people from Aston Martin, McLaren, and Red Bull.

And then there was you — in your Alpine t-shirt, clapping for the driver who scandalously left your team last year, without a care in the world. That was when he knew he loved you, and that he'll always will.

You knew you loved him too when, after all the celebrating around the circuit died down or moved to clubs and private parties, instead of going to his hotel room, he knocked on the door of yours. Checking on you.

“Hermosa, I hope you're not working.” He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, seeing you indeed staring into your notebook at some data he probably shouldn't see as a part of a rival team.

“But Nando, I need to finish these-”

He cut you off the best way he could — hugging you from behind, gently turning your head towards him and placing his lips on yours. You instantly melted into the kiss, giving up the fight before it could even start.

“I think you need to properly celebrate your boyfriend winning,” he smirked, biting your lip teasingly. You felt like a teenage girl when the butterflies took off in your stomach.

Fernando slowly walked you to the bed, never parting your lips, as if his life depended on kissing you. You sat on his lap, your hips grinding against his as you moaned into his mouth.

And he couldn't help himself. He wanted to take you out on a magical date and tell you there, but how could he keep it a secret when you were sitting on him, so beautiful that his heart clenched. Smart and pretty girl. His smart and pretty girl.

“Te amo,” he whispered into your sweet lips, and your breath caught.

You pulled back a little, looking at him, silently asking if you heard him correctly.

“Te amo, Y/N,” he repeated. You knew enough Spanish for your eyes to tear up. “I love you very much.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, probably the longest one in your whole life.

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered back. And then, for him: “Te amo, Fernando.”

Now it was his turn to tear up, hold your face in his hands and press your foreheads together.

Perhaps the fate and its plans for you weren't so horrible after all.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, if you read it all to the end, thank you very much! I'll be glad for likes, comments, reblogs, follows and every other way of support. Let me know how you liked this story and if you'd maybe like another oneshot from this "universe" because I have to admit, this version of Fernando and Y/N kind of grew on me... Have a great day and see you at the next post! :)

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remusluvr · 9 months

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do i wanna know? | sirius black

summary: Sirius learns the consequences of treating people he loves bad. content: negative thoughts, fighting, angst, unedited note: this is a part two to my previous fic words i used (sirius black)

Sirius cannot believe how badly he messed up.

It makes his heart ache when he sees you talking to anyone knowing that you won't talk to him. You won't even glance at him in the hallway. The dark circles under his eyes worsen with each day. You notice them, of course, you do because no matter how hard you try to forget the boy, you can't.

Not talking to him is driving you crazy. Seeing him around is driving you crazy. You hate to admit it but you miss Sirius. And Sirius misses you.

He misses you so much that his body hurts. He's weighed down in bed each morning, unable to decide whether or not to even try and get up. That's when James realizes he needs to step in. He can't let his best friend hurt like this.

"Pads?" he calls quietly, peeling back the curtains to Sirius's bed. Sirius groans, turning away from the incoming sunlight. James mumbles an apology, although he doesn't really mean it, before continuing, "Time to get up. You missed class yesterday, you got to go today or they won't let you play in the quidditch game on Friday."

"I don't care about quidditch." James knows he's not getting anywhere. He won't budge without initiative. If quidditch can't be that initiative for him, he has to find what will work.

"Can you please just go and talk to him? Please!" James begs, practically on his hands and knees in front of the table you're trying to eat breakfast at. "You know you still like him. Feelings don't go away that easily. He's so mopey without you."

"He did that to himself, James."

"I know he did but he really likes you. He messed up big time. He knows that. All he wants is to talk to you."

"He had plenty of time to talk to me."

James looks defeated when you stand up, walking past him quickly. And whilst he thinks he's lost, you're stuck thinking about the conversation. You hate yourself for considering talking with Sirius. But you miss him so much, it would be nice to just talk to him for a little bit. You don't have to forgive him.

That's not a good idea. You know that you will forgive him if he starts trying to explain himself again. You won't let yourself be hurt like that again.

Although, your inner debate lasts for days and you find yourself in a similar position to Sirius's - rotting away in your bed, refusing to talk to anyone. You're grateful that it is midday on a Wednesday because there is no one around when you finally get yourself out of bed and out for a walk.

Your feet take you to an old spot that you and Sirius frequented. There's a big oak tree that overlooks the black lake. You and him would often bring a picnic out here or you'd come out here and cuddle away from prying eyes. You hate it here now.

And you hate it even more when you get closer, crunching a leaf under your foot, and scaring the boy sitting against the trunk. Sirius jolts up, rubbing at his eyes as he adjusts to the light.

"Did you sleep out here?"

"N-not for very long, only got here a little bit ago."

You nod idly, beginning to turn on your heel to leave when he reaches out for you. His hand grabs yours and the look on his face nearly has your resolve breaking.

"Can we talk, please? Just give me five minutes," he pleads, not letting go of your hand until he sees you nod your head. You pull your hand from his and go sit down on his blanket. He joins you. It feels just like old times if you don't think about all the hurt and cruel words spoken to each other.

"I miss you so much," he starts, noticing the way your arms are crossed over your chest and you're sitting as far as you can from him, "And I am so sorry that I treated you the way that I did. I should have grown a pair and asked you out properly but I didn't. I fucked up so bad. I hate that you're not talking to me. And I hate that I deserve it. You obviously don't have to forgive me but I just needed to talk to you."

His hands are shaky as they rest in his lap. You're not saying anything and he wants to cry. You hate him and you'll never forgive him and he wants to steal a time-turner.

"You made me feel so special, Sirius. All I wanted was for you to ask me out. And when I say that is all I wanted I mean that that is all I wanted. You made me think that I would get that one day. Seeing you with other girls made me think that I was just a joke to you. I feel so stupid. And I feel any stupider that I miss you."

"If you give me a chance, I'll prove to you how much I love you. I know you have no reason to believe me but I want to show you."

"Y-you love me?" Your voice is shaky and you curse yourself. His face drops and if you weren't so shocked, you would've laughed. He doesn't try to backtrack instead just sitting there, eyes trained on the blanket pattern.

You were screwed from the beginning of this conversation. You knew you shouldn't have stayed and listened.

"If you hurt me, Sirius, you won't survive it," you threaten, pushing yourself into his lap. He can't believe it and tears sting at the corners of his eyes. He knows it's embarrassing but it feels so good to have you touching him again. "I love you, too."

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planetkiimchi · 2 months

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the language of flowers | l.jn

featuring: film director!jeno x artist!reader (no gendered terms), jaemin, chenle and jisung cameos

summary — jeno doesn't speak of his affection in words. instead, he teaches you that the letter "L", in his love language of flowers, is for lavender lozenges, lily of the valleys, lockets and love.

author's note: damn the stars rlly aligned for me to post this one... originally was just gonna let it rot in my drafts but here i am posting it for @strxbrymochi 's bday. happy belated bday ki !! muah ily

You should have been prepared for Jeno to be constantly busy when you started dating him four months ago. But it still comes as a shock to you when Jeno sits you down on a Saturday afternoon, a plate of violet cookies placed in front of you.

"I'm sorry," he begins. The moment the words escape his lips, you know what this is all about. Even so, you keep quiet, allowing him to continue with the apology he's prepared.

"I've been signed on to do a short film, and they want us to do the shooting overseas."

Although you knew it was coming, it still comes as a punch to your gut. Being away from Jeno is hard for you, and you don’t want to let him go.

"Where to?" you ask, the words coming out before you can stop them. It's too late now to tell him to stay, and you curse your brain for being two steps behind your stupid, ever-running mouth.

"London. It's a Victorian era film, they said, about flowers."

You permit yourself a small smile. "You love flowers."

Jeno looks down, nodding once. "Yep."

You reach over, tilting his chin up. "Look at me."

He does, eyes quivering anxiously while he waits for you to speak. You’re always the one talking—rambling—and now that you’re silent, it must scare him. You touch your forehead to his, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Don't be sorry. Go, and enjoy yourself. Pour your soul into it. I'll wait for you to come back, okay? Don't forget me when you're busy working with everyone else."

Jeno lifts up his hand, and you press your palm against his, fingers interlocking with his. "Won't forget you," Jeno mumbles. "I couldn't ever forget you."

You grin, kissing his nose. "I know you wouldn't, silly boy."

—

As Jeno wheels his luggage over the smooth airport floor, he turns to look over at you, shuffling your feet and staring at the ground. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "Blue salvia."

Think of me. It's one of the first flowers that Jeno gave you before you started dating, a secret confession you only learnt about when he finally told you what it meant. Now, it serves as encouragement for you, something to accompany you when Jeno can't.

You smile at him, eyes wide and pensive. "Have a safe flight."

Jeno wraps you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. He doesn't know when he'll get to see you again, and he's not sure if he can survive these months without you. But for both of your sakes, he'll try.

"See you later, alligator."

"In a while, crocodile," you reply, the familiar words a promise between the two of you to weather this storm together.

—

Jeno sits in his seat, flipping his phone in his hand as he waits impatiently for the plane to take off. He tries his best not to look at the time, trying not to count down the seconds in his mind, trying not to keep track of how long it's been since he last saw your face.

An announcement starts to play, asking all passengers on the flight to turn their attention to the flight attendants as they begin the safety briefing. Jeno looks at the flight attendant, but doesn't process the words he's hearing, his mind too focused on the thought of you.

He slips his hand into his pocket, his fingers finding purchase. The plastic crinkles in his palm as he draws the object out, realising that it's a sweet. You told him once that you always have to bring sweets when you’re flying, to suck on in order to prevent your ears from getting blocked.

Jeno has packed the mints you asked him to, but they're in his bag. He swiped the lavender lozenges from your stash that morning, a keepsake to remember you by on the trip. As the pilot announces that the plane is taking off, Jeno pops the sweet into his mouth, the taste of sugar and lavender dissolving on his tongue.

He misses you.

—

Jeno is rudely awakened from his sleep by Jaemin shaking his shoulder. "Good morning," the elder says in a singsong voice, and Jeno's eyes spring open. He casts Jaemin a dirty look, but the latter just grins back at him.

Jeno sighs irritably, getting to his feet and hauling himself out of the bed. His heart's not in it—not in this trip, and maybe not even in the film—and Jaemin knows it.

However, it's not like either of them has a choice. Jaemin liked the script for this film, and Jeno did too. He had plenty of ideas for the film. Despite it being a small project, Jeno believes it can turn out much better than people are expecting it to.

The only issue is that it's not in Korea. It's far away from you, and Jeno needs you in more ways than one. You are his source of comfort and his pillar of strength, but most importantly, you are his muse. Without you, he finds himself unable to function, not knowing which step to take next. Because all he wants to do is find the path that leads back to you, even if it's the worst or stupidest decision he could possibly make.

Longing gnaws at him every day, carving a giant you-sized hole in his chest. He snatches his copy of the script off the table, and Jaemin takes a sweeping glance over the room.

"You've surprisingly tidy for someone who looks like he has zero motivation to keep things organised."

"That's because all of my shit is in my suitcase, so I'm prepared to go back at the shortest notice."

Jaemin rolls his eyes at Jeno's retort, clapping his hands together. "Alright, smartass. Get moving so you won't be the last one to arrive again."

Jeno tugs on his shoes, slipping his hands into his coat and taking an umbrella before getting out of the door.

—

Your takeout arrives earlier than expected, and you suddenly recall that you haven’t checked your mailbox in almost a week. Usually, Jeno's the one who does it, collecting mail while waiting for the elevator to arrive. When Jeno had just left, you had made a conscious effort to check the mailbox every day, but now that it's been almost a month, you’re starting to forget again.

You pick up the takeout box and place the food on the table before exiting again and heading downstairs to check the mailbox.

As per usual, the mailbox is full of bills, although usually the number of letters is much fewer. You mindlessly flip through the envelopes, not paying much attention, until one of the letters catches your eye.

It's sealed with wax, which strikes you as odd—who even uses wax to seal envelopes in this day and age?—and you place it on top of the other letters to examine later.

Upstairs, you neatly place the letters on the dining table for you to settle later on. Then, you turn your attention back to the sleek, cream-coloured envelope, intrigued.

You take a closer look at the wax seal, realising that it's a stamp of a flower bouquet. Could it be from Jeno? you wonder.

It doesn't seem very likely, however. Jeno has never been one for dramatic flair, and the simple yet elegant letter practically screams dramatic. There's only one person you knows that's this dramatic, and it's…

"Donghyuck," you breathe out. One of Jeno's college friends, Donghyuck is the definition of dramatic. He loves to exaggerate and make a big fuss out of everything, and it's entertaining to say the least. Donghyuck is also chattier than most, similar to yourself, and the two of you had hit it off when you first met at one of Jeno's college roommate's place.

Donghyuck is essentially your key to Jeno's past. Jeno has been a solitary creature for all the time you’ve known him, and he doesn't talk much about his life before he met you. Besides Jaemin and Donghyuck, Jeno doesn't initiate much interaction with his old friends either. His friends respect that, so you don’t know much about what Jeno was like in the past.

However, Donghyuck is different. He loves to bring up embarrassing memories, inside jokes, and tell people old stories about his friends. You have always loved to listen to Donghyuck talk about Jeno in college, or even his first impression of Jeno when he saw him around in high school.

If it weren't for Donghyuck, you might not even have known about Jeno's friends' whereabouts now, nor have gotten to know about them.

Remembering the letter in your hand, you hurriedly get a hairdryer to heat up the seal, gingerly removing it and opening up the letter.

Dear Jeno and Y/n, you are cordially invited to Lee Donghyuck and Ha Yeon-seok's wedding...

Wait, what? You read the first line again, your heart stopping when you see the word “wedding”. Wedding? It takes you a few seconds to remember that you’re 24 now, which is almost a reasonable age to get married at. Since neither you nor Jeno had dated anyone for a while before you got together, sometimes you forget that other people have been dating for years now.

You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, and continue reading.

The wedding is to be held in London, and it briefly crosses your mind that Yean-seok is half British. Once you’ve processed that information, you do a double take and check the date. It's in six months from now, and you have to get presentable clothes that fit the colour scheme within that time period.

While you’re wondering now to get the clothes in time, your phone dings.

jeno: hey, y/n you: hello jeno: i have... news.

Jeno calls to inform you that, regrettably, there has been a complication with some of the scenes. For one scene in particular, they had arranged for a horse carriage to be used during the filming. However, due to a miscommunication, the horse has been sold to someone else instead.

The screenwriter insists on having the horse be a specific breed for stylistic reasons, but the budget for the project makes it infeasible for the team to find a suitable horse in a short span of time.

Jaemin wants to postpone the project so he can discuss the details with the screenwriter, and clarify everything to ensure there will be no more hiccups in the production. The rest of the team will either fly back to Korea, or stay in London, whichever is more convenient for them. Since editing can be done remotely, there is little incentive for them to all have to renew their visas.

However, Jaemin has asked Jeno to stay in London so all of the important members of the team can be physically present, to ensure everybody is on the same page.

When you ask Jeno when he will return, he shrugs and says, "In two months, or half a year—I have no clue."

Although you’re upset and annoyed with his lack of a reaction, you understand that Jeno is upset too. He's suppressing his emotions, which is a bad habit of his. But you aren’t going to lash out and make him feel more demoralised, so you just mutter a quick "love you" and hang up.

After hanging up, you belatedly realise you haven’t told him about the wedding invitation yet. Still reeling from his indifferent attitude, you decide to tell him after both of you have cooled down.

—

Days turn into weeks, that turn into months, and somehow you haven’t been able to address the issue of Donghyuck's wedding. You have been through your closet countless times, and after rummaging and filtering through both of your clothes, you’ve prepared a suitable ensemble for both of them.

You’ve sent an RSVP to Donghyuck to let him know that you and Jeno would be attending, and an excited Donghyuck had sent you a video of Yeon-seok and himself clapping happily.

You have also booked a flight for a week before the date of the wedding, to give yourself time to adjust to the time difference, and you plan to stay after the wedding to spend time with your and Jeno's friends as well.

Despite having settled almost everything, you’ve left one very important detail out—you haven’t discussed it with Jeno yet.

Jeno knows that there's a wedding, of course. Donghyuck had announced it in the group chat when he and Yeon-seok first got engaged, and Yeon-seok had sent an update once the details of the wedding were confirmed.

When Jeno told you about the wedding, you told him about the invitation, and you both laughed over how excessive it was.

But if you said any more about the wedding, you’d have to bring up the elephant in the room and ask if Jeno would still be working on "Chamomile Tea" during the time period, if he'd be busy, or if he'd return to Korea before that. And that, even after all the time that had passed, remained a sore spot for both of you.

So even as the date loomed closer, your conversations with Jeno never went too far in the direction of the wedding. Instead, you tiptoed around the upcoming event like shattered glass was sprinkled over it, and you didn't know what the consequences of stepping on it would be.

Arriving in London is a dream. It always has been, since you learnt that their universities look like castles and their winter consists of dreary, rainy mornings that are perfect for staying in and cuddling while cheesy rom-coms play on the TV. But it's never been your dream to land in London alone, with no one to pick you up from the airport, standing starstruck in the middle of the polished floors while people hurry by.

Some lady you don't recognise waves at you. When you frown, squinting to see if it's a familiar face, the lady walks up to you and grins, "Hi! I'm Soyeon."

You cock your head in contusion.

"I'm the screenwriter for 'Chamomile Tea', the short film Jaemin's overseeing. He wasn't able to come because he's busy trying to keep Jeno out of trouble, he said."

You let out a short laugh. That does, in fact, sound like Jaemin's job most of the time. Soyeon hands you a ticket, folding your fingers around it before you can protest.

"Jeno wanted all three of us to go to an art museum to get inspiration, but I've already finished my part for this project. All that's left for me is to give input, not come up with more ideas. Jaemin suggested that I give my ticket to you, so here it is." Taking a closer look at the ticket, you realise that it's an exhibition meant to celebrate the changing of season from summer to autumn.

"Leaves turning brown," you read aloud. "Petals fall and colours fade, yet many are enraptured by the cooling season that is autumn. Artist Hwang Yeji explores textures, colours and more in this vibrant display."

Soyeon smiles encouragingly at you. "I've known Jeno only for a few months, and he's always been extremely cold towards everyone, but his face lights up whenever he receives a text from you. And when you order takeout for him? That's the only time I see him enjoy his meals."

Your lips tremble as Soyeon continues, "Jeno's mind is a complex place. I'd hate for all that creative potential to be wasted just because he's busy moping. That's why I offered to pick you up instead of Jaemin—I was interested to know who could be the only one to make Jeno truly smile."

You close the distance between yourself and Soyeon, wrapping your arms around the latter. Even if you have only just met her, Soyeon seems so sweet and genuine. Her honest words caught you off guard, but you are touched that she dared to say them.

Soyeon pats your hair comfortingly. "Let me know if you need any more help."

You discreetly blink back tears, ignoring the stinging sensation in your nose, and force a smile. "Thanks, Soyeon."

"You're very welcome."

—

You climb out of the taxi with a sunflower in hand and your suitcase in the other. The exhibition is held in a building with windows as wide as you are tall, the stained glass illuminated by the sunlight.

The lady at the entrance scans your ticket and waves you through with a smile, and you return it before heading on inside.

Panels upon panels of stained glass line the corridors, angled in a way that pictures of light are projected on the ground, weaving between the paintings, casting an angelic glow on each artwork.

Jaemin catches your eye before you can get stuck at any of the paintings, and shushes you with a finger on his lips as you speed up.

"Hi, jagiya," he says lowly, wrapping you in a quick hug. "Jeno's busy and I didn't tell him you were coming, so the rest is up to you. I'll leave the two of you alone, okay? Call me if you need me."

You nod, squeezing his shoulder gratefully.

—

You tuck your sunflower behind your back and wheel your suitcase to the side, silently approaching Jeno. He's completely absorbed in studying the details of the painting, so you gently rest your chin on his shoulder.

"Hey, baby." Jeno turns, coming face-to-face with you. Your noses touch, and from the corners of your eyes, you see Jeno's cheeks flush red-hot. You raise your hand to cool his cheek, but he grabs your wrist first, eyes locked on your face. His pupils dart from side to side, scouring your face as if he's afraid you’re just a figment of his imagination.

You stay in that position, Jeno’s fingers curled around your wrist, until he's convinced that you’re real, at which point his face floods with exhaustion and relief.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the space between your chin and collarbone. His hands come to rest naturally around your waist, and his hand brushes against the sunflower.

He moves back suddenly, surprised, and you awkwardly manoeuvre your arms around him. This allows you to present the sunflower you bought at a nearby florist to your boyfriend, and you’re delighted by the grin spreading across his lips.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks.

"No, but you've given me red camellias, and I think that’s basically the same thìng."

Jeno chuckles. "Basically.”

Jeno reaches for your suitcase, holding tightly onto the sunflower you’ve just given him. He turns to you, raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Well? I'll take you back to her hotel."

You frown, pulling back in surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Aren't you tired?"

You wave his concern off flippantly. "I'll be just fine. I'll crash later, and the jetlag will hit me like a truck, but I've already allocated a week for getting used to it."

Jeno snorts. "As expected."

You wave your ticket. "Hey, Soyeon's already passed up her chance to see this exhibition so I could go, okay? I'm not planning to waste it."

Jeno nods hastily in an attempt to placate you. "Okay! Let's go then."

He trails behind you obediently until you see a piece that catches your fancy, stopping to take a look. The painting depicts several lilies of the valley in a vase. Behind the vase, there are two mountains painted in grey, but the small patch of grass that the lilies sit on is several vibrant shades of green.

You stay in front of that painting for a while, impressed by the details and texture on the canvas. A shutter sound catches your attention, and you blink a few times before turning to see Jeno holding up his camera and smiling sheepishly.

He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. You looked too good standing there, I just had to get a shot of you."

"It's okay." You look back at the canvas, eyebrows knitting together.

"Don't you think the art style looks familiar?"

"I don't know much about paintings, so I can't say... " Jeno's reply dies on his lips, and he, too, stares at the painting with interest. "You're right, it does look familiar."

The two of you hum in concentration, Jeno resting his chin on top of your head while you wrack your brain for an answer. You tilt your head this way and that, and then it hits you.

"Park Jisung," you say at the same time Jeno does. "How did you–"

Jeno points at a small square of text. "It says right here. Park Jisung, 24, oil on canvas." You mentally slap your forehead. How could you forget that museums put up a description of each artwork and its artist? You must be too tired from the flight.

"That's right, " you say. "That's why it looks so familiar. Contrasting colours was one of the most defining aspects of his style."

You met Jisung at a kids' art camp when you were in university, and the two of you had learnt a lot from each other while teaching the kids. You were surprised to find out that he was two years your senior in a different university, despite being the same age as you.

You lost contact with him after that, and were very, very shocked to see him at Jeno's college reunion. Although you don't speak much to Jisung now, the things you learnt from him at that one camp will stick with you forever.

"That kid's insane," Jeno muses. "He skipped a year in elementary, lived with hyungs he barely knew in university, and did side jobs because he hadn't gotten a scholarship to pay for his tuition fees, unlike Yeon-seok."

You shrug. "Maybe not 'insane'. Just determined."

Jeno nods. "And he's not much of a kid anymore, is he?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Not anymore."

—

As you wander around with Jeno, stopping at paintings to admire them, a sense of melancholy threatens to overwhelm you, slipping between your eyelids like a mass of black water, a receding wave preparing to crash upon the shore of your eyelashes.

You blink back thoughts of insecurity, trying to focus on the artworks and not your feelings, but it’s no use. You can’t escape from the thoughts running wild in your head, and it gets the better of you, a lone tear managing to get past your barriers, trailing slowly down your cheek.

You subtly wipe it away, but Jeno notices immediately, and he stops short.

He turns towards you, concern emanating off his being, and it offers you some comfort. He holds you carefully, like he’s not sure if you’ll break apart in his hands. His body shields you from anything else in the museum, encasing you in a bubble of protection and silence.

You breathe in deeply; once, then twice. You feel the heat behind your eyes slowly fading to a simple stinging sensation, one that doesn’t make you feel completely helpless.

Jeno’s hands tighten around you, and you instinctively lean in towards him. He doesn’t speak, allowing you to unravel the spool of thread wrapped around your lungs, prying apart the anxiety that prevents you from breathing.

When you can think straight again, you look at Jeno, and he knows.

Without words, understanding passes between you, and Jeno knows everything that’s running through your mind.

He nudges you, gently. Are you okay? his eyebrows ask, raising so high they almost disappear into his fringe.

You can lie about a lot of things, like why you came to the museum in the first place or how you feel staring at the art on the walls or whether you’re okay right now, but you don’t. Because you know that regardless of what you say, Jeno will see right through you like you’re a ghost. You’ll never understand if it’s because it’s you, or if everyone’s feelings are transparent to him. You don’t think you care.

It’s enough to just stand there, weightless. You’re completely supported by Jeno, whose embrace is so tight it’s practically lifting you off the ground, and you;re not complaining.

If he could lift your burdens off your mind the same way he’s lifting your feet from the ground right now, he would. And you would want him to.

“I feel like my art’s worth nothing if it can’t be shown to the world.” You speak slowly, uncertainly, knowing you might cry if you let everything out too quickly. Jeno wants to stop you before you get caught up in the flow of you words, but he knows it’s better if you let it all out.

Opening a bottle of carbonated soda that’s just been shaken is dangerous, but if he leaves it alone, the bottle might just explode.

“I know I don’t make art to be seen. I make it for myself. But at the same time, can any artist say that their craft is not made for the eyes of man? We all long for approval and praise, and that is partly what we make art for.”

Your lips tremble, and Jeno finds himself forced to stare at your quivering eyelashes and the sheen of tears you’re barely holding back. Still, you steel yourself, digging your heels into the ground to steady yourself.

“I wonder, sometimes. If my art isn’t seen, is it even art anymore?”

That’s the minefield, the question Jeno can’t answer without speaking baseless comfort. He has no answer to it, only empty words that he knows will fail to put you at ease.

You, however, don’t expect an answer. You look curiously at Jeno, waiting for a response, but the response doesn’t have to be a satisfactory answer.

Jeno leans in, tucking your head between his chin and his collarbone, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

He holds you there until you’ve stopped trembling. Then, one hand still firmly in yours, he takes you back to the hotel, sitting on the edge of your single bed while you sit and stare into nothingness.

When you make no move to get changed, he stands, and brings you to the bathroom. He peels the clothes from your body, helping to scrub your skin until it’s a rosy shade of pink, then wraps you in a towel and moves your arms to dry your body.

After he’s showered, the two of you sit on the bed, Jeno on top of the covers, while you’re tucked underneath them. Jeno has no change of clothes, no money, only his phone and both of your tickets to the museum.

In his street clothes, he refuses to get under the blanket and dirty the bed, but you are content with his presence.

You lie on the bed with your arms wrapped around Jeno’s waist, and when the shock has faded, you cry yourself to sleep.

Jeno is there throughout it, a beaming light in the whirlwind of emotions you’re experiencing, a constant presence that grounds you. He allows you to breathe between sobs, until they slowly fade away and your eyes close, motionless.

The next day, you find a wreath of galaxes on your bedside table, along with a glass of water, and it feels like a great weight has finally been removed from your shoulders.

The day of Donghyuck’s wedding comes earlier than you were expecting. Between taking you out to dinner and going on bike rides around the city, Jeno has kept you busy. Busy enough to forget your troubles, or at least for you to be able to cope with them in a relatively healthy manner.

You hear three knocks on the door, and as you go to open it, you see Jeno standing there, in the emerald green tuxedo you picked for him and the matching tie. His shirt is a pale green, so pale it can be mistaken for white, and gel gives his hair a wet gleam.

He smiles innocently, and it outshines all the charm his outfit has.

You fell in love with all of Jeno, after all, not just his appearance.

Your sage green dress flows past your ankles, and it would drag on the floor if you weren't wearing heels. They’re tall, but even with them on, you are still only the same height as Jeno. He grins at you, and carries you, bridal-style, into the lift lobby.

“Leave some room for the grooms later, stop trying to one-up them,” you joke, but Jeno only hoists you up into a more comfortable position.

“No can do,” Jeno says cheekily.

You don't pursue it.

—

A surprise awaits you in the car. As you open the door to the passenger side, you find that it’s filled—and so is the driver’s seat. Your heart skips a beat, thinking you must’ve gone to the wrong car, but the sight of the driver’s face makes you do a double take.

“Jisung?”

Jisung offers you a shy grin. “Yep, it’s me.”

“Is it really you? I thought… I never thought I’d see you again! How–” your words come out from your mouth before you can think them through, your rapid-fire Korean faltering in your confusion.

“Donghyuck and I are friends, remember?” You don't really, but if Jeno and Jisung are friends from college, it makes sense that Donghyuck would know them both too.

You clap a hand over your mouth, mind reeling. “So… you were invited to the wedding too?”

Jisung nods. Then, he gestures towards the lady in the driver’s seat. “I also have to introduce her to you. Y/n, meet Yeji. Yeji, Y/n.”

Yeji offers her hand for you to shake, and you take it, wondering where you’ve heard the name before. Yeji, Yeji, Yeji… Ah. You’ve got it. “Hwang Yeji?”

She’s the artist who organised the exhibition Soyeon had given you tickets to view. It was there, at the museum, that you saw Jisung’s art. If she really is Hwang Yeji, then everything will make sense.

Yeji nods. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She picks up a small bouquet of pink peonies, orange tulips and heather, presenting it to you. “Jisung showed me a few of your pieces, mostly older ones,” she says by way of explanation. “They had the potential to become something more. I heard from Jeno that you’d seen my exhibition, so I know you probably like flowers, and you know that I like them too. So this bouquet is an invitation for you to work with me some time, for us to perhaps collaborate on another exhibition in future.”

You are taken aback by the sudden offer, but you’re not an idiot. You remember the way you had collapsed into Jeno the week before, scared that you would never be able to get your art out there. Now, your chance is right in front of you.

You take it.

Gratefully receiving the bouquet, you don’t miss the symbolism of the flowers, the goodwill the arrangement holds. You know it is intentional.

“Thank you for your offer. I look forward to working with you.”

Yeji shakes your hand heartily, and you and Jeno get into the backseat.

After settling in, you rest the bouquet on your lap, and you turn to see Jeno holding a white rose. You frown, wondering where he could’ve conjured it from, and lock eyes with Jisung in the driver’s mirror. You raise your eyebrows in question, and he shrugs innocently.

You roll your eyes at the conspirators, but turn your attention back to Jeno. Jeno carefully slips the white rose into the side of the bouquet, managing to prevent it from looking uneven. You play with the petals of the rose, its symbolism clear in your head.

Used to congratulate people on career successes, your mind supplies helpfully. The only career success you can think of right now is also the most recent one, Yeji’s offer to you. But there’s no way Jeno could have known that Yeji would put that offer out. Unless…

“Did you know?” You ask, tone accusing. You doesn’t have to finish the question; Jeno understands what you’re talking about.

“No, I didn’t know if Yeji would offer to work with you for an exhibition. Jisung only told me that he had shown Yeji your art, and I had faith in your abilities. I knew that after witnessing the extent of your talents, Yeji would have something good to offer you, career-wise.”

You can’t argue with that. The logic is sound, and the flowers are cohesively pretty. You continue to play with the petals, a small smile dancing on your lips.

The smile doesn’t escape Jeno’s attention, and he smiles too.

—

It starts to drizzle as soon as you reach the wedding place. Jeno is quick to procure a clear umbrella, holding it for both of you. He knows you wouldn’t want to get your clothes wet.

Jaemin is there too, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers, standing by the side. Donghyuck’s wedding is a loud, chaotic one, with many guests you don't recognise all talking with each other. Jaemin hovers at the vague edge of the crowd, as much of an introvert as Jeno, and you tug Jeno over.

“Hi, jagiya.” Jaemin envelopes you in a warm hug, and he smells like home.

Jeno opens his hands for a hug too, but Jaemin only laughs and swats his hand away. Jeno slings one hand over Jaemin’s shoulder, and you snatch his umbrella away, going off to find Donghyuck.

The two men stand side by side, Jaemin still holding the umbrella, watching you disappear into the hordes of people.

—

The rain gets heavier, and you try to occupy as little space as possible, not letting a single part of your body protrude from under the umbrella. Droplets of rain splash onto your shoes and your face, and you wipes them from your face with the back of your hand.

Jisung stands beside Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, with Chenle, Jaemin’s old roommate, and a couple of other men you can’t remember the names of. Donghyuck and Yeon-seok’s roommates from university, you think, because you remember seeing them at the reunion.

You congratulate the grooms, and move to stand next to Yeji and Jisung. The small circle are the only people that have gotten a chance to speak with Donghyuck and Yeon-seok, and by the looks of it, their conversation isn’t going to end anytime soon.

Yeji makes small talk with you, and you laugh about a few shared experiences, before you notice the crowd starting to disperse, and the officiator announces that the wedding is beginning.

You move back to where Jeno is, and he leaves Jaemin with his umbrella, ducking under your umbrella to join you.

The wedding is simple and sweet, and there are tears all around as the two bridegrooms say their vows.

“...to love and to cherish, until death does us part.” Jeno’s fingers suddenly falter, and the golden locket he’s been fidgeting with throughout the wedding slips through his fingers. He lunges to catch it, and you finally notice what he’s been doing with his hands.

Resting one hand on his left knee to calm him down, you nuzzle into his neck, and nudge his hand open with your index finger.

“What’re you holding?” you ask under your breath.

“Nothing.” You briefly register the officiator allowing Yeon-seok and Donghyuck to kiss, and you look up at them just in time.

“Open your hand,” you command.

Obediently, Jeno uncurls his fingers, and you take the locket from him. You fumble with the clasp, but it springs open, and there’s a picture inside. Squinting, you realise that it’s a picture of you and Jeno, taken when you weren’t paying attention. Your hand is shielding your eyes from the sun, and Jeno’s firm hand is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close.

Your grip on Jeno’s knee tightens.

“How long have you been carrying this around for?” You ask, voice slightly hoarse.

Jeno looks away. “Since we took the picture. It’s been, what, two years?”

You feel your throat seizing up, and you force yourself to take a few deep breaths. Jeno has been carrying the locket around for two years. Almost the same length of time that you’ve been dating for. He’s loved you enough for the whole span of that time to carry a picture of you around wherever he goes.

You can’t breathe. “You’ve been carrying this around for two years?”

Jeno shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, like a soldier going off to war,” he quips. Somehow, you’ve switched to Korean, but you don't quite register it. It just feels right, better, to speak in your native language.

It fits, the same way your body fits into the cracks of Jeno’s body, the way his arms wrap around you and fit into every nook and cranny of yours. Your scars line up against each other’s, and Jeno is the puzzle piece that makes you whole.

“So you love me.” It might seem strange, after all they’ve been through, to doubt it. But it hasn’t been long, and you hate to give yourself away, to love somebody else. Every day, you wonder if you’ve crossed the line from like to love, or if you’ve fallen out of like with each other.

“Yes.” You never knew one word could turn your world upside down. The rain has eased, but it feels like there’s water rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

Then, “Are you okay?”

You hear it from your other side, your left side, and you see Yeji there, concern in her eyes. You turn your attention back to the proceedings, and see Donghyuck taking the wedding bouquet from Yeon-seok, preparing to toss it in the air.

“Yes,” you say, determinedly. Jeno guides your hand to tilt the umbrella backwards, giving both of you a better view of the grooms, and the water continues to flow off the umbrella.

Neither of them makes a move to take it, leaving the more eager guests to rush towards Donghyuck, surrounding him. He turns his back towards them, Yeon-seok moderating the crowd, and tosses the bouquet into the air.

It arcs towards the middle of the crowd, and a lone carnation falls out. Jeno reflexively reaches out for it before it can fall on the soaked grass, and he tucks the yellow carnation behind your ear.

His face is right next to yours, his breathing fast and rapid, and you hear the pulsing of his heart when you place a hand on his chest.

Jeno leans his forehead on yours, the umbrella creating a bubble of silence and tranquility amidst the loud cheers and celebration outside of it. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he smiles, the tear caught on the upside of his upper lip.

You watch as he licks it away, and brush the pad of your thumb against the trail of the tear.

“Are you crying?” you ask softly.

“No,” Jeno says, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “It’s just the rain.”

You wrap your arm around his neck, nose bridge aligned with his, waiting quietly.

“I know you don’t want to get married now,” Jeno says. “But please, take this carnation as a promise that I will never let you have your heart broken.”

You have heard false promises fall from Jeno’s lips before. You’ve faced his broken promises, seen through his lies, accepted his empty praise. This time, however, it’s different. You know it in your heart, can hear the dogged beating of his heart, refusing to hurt you again.

You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll take that promise.”

—

floriography

violet: a declaration to always be true

blue salvia / azure blue sage: harbours sentiments of missing and thinking of someone.

peppermint: warmth of feeling

lavender: purity, devotion, serenity, grace and calmness.

sunflower: adoration and loyalty, long life and lasting happiness.

chrysanthemum: longevity, fidelity, joy and optimism.

red camellia: you’re a flame in my heart.

galaxes: encouragement.

pink peonies: good luck, prosperity and success

orange tulips: joy, enthusiasm and excitement

heather: admiration and support

white roses: symbolises innocence and purity. used to congratulate people on career successes.

carnations: symbolise pride and love for someone in a supportive way. used to tailor bouquets to one’s favourite colour due to their ease of dyeing.

#nct #nct dream #k-labels #🪁 — my works #💐 — the language of flowers #jeno #nct fic #nct dream fic #jeno x reader #jeno x y/n #nct dream x reader

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meowyn · 12 days

Text

This method acting might pay our bills

1.7k words, enver gortash x the dark urge.

no smut! lots of kisses, fluffy kinda idk, durge constantly having inner monologues lol, heavily implied first kiss for durge.

It was often difficult for you to forget who you were, what you were. A wretched blade, stained with the blood of countless men, the strength of your faith so mighty that you could never be dulled no matter how many you slayed in the name of your God.

Only tonight, you were forgetting. Tonight, thoughts plagued your mind like flies around a rotting corpse. Thoughts of whom, you could never admit out loud.

Enver Gortash; the bane of your existence.

The Chosen of Bane being the source of your recent troubles was something you would have never predicted, the absurdity of the situation you now found yourself in was enough to make you want to claw out your eyes. Your hands twitched eargerly at the thought.

You found it hard to pinpoint exactly when this had started, perhaps when you met? Long nights spent creating ploys, yearning, drinking, and coming to understand one another better than anyone else blurred the lines. Before you knew it, you wanted less and less to see what grand artwork he would become in the name Bhaal and moreso the kind of faces he'd make fast asleep and safe in slumber. It didn't help that you found him sickeningly attractive.

Denying your affection for the man proved tedious. You had never bothered to learn how to act, let alone deny yourself of anything you wanted for this long, now painfully aware that you aren't even remotely talented at it. It was about time that you admitted to yourself that you felt more for him than petty admiration. However, to do so, you'd be committing your first sin against Father. Unbeknownst to you, the first sin of many. There would be no coming back after that.

"There you are, I've been looking for you." Spoke the devil himself, interrupting your train of thought as he sat down next to you.

You didn't bother answering him, choosing to continue staring out at the sea, which seemed to be further away now compared to when you were lost in your mind.

"What are you doing? I didn't have you pegged as the brooding type." Upon realizing you were in a fairly calm mood, he sat a little closer to you. If he noticed the way you tensed, he didn't comment on it.

"I'm not.." The words died in your throat, making you frown. When you spoke again, you found your tone had adopted a softness wholly foreign to you, "I'm people watching, as they call it."

He studied your face for a moment, before following your gaze down to the shoreline. He hummed in amusement when he saw what you were looking at, civilians of all kinds simply going about their daily lives. For a moment, he wondered wether you envied them, then remembered who you were. You noticed this seemed to surprise him with the way he looked back at you, the slight upturn of his lips indicated that he was considering teasing you about it, but he never did. It both pleased and frustrated you immensely, knowing how he'd take your feelings into consideration before he acted, despite never thinking you had any yourself. You silently hoped this was some scheme of his, that he was manipulating you like he had so many others, so that you could have a reason to want to kill him.

"..Why?" Your hopes were quickly snuffed out at his curiosity and the gentleness of which he spoke, making your chest tighten.

"All of them are so small, so insignificant, and yet.." You don't continue that thought, your tone betraying your melancholy, "They look happy enough, don't they?"

Your anemoia didn't go unnoticed by him, but the sense of finality to your last sentence indicated you didn't want to talk about it further, so he left it alone. Gods forbid he invoke your wrath here, where he had finally got you all to himself to talk to you as he wished.

You watch out the corner of your eye as he unwraps a small package he had taken from his pocket, revealing an assortment of sliced fruits. When he notices your gaze, he offers you some. Then he chuckles when your nose wrinkles and you shake your head.

"You don't like them? I thought you did, you ate all the fruit at the table during our last meeting."

"They're sour, I don't like those ones."

"Ah." He nods quietly, wrapping them back up and putting them in his pocket, "Apologies, I'll keep that in mind."

If you looked, which you do, you'd notice how his hair looked a little messier than usual and that he appeared to have just come from the baths based on the slight flush of colour on his cheeks. From here, you could feel how warm he was and the subtle scent of soap invaded your senses. You figured it couldn't hurt, so you moved closer so that your shoulders brushed together, all while staring back out to the sea intently.

"Why were you looking for me?" You ask after a short while.

"I wanted to see you." He says, as though it was obvious. Open with his affection while simultaneously keeping his cards close to his chest, which was so typical of him.

"What for? A cuddle?" You respond with sarcasm, grinning at him as though the idea was foolish. A warning, really. You could slit his throat right here and he wouldn't be able to do much about it. You then frowned, closing your eyes temporarily as the urge took delight in that thought.

"Tempting.." He mutters, taking your hand slowly. You take a measured breath and when you open your eyes again, he's smiling at you fondly.

You hum quietly in agreement, curling in on yourself in shame. You'd apologize to Father properly later, but right now you needed to let him know how you felt, even through an action so small. The guilt would surely eat you alive, it was already starting to, settling uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach whilst a repulsive warmth crept up your spine, seeping into the cracks of your blackened heart with unadulterated vengeance. The only thing keeping you from baring your teeth, from tearing skin from bone, from giving in to your vicious indulgence as a pathetic attempt to escape the confusing feelings swarming your brain and suffocating you was something as mundane as him squeezing your hand.

How cruel, you thought, to have to live alongside Enver Gortash and not be allowed to love him freely.

All it took was one last look into his eyes, and that delicate thread that held you both in your respective places snapped. With newfound vigor, he surged forward and kissed you, determined and desperate to take from you whatever you'd allow. After half a minute or so, as if remembering himself, he eased back to take in your expression, preparing himself to face your fury and be annihilated.

However, the sight before him now made his knees weak, yet not with fear. You were a beauty. Glossy lips parted as you caught your breath, eyes wide and dazed, and the most charming tinge of pink across your face. So incredibly precious, he couldn't withhold the satisfied chuckle that escaped him.

"What?" You frowned, trying to decipher what was so amusing to him, though that only served to make him laugh more, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

"Oh, my dear assassin.." His laughter died down, but the mirth in his eyes did not, "You will surely be the cause of my ruin."

"Don't be foolish." You hissed, fingers snaking into the hair at his nape and pulling him to you to kiss him once more, this urge more ravenous than the one that calls you to slaughter. All lips and teeth colliding, you greedily grab at his hair and tug, urging him to give you more of whatever this was.

"Easy.." He murmured, nudging your noses together as his arm curled around you and brought you closer to him, "Not so harsh."

You felt his hand cup your jaw, thumb swiping across your cheek, the action calming you as you loosened your grip on him. All you knew was harsh. You were bred to make the world bleed. This was new, this was frightening, a tenderness so unknown to you that it shattered every perception of mortal relationships you had spent your entire life building.

He kissed you once softly, then twice as though he could sense your unease.

"It's alright, you know," He said as his palm smoothed circles into your back, "That you don't know what you're doing."

You opened your mouth immediately to protest, then scowled upon realizing it would be pointless, he was right. Your method acting thus far had been excellent, flawless even, so much so that it was to the point where when it came to anything else, you were at a loss.

"Do you truly believe I'm capable of more?" You ask, your voice a little less than a whisper.

"I do. Do you?"

He replied, without missing a beat.

You didn't know. Being more than an executioner was never something you had thought about. You didn't even think yourself capable of such thoughts until he came along, with all of his wonderful ideas and genius inventions, sparking new inspiration in your mind. Father would not approve. Gortash brought forth temptation, guilt and a new feeling that bubbled away, warm and dizzying in your veins, making it hard to care about anything else.

You didn't wish to think on it anymore, so you shut your eyes and took the liberty of tucking your head under his chin, both of you sitting there in silence for a while longer. For once, your mind was quiet.

"How did you manage to get up here?" Your question almost breaks the peaceful atmosphere, but you continue on, "I hadn't thought you were all that athletic."

"Not to worry, I'll be sure to change your persuasion in time." You could hear the amusement plain in his tone, he was teasing you. As soon as your head snapped toward him, giving him an incredulous look, he could only start laughing.

#enver gortash #enver gortash fluff #bg3 gortash #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #lord gortash #baldurs gate gortash #gortash x reader #gortash x tav #fluff #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 gortash

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girlboypersonthingy · 1 year

Text

First Meetings~

Voltron x reader drabble about the first time they met each other 💖💖💖 Gender neutral reader ALWAYS !

LANCE 💙

This cheeky boi. He first laid eyes on you back at the Garrison when he saw you and Pidge talking one day at lunch in the cafeteria. Hunk and Lance came strolling in to find Pidge, presumably to bug them and mess with their current technology fixation. Before the two boys have even sat at the table, Lance has his eyebrow cocked, a smirk on his lips and a hand slowly running through his hair.

"Hey...name's Lance." He looks down at you, leaning on the table to get closer to you. You smile at him politely, unsure of his motive with such a flirty tone.

"Hi. I'm (Y/N). Nice to meet you." You offer him your hand to shake and your smile widens. Right then, as his hand fell into yours and you were being so nice to him (and he was lowkey admiring your smiling lips), he felt it. It was kind of like he had to throw up, but also like he wanted to run a marathon. You'd think he'd go for the ol' kiss on the back of the hand cliche, but not with you. He just stares, in awe of how cute you look. You were different...he didn't know why, but he just couldn't keep his cool around you.

"I-I like your name. Heh...uh yeah. Nice to meet you, too." He mumbles, now a shy blushing mess. Your hands parted, but he kept staring at you. You couldn't help the blush that crept up on your face as you quickly looked away from him. "Oh brother..." Pidge mumbles as they roll their eyes, still tinkering with their device. "Dude, you good?" Hunk whispers to him as he watches the awkward staring contest happening between you two.

"Uh I should...get going actually." You stand slowly, smiling at the two boys again before gently nudging Pidge's shoulder. "See ya later, Pidge." Pidge simply nods, not looking up from their current project. And with that, you quickly run off to your room to scream into a pillow because OH MY GOD WHO WAS THAT CUTIE AND WHERE HAS HE BEEN ALL YOUR LIFE??? And Lance...yeah, he just starts screaming right there in the cafeteria...in front of everyone because the boy is S T A R S T R U C K.

SHIRO 🖤

Aww space dad is so sweet and polite. You and Shiro met when you helped Keith rescue him when he landed back on Earth after the failed Kerberos mission. You had befriended Keith just after Shiro had disappeared and while you knew who Shiro was, you had never actually gotten the chance to meet or interact with him before you were dragging his limp body off of that medical table.

As soon as he woke up, Keith was by his side. "Shiro? Hey...how are you feeling?" Keith stood from his seat and quickly approached the bed Shiro was laying on. He sat up slowly with a groggy groan. "I'm alright." He replies softly before rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, Keith. You haven't eaten all day. Come on, why don't we-" You stop in your tracks upon seeing Shiro awake and standing slowly. You had been concerned that Keith was just rotting away in his seat waiting for Shiro to wake up, but all thoughts left your mind when you saw him. He reaches his long, strong arms above his head to stretch and you just watch, taking note of how much taller than you he is. Seeing him up close like this had your heart doing back flips. His eyes look so soft and his hair is a bit disheveled and he's smiling at you. Oh god, he's smiling at you...

"Oh, uhm. Hi. I'm (Y/N), Keith's friend." You blurt out nervously, fidgeting with your fingers. Shiro nods and holds out his hand to you. "(Y/N). Nice to know Keith is making friends. I'm-" You cut him off as you slap your hand into his, shaking it excitedly. "Shiro! Yeah, I know who you are. Everyone does." His smile becomes bashful as your eyes meet, giving you a firm hand shake. He can't find the strength to let go of you, not when you were looking at him like that, his smile growing by the millisecond. The way he repeated your name made you forget how to breathe for a second. It was like in the movies, a slow motion love-at-first-sight scene.

Keith simply raises a brow and crosses his arms as he watches you guys get lost in each other's eyes for a moment. "Uhm..." Keith's voice brings Shiro back to reality. He quickly pulls his hand away, averts his gaze and clears his throat. His once soft and lovely expression has turned more serious. "I have so much to tell you, Keith."

PIDGE 💚

Let's be real...Matt TOTALLY hooked ya'll up. You were Matt's friend before you met Pidge. He was nice and funny and hella nerdy just like you. You guys just got each other. One day, he invites you over to help you with some very challenging homework because he's obviously way smarter than you and he could tell you were struggling.

You sat across from him at his family's kitchen table, your head in your hands as you sighed. "I'm gonna fail." You groan, causing Matt to chuckle. "No you won't, (Y/N). Come on, let's go over it again." You sigh and try to follow along in your textbook as he reads to you. A small figure sneaking to the cupboard catches your eye. You glance up to see who it was looking for a midnight snack. Matt stopped reading and smirked a bit. "Pidge, you better brush your teeth after you eat all that sugar." You watch the younger of the siblings turn towards you, their arms full of different candies and chocolates. "You're not the boss of me." They reply in a snarky tone, making Matt whip his head around to look at them. "I'm the oldest person in this room, that makes me the boss of both of you." Pidge simply rolls their eyes as you struggle to look away from them.

Pidge approaches you guys, slowly sliding a mars bar across the table to Matt. "Don't tell mom I'm eating sugar this late, please?" They mumble shyly as they attempt to bribe their sibling. You can't help but stare. This adorably small person with long, messy hair and tired eyes was the most gorgeous person you'd ever seen. Matt snatches the candy bar with a cheeky grin. "Only if you share with (Y/N), too."

Pidge glances over at you and sighs. "Fine. What kind do you want?" You panic, barely able to function with them standing so close. "Uh...you uh...got any Reese's?" They go to slide the candy over to you and as you reach out for it, your fingertips touch just for a second. That's all it takes for you two to make eye contact and you both become blushing messes as you both yank your hands back. The eye contact doesn't last long because Pidge is just a shy little bean, but Pidge definitely keeps glancing over at you as you reach out and pull the candy closer. You open it and take a bite, smiling a bit. "Mmm, I love peanut butter." And Pidge just can't look away now. You like peanut butter, they like peanut butter and the way your face looks as you chew. Wow, they think you're too cute.

Pidge just stares as you take another bite. The silence, at this point, is too much to bear. Finally, Matt chimes in, "Geez, Pidge, stare much?" You blush as you look up and meet their gaze. You flash them a small smile, watching them get flustered. They quickly look away and angrily snatch the candy bar from their brother's hand. "I hate you." They grumble before walking off back to their room.

"They totally like you. Oh ho ho! I'm never letting this go." Matt snickers as your face grows more red.

KEITH ❤️

Baby boy met you after you were rescued from a galra prison. Pidge, of course, needed to search every cell for her father and brother and they stubbled upon you, dirty, weak and starving. You looked exhausted but hopeful. Pidge calls for some help in getting you and the others in your cell back to the castle. At this time, Keith was much too busy being the protector to really help you all escape.

Once back at the castle, all the others who were held captive with you were doing fine, but you were in much worse shape. The galra seemed to really despise humans so you were thrown in the ring to fight and man handled the most. Bruises littered your body, scrapes and dry blood painted your face. You had a hard time even making it off the galra ship and to the castle, so Shiro and Allura thought it would be best to put you in a healing pod.

It wasn't long before all the paladins were surrounding your pod, wondering how another human ended up all the way out here in the hands of the galra. Finally, as the pod begins to opens, the group goes silent as they watch you. "Someone better grab them. Last time I did, Allura nearly ripped my poor ear off." Lance shoves his hands in his pockets. "Don't look at me! They're like twice my size!" Pidge protests, their arms crossed now. "Guys-" Keith tries to intervene. "Just do it, Lance." Pidge argues and suddenly, the blue and green paladins are full blown shouting at one another. As Shiro tries to deescalate their fight, Keith notices that your eyes are still closed, but you're slowly leaning forward. He jumps forward to catch your weak body before you nearly face plant. You fall into his arms with a grunt, slowly opening your eyes.

"Hmm? Where...where am I?" You ask the boy holding you, his eyes looking deep into yours. "You're uh...We're uh..." Keith just couldn't come up with any words as his pretty purple eyes bore into yours and your hands clutched the sleeves of his jacket. Your lips began to stretch into a shy smile as he slowly came down to his knees, still cradling you in his arms (lmao bonding moment <3). He gently rests you on the ground, nearly scrambling to get away from you and back to his feet. You look around at the others, a confused look on your face. As Allura begins to explain where you are and who they all are, Keith is just staring at you down on the ground. He rubs his arms where your hands were just resting, a blush quickly tinting his entire face and neck. If God is real, Keith is pretty sure he just met them.

You stand slowly, feeling tired but better than before. "Wow, no way I was saved by the paladins of Voltron. Cool!" You smiled brightly as you clasped your hands together behind your back. "Uh, sorry. I'm (Y/N)." You look around the group as they all begin telling you their names. When your eyes landed on Keith, his eyes went wide with embarrassment. "Keith..." He mumbles shyly, making your stomach drop. "Thanks for catching me, Keith." You watch as he looks down at his shoes, his long dark hair covering his beet red face. You are so damn cute, what the hell? He's never felt this way before and neither have you. The way his name rolled off your tongue made him want to punch something, but also made him want to cry? He is such a dense guy, but something about you softened him just a bit that day.

HUNK 💛

You and Hunk met back at the Garrison. Lance was no doubt out trying to impress some cute pilot while Pidge sat up on the roof, looking for signs of their brother and father. So, that left Hunk to go on a mission of his own. It was late, far past curfew, but when your stomach is grumbling you decide to sneak into the cafeteria in hopes of finding a late night snack. It was dark and quiet as you tip toe through the halls, constantly looking over your shoulder for anyone who might catch you. As you scurry into the kitchen, you slowly open the large industrial sized fridge. The light from the fridge illuminates the room around you and as you look back once again to check for anyone who might catch you, you nearly yelp as your eyes meet Hunk's. He's sitting up on the counter with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, his eyes wide when he sees you.

"Geez, you scared me" You both whisper in unison. The way the dim light lit up his cute chubby face had you seeing stars. There was a bit of peanut butter on the corner of this mouth and his cheeks were turning red as he stared at you. He couldn't see much detail with the way the light was shining behind you, but just the way you were standing with your hands behind your back and the way your voice sounded tired and the way you wouldn't tear your eyes off of him. Boy was whipped. "I-if you tell anyone about this-" You whispered before he jumped down from the counter to get a closer look at you. "No, its okay. I come in here all the time after curfew. It'll be our little secret."

Now that he's this close, he can see the color of your hair and the shape of your jaw and the curve of your smiling lips. You looked back and forth between his kind eyes and the jar of peanut butter in his hand, your heart racing. "You...want some?" He holds the jar out to you and you shake your head. "Uh no thanks. I was looking for something salty like chips or something." And before you can finish your sentence, he's opening cupboards to help you find a good salty snack. You watch him for a moment before you realize your heart is POUNDING in your chest. He was so...big. Not that you mind that, you just couldn't help but wonder how warm and comforting his hugs must be.

"Ah ha! Hope you like salt and vinegar chips." He turns to hand you the bag, a bright smile plastered across his tan face. You took the bag from his hand and nodded. "You really know your way around the kitchen, huh?" Your voice is still soft, just above a whisper. He lets out a soft laugh as he nods his head. "I mean...I'm not trying to brag, but I do whip up a mean apple pie. Do you...like pie?" He watches as you stare up at him. He wanted to look away because we all know Hunk is a shy babe, but he really loved the way your hair was messy right now and the way you looked at him made his knees feel weak. "Apple is my favorite pie." And at that, you're both full blown smiling at each other.

"I'm (Y/N)." You offer him your hand and he's quick to grab it, shaking it gently. "Hunk." He lets your hand go, but he wishes the contact would never end. Your hand was so cold in his and now he was picturing you two cuddled up in bed, his warm body bringing you comfort. You both stood in a comfortable silence for just a moment before you both hear talking and footsteps coming from the hallway.

"Goodnight, Hunk!" You whisper shout before taking off back towards your room. He watched you scurry off, not even worried about getting caught right now. He couldn't look away, not when you had just said his name so soft and panicked.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)." He sighs dreamily.

ALLURA 💖

You met the princess during a mission in which team Voltron had to sneakily board a galra ship in order to deactivate a weapon that would soon be used to try and capture their precious lions. The galra were using you to their advantage- you were a weak human but you were feisty and a decent fighter so they forced you to protect and serve them and, in return, you were treated a bit better than the other prisoners.

As sirens blare in the ship, you run to where you were told to go. You were simply following orders. As you quickly round the corner, your body SLAMS into another, sending you both falling back on your butts. You quickly regain your footing and reach for your dagger before realizing the hard collision of your bodies sent it flying off in another direction. As the other figure stands, you lift your hands and take a wide-legged stance, ready to fight with your bare hands. Before the fighting began, the tall woman in front of you takes off her helmet, making you nearly gasp. "A human?' She asks, her eyes wide. Your hands fell back to your sides as you watched her. She was so tall and pretty. Did you just die and go to heaven because you are so sure she's an angel.

You shake your head to regain clarity and raise your fists again. "Yeah, and who the hell are you?" She steps closer to you, her hands up in a nonthreatening way. "I'm Princess Allura, I am with Voltron. How did you end up here? Why are you working for the galra?" You blink in shock, your hands once again falling to your sides. "Voltron?" You repeat, realizing this could be your savior. "The galra are keeping me here, forcing me to work for them. I-" She cuts you off by grabbing your hand and leading the way. As you run along behind her, you're quick to grab your dragger off the floor and return it to it's sheath on your hip.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wonder the back of her figure, admiring her long legs and slender fingers wrapped around yours. Your hand was sweating but not as much as your face was. This beautiful lady was rescuing you after you nearly punched her just seconds ago. You simply followed along as the rest of the team took out the weapon and soon returned back to the castle.

Once back at the castle, you introduce yourself, explain your situation and sheepishly apologize for making their mission harder. "Well, I'm glad you're here, (Y/N). If the galra were utilizing your talents then I'm sure we can make good use of you, too." The way your name sounded on her voice made your mouth dry. You gulp nervously, staring up at her bright blue eyes. "Y-yeah. I'm glad I'm here too, Princess." She smiles sweetly at you, causing both of you to blush slightly. For just a moment, everything else disappears and it's just you and her, eyes locked, lips slowly turning up into a smile, cheeks growing more and more red. She realizes that the moment is becoming awkward and tense so she looks over to the others, noticing their smirks. They all knew you two were falling for each other. "Well then...are you hungry?" She asks you before glancing at you once more. "Starving." You reply softly before following the team to the dinning room.

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lancermylove · 9 months

Note

Dumping yet again a random brainrot i had, i feel like the brother would never want teen MC to move out the house. Like, yes go and have your experiences and all that, but please don't forget about them?

Idk, i feel like they'd be scared of them growing up but also really proud of them at the same time.

So ya, if mc wants to move out when they get older they better expect random frequent visits and daily phone calls.

And your random brain rot is now a quick ask. 😂

----

Thought of You Moving Out of HoL/Devildom one day:

No way. You wouldn't leave him. Not possible - Asmo, Luke, Belphie

Everyone has to grow up one day and go their own way - Lucifer, Barbatos, Solomon, Thirteen, Mephistopheles, Raphael

Sings "la la la" in his head because he can't bear the thought of you leaving him - Mammon, Levi

He's going to be sad when that happens, but he's happy for you - Beel, Diavolo, Satan, Simeon

----

You Actually Move Out:

Alas, the day has finally come. Says goodbye to you with a heavy heart - Lucifer, Beel, Simeon, Barbatos, Mephistopheles

Turns into a helicopter "parent" - Asmo, Solomon

Allow you to move out on one condition: you have to call him daily and tell him everything that happened - Levi, Satan, Diavolo

Let's you go, but when you move into your new place, he's already there and moved in. You thought you could get away that easily? Haha, nice try - Mammon, Belphie

Cries his heart out - Luke

Go! Live your life to the fullest - Thirteen, Raphael

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me raphael #obey me solomon #obey me mephistopheles #obey me thirteen

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loveephia · 1 year

Text

the miya twins having a crush on the same girl.

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, my poor humor (i'm sorry 😔), them fighting over you, you can pick who you end up with, suna is in the scenarios, timeskip.

⚠ warning/s: manga spoilers.

HEADCANONS

they're like two puppies when it comes to you and your love RAAAAAAHGHHHGH

whatever you're interested in, they're trying to learn more about it so that they can see your eyes sparkle when the topic is brought up

when you're at their games and cheering for one twin, the other gets MADLY COMPETITIVE

THEY'RE ON THE SAME TEAM YET YOU SEE THEM THROWING HANDS ON THE COURT

when you want to watch atsumu warm up, he exclusively lets you!!

what i mean by "exclusively" is that he doesn't let his fangirls in the gym. LOL

he does all these cool tricks, flexes his muscles, and goes all out in practice matches, just to see your adorably shocked face

when you forget your lunch, osamu would be willing to share his with you!!

osamu can't keep his mind off of the fact that you're eating from the same chopsticks as him, which means that that's an indirect kiss 😭

down atrocious

when they're both sitting next to you on the bus and you've drifted off to sleep, the twins are wondering whose shoulder you'll rest on for the entirety of the trip

if you've lost something, say, as something as simple as a pencil or eraser, the boys come running to your side in a flash with the needed item

both of them never ended up confessing, in chance of hurting the other twin, so you never knew about how they felt

until one day, suna had tattle-taled on them a few years after graduating

one twin ended up losing feelings

while the other's remained

ATSUMU MIYA (SCENARIO)

"wait, what?" you said as suna instantly closed his mouth shut. even osamu's jaw had slackened at the middle blocker's little slip-up.

"well.. i—!" atsumu panics, trying to find the words, while osamu drags suna away to give you two some privacy. osamu knew atsumu's feelings. he just hopes it's requited. atsumu merely sighs, "it was just a li'l crush from a while back, nothin' major!"

"how long ago?"

"..high school."

your eyes widen at his hesitant answer.

then came silence. silence, which was slowly killing atsumu. it's unlike him to stay this quiet for so long, osamu may think.

"what a shame.." you start, staring at your glass of water in the slightest hint of sadness, "i guess you could say that i had a little crush on you from a while back, too."

now it's atsumu's turn to be shocked, "huh, since when?!"

"high school." you smile.

OSAMU MIYA (SCENARIO)

"oh." were the first words suna muttered after he had let out one of the twins' most trusted secret on (an honest) accident. atsumu was nonetheless, frozen like a brick in place. while osamu's expression was mortified.

atsumu's eyes flickered rapidly from osamu to you, worried for what's about to happen between you two's relationship. suna had read the room, so before atsumu can worry any further, suna drags him away against his own will.

you turned to osamu, "judging from suna and atsumu's reaction.. i'm gonna assume that it's true?"

"..maybe." he meekly replies, wiping the table with a used rag to ease his nerves. "are you disappointed?" osamu asks a bold question that even he doesn't want the answer to.

"yes."

osamu's heart drops.

"because i had also liked you back." you confess, mischeviously poking his cheek in the process, "too bad that you don't like me now, though. otherwise, we could've been dating, then happily married, with a nice little family of our own."

you've never seen osamu's face redden this fast before. it's amusing. "now, hold on—!"

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potatomountain · 2 months

Text

Chapter Five

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective reader

📍word count: 3.5k

📍network: @pirateeznet

📍Warnings: (TBD)

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 and @daesukiii

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As an apology, and to give you a little break, Hongjoong had sent you out with San to grab food for everyone- yourself included. San changed out of the bloody shirt into a black button up after he let Seonghwa finish bandaging him up. They let you pick the place and you offered the deli down the street you had been going to. San took their orders and walked with you, encouraging you to rant about the others and he listened, giving you his full attention. You had been apprehensive about it at first, but a part of you wanted to lean on him.

He had come to your figurative rescue earlier, knocking on the door and apologizing for them. He managed to coax you out, and when you opened the door he had been sweet, joking about beating up the others on your behalf and that he could get away with it. Plus, you needed an ally, even if it was just partially.

You didn’t understand why San wasn’t hostile to you from the start like the others, why he sought you out to comfort you and why now he was listening so intently… but you liked it. You didn’t trust him of course, but you enjoyed his company none-the-less. Arriving at the deli he gave everyone’s order and looked at you expectantly.

“I still have my food at the office.” You were just thankful for the excuse to come back out.

“It's probably cold by now. Get something. It's on the Captain's card so don't worry about the price.” He smirked, showing off the card between two of his fingers. “Come on, make it hurt.”

Grinning, he did have a point. You ordered more food than you could eat but San encouraged you by saying he could hide the rotting food in one of the other's things. The childish prank idea had you giddy.

The walk back he insisted on carrying all the food and some of the drinks, leaving you with one carrier and your own food. He didn't struggle with it, continued talking as if you two had been working together for awhile. It was almost alarming how easily you got swept up into his charm.

“See I'd bet Jongho would just flip his shit, desk too, if he found a moldy mass just hiding in his back drawer. Either him or Mingi would have the best reactions.”

“What about Yeosang?” You asked, amused by his descriptions of how each of them would react.

San shrugged. “He keeps himself locked in his work room, it would be hard to sneak it in there. Captain would also be a good idea as his office is usually left a mess but you would have to hide it well enough that Hwa wouldn't find it while cleaning. If he did- well he'd just blame the Captain.”

You tried to picture an argument between the two over a moldy forgotten sandwich, bringing a smile back to your face once more. “Now that sounds even more interesting. And you said Yunho would be the least reactive?”

“Mhmm, not much actually pisses him off. He'd probably just throw it away when he saw it and forget about it in minutes.”

“I see…” He had appeared to be the friendlier of them, or well least angry. Despite his teasing and condescending interactions, he had talked to you the most. “The amount of testosterone between all of you is absolutely infuriating, you know.”

“Yeah- I know. If circumstances were different I wouldn't be surprised if they had a bet going of who would fuck you first.” He chuckled dryly, the building in view.

You made a disgusted face at that. “UGH, men.”

He was still laughing when you two entered through the front. You set your food and drink down first before following San to the back, your now good mood getting more tense with each step.

You wanted to believe things were resolved- wanting to believe there was no more hostility- but they attempted a truce before and that turned into the argument earlier. So as you followed San to the nearest desk and set everything down, you were visibly on edge.

“I'm going to go eat now…” You told San, not bothering to look at anyone else that might be in the room.

San reached out and grabbed your wrist gently, eyes searching your expression. “You sure you don't want to eat with us?”

Shaking your head you pulled away. “No thanks, I'm not going to push my luck. I've had enough testosterone today.” With a heavy sigh you turned to head back to your meal- only to run into a chest. “Ou-”

“Sorry, figured you would be more on your toes.” Seonghwa grabbed your forearms to steady you, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You narrowed your eyes in response. “Forgive me for not being more on edge.”

His expression fell, as did his hands. “That wasn't- it wasn't a jab, I'm sorry.” He looked you over, standing in your way to keep you from leaving. “Captain asked if we could join you to eat? He wants to have a chat.”

Stiffening a bit, you knew it was an order and not a request. “Do I- fine, I'll be at my desk.” You bit off your defensive retort and relented defeat, making your way around him with a heavy sigh.

You were much more mentally exhausted than you had believed, your temples beginning to throb as you made your way back to your desk. You were given a moment to sit down and collect your thoughts before the two of them joined you. Seonghwa stood on the other side of your desk while Hongjoong sat down right next to you- he had dragged a stool back and plopped it down right next to you.

The difference between the two was almost comical: Seonghwa keeping his distance but a watchful eye while Hongjoong saddled up close without a care in the world as he set up his lunch and dug in without a word.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You mumbled, turning to your meal.

Hongjoong let out a pleased hum, cheeks full of food as he gave you both a thumbs up. Seonghwa replied with a scowl. “I guess I’ll do the talking.”

You just shrugged, focusing on your food just as Hongjoong was.

“For starters, we’ll be increasing your access to our files. We’ll be assigning you the Green Vipers which San is the most familiar with. We want you to familiarize yourself with all the information we have available and run it all by San. When he believes you’re ready, we’ll pull you fully on the case.” Seonghwa sipped on his drink, which you believed was some strawberry type if the pink coloring was anything to go by. You were still trying to wrap your head around the news that they were not only giving you access but letting you work a case. “What’s the catch?”

Hongjoong mumbled something with his mouth full of food before he was met with a glare from Seonghwa. He swallowed and then repeated himself. “Yeosang needs to install a security program on your laptop, and this is technically a test. The first time you do something to jeopardize the mission- you’re off of it and stuck at this desk with nothing to do until we can transfer you out.” He chased the food with his drink before turning to you fully. “Do well, and we’ll start you in the field where the real work happens here.”

It was hard to clamp down on the excitement that surged through you, well aware your eyes and posture lit up at the news.

“You're not just yanking my chain? I can stay?” You looked between the two, Hongjoong grinning with amusement while Seonghwa had a frown on his face but nodded. “Thank you!”

“Don't thank us yet, you have a lot to prove.” Seonghwa warned, finally digging into his food. “And we aren't going easy on you.”

“I told you I like the challenge.” You pointed at him, then looked at them each. “I know you have your reasons for not trusting me, a lot of the work you do is secretive and it's years of progress. I don't plan on undoing that, I have an idea of how bad these mafia groups are.” Some of the articles you had found during your solo research had been stomach churning.

Hongjoong paused in his eating, nodding. “Definitely a firecracker, but I like that.”

“Captain, please don't flirt with the newbie.”

“Why not? Flirting is harmless.”

You rolled your eyes but bit back a smirk. “You're the smallest one here, I'll pass.”

“Oh? Size matters to you? I thought you liked a challenge.”

Now you did smirk. “Really? And you're a challenge?”

“I'm good at all positions, so you tell me.”

“Oh my God you two.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seonghwa shook his head. “I don't need this, I'm barely holding this unit together as is- can we not chase tail?”

Hongjoong pouted out his pretty lips, batting his lashes at Seonghwa. “Why not? All work and no play makes Captain a dull boy.”

“Talk about an old married couple damn.” You laughed, grinning at the two of them.

The glare they each gave you was identical. “We aren't.”

“Mhmm sure.”

“Back to the point-” Hongjoong started.

“There was no point, drop it.”

“No point yet, don't ruin my fun Hwa.”

“Please-”

You decided to let the two bicker, watching them as you ate. This was a stark contrast to the Vice-Captain you had met before, a good portion of his icy demeanor had melted with his Captain’s partial approval. Despite his disapproving view of the Captain's current behavior, you believed that his loyalty was unbreakable.

You thought you had that once. With that thought entering your mind, you set your drink down and cleared your throat. “Was there anything else the two of you needed?”

They stopped mid bicker and turned to you, noticing your drop in mood. Seonghwa straightened, back to business. “No, I'll inform Yeosang and San to come over so you can get started on that. You can head home when San says and we'll see you Monday.” Gathering up his things he moved around the desk. “Come on Captain.” Like a mother he started picking up the mess his Captain made.

Hongjoong didn't move though, instead fixing you with an intense stare. “I do have one question actually-”

“I'll see if I can answer it.”

Hongjoong stood when nudged, instead holding up the picture of your old unit Christmas party. “Which one were you dating or sleeping with?”

First you had no idea when he had found the hidden photo as you had been right next to him the whole time. Second, his question filled you with so much fury that you surged to your feet. “The fuck?”

Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly, setting it down. “Mmm so I was right-”

“No! None of them! They were my friends and colleagues- I didn't do anything with them.”

“Doesn't mean feelings didn't blossom.” As you glared he just grabbed the stool and moved to follow Seonghwa. “I'm not going to judge you for it, how hypocritical of me after I was clearly flirting? Relationships are something the team needs to know about, in or out of the Precinct.”

Your fire lowered to a simmer, taking a deep breath to calm yourself further. “Because they could get compromised?” You had to remember just how dangerous this unit was compared to your old one.

He blinked a few times before nodding, giving a thumbs up. “Yep, that's the reason. If it happens just let us know. Man, woman, multiple- we don't care but we do have to know.”

“Multiple?” You squeaked out, flabbergasted as he just chuckled.

“Mhmm- we'll send San and Yeosang over, firecracker.” With the change in subject he left, leaving you too stunned to speak.

You didn't like him poking around in your personal life but you hadn't lied. Warily you picked up the picture, eyes scanning the familiar faces and softening on more than one. Multiple? That was something your old unit might have found shameful, one of many reasons your now hurt feelings were never verbalized.

That was in the past now, you just wanted to focus on the now and get through this. Stay a detective, feel like you were making a difference again, and do it right this time.

San came down the hall first, a smile on his face as he took Seonghwa's spot and leaned on the counter. “So I heard the news, you're my temporary partner?”

“Temporary?” You had fixed your desk in that short time and gathered your wits about you.

He nodded. “Correction, more like you are under my wing. I think you'll do just fine but for starters, give me a run down of what you know.”

That you could do.

“The city is basically split in half by older, traditional Mafia and new gangs-” You started off, pulling your laptop open and looking for your notes. “The southern part of the city has always been smaller gangs, which I think the three big organizations profited off of their turf wars. That was until about a decade ago when things changed and the number of gangs lessened while their power grew. Now there are 3 major ones that, while they don't match the power of the bigger 3, they hold enough power in the city to be a threat.”

“You got all this on your own? Impressive.” He whistled appreciatively, looking over your notes. “And just from looking online?”

You shook your head. “I called in a few favors and asked some colleagues.”

“Alright let me quiz you- what are the names of the big 6?”

“The White Guardians, Red Wolves, and Golden Circle are the big 3; the others are Blue Goblins, Green Vipers, and finally the Black Pirates. They can usually be identified by some color or accessories while more important players get tattoos.”

As if your early troubles were nonexistent, you were about to throw yourself into a tangent explaining each of them when Yeosang cleared his throat. Clenching your jaw, you just silently handed your laptop over before he asked.

“I can do it here.” Stepping behind the desk and effectively caging you in, he plugged in a flash drive and went right to work. Cornered on all sides, you pressed back into the corner to be further from Yeosang, still stinging from his earlier comments.

“You were saying?” San urged as if sensing your distress.

Tearing your eyes off of Yeosang you looked back over to San. “The big 6- right. I can give you territorial layout as well as their main operations. It's just a rough outline, since I don't have access to your files yet, but it was the only start I could think of.”

Once more he whistled appreciatively, grinning to the point you could admire his dimples a bit more. “That's still impressive. We gave you a hostile work environment and limited resources and you deduced that much from this desk?”

You could feel the tips of your ears burning but paid no mind to it. “It's really just basic knowledge that any of the members of these gangs would know, you don't need to show praise for something so simple.”

“Mmm true. Well, enlighten me anyways. The White Guardians, what do you know?”

“They're the most secretive of the big 3, only mentioned by other gangs who had dealt with them. Not much is known by them but anytime one of their members or their sub-unit, The Silver Dogs, get in trouble with the law, everything seems to get wiped clean. All that's known for sure is their territory is the northwest where crime levels are low. I would suspect they mostly likely have law-” You stopped yourself, realizing you were just about to divulge too much information.

But San was watching you with intent, motioning for you to continue.

However when you were about to relent, the deep voice next to you reminded you that the two of you weren't alone. “They most likely have the largest amount of dirty law officials, cops, judges and congressmen in their pocket. Right?”

You looked over at him, nodding slowly. “I kept that out of my notes though…”

“I didn't have to read them to know. We assumed the same. They will be the hardest to take down- if we can at all.” He went back to your laptop, messing with some download screen with a quick moving bar under a bunch of code.

Your shoulders slumped at that admission. “If you can't completely eradicate the criminal organizations, what goal do you have?”

“Lessening it. Crime is never going to go away, there will always be people who play by their rules and corrupt others- our job is to prevent as much damage by those groups as possible and diminish what we can.” San's tone was softer than before, as if urging you to have some hope.

You wanted to. “I see-”

“Onto the next one- The Red Wolves.” He prompted.

Clearing your throat you went on another tangent. “The Red Wolves are Northeast along the river. Out of all the organizations they have the dirtiest hands and some of the most ruthless. Crimes of human trafficking, and prostitution rings as well as the most recorded crimes committed by minors and to minors. They have the biggest feud with the White Guardians who, according to some Red Wolves, have been interfering with their work for years now. They are also the only gang that doesn't go through the Black Pirates for access to transportation by water considering they have territory of half the river. What really makes them fierce is their hitman unit the Crimson hounds. Whatever their tactics, it's enough to keep the others from attempting to interfere.”

“Again- I'm really impressed. Now the last one, the Golden Circle.”

“Center city and the oldest of the three. Most likely composed of corporations that use the Golden Circle as their cover for illegal activities. Their main motivator seems to be profit by any means stemming two sub groups: The Pink Boas and Gray Bones. The Boas are a believed-to-be all female group that handles underground brothels and club life in downtown. The Gray Bones are their equivalent of the Hounds, their hitman group. Out of the three mafia families, this is the only one that's been hit by the newer gangs.”

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

“Territory massacre in the west between them and the Blue Goblins. The Goblins won, gaining access to downtown enough to spread out their drug distribution. They are the most power hungry, even using minors. They have a lot of younger members, runaways and troubled kids from the slums, so they feel as if they have something to prove and nothing to lose.”

Yeosang slams your laptop shut suddenly, spooking you out of your rant that you might have been getting too passionate about. “How do you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“How have you gathered information like that? From this desk?” He was staring you down with his jaw clenched, leaving you perplexed.

You narrowed your eyes in response. “Because I remember quite a few of the names that came up- they were kids I had to arrest, that we had to charge and interrogate and send off to Juvie. So I knew some of them.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Or did you forget that and just want to assume I'm involved?” The sneer came out from habit but it was too late to take back now.

Yeosang sighed, pushing the laptop towards you. “I know your file inside and out; you're too impulsive for it. Although you act like that… like you have nothing to lose and everything to prove.”

You lifted a brow, stepping closer. “So what if I do? Do you think it makes me any less of a detective?”

“Of course we don't-”

“I wasn't asking you, San.” You winced as you said it. “Shit I'm-”

“No no it's okay.” San stood up straight, avoiding your eyes.

“I'm done here so I'll be leaving.” Yeosang said instead, making a hasty retreat and leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth.

Swallowing hard, you leaned on the desk to try and capture his eyes with yours. “San? Are you pouting?”

“No-” He most definitely was. “Okay maybe. I don't know how they can stand it when you snap at them, it wounds me.” He put a hand over his chest, effectively lifting some of the tension.

“It was a reflex, I'm sorry.”

“Hmmm…. Apology accepted. Now, where were we?” He flashed a charming smile that disarmed you and had you scrambling for your train of thought.

Already Yeosang was forgotten again and so were his words. At least for now.

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