#I know this was an essay but there wasn’t a better way to put it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girlgenius1111 · 2 months

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all that i did to try to undo it

engen!reader... platonic ingrid & reader + platonic mapi & reader

r lives with her sister, but their relationship is rather rocky. can they fix it before it's broken beyond repair? angst. pretty much just angst. r is not mentally well. proceed with caution.

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Moving from Norway to Spain wasn’t your idea. It seemed that your parents had had quite enough of you. You knew you could have been better behaved, but you hadn’t realized they were so frustrated that they were willing to send you away. Not until it was too late.

It was your friends, back in Norway, that were the issue. They were why you snuck out and drank and cut school and generally broke all the rules that had been set for you. And this was why, when you arrived in Spain, it all… stopped. Mostly because you barely spoke Spanish and had no friends. Also because Ingrid had adopted a rather tough love attitude with you. She was strict and cold and you knew that she wouldn’t tolerate any missteps. And honestly, you didn’t know where you’d go if Ingrid decided she didn’t want you around anymore. Not that you were sure she really did in the first place; you were pretty convinced that she was doing this as a favor to your parents. She didn’t want you here, and you weren’t going to push her to do something about that.

Unbeknownst to you, Ingrid did want you there. It had been her idea for you to come to Spain in the first place. Your parents were at a loss with what to do with you, and Ingrid was tired of hearing how frustrated they were with you when she knew you were just trying to get their attention. She decided she could probably do a better job, simply by just paying attention. And so she did. She moved you in, she got on your ass about your responsibilities and your future, and you hadn’t yet put a toe out of line. Your sister was determined that you assimilate, thinking it would make it easier for you, so she only allowed you to speak Spanish in the home. She had Mapi read over your essays, and help with your grammar. She drove you to school everyday, and made you all eat dinner together as a family every night. It seemed to be working. You were quiet, but behaved. Ingrid was pretty convinced she’d done a good job, and solved the issue. You were a teen, and she figured you didn’t need her trying to hangout with you all the time.

So, while Ingrid paid attention to your school, she didn’t pay much attention to you. She didn’t know you didn’t have any friends at your school, or that a lot of the kids were pretty cruel to you. She didn’t know school had turned into an entire nightmare, and that you had to push through an insane amount of anxiety just to walk through the front doors every morning. She didn’t know that you were behaving because you were scared of her kicking you out. She didn’t know you were desperately sad and homesick, not even allowed to speak your language in your own home with her. She didn’t know that all you wanted some days was for her to just pull you into a hug, and tell you she was proud of you. That she loved you.

Why would she? Your parents clearly didn’t. Ingrid had no reason to either.

Mapi had some reservations about the way Ingrid was with you. It was a complete 180 from the Norwegian’s normal demeanor. Ingrid was smiley and warm and silly with the younger girls on the team, and stern and harsh with you. Mapi noticed the way you watched your sister with her teammates, face full of jealousy. As time went on, though, and you didn’t cause trouble, Ingrid became more and more sure that her approach was the right one. Mapi still wasn’t as convinced. She wasn’t quite sure it was her place to say anything, though, so she kept a watchful eye on everything, and made sure to make you feel like their home was yours too.

You didn’t quite know what to make of Mapi, honestly. She was clearly infatuated with your sister. And she was always so kind to you. Mapi made you coffee every morning, made sure to buy all your favorite foods at the store, and she reminded you, repeatedly, that if you ever wanted to talk, about anything, she was around. But Mapi was Ingrid’s. Not yours. If Ingrid was so reluctant to show you any affection, you shouldn’t seek it out from her girlfriend.

You were quietly miserable. Ingrid thought you were okay, finally mellowing out. Mapi was caught somewhere in the middle, seeing both the side of yourself you hid from your sister, and the neutral façade you put on in front of her.

For you, things couldn’t get much worse. Or at least, you didn’t think so.

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It had been a while since you’d gotten in a fight. You’d forgotten how good it felt to punch someone in the face who very much had it coming.

It was your birthday. You would have forgotten, too, if a few of your old friends hadn’t texted you. Ingrid had forgotten. You’d woken up to her knocking on your door like she always did. She was focused on the important training session ahead, and barely spoke to you on the way to school. She’d forgotten your birthday, and you thought that it hadn’t bothered you. Until the idiotic group of boys was following you down the hallway, saying awful things. Until you’d snapped back at them in a way you never did, and until they began throwing punches. And you didn’t run. You turned and you fought and you let your anger and your hurt out for the first time in months. For the first time since you left Norway.

There was an odd sense of calm that washed over you, waiting in the dean’s office for your sister to arrive. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, in that moment, what she would think. Your hands hurt, your face hurt, and you’d finally stood up for yourself to the awful boys that wouldn’t leave you alone.

When Ingrid walked into the office, though, an absolutely livid expression on her face, you realized you did care. Very much. You had been waiting on the dean, and although he was a scary man, you would have rather faced him at that moment.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Ingrid hissed, grabbing your face in her hands and inspecting your wounds.

“Ing,”

“Do not. I cannot believe you. I don’t want to hear your excuses or your explanations. You are going to apologize to the dean, take your punishment, and we are going to go home. I’ll deal with you there. Understand?”

You lowered your head, nodding. She took the seat on your other side, still visibly angry, though she softened for just a second as she looked closely at your hand.

“Is anything broken?” She asked quietly. Your eyes flooded with tears at the question, everything inside of you screaming to lean into her arms. She was angry, you thought. She was angry, and she wouldn’t want to hug you right now.

“I don’t think so.” You mumbled instead.

“Good. María will patch you up when we get home.” Her tone was cold again, and you began to zone out. The dean walked in, spewing a long lecture. He didn’t tell Ingrid that you hadn’t swung first, or that the boys had been bothering you for weeks. He didn’t tell Ingrid what they called you, or that it was three 18 year old boys against an 18 year old girl. He just said that the school didn’t tolerate fighting, and that you would be suspended for a week.

The worst part was that Ingrid didn’t even ask what happened. Not in the office, not in the car, not when you both got home. You used to get into fights all the time, back in Norway. She thought this was more of the same from you. Your sister stormed off to call your mom the minute you were in the house, leaving you standing in the entry hall in front of Mapi, eyes fixed on the ground.

Mapi’s hand was gentle when it rested on your back, gently guiding you up the stairs and into the couple’s bathroom. She sat you on the counter like you were a little kid, and pulled out the first aid kit. Only then did you raise your head and look at her. You thought she would be mad, but she only looked concerned.

“She hates me.” You said it before you could stop yourself, and your voice shook over every syllable. Mapi’s face melted, and she shook her head insistently, carefully wiping a tear off your face.

“No, nena. She’s upset, but she loves you very much.” Mapi seemed convinced. She loved your sister, after all. And though you didn’t know it, Mapi had been a witness to your sister worrying over you for 2 years now.

There was no use arguing, so you stopped talking again, and Mapi got back to cleaning your face up. She asked you a couple questions in English about things that hurt and didn’t hurt, and you responded in English. Mapi had moved on to cleaning the cuts on your knuckles when Ingrid appeared.

“Can you bend your fingers?” Mapi asked.

“Yeah, it’s a little sore, but I can bend them.” You replied.

“Español.” Ingrid scolded. You nodded, correcting yourself quickly, now trying to stifle the flow of tears flowing from your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” Ingrid asked, stepping in closer to study you closely.

“Okay. Hurts a bit but I’m fine.” You said softly.

“Do you promise it just hurts a bit?” Ingrid asked.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. Your body didn’t hurt that bad. You hurt though. Every inch of you ached with a deep sadness, a deep loneliness. But that wasn’t what Ingrid had asked.

“We have a dinner tonight, a team dinner. Will you be okay here if we go?”

A little bit of you shattered, then. Maybe you’d been hoping that Ingrid had remembered your birthday, had been planning a fun dinner or something. Clearly not.

“Yeah. I’ll get a head start on my homework.” You managed, biting down hard on your lip to stop yourself from crying. Ingrid nodded, satisfied, but Mapi didn’t look away from you.

“Are you sure? You look a bit upset, nena. We can stay if you need us.”

You shook your head harshly. “No, I’m fine. Promise.”

You were very far from fine. You needed to be alone, though, if you were going to feel every complicated emotion raging through you.

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“Ingrid,” Mapi said suddenly, about halfway into their drive to the restaurant. Ingrid hummed in response, looking over at her girlfriend from the passenger seat. “Your sister said something today. And it seemed like she really, really believed it. I think you need to be a little easier on her, amor. She’s just a kid.”

“What did she say?” Ingrid wondered, head stuck on that comment.

Mapi hesitated, well aware of how hard this might hit Ingrid. “She said you hated her. She was pretty convinced, Ingrid. How mad were you at the school?”

Ingrid sighed roughly, running an exhausted hand over her face. “Fuck. She’s always been dramatic, I forget that she’s just… sensitive sometimes. I was pretty harsh.” She admitted.

“Amor, I know you think this strict approach is working, but I don’t know. She seems so sad sometimes. She’s just a kid, and she’s doing her best. I think she needs you to be a bit… softer with her.” Mapi suggested, finally voicing the thoughts that had been plaguing her for weeks, if not months.

Ingrid was quiet for a while. “Maybe. I don’t know, I thought it was working, but then today happened. I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you just… talk to her? What was the fight even about?” Mapi asked.

Ingrid didn’t respond, her frustration with herself quickly replacing her frustration with you.

“You didn’t ask?” Mapi sighed.

“No, but the dean didn’t say either.” Ingrid defended halfheartedly.

“That probably isn’t a good thing mi amor. We’ll talk to her when we get home. Figure out what’s going on.” Mapi declared.

“We?” Ingrid asked quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“We.” Mapi affirmed, looking cautiously at her girlfriend. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” Ingrid assured her. “I think she might need both of us.”

It was clearer, now, to Ingrid. Suddenly, and very painfully. That she’d gone about this wrong. The extent of the damage that had been done was not yet to be realized, though.

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The silence that echoed through the house was what got you. Today, on your 18th birthday, you sat alone at the kitchen table, tears falling freely from your eyes. They stung the cuts in on your face, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. It felt like wherever you went, you messed up. Wherever you went, you weren’t wanted. When you’d come to Norway, you’d had hope that maybe things would be different. Maybe Ingrid would treat you differently than your parents. She had, but you still didn’t feel loved. It felt like there was something fundamentally wrong with you that drove everyone away. You just wanted to make it better, and yet, at the same time, you felt so incredibly hopeless. Like there was nothing in the world you could do to make your family love you. You supposed it was your fault; you’d been acting out for years. Everyone was bound to get tired of you. You didn’t want to be like that, you just didn’t know what else to do. The age gap to your siblings was huge, your parents were tired of being parents, and no one had any time for you. Or the desire to make time. You’d done the only thing you could think of at the time to get their attention, and it had only made things worse. You had only made things worse.

And still, a part of you was angry. Furious. Did you have to be perfect? Did you have to make no mistakes? Shouldn’t they love you regardless of all that? There was no consistency in your brain; sometimes it all felt like your fault, and other times it felt like there wasn’t anything you could do right.

You felt the inexplicable urge to apologize. Really apologize, really explain. Maybe they could forgive you. Maybe Ingrid could forgive you, maybe you could get her to understand. You didn’t think you could make it through an entire apology, though, not verbally, not face to face with your intense sister. So you got out a piece of paper, and began writing.

Ingrid,

I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got stuck with me, and I’m sorry I haven’t been good enough. I’ve tried, I promise I have. Sometimes I feel like it isn’t possible for me to meet your standards, but I still try.

I’m sorry about the fight today. They came at me, I swear. These three boys have been bothering me since I've arrived, and they say horrible things to me, and I just snapped. I should have just kept quiet, and they never would have started the fight, and I’m sorry I didn’t do that.

I’m sorry I’m always home and bothering you and Mapi. I’m sorry I haven’t made any friends here, and I’m sorry my spanish isn’t perfect. I’m sorry I'm so miserable. I don’t know why I can’t just be happy, but I can’t. I want to be. I really do. It just feels like you’re always mad at me. I feel like such an awful person no matter what I do. Mom and Dad didn’t want me. And I don’t think you want me. I don’t think I want me either, sometimes.

I’m trying to like it here, but it’s so different. I miss Mom and Dad, even though I know they don’t miss me. I miss my home and I miss Norway. I miss my friends. I didn’t really feel like I belonged there, but at least it was familiar.

I think I’m mad at you, too. You’re my sister, Ingrid. Do you always have to be so harsh with me? I think I’d be happier, if you seemed happier that I was here.

You forgot my birthday. Mom and Dad didn’t remember either. I turned 18 today. I turned 18 today, and you and Mapi went to dinner without me. I made a sandwich and ate it by myself in the kitchen. I’ve never felt so worthless. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I just want you all to love me again. I want to love myself again. I think I’d do anything, to feel like I have a family again.

I’m so desperate I’m writing you this absurd letter that I’ll probably never give you. I don’t know if I can give it to you. I’m scared to give it to you, and I’m scared not to.

I’m scared because sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me. I’m scared because it feels like no one would even notice if I was gone. It feels so easy. Everyday it feels like it would be easier.

I guess I’m asking for help, Ingrid. I don’t want to ask you to fix this for me, but I don’t think I can do it myself. I want to be better, I want to

Your writing cut off abruptly, as the front door opened. All you felt was panic. You were a mess, sobbing uncontrollably on the couch with the letter almost completed in front of you. They weren’t supposed to be home yet. The event was supposed to be a long one, and you’d planned on leaving the letter, if you were brave enough, on the kitchen table, and going to bed. Handing it to your sister face to face had never been the plan. You weren’t even sure it made any sense, and you weren’t sure you wanted to give it to her.

The front door swung open anyway, and Mapi walked into the house. You remembered, then, that she was always coming home early. She had a follow up appointment for her knee the following morning, and she hadn’t wanted to be out late. Alexia had driven her home early, not wanting a late night herself. Ingrid was still at the dinner, but Mapi was here. Standing frozen in the entryway, with a perfect view of the disaster you were on the couch. You were frozen, and she was frozen, but then she was moving, moving closer to you, and you couldn’t you couldn’t you couldn’t.

“Pequeña, what is it? What hurts?” Mapi asked urgently, moving to sit next to you on the couch. She thought you must be hurt, physically. The thought that the agony on your face could be from anything else didn't even enter her brain.

She sat next to you, and you were still frozen, not even able to move the piece of paper out of sight.

Mapi saw it. You were using one of your textbooks as a surface, not unlike how you did your homework. Your favorite pen was in your hand. And resting in your lap, on the textbook, was a piece of paper that somehow radiated pain. Mapi was reaching for it before she even knew what she was doing, and you were still frozen. Frozen, staring at Mapi like you were afraid of her. Very suddenly, Mapi was terrified.

“Nena, what is this?” She asked softly. It was to Ingrid. Written in Spanish. Mapi saw her name in it a few places as she scanned it over, before she looked back up at you. “Nena?” she prompted again.

This time, you did move. You jolted forward, reaching for the letter, a deep gasping breath escaping your mouth. Mapi held it out of your grasp, her eyes stuck on one sentence, the only sentence that she’d read so far. It had jumped out at her.

“I’m scared because sometimes I think everyone would be better off without me.”

An instantly, Mapi knew she couldn’t let you take the piece of paper back. She knew she needed to call Ingrid and tell her to come home. She knew she couldn’t let you out of her sight. You were so fragile, though, sitting in front of her like you were second away from shattering into a million pieces. Too many pieces for anyone to ever be able to fix.

“Nena, I think I need to read this.” She whispered, watching carefully as you pulled your hand back towards your body, as you curled in on yourself, and began to shake with silent sobs.

And then Mapi read the letter. With one hand on your back, and one hand tightly clutching the paper, she read the most painful thing she’d ever laid her eyes on. It tore her apart, reading how you felt.

And it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for Ingrid. And, ridiculously, Mapi wished she could fix it before Ingrid ever read what you’d written. Mapi would have done anything in that moment, to make things right with you, and to make sure Ingrid never had to know how badly she had hurt you. Because realizing it would hurt the Norwegian just as much.

Mapi ached to tell you so many things. That Ingrid loved you so much, she just wasn’t sure how to help you. That she thought what she was doing was working, helping. That she was sure Ingrid didn’t know the date, or she’d have never forgotten your birthday. That she knew Ingrid would do anything, anything in the world, to fix this. That Mapi was sure both she and Ingrid would go back in time if they could, and fix everything that had gone wrong.

She couldn’t force that all on you now. She couldn’t defend Ingrid, or herself.

Instead, she placed the letter carefully on the table, and sent Ingrid a very brief text.

“You need to come home now. Everything is fine, everyone is safe, but you need to come home.”

Instead, Mapi pulled you into her lap, and held you so tight it almost hurt.

Instead, your sister’s girlfriend, who owed you absolutely nothing, told you, over and over, how very loved you were. How proud she was of you. How her and Ingrid were going to fix everything if it killed them.

They’d fix everything before it killed you.

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🙂

#woso x reader #woso imagine #engen!reader #ingrid engen x mapí leon #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x reader #platonic reader

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drunk-fantasies · 9 months

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+18 CONTENT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

🎨PAIRING: friend!sunghoon x fem!reader

🎨SYNOPSIS: posing for your best friend’s painting’s wasn’t something new for you or him until you asked if he could paint you naked

🎨GENRE: smut, fluff

🎨WARNINGS: explicit smut, both sunghoon and yn are kinda a perv, masturbation, oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, marking, mild swearing, piv, protected sex

🎨WORD COUNT: 5,8k

🎨TAGLIST: @novacontreras, @beomgyusonlywife, @satan-223, @enhaz1, @tobiosbbyghorl, @kshoshi, @woniewonn, @mimizelle-luni, @meiskra, @leeheeheeseung, @parksunghoonsgf, @uuzhanggggggg, @deobitifull, @enhamysunshines, @sunghourly, @danielleismyname, @starggukies, @hellaboredd, @rapmonie2047, @asyleums, @stariszn, @tinkw1nks, @4imhry, @moonlighthoon, @girlwholovekpop, @19-yunalyn

There was something about you people found extraordinary. It could be your mesmerizing eyes, remarkable facial features or just that intense gaze that made many knees bend. Though you never really particularly enjoyed the attention you were getting, yet something was thrilling about intimidating people by just the way you looked at them. It gave you a sense of power, a feeling of being unstoppable wherever you went.

What you did enjoy though was how many students of the Art Department asked you to model for their paintings, offering you irrational money, just for you to stand in one place for a few hours. Those offers were always pretty tempting, but none were enough for you to agree. After a few chances you had given them you realized none of them were able to portray you good enough. Unlike Sunghoon, your best friend. Ever since you met him on the first day of uni, you couldn’t refuse anything he wanted. His paintings were terrific. His style, the way his brush strokes danced on canvas, not to mention he was able to capture your features in such a captivating way, just as good as your mirror could or maybe even better. The unspoken truth was, you wished so badly he looked at you like you looked at him. His gaze was always focused to paint you well, to mirror every strand of your hair perfectly just as every crinkle on your clothes. While you always stared at him with admiration and passion, under false colors of modeling. But when it came to him, nothing was an act. Your feelings burned inside you, fire spreading from your heart to every part of your body, whenever he scanned your face and position to guide you how to pose. He never failed to keep it professional, never touching you inappropriately or making you uncomfortable. And the way he was such a soft-spoken person made it even harder for you to not catch feelings. In contrast to initial shyness you noticed how kind his heart was. Despite his cold look and complete composure you were able to get to know his playful side, which outside of the Art Department’s studio continuously put a smile on your face, even during those hard days. Both of you were rather busy with their respective assignments and uni work, making it pretty impossible to meet regularly. But it only made you wait for the next time he would ask you to model for him even more eagerly.

Your phone buzzed with a notification. Finishing the last sentence of your essay you took your phone from your pocket and read a message from Sunghoon.

🤍: do you think you could be here a little earlier? i need to get something done and need to finish it by 7

you: no problem :) give me like ten minutes

You knew the way to the studio he always used to the point you could get there with your eyes closed. The excitement of seeing him again rushed through your body and you wondered how this recent work turned out. He never let you see the final product until he would be finished with it completely, to the last spot. You entered the studio not bothering to knock anymore and spotted Sunghoon preparing all the utensils he needed, apron already wrapped around his body while the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Not daring to say a word you watched him while he was too busy mixing paints to notice you. His black hair got a little longer, now almost falling on his shoulders, while he neatly picked the right colors.

“Y/n?” His voice brought you back to Earth. “Glad to see you. Your clothes are on the couch,” he smiled warmly and pointed to clothes you wore for this work.

Without a word you took them to get changed and couldn’t stop thinking about how it turned out. Last time he told you there was nothing much left, just some details of your neck area and some touch-up of your hair. That’s why with anticipation you waited to see the final result. You tried to recreate the hairstyle you had as precisely as you could in a reflection of a small bathroom mirror. When you came back to the studio he was fully ready to start.

“Ready?” he asked and raised from his stool.

Nodding you let him guide your pose in front of his easel. His fingers slightly raised your head by your chin and positioned your head as he pleased. Taking an alone strand of your hair, he curled it on his finger, imitating the shape from the last session. Fixing your shirt he took as step back to check and said: “Okay, you look perfect, it won’t take long.”

Two thoughts couldn’t leave your mind now: “Did he know what effect his words had on you?” and “Will he also capture the blush his compliment created?” It wasn’t hard to keep the pose he wanted you to remain as all your muscles tensed at his gaze and touch. Taking looks at you from time to time his hand created wonders on the canvas, just like always. Everything he painted looked even more beautiful than in reality. The most obscure sceneries or hideous faces were turned into the most fascinating and beautiful ones.

“Have you ever posed?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence that surrounded you.

He never had anything against talking during your sessions, unless the conversations lasted for too long or were too engaging. For some unknown reason, this question almost made him drop his brush.

“What?” He chuckled and spoke after you repeated yourself. “I feel better on this side of the easel,” he said now more calmly.

How you wished he ever accepted anybody’s offer to portray him. Or for him to at least paint his self-portrait. Just like many asked you to model, he got this request quite as often. His features were delicate but still in a manly way. You adored looking at him just like he adored painting you, but none of you had the guts to ever admit to that, leaving many missing opportunities.

As much as you wanted to tell him how beautiful he truly is, your throat didn’t let the words out of your mind. You spent the rest of this session quiet, not daring to say anything else.

“Okay, I’m done,” he announced and you raised your eyes from the palette he held in his left hand. “Do you wanna see?”

“Can’t believe you’re still asking that question,” you said with a beam.

Taking his apron off, he stepped back and you admired yet another piece he created. Every was different and better in its own way, but this one was something else, capturing your features exhaustively.

“What do you think?” His voice was quiet, almost in a murmur that tickled your ear.

“It’s… beautiful. Can’t believe you could become any better, but you never fail to prove me otherwise.” He smiled at your compliment and stared at the fully covered portrait.

“I think it could use one more strand,” he suddenly said and held a brush in front of you.

Staring at it and then at him you took a step back in shock. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not a painter, I’m gonna ruin your work!”

“You’re not gonna ruin anything,” Sunghoon grinned.

He placed the brush in your hand, and held it gently yet firmly in his, while his other arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer. Your mind went blank at sudden close proximity. You’ve never touched each other, apart from him when he guided you. And here you were, back pressed against his chest, feeling his breath hit your back while your palm was placed in his. With fully relaxed motion he painted a wavy lock just above your left cheek, enhancing your cheekbones.

“Now it’s perfect, don’t you think?” The nonchalant tone of his voice drove you crazy. Things you would let him do stood nowhere near his detachment.

“Yeah,” you managed to breath out at the loss of skin to skin contact with him.

“Thank you once more. Are you sure there’s no way I could repay you with?”

He always asked that question. And you always said you couldn’t take anything from him with a clear conscience, even though there was something in your mind he could do.

“I think I know,” you said before thinking about it.

“Oh? I’m listening then,” he was shocked at first but also eager to return a favor you’ve been giving him for a long time now.

Hesitating you finally said: “Paint me.” Your words made him frown and chuckle, but before he could argue you continued. “And I want to keep it. I want it for myself.”

Not sure if he will agree to this, you waited for his response.

“Okay, I will paint you. Can you come over to my place this weekend? I have all the stuff needed and it’s closer to your place than uni,” he suggested and you nodded, confirming the date and hour. “Okay then. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

You left him alone in the studio and he stared at the canvas for a while, wishing he could convey both your beauty and his feelings for you at least a little better.

Days passed and you seemed to not be able to think about anything else, Sunghoon occupying your mind for whole days. Mainly thoughts of his gentle touch on your waist and hand were replaying in your head. It drove you crazy, the way he had an affect on you, probably bereaved in obliviousness.

But you weren’t the only one going crazy at the moment. He tried to focus on his other paintings but his mind was full of you. His feelings for you were already deep and passionate, but the moment he felt your body that close to his, and how it perfectly fitted his number one priority was to make you satisfied with whatever painting you wanted.

But was that stupid portrait the only thing he wanted to satisfy you with?

Whenever you showed you how to pose he had to compose himself and his filthy thoughts of what he truly wanted to do with you at that moment. He wanted to bring you pleasure nobody would ever do, show you his feelings, his passion you ignited in him. But at the back of his head, he knew his dirty fantasies about you would only stay as fantasies. Because in no world a girl like you would spare a look at a guy like him. At least that’s what Sunghoon thought.

Frustrated at his loss of focus he untied his apron and threw it on the ground with a light thud. He looked at the canvas he tried to fill in with his ideas, but all the faces he tried to paint were yours. Every page in his sketchbook was dedicated to you. Even in his phone he had a seperate album of photos from your sessions, that he took under false pretenses to have a good reference. But his absolute favorite one was the one from the only time when you wore a dress. A tight one, to be precise. He didn’t choose it, all he said was for you to pick an outfit yourself and he regretted that decision almost as soon as you stepped into the studio. It was a tight black dress that showed all your curves off. It hugged your body so perfectly all he wanted was to tear it off it, to see it bare, with his own pair of eyes. But that fantasy remained as one, as he tried his best to stay calm and not let you know of the boner you caused. Keeping it professional he tried not to be obvious with his stare, only looking at your body when he really had to.

He watched that photo with a mind full of memories from that day, that were still alive and fresh, even though quite a long time passed already. Sighing he laid on his bed and helplessly reached to his pants where his dick was already hard like a rock. He pumped himself few times, now basically fucking his hand, while trying not to think about how beautiful you would look with your plump lips or feminine hand wrapped around it.

You on the other hand weren’t very different from him. Dirty thoughts and unfulfilled desires flooded your mind mercilessly. Fantasies of him were no longer satisfying, leaving you hungry for him and his body. Your fingers were deep inside you as you tried to imagine it was him pleasuring you, murmuring sweet and dirty things straight into your ear. But it was all your imagination, he wasn’t here to please you, and all he wanted was to repay you, nothing more. Of all the people, why did it have to be him that seemed to be completely uninterested in you? While all you could think about was to give him yourself, give him your body, let him use it as he wanted. Did he not see how crazy you are about him? Is he testing you?

Is he testing you?

The thought repeated in your head. You stopped pleasuring yourself at the confusion about that one sentence. Maybe he was, but how about now testing him?

You thought for a long time about how to test him and his true feelings for you, but nothing seemed to be rational. You knew that your Saturday’s session would be a great opportunity but how to use it for your own good? You already tried posing in a tight and seductive dress, yet it completely left him unfazed, sparing you only a few glances while taking care of the canvas. It truly broke your heart, the thought of him being completely unattracted to you while you would go on your knees for him.

One last thing you could do was a completely crazy idea you had already thought about, but at the same time seemed like the only option, which was posing completely naked. Being totally nude in front of anybody was a huge deal for you, even though you fantasized about him devouring you in your own glory. But the thing was, you couldn’t expect what his reaction would be. What if he wouldn’t like it at all and would refuse? What if he would laugh at you and your desperation? All those scenarios scared you to your core and almost sent shivers down your spine. But the worst one would probably be him just doing his job and not questioning anything, just doing his job as coldly as always.

Sunghoon waited for you impatiently, though he didn’t have any expectations for today. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself about. After he prepared his easel as well as canvas, he went to the bathroom to check his hair once more and reapply new perfume, hoping you would like it. He even washed his apron so that not even a hint of deepest paint stains were visible on the material. He rolled up his sleeves and went to the studio he arranged in his apartment. It wasn’t big, but rather small and cozy. And the view that spread outside the big window many times was his main inspiration. Or maybe it was until he met you and painted you for the first time?

His mind started wondering why would you want your portrait just for yourself. He wasn’t blind, it wasn’t only him who was obsessed with you and he knew for sure you were well aware of your looks. But at the same time you weren't a selfish person, but rather timid and humble enough to not take compliments that well. That’s what truly made him so drawn towards you. Noticing how everybody wanted you for your looks made him look at you rather shallowly at first. Thinking he had a brush with a girl of a vain heart his surprise was pretty huge when he got to know you. Never had he met such a sweet soul like you. Doubts about your vainglory vanished with almost the same moment you had let him paint you, making you his favorite and practically only subject to portray. Ever since he looked at you like the most precious creature, that wasn’t able to hurt anybody or queen over others. Then why all of the sudden you wanted a portrait of yourself? Was it really for you, or for somebody else?

With a mind preoccupied with concerns and nervousness he prayed you wouldn’t wear anything too revealing. His thoughts were resolved as soon as he saw you. Opening the door for you he noticed your neat and pretty demure choice of clothing, consisting just of a shirt and a pair of jeans. His gaze fell on your exposed neck wrapped by uncontrived necklace and collarbones that protruded through your skin proudly.

“Will you let me in?” you asked, noticing him zoning out yet again. Coming back to reality he smiled warmly, eyes glued to yours. He welcomed you with a gesture and you took off your shoes.

Even though you knew each other for quite a long time now you never visited him at home. Being his introverted self he always stated that his apartment was his sanctuary, his oasis where he didn’t like having visitors at. That’s why you were extremely honored when he suggested meeting at his place.

„Would you like to drink something?” he asked and went behind the kitchen island to take a glass for him and potentially you.

“Water please,” you said and enjoyed the view of his back facing you.

His broad shoulders were enhanced by his slim waist that had an apron wrapped around it. His hair perfect as always, seemed a little shorter than last time you saw him. You wondered whether dropping a bomb would be better than waiting, but what would you even wait for, honestly? You knew what you wanted by now, all those days of thinking only about this day made you sure you wanted to expose yourself to him, both emotionally and physically.

Finally turning around he handed you your drink and watched you drink it.

‘Do you have any concept in mind? Any color palette you want the work to be in? Or do you want me to suggest something?” he asked, leaning on the kitchen island looking at you.

It’s now or never.

“Actually I do have some idea,” you said and tilted your head, creating a moment of suffocating suspense.

“Oh? Well, I’m listening, I wonder what you came up with.” With arms crossed on his chest he straightened his back. He showed you to his studio, and if not for what you had planned to say you would pay more attention to.

“For the color palette I was thinking nude,” you said a little too quickly.

He frowned slightly and observed your clothing. “Okay, but do you have something to change into? The colors of your outfit wouldn’t really suit the nude coloring.”

“Kind of…” Your gaze trailed off to the dried up paint stains on the easel and a mat that covered the wooden floor.

“What do you mean by ‘kind of’?” he chuckled.

“I can do this,” you thought to yourself, closing your eyes for a moment.

You turned around to face him. You stepped as close as your feet let you, almost as close as the last time when he held you. To your surprise he didn’t take any steps back, but looked at you from above, a faint smile still decorating his face. Your eyes traveled from his eyes to neck and his lips, only to finally whisper: “I want you to paint me naked.”

Waiting for his reaction you noticed how his smile slowly faded away.

“Okay,” he simply answered, his calm voice piercing your heart like a dagger. “I’ll prepare the base while you get ready,” he said, already taking care of the new canvas and mixing the right colors.

You watched his back as he silently prepared his utensils. Is this it?

With a completely unbothered expression he turned around after what seemed like eternity.

“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” he asked, pointing to your body with his brush.

“No.”

“I thought…”

“I came here because you wanted to repay me, right? Do your job fully Sunghoon and worry not only about preparing your stupid canvas but focus on preparing me,” you spat, knowing it sounded a little bit too harsh.

He came closer to you with his head tilted, with thought that maybe his deepest fantasies were shared with you. Your gaze screamed just one thing and he couldn’t believe he finally realized that they were saying the same thing for a while now. What a waste of time.

“What do you want me to do, Y/n?” He brushed your hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear softly.

“Undress me. Paint on my body, mark me before eternalizing me on your painting.” Your voice got weaker and weaker as his face got closer with each of your words.

“Is this the only thing you want me to do?” he asked quietly, his lips ghosting yours with a faint brush.

“Love me Sunghoon,” you breathed out.

Instead of pulling you in such a desired kiss, he pulled away taking almost a full picture of your form. His hands firmly placed on your waist slowly traveled up to the buttons of your shirt to painfully slowly unbutton them. Your eyes never left his, getting lost in their depth, while he was focused on devouring the moment he wished to last forever. Soon he gently let it fall down on the floor, leaving you in your bra.

“You’re so gorgoeus, Y/n,” he whispered just above your ear.

“Show me, show me how beautiful you think I am,” you demanded.

His eyes darkened and he started taking steps forward while you backed away. You hissed at the feeling of a cold wall hitting your sensitive skin but soon his hot breath warmed you up. His hand once again got a hold of your waist and he raised your head by your chin with the other. You looked not only beautiful, but vulnerable and desperate for his lips to finally fall on yours. Sunghoon couldn’t stop himself anymore, connecting you in a slow and sensual kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck bringing him closer and he cupped your cheek endearingly. The tension in the air made it impossible for you not to melt in his electrifying touch. The kiss started to get heavier, as he started sucking on your lip. Taking a cue of him brushing his tongue against your skin you parted your lips. Not wasting time he pushed his muscle in you and you almost moaned at the anticipation. His hand guided your head as he pleased and like a docile doll you let him do whatever he wanted.

He tapped your thigh and you wrapped them around his waist. Holding your body in his arms he left the studio, the main reason for your visit long forgotten as now his steps were taking you to his bedroom. Gently placing you on his mattress he broke the kiss to leave wet marks along your neck and collarbones, earning a breathy whine from you. Rubbing his back continuously you felt how wetness formed inside of your panties. Sunghoon groped your breasts firmly, giving them a good squeeze before you helped him take your bra off by raising your upper body. He let your tits free but not long after his lips attached to one of your nipples, while his fingers pinched the other one. Tangling your fingers in his thick locks you threw your head back in pleasure his tongue was giving you.

“Sunghoon,” you moaned, making his dick get even harder. Groaning he continued marking you, just like you wanted him to, preparing you for a portrait in colors of nude and purpure.

His fingers rested on your abdomen and traveled down to the waistband of your pants but you pulled him up to feel the warmth of his lips on your one more time, already drunk by the way they sucked on yours. You tucked on the first button of his shirt and he gave you a small nod, letting you undress him. He raised and took it off, revealing his defined muscles and slightly shiny skin.

“Done staring?” he chuckled.

“You’re beautiful, Sunghoon,” you blurted out, still admiring his whole manly silhouette.

Smiling at your compliment he hovered over you, lips brushing yours with no intention of kissing you. Instead he got lower and lower, not breaking eye contact with you, driving you completely crazy. He unbuckled your belt and unzipped your pants. Raising your hips you let him take them off along with your completely drenched underwear. He smirked noticing how desperate you were at your core, making you cover your face with your palms in slight embarrassment. Later you got to know it wasn’t a good idea, as he took you by surprise by licking a long stripe from your whole to sensitive clit. Arching your back, your hand found his head, pulling his hair in pleasure.

His tongue did wonders on your folds and you couldn’t contain your moans anymore, chanting his name like the most powerful spell. The way your voice cracked in whines of bliss he was causing, made him want to waste no time and just pull his pants off to fuck you, so that you would scream his name instead. But his number one priority was to give you the best experience you could think of, savoring your skin inch by inch, taking his time with you. Hugging your thighs he placed them on his shoulders, bringing you closer at the same time. Your taste on his tongue made him lose his eyes as he detached his lips from your pussy, only to wet his fingers.

Watching the scene unfold in front of you, your head once again fell backwards, knowing what to expect next. His finger slowly entered your hole, curling inside at the perfect angle. You let out a choked moan at the sensation of his finger inside you and his lips sucking on your clit. He started pumping his digit in and out of you at a moderate pace, that already left you breathless. Just when he added another finger and increased the speed of his pumps you felt how close you were.

“I’m so close.” You squirmed under his touch and he kept his tempo and intensity of his sucking. Pulling on his hair harder you felt vibrations from his groan and soon released around his fingers. He pumped them a few more times before pulling them out and ostentatiously licking them clean. Breathing heavily you covered your face, knowing that after all of those moans and other sounds you produced your skin would be red from intense blush.

Sunghoon waited for you to calm down and couldn’t stop wondering if this was all you came here for. Even if you did, he was completely fine with that, pleasuring you was something he dreamed of after all. But to prove his concerns wrong you managed to calm down a bit and pointed to the edge of his bed. “Sit,” you ordered, not caring about your tone anymore, urge and desperation to give him your head bigger than your exhaustion.

With slight hesitation and confusion he sat and with slightly parted lips watched as you kneeled in between his thighs, adding to the hardness of his cock. With your eyes glued to his, you ran your palms up and down his legs, getting dangerously close to his crotch with every stroke. His chest raised and his breath hitched as your fingers delicately brushed on his length, feeling how desperation grew inside his boxers. Unbuckling his belt and undoing the buttons of his pants you pulled them down, so they rested near his ankles. His boxers were already full, begging to be discharged but feeling quite in the mood for some teasing you slowly palmed him through thin material. With his mouth still slightly opened he watched as you started leaving chaste pecks on his clothed dick.

Though your teasing didn’t last long as you couldn’t wait to feel him just like he did. Hooking your fingers on the waistband of his underwear you pulled them off and now they joined his pants on the ground. Trying not to stare too much at him you left a few long kisses on his reddened tip still rubbing his muscles. You swallowed it and sucked, earning his head falling backwards. His hand landed on the back of your head and he slightly pushed you down. Without further ado you sank on him fully, hollowing your cheeks for double pleasure. Your nose pressed against his pelvis you gagged around him and cookwarmed him for a while, his hand now only for decoration, as it didn’t apply no pressure. His eyes rolled back when you finally bobbed your head vigorously, eager to get as much reaction from him as he did from you. And he had no intention of disappointing you. His low moans and groans soon filled the room and bounced like your head did on his shaft.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last long, baby,” he admitted though no hint of embarrassment was audible in his voice. Keeping your rhythm you waited patiently to swallow his hot load and bob your head a few more times to ride his high.

He leaned on his hands and heaved a sigh of content, with a genuine grin. Resting your head on his thigh with closed eyes you felt how he cupped your cheek and rubbed your skin softly. Looking up at him you noticed his smile. It wasn’t cocky, nor fake, but full of emotions he felt he held in for too long now. Patting his lap he invited you to sit there. You climbed there from the floor with his help and soon you were wrapped securely in his strong arms. None of you spoke, at least not yet, only looking for answers in each other’s eyes, in complete silence. Both your chests raised and lowered in heavy breaths, too scared to say something. His touch was just like that day in the studio, when he held you close to himself. It said what he was scared to say for this whole time he knew you. If only you realized his feelings sooner you wouldn’t waste time to test him. You remembered all those sessions you admired him and wondered if he did the same while you weren’t looking.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon called your name and you looked at him more attentively. You noticed how he struggled to put his thoughts into words so you interrupted him.

“Sunghoon, I love you. For the longest time now. And it’s okay if you don’t,” you said, hoping and knowing at the back of your mind that his answer is going to satisfy you.

“After what had just happened you still have some hesitancy about it?” He revealed his teeth in a chuckle.

Leaning in, you connected your lips once again, linking them together in a slow and passionate kiss. Not controlling your movements anymore and letting your emotions and feelings take a lead, your hands traveled all along his back and abs, while he just made sure you’re not shifting too much on him. But soon his control was taken over by his desire. Flipping you around he laid you on your back and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer. He groaned lowly against your lips as soon as his tip brushed against your hot and still wet core.

“Do you have condoms?” you asked bluntly, breaking the kiss.

Nodding he reached to the drawer of his nightstand. Rolling it on his length he positioned himself between your legs looking straight into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking for any sign of hesitation from you, but you nodded your head surely.

“I want you so bad,” you let out a whiny whisper.

And who he is to deny you the pleasure when you ask him so politely, while he lusted after you probably a lot more.

Pushing himself into your hole, you dug your nails into his skin, and he hissed at both the feeling of your walls around him and you scratching his back. Your eyes rolled back once he started thrusting into you, at a moderate pace. Lips brushing against each other, not daring to look at each other. Instead he buried his face into your neck, leaving a few sticky kisses on your favorite spots.

“Faster, please,” you whined and momentarily he picked up the pace but soon you asked once again.

“Then help me a bit and go on all fours for me, baby,” he whispered to your ear and pulled away to face you.

With shaky legs you moved obediently to the position he asked you to and moaned when you felt him entering you a little bit more harshly this time. Getting a firm grip on your waist he controlled your movements and thrusted much faster and deeper, reaching the spot he couldn’t with his fingers before. Not being able to hold your balance on your hands anymore you fell on his pillows, ass still high. He threw his head back at the sight of your arched back and asscheeks bouncing with his every thrust. His bedroom soon was filled with your moans, his groans and the sound of his balls slapping your clit.

All yours and his desires coming true, the painting got long forgotten, much important stuff occupying your minds.

The immense pleasure made you feel dizzy, clenching around him from time to time.

“If you don’t stop clenching around me, I’m not gonna last long,” he panted, trying to keep the high pace.

“I’m gonna cum too,” you moaned with a shaky voice.

Feeling the familiar knot in your stomach you released around him as his cum filled the condom. With last thrusts he pulled out and watched how you collapsed fully, hair completely messy, just like your breathing. He laid next to you, trying to catch his breath, looking at you from time to time. Turning around, your eyes met. He opened his arms invitingly and you nestled up to him with a beaming smile. His warmed-up skin, breath fanning your face and a few loving pecks on your forehead made you feel like you could fall asleep here and there. And just before you dozed off, you heard how he whispered straight to your ear: “I love you, my forever muse.”

a/n thank you for reading! it’s my first longer fic on this blog so let me know what you think!

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enha hard hours #enha smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen sunghoon hard hours #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you

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r0ttenhearts · 10 months

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can I request a charac using reader who has a crush on them for their own benefits. while reader is left to wonder why chrc acts like a stranger to reader in public. eventually confronting chrc and them brushing it off as not noticing, being too busy. until reader eavesdropped to a convo with chrc's friend abt chrc just using reader. and reader leaves and ignores chrc for a while and chrc slowly starts missing reader's presence, only to see reader with someone else and confronting reader about it. of course charac won't get the happy ending 😈

(preferably scara, or childe-- if u write for him.)

feel free to ignore, I think I haven't expressed my req properly 😭😭.

also can I be 🌧️ anon ? :>

thanks 🌧️ anon for the request ^^ i hope you enjoy!

not your pet, anymore

scaramouche x reader

warnings: angst, arguments, insults, suggestive mentions

“you love me, right?”

“of course i do, scara. you mean so much to me.” you whispered, fingers running through his hair as he leaned against you. his thick eyelashes fluttered shut, hand on his chest as he lay against you.

the biting cold of fall couldn’t compare to the warmth you two shared, huddled together like this. his cheeks still tinted pink from the cold air, hands cold to the touch, it was just the way you liked him to be. cold enough for him to want to sit close to you and warm up.

touches were not a regular occurrence for scaramouche, he was normally dismissive, claiming he hated the closeness of skin on skin contact. but that wasn’t said when he’d tug at the end of your sweater, asking if he could feel more of your warmth. soft pants escaping your lips, his cold hands wandering, bodies on the cold floor of his bedroom. that’s how you’d spend your days after school.

but this time, with your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead as you finished up some of scaramouche’s homework he had passed on to you, something felt different. he was glued to his phone, an unusual smile gracing his lips as his thumbs danced across the device. you frowned, putting down your pen as you watched his face pull up in expressions you had rarely seen.

“who’re you talking to scara?”

“none of your business, (y/n).” he snapped, the smile he had been wearing for a few minutes dropping as his head snapped up to look at you. he sighed dramatically, getting up from the floor as he placed his phone down next to your hand, his face inches away from you.

“so damn nosy (y/n), when you should be doing my essay. are you bored? should i give you more work? or maybe i should let you suck me off, put your mouth to use. i think i like you better when you’re stuffing me in than anything you’ve ever said, anyway.” he sneered, enjoying the silence from you. a slight movement from you caused annoyance to bubbled up inside of him, his face unable to hide that itching feeling.

“you know, if you weren’t like this i’d be nicer to you, hell, maybe i’d love you. fat chance of that happening, i hate you most of the time. the only time i like your mouth open is when you’re making those pretty sounds for me, anything else is just muck.

why’re you so quiet, huh? are you gonna run off to your friends again? tell them how horrible i am? you think someone like collei will bother with you after you tell her what you do in here with me? how you open yourself to me? after swearing to her you’re done with me? you’re fucking something, (y/n). honestly, i’m getting sick of you. can you get the fuck out now?”

scaramouche’s phone buzzes, screen lighting up with a new text message. the both of you glance to it at the same time before he snatches it up, typing away a response as you gather your things without a word. biting your tongue was easier said then done, but you knew the argument would be worse if you said anything to him at all.

with a gentle click of scaramouche’s door, hours had gone by since you made your way home. a warm shower to rid of the nagging feeling at the pit of your stomach, along with the stickiness scaramouche had left you. you weren’t enjoying this, not one bit.

you figured you’d talk to him tomorrow in class, apologize for your inconveniences to him, and have it return to how it usually was after a fight. if you could call it one.

what you didn’t expect was to see scaramouche sitting by the green haired girl, haypasia, his usual seat empty as they sat side by side. quietly setting your things down, you still thought to say good morning to him, as a sign of peace.

standing from your seat, you meekly stood in front of him, hands wringing in front of you nervously. “good morning scara, and haypasia, i was wondering if—“

scaramouche never looked at you the whole time you were standing in front of him, his eyes glued on haypasia as her eyes bore into yours. a bitter smirk on haypasia’s face as she waved you off, scaramouche rolling his eyes before continuing whatever conversation they were having before you interrupted him.

a pain started to form in your chest. that nauseating prick that you’d feel every time you knew scaramouche was fooling around with other girls. cold sweat was all you felt as class droned on, your eyes never leaving the back of scaramouche’s head as his hand would slip underneath haypasia’s desk, sliding her pieces of paper that she would giggle at or turn red to after reading.

why is he being like this? should you have said something yesterday? would the satisfaction of knowing he practically owned you satisfy him enough to not be like this? these thoughts ran through your head until it was time for lunch, that bell being something of a savior as you were freed from seeing him there with her.

childe’s loud laughs caught your attention as he stood with kazuha, an anxious look on the white haired boys face as his eyes locked with yours for a moment. “i mean, just look at her! everyone knows scara is just using her. i heard, he’s been sleeping with (y/n) so he’s good enough to do it with that other girl, whatever her name is. you know her, right kazuha? whatdya think? did you get a piece of her yet too? or is it just scara sinking his claws in her, and something else!”

kazuha’s nervous laugh as childe punched his arm spoke volumes as you stood up, clutching the strap of your bag. kazuha noticed the tears in your eyes as you ran out of the classroom, you had heard every word that came out of childe’s mouth. excusing himself, he ran after you, his soft taps of his feet on the floor in comparison to your loud, cluttered footsteps.

scaramouche heard about this from childe, his demeanor changing once childe gave him the details on how kazuha ran after you. he didn’t know why it bothered him, but it did. no one else should be acknowledging his pet, the one that was so compliant and listened to everything he asked of you.

that’s how he saw you, and that’s all you were to him. right? that egging feeling in his chest as his messages to you were now left on seen more often than not. your cat keychain you hung on your bag that “reminded you of him” being replaced by a charm of a maple leaf, the same one kazuha had on his bag.

it bothered him. and he didn’t try to hide it. every time you’d sit next to kazuha instead of him, he’d grumble under his breath. a part of him ached to see you bare on his bedroom floor again, your fingers running through his hair, your gentle kisses on his forehead when you’d put him to bed when he was in a foul mood. he actually missed you.

but why were you so distant now? surely kazuha wasn’t giving you something he wasn’t, right? he couldn’t. you’d always declared your loyalty to scaramouche, never once breaking it.

then why did you admit you were in love with kazuha? your hands together in front of scaramouche as he scoffs, taking you by the wrist the second those words left your mouth.

“come again? i think i misheard you (y/n). you said you were in love with me just last month. so how do you even think you have feelings for that poet?” his voice wavered, eyes scanning across your face for a sign, a hint of remorse or love that you once held for him.

you shake your head, taking your hand away from scaramouche’s grip but he tightens it anyway. his eyes bore into yours, begging, pleading for it not to be true. for you to laugh it off and say you were kidding.

“he’s.. kind. it’s unlike something i’ve had before, and.. it feels good. it feels good to be wanted, scara. something i never felt with you.”

“something i never felt with you”, those words rung in his head as he laughs loudly, fat tears spilling as he pulls you into his chest. your hands going to push him away as he holds you tightly, laughing through his tears.

“you promised me (y/n), you promised you’d stay. you said you’d stay with me forever, love me forever! please don’t be like them, please don’t let that be a lie.”

“let me go, scara. please.” you whispered, feeling him shake his head as his hands tighten around you.

“n-no, no.. i can’t lose you too. archons, i can’t. what did childe say (y/n)? i promise he didn’t mean it, whatever he said isn’t true! i swear.. let’s just, go back to how it used to be, yeah? you can come over like you used to and- and we just don’t have to have sex. we can do things you like! i swear.. so please..”

his tears had rolled down, coating your neck as he wept. you’d never seen him in such a desperate state. his eyes looking into yours for a hint of what used to be there for him, but there wasn’t. more tears rolled down his cheeks as he let you go. he had fucked up. again. and this time he lost you, the one thing he never thought he’d lose.

“i’m sorry, scara. i’ve moved on. i think you have too with haypasia, you’ll be okay.” you say before picking up your bag, leaving him standing there with a wreck of feelings in his chest.

“you’re just like the rest.” he spat under his breath, harshly wiping at his eyes as the tears continued to flow. a hateful sentence meant to comfort no one but himself. he knew you weren’t at fault for it, he knew one day you’d want something more of him, something he’d be reluctant to give you. the day you finally escaped the clutches of the toxic relationship he had given you, the same day he had deemed the end of his new beginning.

“i never got my forever with you, like you promised. i can’t apologize for hating you for it.”

taglist: @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @kaoriee @samarill

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche #scara x you #scaramouche x you #scaramouche angst #scaramouche x reader angst #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n

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fariesoiree · 5 months

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to hobie’s surprise, you’re still working into the late hours of the night. no way he’s gonna let that happen multiple nights in a row.

caution! mdni 3k wrdz, pet names, oral f. receiving fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, black fem reader, overstimulation, use of cunny cunt n pussy, back scratching, squirting, creampies pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

when hobie swung into your open window, he wasn’t expecting to see you awake and actually doing stuff.

his head tilts at the sight of you typing away at your laptop, swivel chair turning in endless semicircles. you’re dressed for bed, wearing a silk nightgown and your slippers astray beneath you. even your hair is tucked away from the night under the safety of your bonnet. “why are you up, ducky?” he climbs his way through the window purposely left open for him.

it’s become a part of your routine. you both live your lives during the day and at night, hobie comes by to climb into bed beside you. you spend the morning together, just for him to leave and do the same the next day. as long as neither of you acknowledge it, he doesn’t count it as a consistent schedule and therefore doesn’t feel the need to stop.

you don’t lift your head to acknowledge him like you routinely do. instead, your manicured hands dart across the keyboard. “got home from work late, got an essay to write. it’s due tomorrow night.”

“what?” his shadow grows nearer with each step he takes towards you. hobie knows you’re too far gone when you don’t reprimand him from sitting on your desk. “it’s almost four in the morning, lovely. you can’t do it tomorrow?”

“no,” there’s a pause between your words and the silence is filled with your incessant typing, “i picked up a shift at work so i can’t.”

“you’re becoming a cog in the capitalism machine. that’s why you’re so stressed out. you should to take a break before they make you a mindless slave. that’s what they want, y’know. for more people to – ”

you tilt your back, a sigh leaving your lips. your eyes close with the attempt to find what dwindling patience you have. “hobie, i really cannot do it tonight. i have an essay to write and it’s due tomorrow. i just told you that.”

he stares at you, only for a moment. there’s a lot of things he isn’t enjoying about this. the fact that you’re still awake, the fact that you’re stressing over something put in place to make you feel bad about yourself, and the fact that you’re snapping at him. he’s sure it’s due to your lack of sleep but that doesn’t make him feel any better about it. “you’re in a shitty mood and it’s starting to bother me.”

“wow, really?” you can’t help your sarcastic tone. it slips out before you’re aware of it. “i didn’t even realize i wasn’t feeling super good!” your eyes are rolling as you place the laptop on what desk space is left from his limber body. you regret it the moment you say it but you’re so deeply set in your ways that the second thought doesn’t linger long.

he’s silent again, fingers tapping against the desktop. he stares at the floor, outlining the wood detailing with his eyes.

you both stay like this for a while, typing and staring at the floor. you can’t deny his company aiding your stress relief. it’s always nice to have hobie around, even if he isn’t doing anything.

ten minutes pass before hobie is glancing at the clock. “alright,” he finally says while rising to his feet. “time for bed, love.” he turns your chair himself, dragging you away from your nearly completed essay.

“what are you doing? i have work to do.” you struggle against him, tugging your arms but to no avail. he’s just so much more stronger than you, pulling you to your feet and into his arms. “hobie,” you whine as he gathers you up and into the air with his super human abilities.

“oh, i heard you,” hobie says, closing your screen and turning off your desk lamp. the room immediately gets dark. the lamp functioned as the sole light in these hours. having it off sent your space in a blanket of nothingness. “i just don’t care. you’re tired and your attitude is shit.”

you can never get over how easily he overpowers you, despite his tiny frame. while hobie is large in height, he’s the lankiest thing. his strength solely came from his radioactive spider.

you huff, throwing your weight around. all it does is get you tossed onto the bed. because your eyes have yet to adjust to the lighting, you’re unable to see a thing. you can’t help but shriek upon impact, bouncing on your mattress. “what the hell, ‘bie? my attitude is shit? your attitude is shit. mad at me because i’m not giving you attention because i have stuff to do. of course i’m tired. i’ve been up all night because i actually have responsibilities.”

“stop fightin’ with me.” hobie worms his way next to your body. his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “and while you’re at it, stop talkin’ and go to sleep.”

you’re still mumbling your distaste against his skin, arms pushing against him. you’re refusing to go down like this, to let him simply take you away from the essay you’ve been working so hard on. you’re so close to finishing, you can taste it. “isn’t this against what you stand for? thought it’s wrong to force someone to do something.”

he only holds you tighter, strapping your arms down in his grip. “you’re not takin’ care of yourself, princess. didn’t sleep last night, didn’t sleep the night before. think i’m gonna let you not sleep again? especially since you’re talkin’ to me like you’ve lost your mind.”

“i’m not! i didn’t say anything to you. if your feelings are hurt that’s your fault.” you resorting to using your feet, kicking at him until he’s forced to tangle his legs with yours.

“you’re always sayin’ the same thing when i call you out on somethin’. ‘i didn’t do it’. ‘it’s your fault’. ‘i’m not sorry’.” hobie’s voice raises a few octaves to mock yours. “it’s not rocket science. just admit it and let me help you.”

your cheeks puff in irritation. his route isn’t helping your mood and knowing unfinished work is just arms length away is making you antsy. “unless you’re gonna get up and do it for me, which you won’t, you can’t help me.”

with your next blink, you find yourself on your back. the bed dips and rises as hobie adjusts his position, arms locking around your legs and hands resting on your stomach. “what the actual fuck are you doing?” you sit up and as a result, slide out of his grasp just a bit.

hobie just yanks you back down and tightens his hold, leaving you no choice but to remain at his mercy. “helpin’ you. if you don’t wanna go to sleep, fine. i’ll just make sure you can’t do nothin’ else.”

he rolls the hem of your gown up, despite your protests above him. you wiggle about but it has no effect on his focus. he’s too busy staring at the pretty cotton panties you sport. “you need to relax, treacle. gonna spread yourself thin.”

you blow out a breath, somewhat mixed with frustration and defeat. you know he’s right but your mind is already racing with everything you have to complete this week, including going to work and making school deadlines. “that’s reality, ‘bie. that’s how it is. i’m not a crime fighting, rioting spider person with no cares for anything. i actually have to be a cog in the machine or whatever you said.”

his lips ghost and press against your skin, littering soft kisses along your inner thigh. “so? don’t gotta let them use you like this.”

“hobie.”

he hooks his finger around the bottom, pulling the white material to the side. “jus’ worried about you is all, dovey. shouldn’t even be awake, much less doing somethin’ right now.”

he tenderly kneads the stress away at your hip while his thumb coaxes you into submission, drawing slow circles on your clit. he leans his head against your skin, looking through his eyelashes to watch you.

you, who’s struggling to give off an unaffected impression, eyes closed and knees bending. “get off. you’re annoying me.” your slight grip on your sheets tell him otherwise.

“mhm,” hobie hums. his gaze is trained on you and you only while he warms your sex up to his touch. “you gonna go to sleep if i do?”

your silence is a loud enough response for him. he turns back to your now glistening cunt. his thumb glides over it with ease, collecting your slick and redistributing it along your folds.

he doesn’t understand you and your need to fight against him. hobie really is just trying to take care of you and you’re insisting on ignoring him and rotting your soul away. as if he is going to stand by and let that happen.

you keen at the feeling of his tongue running over your cunny, flat and thick. a soft pant falls out your lips, just barely open. your fingers curl into your palm. there’s a part of you that doesn’t want him to know, yet, how quickly he’s consuming your thoughts so you force you spine into the mattress and hold your arms against yourself.

you clench your teeth together and mute the moans that crawl their way up your throat as hobie drags his tongue around. his lips wrap around your bundle of nerves, suckling off the juices. his lips piercings aren’t helping, slotting against your skin and sending you into overdrive.

he glances at you for a second, only when you give in and entangle your hand in his hair. the tug that follows only pulls him closer. he has to pull your thighs apart when they threaten to close around his head. any other day, he’d stare at you with a warning slap to your pussy but tonight, he lets it slide in hopes you’ll tire yourself out.

hobie can tell your close when your writhe in his hold, both to get away from and get closer to his tongue. he’s easing you into it with a hand reaching up to clasp yours and another at the soft skin of your tummy, forcing your back out the arch. he massages your skin in encouragement at your orgasm that comes ripping through your body.

hobie, although unhappily, has to leave your pretty pussy behind. you’re pulling his hair so hard, he’s forced to resurface until he’s eye level. “feel better?” he positions himself next to you on his side. he’s sweet, draping his arm around your waist.

as he expected, you nod and curl into his chest. you can’t deny that much of the stress you felt before dissipated. hobie’s warmth is soothing, enticing you to revel in your sheets. you’re grateful when he pulls the duvet over your bodies.

his head is in the groove between your neck and shoulder, peppering kisses along your skin. “that’s good to hear, duck.” his fingers run up and down your back, just grazing and dipping farther and farther down. “still thinkin’ about all’at stuff?”

“yeah but i can just do it tomorrow. it’s not like i have a lot left because i already did most of – hobie!”

you shriek when his fingers suddenly become nestled inside you. you grip his shirt, hiding within his chest. you shudder at the feeling of them move, stroking against your cunt.

“you’re still thinkin’ about it.” he chastises with a click of his tongue. he holds you in place to control your twitching, continuing to peg his digits into you. “wrong answer.”

“i’m not,” you whine. you can both feel your gummy walls tighten and twitch, sucking him in despite you campaigning to get away from him.

“you’re not?” hobie cradles you against him, gentle in touch. “could have sworn you just said it, though.”

you whimper and mewl, torn between enjoyment and overstimulation. his fingers are larger than you can comprehend, digging dip within your core, and much longer than yours, pressing farther than you could ever do yourself.

you’re reduced to sobs, nearly shredding his shirt into two with how much you’re pulling it apart. the popping of the seams is drowned by your voice and the squelching of your slick against his hand.

his arm against your back leaves you little room to struggle with his fingers prodding from behind. at some point your leg slips around his waist.

“it’s okay, pretty. i got you, yeah?” hobie feels hot, physically hot. the duvet wasn’t helping, trapping your body heat that increased with each movement. he also can’t help his massive boner, having to fight the urge to rut against you.

hobie knows this is about you, or rather that he’s making it about you. about helping his baby get to sleep. this isn’t the first time he’s came back and seen you up at the late hours of the night. the first few times, he let it go but the longer this continues, the more messed up your sleep schedule is going to be. he has to interfere, especially when you’ve been waking up in a terrible mood each morning, a frown already settled on your lips before you’ve even gotten out of bed.

he’s so deep in his thoughts, hobie nearly misses how desperate you suddenly get. it’s only when you’re reaching behind to grasp his wrist that his brain fog is gone.

he didn’t realize, either, how much faster he’s moving, fingers bumping against your spot. “dove,” hobie says it softly, “i don’t want to use my webs on you. move em’ before i do.”

you’re reluctant but obliged, unwrapping your fingers from his wrist and hanging them over his shoulder. you find yourself plunging your nails into his skin. “hobie,” you cry out, hips grinding against him.

“i know, pretty. i know,” he whispers against your forehead. “let it out. i got you.” hobie consoles you as your body tenses in his hold.

you’re all wound up, taking a final gasp as it all rolls off your skin. he draws gushes of your cum out your leaking hole and swallows your sobs in his mouth, connected with a kiss. you’re grateful for his comfort, clinging onto him as if he is your saving grace

your chest rises and falls with each breath and you shove his hand away. “no more,” you roll away from him, simultaneously pulling off the covers for some much needed cool air.

it’s futile when hobie draws you back into him after tossing off his shirt, himself. “nah, i think you have another one left in you.” you can feel him shuffling behind you and assume he’s preparing to pull his dick out.

you tightly cross your legs together at his words, eyes darting around for a clock. “what? it’s so late, though. i have so much to do tomorrow, too. we should just sleep.”

your rational fall on deaf ears because he’s easily lifting your leg into the air and almost to your shoulders. “oh? you have a lot to do tomorrow?”

his tone has your stomach twisting. you wet your lips, feeling around for something to hold on to. “n – no. i don’t. i’m not doing anything tomorrow.”

the fat tip of his cock slaps against your folds, sticky from his own arousal. “too late, lovely. you already said it. gotta fuck it out of you.”

you’re still pleading your disagreement and how you’ll start sleeping at a proper time when hobie stuffs his cockhead inside your cunny.

he groans in your ear upon your welcoming wet grip. you always feel so good, at this point he’s addicted. if he ever died in your cunt, hobie would be the happiest man in the world.

thanks to the previous orgasms, there’s no pushback. only you griping about how you can’t take it and that he’s too big, which hobie knows is a lie. truthfully, you go through the same thing every time and he can never get enough of it.

“tired yet?” he grunts in tune with his rapid, steady paced thrusts. hobie doesn’t expect anything past your incoherent gargles.

you clutch the mattress under your pillow, prying at the fitted sheet. with every thrust, your body lurches forward. your head turns on your own accord, reaching out to cup his cheek.

you’re so cute, he thinks, with your eyes big and round and full of enchantment. you heave him towards you until your lips are moving together in perfect synchrony.

hobie wraps his tongue around yours, sitting up to deepen in. with his neck craned down and your dress pulled up, he gets a perfect view of his dick sliding in and out.

it glistens, even if the limited moonlight. the base is especially glazed over, foaming with a white sheen.

he feels like he’s becoming deranged when you toss your head back in ecstasy. you’re going to kill him, he’s sure.

and he’s even more sure when your tiny fist is rapping against the bed. “oh my days, oh my – fuck!” you outstretch your arm until you find his, grabbing in a firm hold.

hobie plants his head on top of yours and inhales the whiffs of hair products from your bonnet. he can smell the lingering hints of rosemary from your oil. “no more staying up late, you hear? pissin’ me off with this.”

and like the best girl you are, you nod brainlessly. your wordless promise is taken seriously, you’re sure. it’s cemented when hobie forces you to look at him.

his eye contact is just as intense as the grip on your cheeks. you can see just how vehement he is and it only makes you needier.

your face screws up as one final indication before your entire body trembles. you fall limp onto your side, cunt spasming around him. you’ve been fucked into oblivion, ready to settle in for the night. to your surprise, hobie has other plans.

his pulling out has you thinking he’s done, only to roll you into your back and position himself on top of you. he doesn’t wait for you realize what’s happening before he’s aligning his tip with your entrance again and gliding it in with ease.

you feel full to the brim, one hand on his chest and the other scraping your nails against the headboard. at some point, he supposes his own lust kicked in. after putting your needs first, he’s given free reign to chase his own orgasm.

that’s exactly what he’s doing now, pounding into you with such speed, your tits have been jostled out your top. the brown of your nipples has his infatuated brain screaming.

“hobie!” you all but yell. you’re inching slowly towards the top of the bed, unaware of your movements. hobie isn’t, though. he finds purchase at your hips to shift you back into place.

“hold – hold on. jus’ wait.” he moves both your legs over his left shoulder, driving deep.

you swear you can feel him in your throat, swear he’s realigning your insides like some sort of chiropractor. “gonna – ” your eyes roll to the back of your head. your nails dig into his back and drag across the skin as you try to ground yourself.

immediately, his attention fall to your cunt. hobie expects to see the usual sparkling ooze of cum but to his marvelment, watery squirts take it’s place.

you seize up so tight on him, he’s forced to release inside you without warning. he has to remember to hold himself up as to not crush you beneath him. all he can think about is how that was probably the best nut he’s ever had.

“you . . . you wanna finish your paper?” hobie says finally. he’s the first one to speak as you were both trying to catch your breath from your late night exercise.

you so quickly scowl at him, both at the implications and the thought of doing anything else tonight. “you must not value your life. you can’t.”

hobie smiles, lazily. he kneads at your muscles. “bear with me, treacle. ‘s gonna be uncomfortable.” he warns, anticipating the wince your expression turns into as he pulls out, genuinely this time.

you can feel the scratches developing from your previous actions, rubbing his shoulders, and a tinge of guilt tugs at your heart. “sorry. for these and all the worry i caused you . . . and also for what i said.” you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close until you’re both laying down, cuddling up on each other. although you can’t quite remember what you said, you know you would have never uttered the words on a normal day.

he shrugs, fixing your slipping bonnet and unbunching your nightgown. “it’s in the past. i’m not thinkin’ about that, right now. i’m thinkin’ about how we need to get you ready for bed, again. can’t go to bed like this.”

he’s right but you’re still dramatic about in, unwilling to leave the comfort of your bed. “ten minutes.” you say, eyes fluttering closed. you revel in your sheets as long as you can before hobie chuckles, ripping them off.

“no, can’t do that. we’re doin’ it now. we both have to shower and shit and you probably can’t stand without me,” his voice is lighthearted, if not evident by the smirk playing in his lips.

he’s carrying you again, subjecting you to the princess treatment he feels you deserve. the most funny part about this, to him, is how dedicated you were before to staying up all night.

now, you’re all pliant and it’s purely due to him and his cock. even though hobie made you promise these endless nights won’t continue, he definitely doesn’t mind doing this again. especially after how easily you finally knock out, mouth wide open and snoring.

#✮🕷✮⋆˙#hobie smut #hobie x black!reader #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #hobie x reader #x black reader #x reader #hobie x y/n

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hollowtakami · 1 month

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HEYOOO

so I read your keigo fics and I really loved them! What do you think about Keigo waking up from a nightmare and he can't find you, so he starts to panic, and when you come back from the toilet (or wherever you were), he immediately latches onto you panicking and crying

Man he is so sweet

hi anon! ^_^ tysm for your ask, it rlly made me smile hehe. here’s a small drabble as thanks:)

(apologies if its rusty, the only thing i have written as of late is uni essays-)

keigo gasped for air as though he’d been reborn, feathers pricked out like needles.

he clutched at his shirt like a vice, daring to tear through his skin and stress grip his dying heart. he panted, delirious amidst his fear.

the suns of his eyes bounced across every corner of the room, his free hand scratching away the duvet in search of you. nothing, not even his feathers could sense you, clouded by fright.

what the avian didn’t know was that you hadn’t left him like his father, you’d only gotten to get a glass of water after the drought in your throat had woken you up, not nearly as violently as the way your boyfriend’s body treated him.

what you didn’t know was that your boyfriend was unfurling faster than the might of his wings ever could.

pattering through the hallway of your apartment with a glass and a plenished throat, you gently broke your way into your shared bedroom with a tired hand.

your eyes retreated behind their lids at the light you swore you hadn’t put on, lest you disturb keigo in his sleep.

no, an instinctual feather did so.

you stop, feet planting into the carpet as your brain tries to process the scene in front of you, whirring through its fatigue.

there was keigo, plumage fluffed up in fear, eyes wild and pinned on you, your bedsheets in tatters.

“kei?” words clawed up your throat as you slowly made your way to the bedside table and placed the glass. keigo grabbed your wrist the moment you’d set it down, you managed to get a better look at him.

sunny bedhead and a dark sky lining his eyes, his chest heaved along with the heavy burdens that laced his blood, what was his own that didn’t stain his hands.

no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, keigo would never be clean. it had trickled into his brain, and he couldn’t even escape it in his sleep.

“stay,“ he silently barked, his words scratchy.

keigo’s stress grip on your wrist wouldn’t let up, the avian latched onto you for dear life.

your face fell, eyebrows furrowed as you saw his glassy eyes, glossed over with fear.

“bad dream, baby?” you whispered, slowly raising your wrist to run a hand through keigo’s hair, massaging his scalp with gentle nails.

keigo only choked on a sob, his vulnerabilities racing down his cheeks to their end. if only this would end, he begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed.

you brought your wrist down, eyes trained on the dots of his.

“‘m not going anywhere, baby boy,” you soothed, gentle reassurance hanging in the air until keigo was ready to pluck it down and hold it close to him.

he tried to not, more words contesting in his throat.

keigo looked down at himself, feathers shaking more than his tired body.

“bad..” he gestured to himself.

“you aren’t him, birdie,” your words were soft, sun against his skin. his heart swelled amidst the silent rage of his head.

soon, you felt keigo’s grip starting to soften too.

you grabbed the glass of water with a free hand, using the other to usher strands of gold out of his eyes, tucking them behind his ear as you helped him sip some water.

kissing his forehead, you cooed, “that’s my boy,”

keigo chirped, too frightened to speak. he would only chirp or coo when this regressed into his fear, not that you minded. you knew that his bird qualities were something he was forced to bury, much like other innocents.

but, there wasn’t any blood on keigo’s hands.

the only thing in his hands was the silk of your skin, fingers intertwined as you spoke to him with the song of your voice, an angel he would tell himself he didn’t deserve.

your wings were pure, his stained red. he was born like this, conceived by a monster of a man. so, that must mean that he was born the same.

it took an angel like you to help him realise he had never fallen, it was someone else who had clipped his wings.

#<3 #tysm for the ask!!#i had a lot of fun with this one #finally writing after over a fortnight or so #back to uni work i go-#keigo takami x reader #keigo takami fluff #mha comfort #mha x gender neutral reader #my hero academia hawks #hawks my hero academia #hawks x gn reader #reverse comfort #keigo takami #boku no hero academia #mha hawks #takami keigo #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n

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esmeraldablazingsky · 6 months

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the only person in fontaine who i think should have visibly shredded abs is clorinde. look. listen. i have an essay

furina has maintained a performer’s figure for a long time but she’s more of an actress and singer than a dancer. she has the muscle tone of a macaroni noodle, and also her body composition is 80% pastry. but you know what we love her for that

navia is definitely deceptively strong for her hyper femme presentation. girlie puts in the work! shes not a gym rat tho. she has better things to do, and macarons to bake

wriothesley you could definitely make a case for more than the others, but also, consider this. he’s not a mangy half starved wolf anymore. he’s comfortable, he can get whatever he wants from the kitchen staff, he puts sugar in his tea. it’s not like he’s lost any of his combat edge but he doesn’t HAVE to be a lean mean fighting machine anymore, he has other strengths, and he likes it that way!

neuvillette is the world’s most pampered dragon. furina summoned him 400 years ago and proceeded to spend those 400 years ordering him premium water and making him do paperwork and try fancy foods with her. he does not want to go outside, except if it is to swim. you may not like it but this is the ideal sea-animal-guy body type (strong swimmer muscles smoothed over by a layer of squish, like a seal)

sigewinne is literally a marshmallow have you ever seen a ripped melusine I don’t think so. but that wasn’t in question, right?

clorinde though!! clorinde. duelist and bodyguard supreme, a well known figure whose athleticism is highly publicized. she doesn’t HAVE to have abs, but she’s definitely the fontaine character I would most readily believe does

#i can’t sleep and unfortunately this is what happens 👍#apologies to Charlotte and the sibling trio who I do not have clear thoughts on #blazie speaks #genshin impact #I feel very strongly abt neuvillette ppl love to draw him with washboard abs and fhays fine but when I see him im like #who is that #abs discourse

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movidita · 4 months

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18+ mdni

You were a total tease. Those thigh highs and shorts skirts, revealing soft plush thighs Professor Grimes was more than eager to touch.

Long locks cascade down your back, almost reaching your bum. Tits practically spilling out of the tiny tops you strategically picked out. Plump lips begging to be kissed— to be bruised and swollen around his cock.

Every day in class, he’d put you on the spot, so he could watch you squirm in embarrassment, something that made his slacks tighten. And didn’t you know it? You knew the effect you had on him, you knew exactly what he did the second class was dismissed— the curtains pulled shut, you also never failed to miss the tent in his pants.

It wasn’t like you were any better, hand in your panties the second you got to the bathroom stall.

You needed him so bad. Your fingers were nothing compared to his, you thought. Whenever he’d hand out papers, his hand would linger on your desk a few seconds longer than everyone else’s. Your fingers would be nothing compared to his cock, you knew that. The unmistakable hard-on he constantly had around you didn’t fall on blind eyes— yours were wide open, practically drooling at the sight of your professor.

The next day in class, you’d been tasked with essay upon essay. You’d barely gotten a sentence down on the page before he’d dismissed the class, far too busy daydreaming about him and his fingers and his mouth and his dick.

Everyone had risen from their desks, leaving papers on his table on their way out. You were the last to stand up, hesitantly walking forward with your empty page.

You dropped it on his desk, turning away in a second and heading for the door, interrupted by the call of your name. Spinning around to face him, he was now stood up. You took cautious steps towards your professors desk, fidgeting around on your feet as you awaited your scolding.

“This is it? Two words?” Professor Grimes turned the paper over, inspecting it.

“I’m sorry— I just uh— I didn’t—” You were at a loss for words. What could you say? Sorry Professor I was too busy thinking about you fucking me? No, you couldn’t say that.

“Sit back down. You can start again, maybe then I won’t fail you.”

You huffed but ultimately complied, snatching back your paper and sitting at the desk.

Almost fifteen minutes had passed, and now you had two sentences, the only thought running through your mind being about your professor, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy your teacher.

“Sir, I really cant do this. I know nothing of the topic.”

He stood from his desk, walking over to stand by yours and tower over you. “Alright, I guess we’ll just have to think of something else you can do to earn your grade.”

“Please, I’ll do anything.”

He smirked, going over to the door and pulling the small curtain that covered the window shut.

Professor Grimes was back at your side in a second, pulling you up onto your feet and smashing your lips onto his.

You had no complaints, more than happy you were finally getting something more. Your hands eagerly roamed his body, just as his did yours, cupping the backs of your thighs and moving you to sit on the desk, his hard-on pressing right up against your covered cunt.

You moan into his mouth, eagerly unbuttoning his slacks just as he reaches underneath your small skirt to pull your panties to the side.

The man let out a breathless groan before pulling away from your lips and staring down at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes— Yes, please.”

He chuckled, “Alright, greedy girl.” In a second his tip was poking at your entrance, precum from his cock smearing over your soaked cunt.

When he finally entered you, you let out a harsh moan, fingernails digging into his shoulder whilst your head rolled back.

“Fuck!”

Your professor continued to pump in and out of you, only driving you further and further to your release. “Mmgh, Sir!” You whine, orgasm impending already.

“Thaaats it. Good girl.” He praised, hip’s stuttering as he came inside of you, “Shit.”

Your own orgasm came quickly after his, juices mixing together and moans filling the air. Your own hips shake as you struggle to maintain closure.

He gently pulls out, pulling his slacks back up and smirking down at your still trembling form. “I guess you’ve earned yourself an A.”

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead #twd x reader #rickgrimes #rick grimes smut #rick x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x fem!reader #rick imagine #professor grimes

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bu-blegh-ost · 5 months

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A short essay about how Caspian is mathematically not a mole (ep. 115 spoilers) (and for the whole series for that matter)

Okay, alright guys, I saw your concerns. I saw it all, and you are right to be worried that your favourite blue wet man's blue and equally wet best friend may turn out to be a traitor. And so am I, trust me. Which is why I went through every single bit of Caspian's past I could dig out to create an unltimate timeline of his entire goddamn life to see it it'd be plausible for him to become a mole at any point in time and ultimately prove his innocence! If that's something you're interested in reading, then buckle up!

"Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones. This is totally seperate from the Black-Ops situation that you learned about in the Stronghold. And you, in this book, can tell that there is a plant on Lizzie's crew."

This, of course is something I need to point out first. Whoever Lizzie's mole might be, they are not a doppelganger. They are not a clone, or Black-Ops, just a solider of the Navy, a person that must have gotten into the Navy via regular recruitment, be trained by them and then put into a spy division. Jay ofc had this entire process sped up, due to her grandma's influence, but no one other than her, especially an Undersea citizen, who would probably have to put in extra effort to be trusted given their shaky political situation few years back, would get the same treatment. What I'm trying to say, Caspian would need time, at least few years of training to become a mole they'd trust to infiltrate a crew, and not just any crew might I add. More on that later. Let's go back to his most early years for now. This is a fragment of episode 84 in which Caspian talks to Gillion abt his early life:

C: We all have family. I consider my life up here, this crew to be my found family. But my previous…tribe with the water genasi in the Undersea, where I was growing up…sort of in a [illegible]... remember me telling you about the outskirts? We um…was very nomadic, quite a, quite a peaceful, tranquil life, but it was always, you know…mixed with this life of poverty and my family wasn’t very…wouldn’t really have much but the water around us, and each other, I suppose, so uh…You know...I mean my mother didn’t make it past old age, and uh…

G: I’m sorry…

C: When my sister left the tribe, my father sort of fell into a depression of sorts and he stopped moving around. And when we stayed in one place, I was 18 or so, maybe 16, it was a while ago, and then…that’s when I left as well. Ventured to the Oversea, and um…and it’s history, so that’s my family. Not sure what they’re up to these days, I mean…I know my sister went to the capital, where you were.

G: Pirating is a pretty lucrative business, maybe if…we managed to find them or run into them, we can give something back, put them in a better situation.

C: …Well um…I mean this was 10-15, 10 to 12 to 15 years ago, quite some, quite some time, so I don’t even know if my father is alive still, I mean I don’t really have the desire to go back to the undersea, Gill.

G: Wha-why not?

C: Because I like my life up here. This is where I’m happy.

So, before we go to what all of that entails, one more quick crazy thing to mention: so, Caspian's sister is an Elder of the Undersea. Like for sure. This is confirmed by this part from ep. 79:

The Triton who you remember as the Elder Odolaf, who looks like he is about to speak, but is cut off by the water genasi, who has been doing a lot of talking thus far, who is Elder Celeste. They stand up and there is a familiarity that you notice now in their face. It’s like you have met them before, but not in the way that you know them because they are the Elder, but in a way that it’s like, they look like somebody you know. And she has sort of these uh, white tied-up like dreads that are tied up in like a bun and they come across the face and then one side is shaved. And there are beads and piercings in her hair, her ears are a little bit more sea elf-like in the way that they are pointed and they kind of like gradient into pink. They all kind of wear the same sort of ornate robes, though hers is more, I guess faded and like cut a bit, look a bit more warriorous, or like tribal, but still very well-made and professional.

Tribal clothing, a water genasi, that looks like someone Gillion saw before in the face. The only water genasi Gillion met after leaving the Undersea is Caspian. Elder Celeste is Caspian's sister. Wild. Anyway, not what we're here for, but I needed to mention that.

The crazier thing is that Caspian left to Oversea when he was 16-18, and it has been 10-15 years since then. That means Caspian is currently 26 at possible youngest, and 33 at his oldest, which was surprising to me, I did not imagine Caspian as a man in his 30s! But that's straight up facts, so holy shit, you know?

Okay, so I'm going to list a lot of small facts that determine a lot of ages in quick succession. I hope it's not gonna be too scary to look at, I'll simplify it all at the end. [Deep inhale]

Right now Gillion is 22. So when Caspian left the Undersea, Gillion was 12-7. Jay is 21 and Ava was 2 years older, same age as Lizzie. So Lizzie is 23 now. When Caspian left the Undersea, she was 13-8. Chip is 19, so Lizzie is 4 years older. Hole in the Sea happened when Chip was 9, so Lizzie was 13. So Caspian left the Undersea around the same time Lizzie crashed on the uninhabited island with Chey after the Hole.

It's a lot, I know, I know. So let me clear this up a little.

Hole in the sea was 10 years ago. Chip was 9, Lizzie was 13. 10 years ago Caspian was in the age between 16 and 23, and he left the Undersea when he was 16 or 18. So roughly at the same time the Black Sea happened, Caspian came to the surface for the first time.

(also pls note that we are talking in estimates, casue in ep. 36 Lizzie says she was 11 when the hole happened, but in ep. 101 she says she was the same age as Ava which by the power of math would put her at 13. Either way, somewhere around that age)

After that, Lizzie spend some time on an uninhabited island with Chey, the Black Rose cook, who sacrificed herself for Liz, so she could survive and died shortly after. We do not know how much time passed, but I assume no longer than few months, and after that she was saved by Captain Shadowbeard where she met Caspian. They were a part of Shadowbeard's crew, Caspian saved her from the massacre where Shadowbeard was killed, and then Lizzie went on to create her own crew, Grandberry Pirates with Caspian never leaving her for a second since he met her. That means that the only time Caspian could have joined the Navy would be RIGHT after he came to the Oversea for the first time, roughly at the same time Lizzie was stranded on an island, and in that short period of time (between Lizzie's crash on the island and her being found by Shadowbeard) he would have to find the time to be trusted and accepted by Navy, get trained specifically for infiltration AND infiltrate not anyones BUT FUCKING SHADOWBEARD'S SHIP. Not a NEW crew. A crew of one of the most legendary pirates on the sea. Cause before Lizzie, Caspian was Sadowbeard's crew member, and since then he never stopped being a pirate, so if he was a solider, he would have had to be one before Shadowbeard. And remeber what Grizzly said in 115: "Jay, you come from a division of soliders that were purposely put to infiltrate pirate crews, especially the new and upcoming ones."

Shadowbeard was not new. Not upcoming. He was dangerous and Navy must have had the balls of steal to send a rookie solider, which Caspian would have been at that point in time, to infiltrate him. The numbers say it's impossible. Guys, the numbers! They don't add up!

Anyway, so basically Caspian could not be a mole. He is not a new pirate, he was not a member of a fresh crew, becaue his pirate journey did not start with Lizzy, it started with Shadowbeard. Grandberry Pirates is a new crew, but Caspian is not a newbie in it. You know who is? Rudith. I mean what kind of doctor lets a bunch of rowdy pirates have a secret base under a place where sick and vulnerable rest??? Like ANY other place would have been better and more respectful! Also you know what's interesting? Gillion could heal these people with lay on hands easily, and yet the only thing Rudith did for them was give them potions that didn't seem to help and look after them on purely non-medical level. Bro didn't do shit. Like, why would you even become a doctor without having access to healing magic? The answer, you are not. You are a Navy solider in disguise.

Okay, okay, I'm done, that's all. If you got this far, you are a hero, thank you for reading this insanely long ramble, but that's kind of the conclusions that I came to, of course, any counter-theories and discussion in general is very much welcome! I'd love to hear your opinions! Love you guys, bye~

#jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi #gillion jrwi #gillion tidestrider #caspian jrwi #jrwi caspian #elizabeth lafayette #lizzie jrwi #riptide spoilers #spoilers #jrwi spoilers

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erospandemos · 11 months

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I just can't help it

Yandere Chaewon x Reader

Part 1

“The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.”

― Ernest Hemingway, Men Without Women

What you’re about to read is a confession to you. An apology, if you prefer to call it that, as I’ve professed my love to you plenty of times—although it won’t ever be enough—and you’re at the knowledge of every crime I’ve committed since we met.

My Korean teacher repeatedly reiterated the lack of clarity in my essays and oral exams. I’m not good with words, you see. That’s why I thought that letting you know about the events in my life that shaped me and the feelings that followed me throughout these months would make you understand me better.

I know our conversations weren’t as deep as you probably expected. I’ve tried to explain myself to the best of my abilities and even if it was a mess you seemed to make out that flurry of words and comfort me. Sometimes, I truly thought you understood me more than I did.

It’s true that we always talked in riddles and puzzles but it made more sense that way. Because our—my—love was pure madness and somehow the riddles explained it better than we ever could.

The lack of sleep shouldn’t have affected my mind too much, at least in the part that’s in charge of writing.

If you’re reading this, I hope you understand. Sorry if I’m rambling a lot, and sorry if I will ramble more in the following pages. Right, sorry if I’m apologizing a lot—you told me not to do that. I just can’t help it.

I was tortured since the age of 6 when I started going to elementary school, that’s as far as I can remember. You could also say I was “bullied”, it’s what the adults like to call it, but it’s the same thing. People get defensive, almost offended when I use the other term. “Wow,” was a common reaction, “that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” I didn’t think it was extreme.

When I so naively asked my teacher the difference between the two words, she chuckled and looked at me as if I asked her what the difference between hot and cold was. Surprise was another clear feeling I could read from her expression. She asked me how I knew those words. I simply said I heard them from outside and she told me to forget them.

That evening, when I came home, I took the chair from my mother’s desk and put it next to the bookshelf, I climbed it and looked at the books on the top shelf. They were the books she used the least and between them, sitting all dusty and forgotten, was also the dictionary.

I blew and rubbed the dust away then I looked for the two words. I read the two definitions closely and more than one time but I still didn’t understand. They were the same.

I didn’t ask my teacher anything else. My teacher was clearly against explaining them to me.

But I was sure, I knew those two words extremely well because I felt them on my skin.

I wanted to be an idol. I told everyone in my class because I thought it was a normal dream—we all watched idols on TV in the afternoon—and being an astronaut seemed a lot harder. Apparently, it wasn’t. Because I wanted to perform on a stage, I was “pretentious”, “narcissistic”, an “attention-seeker”, and a “whore”. I didn’t know what they meant and thought they were compliments and they etched those words into my skin.

I later found their definitions in the dictionary and understood what they were saying.

I wasn’t the only girl who wanted to be an idol. Hayoon, a classmate of mine, dreamt of testing for JYP, SM, YG, and all those big companies. She took dance and singing classes, they were both in group and private. She could afford it because her family was very rich. From what I heard in the classroom, she started training when she was just a little girl because her parents saw her dancing in front of the TV during an episode of Inkigayo.

Surprisingly, Hayoon was never shamed. Because she was “humble” and had “her feet on the ground”. She was loved by everyone and was the most favored prospect for the role of an idol, everyone seemed to believe in her dream. She was confident, danced well, and was beautiful. All the girls went to her house at least twice a month to go to her huge pool, splendid garden, and majestic house. I never went, I was never invited.

She was good at everything and topped all subjects. However, I sang better than her. In music classes and festivals, I was always chosen and often took the roles instead of her. When she realized she wasn’t the best, she became embarrassed and frustrated.

She didn’t have any way of making me sing worse and neither could sing better than me, even after all those expensive lessons, so she took to poking fun at me to try and drag me down. Of course her friends joined as well. They were always calling me "ugly", "weird", and "gross" in a way that didn’t seem childish or playful, but demeaning and insulting.

The other kids constantly berated me between classes, glued my books to the desk, slapped me and then ran away. They knew all the spots where there was no CCTV in the school. They even stole my brand-new headphones and glued my shoestrings to my shoes when I didn’t see them. We wore slippers and my shoes were in my locker.

My teachers never helped me. I’ve tried telling them and they didn’t believe me, or rather, they chose not to believe me because that was easier for them.

Only a girl had the courage to help me, it only took one word and two days to have everyone against her. “Stop,” she only said that and then everyone hated her. You never go against the group, you never try to make yourself different, you never try to fight back.

In the end, I understood the difference between torture and bullying: one was for hurting and one was for fun.

During middle school, the bullying stepped up a notch. Some of my classmates went to my same middle school, they had many friends there and the rumors spread like wildfire. Many of the students liked to take their stress out by bullying other students. They were pathetic and talentless, they hated anyone who had potential unless they provided them anything, like Hayoon.

Smoking was illegal. But they didn’t care. They found all the corners of the school where the CCTV didn’t see them and studied where the professors usually walked to avoid their path. It wasn’t always perfect and sometimes they were caught but it sure helped them and the bullies.

One day, I was dragged by my hair behind the basketball court and after getting pushed to the ground, the girls started slapping, laughing, and kicking me. The smoke from their cigarettes and the kicks to my belly and back took the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe and I thought I was going to die. They were experienced—they noticed my lack of breath, gave me breaks to catch it, and started kicking me again.

They were caught by a teacher who forgot his bag. They claimed they were only giving me “birthday punches” and didn’t admit anything, nor apologized. They weren’t stupid either. The girls had a very good reputation and a good student persona, essentially they didn’t have any criminal records.

When I was asked what happened, I was ready to tell them all the atrocities that took place in school. But then, I remembered the girls’ eyes. I looked at the professor and I knew, right there and then, that he didn’t believe me, even before I said anything. They wouldn’t have done anything but the word would have been out, that I snitched on the bullies and then I wouldn’t have survived.

So I stayed silent.

The girls only got punished for smoking after they explained they only wanted to try and continued to do it anyway.

Between the end of middle school and the start of high school, the bullies got more creative. They tied me up and broke my legs with a crowbar. The older the girls got, the more of them wanted to be idols, and the first thing they had to do was to get rid of the competition. They succeeded as I stopped dancing altogether since that day.

I continued singing but nobody wants to see an idol in a wheelchair, right?

After I couldn’t walk normally anymore, they started treating me like a rag. They used me to clean the bathroom, by pushing me around on the floor, putting my face against the toilet, and mopping me with dirty water. I was like a toy to them and their friends joined the fun.

Part 2

It was no wonder that many bullied students leave the school. Sometimes, they leave on their own, because they can’t stand the torture anymore, other times, the school removes them. The bullies only bully others because they can and they know they can get away with it: they have influential parents or come from wealthy families, so the school can only quietly get rid of the problem and those are the victims that can’t stay quiet.

The class in my department didn’t have many students but it was enough: 20 students. During the year, 5 students left, and at the end of the year, 2 others were sent to another school in the province. The remaining 13 weren’t enough to be left alone in the classroom so they joined us with a class from another department that also lost many students. In total, we were 31, which was a big number but they didn’t have any other choice.

You were one of those students. I only noticed you after a week because I got used to keeping my eyes low not to anger any of my classmates. You sat beside me. People usually tend to avoid me since they could also become victims of the bullies but you knew it and it was your decision.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked me. When I heard your voice, I had a moment of hesitation. I kept staring at the wooden desk but then I thought that you might have accused me of being rude for ignoring you and that would have been a good enough reason to pick on me, so I raised my eyes.

“No, it isn’t,” I replied. Your eyes were cold. I genuinely thought you were a bully too.

“Then, can I seat here?”

“You can if you want…” I told you, unsure. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“What? You fart a lot?”

I was taken aback. “No! I don’t.”

“I suppose it’s fine then,” you said and took the chair out to take your desk. You started getting ready for the lesson and didn’t seem to have any intention of doing anything to me. Every time someone spoke to me, it was to make a comment, make a joke, or give me an order. Still, I was suspicious of you.

The lesson proceeded as usual. You took your notes very diligently, writing almost everything the teacher said, making graphs and small summaries to keep your memory fresh. If you were to tell me you were the top student in your class, I would have believed it and later I’d find out you really were.

Your behavior wasn’t the one of a bully. And it wasn’t the behavior of a bullied either.

At the end of the last lesson before the lunch break, the teacher gave us surveys for our future career choices. I stared at the paper with a pen in my hand. What should I write? My future, my future was stolen from me. My dream was as meaningful as an ant’s life. After everything they did and said to me, a miserable life of insignificance and sadness sounded perfectly fit for me. I kept wondering and pondering until you turned to me.

“What do you want to do when you grow up, Chaewon?” you asked me while you were lazily spinning your pen between your fingers.

“I- I don’t know, what about you?” I stuttered. I couldn’t bring myself up to pronounce those words. I felt as if I had been banished from even muttering them and thinking about it only brought me horrible memories.

“Web security,” you said. “I go around and check companies’ safety in their servers and sites. I’ve already started an internship so I’m sure it’s what I’m going to do.”

“An internship? This early?”

“Yeah, I figured the more experience I get, the better. I got nothing better to do anyways.”

“Don’t you have any hobbies? Don’t you hang out with your… friends?”

“I don’t have that many friends, to be honest,” you replied nonchalantly. “I mean, I do go out like once every three months so it isn’t a lot but I still have friends I can talk to. I’ve never been good with people, I guess.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“I was always better on my own. I tried a lot of stuff and I liked web stuff better,” then you turned to me for a second time, looking at me more intensely than before, “but you didn’t answer my question yet. What do you wanna do?”

Being put on the spot like that, I wasn’t sure about what I was allowed to say. More than that, I didn’t know what I really wanted, if the dust of my once desire was still in me if my heart wasn’t dead cold. However, after all these years, a subtle string of fate kept me going and it was still something that I liked doing.

I looked at your eyes. They didn’t scare me.

“I want to be… an idol,” I said in a single breath. After I finished the sentence, a heavy feeling of guilt dawned on me. I felt as if I just committed a crime and I was in danger.

But you didn’t judge me.

“An idol, huh?” You laid back on your chair. “That’s pretty cool. I know it’s very hard if you really want to do it, props to you. It takes some guts to train for that stuff. To dance all day, to have everyone look at you, it’s something.”

“Do- do you think I can do it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. I don’t know how well you dance, or how good you sing, or even what you tested for.”

“But is it a possible dream?”

“You can watch idols too, right? They had the same dream as you did. They did it. I think it’s possible, yeah. And I think you can do it, Chaewon.”

When you said that, I felt so relieved. It was comforting. Finally, I found someone that didn’t hate me, that didn’t shame and believed in me.

Just as you stopped talking, the bell rang. It was the time.

“Oh, look at her, ms. Idol,” said Yejun and pushed my head away for fun. He started laughing.

“Hands off, Yejun. And go away before I sock you in the face,” you said.

“I’m so scared, oh my god,” he laughed. “What do you think you’ll do huh? Do you want to protect this filthy rag? How generous,” he said and then slapped me.

“That’s enough, fuckface,” you got up and stared into his eyes. “That’s the last warning. Leave before I do something I might regret.”

He scoffed. “Really, you talk a lot. Don’t forget that you work for my father.”

“I don’t think you get it, Yejun. I don’t just work for your father. He depends on me. One click and his whole 20 servers will blow up. Do you really think that incompetent fool of your father fixed all the problems? He doesn’t know shit about his stuff, he only knows how to count money and scam his workers. There are so many weaknesses I could just hack the whole thing and change your company to my name.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. Now, that I’ve seen who this rag of yours is, tell your friends to keep their hands off her. I don’t want to see your father come back and beg at me and he’ll know it was all your fault. Everyone listens to you apparently, so spread the word. I won’t hesitate.”

Yejun stormed out of the class in anger.

I felt like I was reborn, that I finally found my savior. You were the angel I needed and you came to save me from this hell.

“I don’t like this place, let’s get out of here,” you said and I followed you.

We went to grab lunch but right behind the vending machines you got attacked. He called you a nerd, whatever he did, but I couldn’t stand it. I felt a force in me and I grabbed his neck, I squeezed until he couldn’t breathe anymore.

I’ll be honest, if it wasn’t for you trying to get me off, I would have killed him.

Just as that guy run off, you freaked out. I didn’t blame you. Still, you took my arm and pulled me to somewhere more covered to talk to me, scared that someone else might have seen it. I could see the surprise in your eyes, but you didn’t look terrified, you were concerned if anything.

Your hand was still bleeding, the red liquid dripped to the floor. I stared at the droplets, slowly coloring the grey concrete, as if it was the ticking of a clock. At each tick, I was getting more impatient, there was something inside me that wanted to jump out, run after who hurt you, and make him pay for it. But I had to calm down, you were in front of me.

“Chaewon, what the hell!” you whisper-shouted while repeatedly glancing behind your back and into the hallway. “Where did that come from?”

“I-I don’t know what happened,” I stuttered. I was saying the truth—at the time, I truly didn’t know why I reacted in the way I did. I never raised my hands, I never talked back, I never reacted.

“Shit, I’m bleeding a lot,” you cursed. You gritted your teeth and started walking towards the school clinic. I followed you.

You talked to me as we were walking. “You don’t just choke people randomly, you know?”

“I- I really swear! I pro-promise… I have no idea what happened!”

“Listen, Chaewon, I saw you pinning his neck against the wall. You raised a senior with one hand.”

When we were in front of the nurse's office, you pinched your nose and waved your hand to stop me from talking. The cuff of your white shirt was stained with red, it already spread so much in just a short time. You must have been in pain. My blood was boiling.

“You can explain yourself later,” you said and opened the door. “I have to close this wound first.”

I followed you into the room. For some reason, the room was empty, there was no trace of the nurse and it looked like she hasn’t been there for a long time as everything was very tidy and the coat hanger was empty. Often, when people can avoid work, they’ll do it. The nurse must have seen that there was no one needing her in the morning and decided to leave for some coffee.

You sat on one of the beds, keeping your arm stretched out so the blood wouldn’t stain the sheets and with another hand, you searched into the cabinet for something you could help yourself with. You took out bandaids, alcohol, gauze and cotton buds. You really made a mess, trying to pour the alcohol on your arm and spilling half of the content on the floor.

After sloppily cleaning yourself with cotton, you got the bandaids.

“Do you really think bandaids will do?” I asked you. “It’s way too deep.”

“Is there any other way?”

“Yeah, we have to put stitches on you.” I took the chairs from the desk and sat in front of you. In the cabinet beside the bed, there were also needles and thread for that procedure. Luckily there was an anesthetic as well.

I put on gloves. I cleaned your wound again, better than you did before, and applied the anesthetic gel. It took about two minutes to take effect, in the meanwhile I prepared the rest of the equipment I needed: forceps, curved needle, and new thread.

When I was sure you didn’t feel anything, I started stitching your wound.

“How did you learn this?” you asked me so curiously.

“I… I got used to taking care of myself,” I said softly. It was embarrassing. You nodded. I could feel your eyes scan me, looking at all my bruises, the bandaids on my face, and many more wounds underneath my shirt.

You sighed. “I’m sorry. I hope they won’t attack you anymore. Always stay with me, they are scared of people who have a known name.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think it will do anything.”

“Just do as I say,” you repeated. I could see how sure you were from your face. You definitely didn’t see, as my face was facing the floor, but I smiled for the first time after you said that. Your desire of protecting me was honest. I was really happy that you cared for me.

When I came home, I had the time to think through what happened that day. As I was drinking a cup of water, I looked at myself in the reflection of the window, my fingers tracing my wounds and bruises, itching the dried blood on my nails. Where did that strength come from? I could have sworn they had taken every ounce of energy from me, I knew I had no will, no ambition, no desire to even talk back until today. And yet, I hurt him.

I felt good. It didn’t feel good to hurt him per se but to know I defended you. As to him, I should have killed him. But you stopped me. You shouldn’t have done that. He hurt you. That shabby gross fool tried to hurt you, how could he?!

I was so lucky to have caught you before it was late. I couldn’t imagine what would have happened to you if he succeeded—the bruises on your face, the blood on your face—you would have looked just like me. No, I couldn’t stand that. You didn’t deserve to go through the pain that I did, not after you defended me. Oh, if only I could lay my hand on those sinners, the pain I could inflict them, all the experiences that I felt inside my skin, into my very flesh.

I want to hear them scream. To beg for forgiveness. To regret their very existence. I want them to apologize to you, to offer their life…

Crack

I looked down at my hands. What a mess. I completely shattered the cup I was holding—bits of sharp glass everywhere, even some into my skin. The veins of my hand were bulging, I could feel the blood in my body flowing so fast and forcefully. The adrenaline was high in my brain.

I didn’t realize what I did until I heard the sudden noise.

It was true, just as you said. It wasn’t me. But why? This must have happened because I was thinking of you getting hurt… yes, it was your thought, just you. It was because of you. I didn’t want to see you hurt, you were my only hope in this world, just the thought sent a shock through my spine and into my head, and I would go crazy.

You made me like this.

Completely insane.

“Chaewon! What happened?” I heard Yujin calling me and I turned around to see her rushing out the hallway. Yujin was my roommate, we shared the rent because it was cheaper that way. She wasn’t a bad person, not at all. But she couldn’t understand my life, she lived between rich girls and handsome guys.

To be kind, you need to know what misery is. She was just nice.

“Oh, Kirin-chan,” I said.

“How did you break your glass?” she asked worryingly, grabbing a towel to clean my bloody hand of the bits of glass.

“My bad, I was standing up and it just slipped out of my hand.”

“Then how did it get all over your palm?”

“I slipped and fell right onto it, you know how clumsy I am.”

“Yeah,” she commented without much belief, “just like all the time you come home with bruises on your face.”

“It isn’t my fault if they don’t put warnings after cleaning the stairs.”

“It isn’t your fault,” she repeated. “Anyways, don’t forget to clean it up, I’ll go back to studying,” she ended, turning around and leaving the lounge to return to her prettier room.

I continued to stare at my hand.

I couldn’t help but think about you again… my head got foggy… my thoughts haunting…

What if they scarred you?

What if they bullied you?

What if girls broke your heart?

What if you were friends with the wrong people?

I knew I was crossing a line when those questions took form but it was too late and I didn’t even care anymore. It was a promise I made myself, to protect who I loved, and I swore I wouldn’t fail again. I would protect you forever, no matter what.

I feared that you’d run away from me but instead, we got way closer than before. When I walked into school the day after the incident, I was genuinely scared I wouldn’t have seen you—that you had stayed at home, that you changed class or even school. What worried me the most was the fact that you could have been scared of me.

I waited for you anxiously. I kept scratching my nails, rubbing my arms, looking around for you. So many times I got up and walked around the paths outside the school where I thought you’d usually walk, even if I didn’t know well what were your habits, and not finding you, I’d sit back at the wall and wait again.

After several minutes, you arrived at school. At the sight of you, my dizziness and worries faded away. I immediately ran at you and hugged you so tight, you had to know how much I missed you.

You were surprised, of course, you were. “Huh? What has gotten into you Chaewon?” you laughed jokingly.

“I just thought you wouldn’t come to school anymore,” I told you.

“Why would I do that? Today is a school day.”

“It’s okay, that’s perfect. I’m just so glad I can see you again.”

Part 3

The door opened to the locker room and I and the other trainees entered sitting down. They changed their clothes from casual streetwear to old clothes and gym wear. I’ve been training for a bit now, I got to know all the trainees well, there were a lot before but now they only remained half. The one that finished first started stretching. "It's one minute and a half. Let's do this," she sighed.

One of them threw to the other a white sheet with a name written on it and did the same with the others. "Here. Your name tags."

"That's it? Just a minute?" the girl chuckled.

"A minute and a half. Everyone does their part and it's a difficult choreography, don't you forget. It will be enough."

"It's for evaluation. Don't forget every detail counts," another girl added.

We went out of the room and made our way toward the practice room, each one with a name tag on it. The corridor leading to it was cold, probably because they just changed from thick to thin clothes, but it got hotter towards the end where the air got denser. One at a time, they entered bowing at the line of men sitting on the right of the mirror in front of the door.

Everyone had papers and a pen and a serious look plastered on their faces. After a couple of stretches, the girls got into position and the music started. They smiled and danced with their full capability and the judges looked sharp. When the music stopped they held their ending pose and went in a line waiting for their words. The air suddenly felt cold.

"There had been improvements on what we said the first time. But we can also fix others," the first said and the men nodded. They wrote on the paper and scribbled.

"You. When the others did their move you were coordinated and that's fine but you did it wrong. You need to raise your hand higher," he said making the move himself and the girl followed.

"Can you do the move a bit before the ending?" another one asked, gesturing his intention. "Yes, that one. Please get into the position and do it."

They did and when it came to the next section he spoke again, "One more time."

"Once more."

"Five...six.. seven... eight... an-"

"Okay," he said and got up walking to the center of the room. He demonstrated the move more and more times. "Don't tense your muscles too much when you do this alright?"

"But," the oldest got up, "you were all a lot better today, good job. Specially Soojin and Gaeul."

"That's it, goodbye," they said.

"Thank you!" the girls answered together.

BLAM. The oldest almost slips as he got out and the others held him up. The girls let out a muffled laugh, their mouths covered with their hands."See girls, don't tense your muscles too much or they won't work properly," the man chuckled. The judges left fast, embarrassed by their eldest and the group laughed in relief.

"Are we really doing this? They are not saying anything anymore."

The youngest looked at them from the ground, laid down breathing hard, and said, "We're close to debuting."

When everyone was done with their stuff and cleaned themselves they left. Almost all of them ran out to catch the last bus of the day or were just in a hurry. I, on the other hand, had to walk home so I did everything slower. When I got out, in the distance, I heard a group of girls around my age shouting and laughing. When they got closer, I realized they were my classmates, there were about four of them and they were drunk.

They noticed me.

"Look at you. It's late, pretty girls like you shouldn't stay out," one of them said and I frowned.

"Don't tell me. You were practicing?" she said laughing. The other three got in a semi-circle in front of me.

"It's a really difficult life isn't it, miss idol? Everybody wants you and you're here dancing until late," she mocked me, with her fingers under her eyes faking tears, and let out a hearty laugh. The choir followed with a carol of joy.

"It's sad really," she continued, "so popular but so tired."

She pushed me down on the ground and the group stepped back making more space for the two. She forcefully pulled my hair, forcing me to get up. The girl got closer and said, "And you're so pretty. It would be a shame if anything happened to this pretty face."

She slapped me. They laughed. They kicked me. I tried to defend myself, curling into a fetus position and protecting my head. They snickered as they continued wasting the effects of the alcohol on me. When they were finally satisfied, they got up and left me there on the side of the road and went away to the opposite way of where they came from.

I remained on the ground with tears on her face and sobbed trying not to make any noise, I wanted silence. However I heard their voices again, from the distance, and they were screaming.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the same girl as before squealed."We're girls, you think you can-." The group gasped.

"You're five and I'm one and you just beat that girl up. You think I care?" It was a male voice.

The girls ran away but the guy didn't try to chase them and walked to me.

"There's a convenience store nearby, we can get something cold for your face," he said with a soft tone. I recognized the voice and looked at him, I recognized his face too. It was you. My legs trembled a little as I held myself upon your shoulder for support. "It's fine, take your time," you said dusting my back.

At the shop, you bought a bag of frozen peas so I could put it on my face where it still hurts. "I ate those for dinner, they're great. I can use them for everything, look, you're using them too now," you said and I laughed. I calmed down a little and your face got more serious and worried.

"I told you. Starting from tomorrow I'll bring you home," you said.

"But it was only this time," I said.

"And the other four before."

"Kind of."

"Being there by 11:30 should be good."

"But you should sleep."

"I would just be studying, and either way, it's way better to have your company," you insisted, leaning down on the chair. A small smile formed on my face. Ever since that day, the two always walked home late at night even when it was freezing or when it was raining. We got way closer.

You grew up so well. Unfortunately, many girls seemed to notice you and fall for you. I don’t blame them, you were very charming, so attractive for such a young student but I couldn’t let them near you. They were fools, too stupid to realize they were nowhere close to your level, you were levels above and they were just insects. I had to make sure no one bothered you, to avoid you crying because some worthless bitch broke your heart.

I was surprised when you told me you got asked out. But then I felt my chest burn.

There’s only one thing that I can’t stand in this world and that’s people who think they can take what’s mine. I don’t care about gossip, jealousy or envy, I don’t have anyone to compete with, I just want what’s mine. And you are mine.

It was so easy to scare them away. All it took was a quick talk behind the school, a very convincing speech, a cutter to their throats…

They were scared of me. Good. You didn’t suspect anything—they’d still smile at me as if nothing happened, I made sure to tell them. I couldn’t let you know, to worry more than you already were.

The bullying had completely stopped towards me because you were always by my side defending me and eventually they all got the message. If you were just a crush before, now I love you. If I loved you, now I worship you. You’re my religion, my god, my purpose. I’ll kill for you, live for you, and I’ll love you forever. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. Whether that’s heaven, hell, or any other world. My very existence is embroidered into your name, I can’t exist without you.

Things were going great, so great. You only had eyes for me. Those two beautiful pupils could only look at me, at my face, at my body, only at me. I loved when you stared at me, I was yours after all, you could watch how much you wanted.

That was until those two eyes became one. You got a big bruise on your left eye, it was swollen, black, and horrible.

You were waiting for me near the big tree behind the school like you always did, and you talked to me like you always did, without worry or pain. “Hey, Chaewon,” you greeted me.

“What happened?!”

“Nothing, I just hurt myself,” you lied. How naive you were, you were too kind, too nice. I didn’t believe you one single bit. I wonder why you did that? Why did you lie to me? Was it to protect whoever did that to you? To protect who hurt you?

“Tell me. Tell me, who hurt you?” I asked you calmly.

“It’s really nothing Chae… I’m serious, I only hurt myself—”

“TELL ME WHO THE HELL HURT YOU RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!!” I asked again, the sudden increase in volume startled you and you backed away into the tree. I didn’t know at the time, and you’d tell me later, but my eyes were empty. You got scared, I apologize, I just couldn’t help it.

“Ch-Chaewon?” you stuttered.

When I realized you were terrified, I calmed down. “Huh? Oh, my bad, sorry… I was just really worried, but now, please tell me.” I shook my head and took a couple of steps back.

“Okay, I will tell you… it was Seojun,” you finally confessed. “I bumped into him and spilled his drink on his uniform. I apologized, but since I was alone and his ‘friends’ were with him, they thought they could get their revenge on me.”

“I see… let’s get you some ice for that eye for now,” I told you and we started to walk into the infirmary for the second time. I hated walking into that place, especially with you. I tried my best to hold it inside me, not to scare you again, but I was going to snap anytime soon.

“Chae, are you alright?” you asked me.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear… and it will okay from now on. You don’t have to worry about Seojun anymore.”

You know, people say that the first time is special, you never forget it. The first time I bathed my hands in the warm liquid that is human blood, my body was cold. I felt hesitation at first, but I knew I was doing it for you, and thinking about you, all that fear was gone. And I killed him.

Yes, it was me that killed Seojun. I don’t regret one bit what I’ve done to him. I made sure he suffered as much as he made you suffer. An eye for an eye, as they say.

That day was special, it was like I confessed to you and instead of a ring, I gave you a life. It was only fair you’d give me your life in return.

The murder of Seojun made headlines in the news and when asked about it, the students never said anything nor praised or acted sad at his death. No one missed him. It’s quite sad that life can be so insignificant that not a single person will care about how gruesome your death was and forget you the next day. To be quite honest, he deserved it. We die in the same way we live.

You were a bit suspicious of me at first. You didn’t really doubt me—you were curious. The news of his death was delivered by our professor during the first period with a sigh before continuing the lesson. The reactions were mixed but mostly towards one extreme: relief.

When a bad person dies, two things will happen: if you’re a good person or a victim, you will be happy; if you’re equally bad then you’ll be scared, because you know he already got what he deserved and nothing prevented you from having the same fate as nothing is stronger than luck.

You were both worried and glad. I’ve always noticed how you tend to care about other people, it’s something that I really love about you, you just have to direct toward the people who deserve it. “Hey, Chae, do you know anything about Seojun’s murder?” you asked me during the break. You were hesitant at first but I was sure you’ve thought about it long enough to decide to spill it.

You must have thought about what I said the other day: You don’t have to worry about Seojun anymore.

“Huh?” I raised my eyebrow at you. “Why would I have anything to do with his death?”

“W-well… you see… you said that I didn’t have to worry about him anymore and the next day… he dies.” Your shoulders were so tight almost as if you were trying to keep the words inside of you. Your gaze flitted around the room, never settling on one person or object for long.

“It must have been a coincidence,” I told you. “And karma.”

“Right,” you muttered. Then you relaxed your shoulders.

“By the way,” I changed the topic, “there is going to be the last test before the debut at Hybe.”

Your eyes changed completely, they brightened. Every time I talked about my dream, you always seemed too excited for me. You fully believed in my ambition and constantly encouraged me to keep trying. Whenever I practiced, I always thought of you.

I always think of you.

“That’s awesome, Chae. It’s your opportunity, you wanted to become an idol all this time.”

“I will start practicing right away then,” I said. “I want to be with you that day. Can you come with me?”

“What day will it be?”

“Next Saturday, 4:00 pm.”

“Next Saturday… 4:00 pm,” you repeated. “I’ll make sure to be there—I will be there, I will.”

“Thank you,” I smiled and hugged you. You were still a bit against the idea of hugging but slowly you were getting used to it. I trusted that you’ll eventually come to love it.

I had prepared about four songs for the test: two for my singing and two for my dancing, one of them was good for both. I decided to be very broad with my songs because if they asked for more, I’d be prepared. You never know. I didn’t want to go there and have them ask for a random song and fail horribly.

You were waiting for me in front of the building with a little bag of snacks. I mentioned all of them before to you and you remembered. Some of them were for when I’d finish the whole thing and some as a snack to calm my nerves.

Honestly, I felt like you were my boyfriend already. If anyone saw us together, they’d say the same thing. Every little thing you did was so full of attention, I knew you cared for me, and I loved you so much.

Anyways, the time came. I bid you goodbye and entered.

The test went terribly wrong.

You waited two hours for me, only for me to blow it all up. When I came out, I was so embarrassed, I didn’t want you to see me at all.

“So Chae, how was it?” you asked but I didn’t reply. It was hard to come up with any word at all. I couldn’t even look at you in the eyes.

“Chae?”

“Chaewon?”

You finally got enough at the third time and you grabbed my shoulder to shake and direct my gaze at you. “Chaewon, answer me please!” you said with an upset tone.

“Do you… do you think I’m a failure?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked back.

“Hey, am I a failure? Tell me. Were the guys right? I am not meant to be an idol after all, should I give up after all? Tell me, please!” I hiccuped and cried. I was truly heartbroken. It was the test per se but the fact that I disappointed you, that I wasted all your determination and belief you had in me.

“Chaewon, no…” you whispered and went for a hug. It was awkward, you didn’t know how to hug. You tried to put a hand on my shoulder and one on my hip, but it didn’t work. Then you tried to put both of them on my shoulder but you looked like you wanted to headbut me. On the third try, you succeeded and properly hugged me very tightly.

I buried my head into your chest, it was where I could really feel safe.

“Chaewon, what happened in there? How did it go?”

“I FAILED! I BLEW IT ALL UP! IT’S ALL GONE!” I yelled and gripped you harder.

“How is that possible? You’re perfect, I mean, you sing so beautifully and you’re beautiful,” you said. “You’ve been practicing… why? How?”

“I’m sorry it’s that I was so worried. I got distracted. I continued to ask myself if I’d fail and so on… I knew the lyrics but I got jittery and…”

“No, Chaewon! I told you to believe in yourself. You can do it. You can do it.”

“But—”

“You have talent, Chae,” you repeated, “and I’ve seen it since day one. You will not fail. You just have to try again.”

I was embarrassed to see if I could try again but you weren’t and you stormed inside the building, dragging me by arm to ask the staff if I could try again. You explained everything and even pleaded with them until they gave in.

This time, you were waiting for me outside the door. I knew I wouldn’t fail again.

Don’t think about anything else. Focus.

I sang the first song. Just like I practiced. Then I danced. It was perfect.

I passed. I was so happy and I just had to tell you. I ran outside but you weren’t there.

I searched everywhere until I understood you weren’t in the building and had to search for you outside. I found you in an alley, bloody and bruised.

I immediately called the ambulance and they rushed you to the hospital. Your condition was so bad they had to x-ray your whole body and do a small surgery.

When I found you, you could barely talk or even breathe. You were laying in a pool of blood, that came from the numerous cuts all over your body—they weren’t clean but all rough and jacked, meaning they came from brute force and not blades. Your clothes were also messed up and ripped. Together, I could count on 19 injuries at least. I couldn’t understand at all. Why would someone do that to you? And how did it happen?

Together with you was a bag with two drinks and a couple of sandwiches. I suppose you went outside to a convenience store to buy something, maybe for me, and then… you were attacked. This may have been premeditated, it’s impossible a group of people randomly hurt you that bad.

I couldn’t stop crying, you know?

To see you in those conditions, I could only think of the worse.

What if you’d never wake up again?

What if you’d be miserable for the rest of your life?

What if you died?

It was my fault. I’m sorry, it was totally my fault. It was because I took way too long in the test, chatting with the staff, seeing the other girls so happily, while you were being jumped… I could have protected you, we could have gone home together and this would have never happened.

The doctor called me. “Kim Chaewon?”

“Yes?” I raised my eyes. I saw him and wiped my tears before standing up and walking to him.

“Is he okay…?” I asked.

“He’s not in danger is what I can tell you. Some of his bones are broken and he has received a concussion, he may be asleep for a while, you see,” he said.

“Can I see him?”

“Yes, you can,” the doctor agreed, “this way…”

He guided me toward another floor of the hospital. You have been transferred from the emergency room to the patient’s rooms. You were in the section where more care was needed—the hallway was quieter, everyone walked slower, and everything was more gentle.

I entered your room slowly, holding myself up with a hand on the door frame and then I saw you. Your eyes were closed. Your whole body was covered in bandages and you were hooked to all sorts of machines with cables and cords everywhere. It was almost like seeing a puppet tied up in strings and they were keeping you alive.

I was scared to come close to you. I feared that any of my movements could have damaged you even more. You were so fragile at that moment.

I gently lowered myself to the chair next to your bed and held your hand. I cried. I cried again, so much. I couldn’t help but keep thinking it was my fault. If only I was quicker…

Some of your items were put in the drawer. I noticed your phone together with your wallet and backpack. The screen was cracked and some of the blood crusted into the cracks. I don’t know why I felt curious but I unlocked the screen—you trusted me enough to let me know your password months ago to check some messages while you were busy cooking—and it opened KakaoTalk. You were texting me and the phone memorized it.

Chae be careful the bullies might be after you

Don’t go in the shortcut at the

Oh, dear. You were on the brink of death and all you could think was to warn me, to protect me. You didn’t even think of calling for help. I understood everything. It was those bullies again… they didn’t forget, did they? It’s because their life turned to hell after they didn’t have anyone to bully anymore and they got revenge but attacking you.

I was angry. I was furious. I was so pissed that I unconsciously cracked your phone even more. It was that feeling again, all over—the fire in my chest.

I will kill them. Each one of the. I will make them suffer. I will tear them to shreds. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them. I will kill them.

I will make them pay for everything they have done for you.

They were so stupid. It was so easy to trick them: I attacked their leader when he was coming home late and forced him to send a message to everyone who was involved in your attack—he confessed right away when I showed him my knife.

The guys came on point the next day. It was all so easy. They always hung out at the abandoned warehouse where they could make all the mess they wanted and dragged their victims to torture them properly and in private. Now they were dragging themselves to their death.

I dressed in black that day. You never liked seeing me in black. People used to tell me I tried to stand out too much so they forced me to use torn, old, ugly clothes, but when they stopped tormenting me, you brought me to buy more clothes for me.

But that day I wasn’t dressing as the victim. I was in the guise of the Grim Reaper.

I prepared my knives, axes, clamps, nails, and staplers and waited for them in the building.

Humans are so easy to kill. They are so frail and mortal—I had to be extremely careful not to let them die immediately to cause them all the pain they deserved. I’ll spare you the details. You don’t have to know of the gruesome parts of their murder. I’ll just tell you everything they did to you and in their years of bullying, I did to them. From crowbars to knives, to fire and stabbing.

When the last one stopped screaming, I felt at peace. The silence was absolute. I couldn’t even hear the wind, the cars, or the noises of the city. It was completely quiet.

I finally avenged you.

Part 4

Disposing of the bodies was quite simple but extremely tiring. I had to chop their bodies to bits, bury them and hide all the evidence. I cleaned with bleach all my weapons, the floor, and the walls of the warehouse. I had to soil the floor since it was dirty before and I couldn’t leave a clean patch in there, it would have been a dead giveaway.

Of course, I had to get rid of all their phones. I broke them into little pieces before grinding them up to a bag of dust and flushing them down the toilet.

I got most of my weapons from around the city. I stole the knives from the school kitchen and returned them to them. I did the crime on a Friday night and finished in the evening of Saturday so they wouldn’t have noticed the disappearance of their tools. I bought the rest of the tools from a hardware store so I could have just put it in someone else’s garage.

I couldn’t burn my clothes or rags because that would have caught the attention of my neighbors or anyone nearby so I colored it with all sorts of paints so the blood would have been unrecognizable. If anyone analyzed them, it would look like they were of an artist. And then I disposed of them.

Burying the bodies was the most laborious part and I could only do it during the night. It took me both Saturday and sunday to get rid of all the evidence.

The next days were all marked by nightmares. I didn’t dream of what I did. What haunted me was you leaving me. I was afraid that my crime could have separated us.

Chaewon, you’re a monster.

I can’t be friends with a murderer.

I can’t love a killer.

I hate you.

I wish you died.

I was distressed and jittery during the day and couldn’t sleep at night. Many times I would get distracted in those thoughts, imagining all the things you could say to me, and not realize people calling me. I would often zone out and not hear anything else.

“Chaewon? Are you okay?” my classmates would tell me. I would snap out of my daze and realize most of them were looking at me then I’d realize I actually chipped a corner of the table off with my grip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” I could only say. They would continue with the day forgetting about it or just tell their friends excitedly about a classmate with a freakish strength.

It was especially hard when I was training with the other trainees but I told myself you wouldn’t be proud of me if I wasn’t doing my best and forced myself to dance.

On Monday, their disappearance was announced but nobody could find anything. Not a single trace. The secret was safe with me.

They also announced your attack but they didn’t connect the two events together, assuming you were also a victim. The attacks in this Korea were common anyways. Bullying was so widespread you could say it was part of our culture.

After a week. you were still asleep. The doctor concluded that they must have stomped your head too for you to be concussed that badly. They damaged the nerves.

Unfortunately, I knew only after I killed them. If I knew I would have done the same to them so they could feel the pain you felt but I guess cutting their limbs counts as nerve damage as well.

I was getting extremely impatient waiting for your awakening. The doctor couldn’t help me but it wasn’t their fault. I’ve only realized now how much I relied on you and those days without you were as sad as Halloween without candies.

When I woke up, I couldn’t tell if the Sun rose already or if it was still sunrise, it was timid, and the light cast a somber hue in the room. It was gray and pale. The soundscape was eerily quiet, the usual chirping birds seemed to have disappeared, as if even nature was mourning alongside me.

Walking through the corridors of the school, I felt like a solitary figure amidst a sea of faces. Conversations echoed around me, yet they seemed distant. The classrooms, usually alive with energy, felt suffocatingly silent.

I couldn’t help but notice how happy the other students went on with their days, completely ignoring what happened to you. Worst of all, some students even mocked you, saying you were a loser and you deserved it. My bloodthirst was beyond the roof. I had to hold myself back a lot not to commit other killings, reminding myself that I could have raised a case of a serial killer if I wasn’t careful enough.

I thought I had been sneaky enough not to raise any suspicion but I didn’t know the only person to find out would have been you.

I was in an alley near the hospital when I met one of those mean girls. They were badmouthing you and I had to make sure they wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t kill them, you don’t have to worry about that. I merely sent a message, a little punishment. I got one nail for each insult they said toward you. Poor them, they won’t have nails for months—I hope it hurts.

They ran away but when I turned around, I saw you. You were looking at me so horrified and disgusted.

“I had my suspicions, Chae…” you said. “The coincidence was too perfect. I woke up and saw the news, I knew it was you. And now, I’m sure.”

“You’re mistaken, dear,” I tried to say foolishly.

“Chae, I saw everything.” Your face morphed into an extreme melancholy, of disappointment and sadness. My face instead contorted into a horrified frown. You… my best and only friend, my love. You discovered my worse secret—I knew what the consequences were and I knew what the risks were.

“I mean, what are you even doing here? Weren’t you still sleeping?”

“I woke up this morning—I got discharged—and the doctor let me take a walk… and then I saw you.”

“Do you know what I did all of this, darling?” I asked, my nerves were so tense and my blood was pumping like crazy. I was getting more and more scared. There was a thread inside me that was being pulled and pulled…

“W-what is it?” you asked with hesitation.

“It’s because… I… I love you.”

I saw the shock on your face but I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I did it. I snapped. You found out and there was no turning back. You didn’t have a choice either.

“W-what? What are you saying?”

“Darling, don’t you get it? I love you so so so so so much. I love you so much—to the point I killed for you. Yes, I did kill them. I murdered them. I slaughtered them. I made them suffer, love, the way they made you suffer… Please! Please understand—I’m doing this because I love you.”

“Chae, you’re scaring me. Stop…”

“Oh, don’t be scared, my love. I would never harm you or kill you… I would only cherish you—in fact, I did all of this to protect you from those bastards! I love you with all of my heart.”

That fire inside of me took over again and this time I was already glued to you, my knee under your thigh, pinning you to the wall, a hand on your cheek and one near your waist. You couldn’t move at all, I wouldn’t let you. I was finally this close to you… your skin was so smooth and soft—just like you, my precious baby.

Maybe I was smiling a bit too much. You’d describe to me later that I looked psychotic, yes, I was crazy.

You didn’t know how to react. I admit, you were so cute—so vulnerable and fragile, just at my mercy. Yet, you dared to take and push my hand away from your face.

“Chae, I’m sorry,” you said and it almost broke my heart, “but I just… I-I- I don’t know…” you said.

“What aren’t you sure about? Is it my love? Is it not clear enough?” I asked. “I’ll do anything for you, just ask me.”

“Please stay away from me,” you replied, “for a while.”

“What are you saying, darling?”

“Chae… you’re my best friend and I understand why you did all of that. I do. But I need to think about it. Don’t worry, I won’t say this to anyone, no one at all, but I need to stay alone for a bit,” you pleaded, “I just recovered too.”

“Okay, fine,” I agreed. You were right. It was a bit too much for you, especially after you just woke up from that concrete hospital bed. Also, I knew I could trust you. You never betrayed me so that did not scare me.

You slowly backed away and left me, alone in the alley.

I don’t know why but I started laughing hysterically.

I thought I messed up a lot. That isn’t the way your lover should look at you, right? Terrified and pleading on the verge of tears. You should have looked at me lovingly. I was so scared you’d leave me and I couldn’t let you do that. I needed you too much.

But then you left me waiting for almost a month. I respected your choice and didn’t contact you at all but it’s been too long. I figured that knowing I killed tormented you so I didn’t touch anyone else but rather I kept it to simply threatening them verbally and that seemed to work.

You have to understand I couldn’t take it anymore. Looking at your pictures every night wasn’t enough. Listening to your voice from the vocal messages wasn’t enough. Smelling the shirts I stole from you wasn’t enough, and the smell was fading away. My imagination wasn’t enough, especially when I knew I could have you and I was just waiting for the right moment.

Then the right moment came. I sent you a message just to let you know, you couldn’t say no. I went right to your house, which I came over to many times already, and even your mother knew me. She let me inside with a smile, she was so kind. I knew where you got that virtue from.

I heard you running frantically around your room. You must have been dressing up, so I waited until you were done, knocked, and opened the door. Your room smelled just like I remembered it, it was so good, it was just you.

“It’s been a while, Chae,” you said, clearly nervous. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing terrible, honey,” I answered honestly and you gulped. “You know, I’ve been good to you. I waited and did nothing else. I did not kill or hurt anyone. I let you have your space, then why did you disappear for an entire month?”

“I kept thinking and reflecting on what happened…”

“For a month?” I was furious. “Did you try to make me forget you? Did you try to forget me?”

“It’s that… It has been a tough month,” you said. “My best friend murdered 6 people, or more… How could I go back to what we were before? You killed… humans.”

“So? They didn’t deserve to live anyways. I did it for you.”

“No, Chae—”

“They beat you up so badly you couldn’t even walk!” I snapped. “They badmouthed you, they laughed at you and… why are you defending them?!”

“Yes, but you took their lives.”

“They were going to take your life too! Don’t you get it?”

“Chae, please—”

“No! Shut up! I can’t take this anymore! I can’t forgive them. They’re always making fun of you, beating you up, torturing you—just because you’re my friend! But you keep shoving it away and get hurt for me… I- I…”

I hugged you. I had to hold onto something and you were the only one that could have helped me stand up. All those years… I was so pent up, I was so tired of it. I know you told me many times to let it be but I can’t. Sorry, I just can’t help it. I can’t let anyone walk away after they hurt you, even if it’s something as little as pinching you, because you mean too much to me.

“Darling, I love you!” I sobbed and pleaded onto your chest, bathed by my tears, “I missed you so much. If I don’t see you even for a day, it starts to hurt, you know? I’ll do anything to stay with you, anything! Just tell me! I want to see you every day, I can’t let you leave like this…”

“If it’s like this,” you started, “we can make a deal.”

“A-a deal? Really?”

“Yes, a deal. You can see me how much you want but absolutely no killing. No physical assault and no insults to anyone.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes, you just have to restrain yourself.”

“Very well. Then, I promise, I will never kill again, I swear. Does that mean I can see you every day?” I asked. My tears finally stopped pouring out, the hiccup was still there, but I could focus and talk to you properly now. I took a deep breath and spoke, “Then you have to be my boyfriend from now on.”

“What did you just say?” you asked with confusion.

“You can’t say no. You are my boyfriend now. You know already, I told you so many times. I love you with all of myself.”

I knew you liked me a little already. I wasn’t sure if it was as strong as my love for you was, although I doubt it can, I knew you were interested in me. No one would stick with me for that long and no one would defend me from all those bullies. I knew you loved me, of course you did, you always took care of me since our first day and I couldn’t help but fall for you too.

I tried my best to change my appearance to suit your ideal type more. I dressed better, I dieted, I worked out, and I practiced so much that I wouldn’t disappoint you.

“Chae, are you sure? I’m just a regular guy and you’re an idol…”

“Don’t lie to yourself, honey. I wouldn’t give myself to just anyone. You never laughed about me, you believed in me when nobody else did, and you infected me with your kindness and humanity. You’re the best man I can ask for.”

“Thank you…”

“You’ll be my boyfriend and I’ll be your girlfriend, okay? Do you accept?”

“Uhm…”

“Do you accept?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Ma’am?” I laughed. “Don’t tell me you have some weird fetish going on… It’s okay. Just tell me, I won’t mind, hehe.”

Part 5

You have been very strict with me. The first thing you did was to establish a set of rules and all the punishment that would have resulted in breaking them. You’ve been very clear in defining them and made sure I understood you were very serious about it and would absolutely punish me if I dared to not respect them. They were something along the line of:

NO KILLING. The punishment is an instant break-up.

NO BODY HARM to anyone. The punishment is no contact for two weeks.

NO KIDNAPPING/STALKING/THREATENING other people. The punishment is no skin touching for a week.

RESPECT YOU. We’re together in this relationship and I have to listen to you.

TRUST YOU. You'll leave me if I don’t trust you when you tell me you aren’t cheating.

I accepted them and we started dating. Our relationship was as good as it was before but this time I got to be as clingy as I wanted, hugging you as much as I wanted, holding your hand wherever we went, and most of all you gave me a lot of head pats. You always gave me head pats to congratulate me when I did well in school or had a good performance.

It was difficult to respect those rules and you showed me how convinced you were of them when I broke the hand of a guy who shoved you against the lockers. You really ghosted me for two weeks without saying anything. When they ended I couldn’t help but jump on you and I promised to be more careful. Since then, I didn’t break any other rules and you showed me your love in so many ways, I lost count of them.

We learned a lot about each other and helped each other all the time. You helped me be more confident with my skills and get angry (but you told me I was cute when I got mad). You were always a bit discouraged with your work, giving up easily, and I made sure you knew how great you were. Just like me, school has really made you more insecure about yourself, but when we were together, we achieved a lot more.

Recently I discovered a hidden diary you used to keep under your bed, between the mattress and the frame. The last thing you wrote was months ago, way before the incident, and it was you rambling about me. ABOUT ME! And it was so adorable. “I have the biggest crush on my friend!” You wrote on the last page.

I stared at the words in a daze, it was like the words were screaming in my face. I was used to only obsessing over you and knowing you were going through the same thing warmed my heart.

You know, I’ve never believed in good endings, but with you, I think I finally found one where we are the protagonists. Our story is not like a fairy tale, it’s far from perfect, I am not a princess, nor could ever be one. However, you made me feel like one and I’m more than sure you’re my prince.

Sorry if I am always so obsessive and so imperfect, I just can’t help it.

THE END

Written, 7 June - 27 June 2023

#yandere #yanderekpop #yanderekpopgg #kpop #lesserafim #chaewon #chaewon yandere #angst

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shadowbriar · 1 year

Text

George Weasley - Loved and Lost You

Pairing : (F/M) || George Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader Word Count : 4.8k Warning : Mention of food. One foul language. Synopsis : Fake dating gone wrong when she realises that her silly idea to help the Hufflepuff boy costs her her bestfriend. Notes : I had no idea how to end this, definitely not my best ending to date but I hope you can still enjoy it. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

“What would I do without you, truly?”

She shrugs, passing the redhead his quidditch robe, “I don’t know, actually. Probably died a long time ago.”

The boy grins, receiving the said item thankfully.

The sun was beaming, steady wind blowing that lovely morning as the Gryffindors began to crowd the quidditch field. It was another typical practice but for as long as she could remember, she has always been a constant audience of the activity. She wasn’t sure if it was purely caused by her admiration of the said sport or was there any other hidden meaning she tries so hard to bury inside her chest, but if Voldemort himself is not outside of her doorstep and threatening her with the cruciatus curse, best believe she would come and cheer for her favourite Wealeys.

Yes, Weasleys.

Though it was obvious for everyone else that she has always been more fond of one of the twins, she would always argue that they both are her best friends and that she loves them equally. Sure she has been more open with one of them, spent more time on his bed and shared more of her heartfelt stories with him, but that doesn’t mean that she has any special feelings for him. They simply connect better, like the way honey fits best with tea instead of sugar.

“Say, do you have any plans after this?” He asked, putting on his robe in the process “I was wondering if you’d like to do that Charms essay together?”

“By together you mean by copying mine?”

He grins sheepishly, “You know me best.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that before.” She says as she rolls her eyes “Meet you here after?”

“Sound.”

He ruffled her hair, the very dear habit he does whenever they’re going to part ways, before he jogs lightly to the field.

She finds herself walking to the bleacher, finding a spot next to Hermione who was trying to bite down her smile, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, don’t ‘nothing’ me, Hermione. I know something’s running wild in your precious witty brain.”

“It’s just that,” The younger Gryffindor vents, turning to her “You and George look so cute together. Whatever is stopping you two from dating? Everyone could see the heart eyes you’ve been exchanging with each other.”

She rolls her eyes, “There’s no heart eyes between us. Don’t make up words, Hermione, you know how rumours go wild in this school.”

“Oh, but there totally is!” She argues, feeling rather curbed over her emotions “George has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you and vice versa. You both are neck deep in love with each other yet refuse to acknowledge it. Merlin, you both are denying it for no reason, really!”

She turns her head to watch the game, not entertaining the younger girl any longer.

Hermione wasn’t the first to question their friendship. In fact she’s one of the least vocal about it, compared to Ginny and Harry would blurt out the questions right in front of the younger twin, making the atmosphere to be awkward for the next 2 minutes to come. It would be a lie if she never pondered about the underlying truth beneath the curious accusations their friends made, but being best friends with the Twins was all she’s known for since she first stepped in Hogwarts. She’s been the honorary third twin, so Fred called, and their close relationship has always been something of her identity. There really isn’t anything more than that.

They were all just making things up, she was sure. There’s no heart eyes, no soft gazes and George definitely doesn’t like her that way. If he does, she would’ve known about it because who else could read him like an open book? Right?

—-

Her attempt on keeping her giggles in was evidently failing as George continued to nudge her under the table. Troubles in Potion is always the worst and she wouldn’t want to get any of them detention from Snivellus, but what exactly can you expect from sitting next to one of the Twins? It would be a cold day in hell if they don’t try to tickle or at the very least make silly comments about the Professor throughout the lesson.

And as if on cue, George was pulled up from his seat abruptly, arm being yanked away by the foul Professor, “Switch your seat with Diggory. Now.”

The joy on both their faces turn into horror in the blink of an eye. George nods silently, packing his belongings. She shot an apologetic smile at him, watching him as he shuffled away from their table. Diggory, who looks surprised that his name was being called, is now walking to their table, his unfinished essays disorganised in his hands.

“Hi.”

She smiles, nodding, “Hello, Diggory.”

She glances at George, making sure that the boy wasn’t much affected by Snape’s wrest, though she knew that it would require much more than the Professor’s assault to frighten the boy. Hell, she wasn’t even sure there would ever be anything George Weasley is afraid of. That boy has always been confident and undaunted no matter how severe the circumstances he was in. Yet she still couldn’t stop herself from checking in on him. It has become an unconscious habit she picked up over the years.

George wiggles his eyebrows at her, showing his unphased state as he takes a seat. She rolled her eyes. Of course he’s still being his jesterself.

She turns her head back to her paper, only to notice Diggory’s eyes glued to a few tables in front of them. She follows his direction, raising her brows as she realises that he was watching Patricia Stimpson intently. She looks back at Diggory who still hasn’t blinked from the last she saw him.

“Is there something on Stimpson’s face that I didn’t notice?” She asks aloud, making the boy snap out of his thought “Is it only noticeable from your side of the table?”

“No, there’s nothing on her face.” He answers, cheeks turning rosy “I was just spacing out.”

She squints her eyes, noting the nervous shift of his gesture, “Are my eyes deceiving me or are you blushing right now, Diggory.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, Merlin!” She exclaims quietly, grinning at the secret she’s just learned “You fancy Stimpson, don’t you!”

“I said, shut up.”

She nudges the boy, teasing the poor Hufflepuff who’s now trying to bury his head under his arm, hiding his face that is as red as a tomato. In no time the two strangers become close. Funny how one fortuitous action could bring the two close in no time. It was as if they’ve been friends for years.

And the sight wasn’t left unnoticed by a pair of jealous eyes.

George chews on his lower lip with anxiety. He’s never seen her grow close with someone as fast as this, not even with Lee who has been their fourth wheel for years. What is it about Diggory that seems to be such a magnet for girls? Was it his pretty face? His humour perhaps? Surely he couldn’t have better jokes than the prankster of the castle.

The redhead’s bubble of thought burst as a crumpled paper hit his head. He turned to the direction where it came, seeing his twin who’s gesturing him to open it. With a huff, he opens the parchment paper and his frown grows even more sour.

‘Losers Weepers.’

—-

She throws her head to the back as she laughs her heart out, giving George light punches to the arms. The Gryffindor table was full of familiar faces. It has been a while since the whole squad was present. With the different year they’re in, different classes they’re taking, and evidently different teenage troubles they’re facing, spending breakfast together seems like an impossible task to do. Now that everyone’s present, she couldn’t find a reason to leave the table early.

But one.

“Hey, you.” A voice calls, greeting her with a smile as she turns to face him “Ready to go?”

“Of course!”

George’s brows were furrowed, disapproving her who’s now standing from her seat, “Where are you going?”

“Oh, Cedric and I are planning to do our Potion essays early.” She explains hastily “Also, George, you wouldn’t mind switching partners with him, would you? I kinda need his help with the upcoming assignments.”

The boy blinks, completely taken aback at the wave of information and requests she’s throwing at him.

“Brilliant!” She exclaims, taking his silence as approval “Let’s go, Ced.”

The whole table was left appalled, watching as she walked away with the Hufflepuff boy. Ginny and Hermione were audibly gasping when she linked her arms with him and he ruffles her hair, skipping out of the Great Hall happily. The sight was so peculiar they would’ve preferred seeing Dumbledore wearing a bikini than to witness the situation for the second time. The things she was doing, linking arms, laughing, and getting all jumpy was a sight they would see with George, not Cedric.

Since when were the two close?

“What’s just happened?” Harry broke the silence, blinking his eyes “What’s she doing with Cedric Diggory?”

“Didn’t you hear? They’re going to do their Potions essay.” Fred comments mockingly, knowing that his twin isn’t capable of making up for an answer “I didn’t even know we have Potions essay.”

The younger twin stabs on his innocent sausage as if trying to butcher it to its death. His eyes were vacant, feeling a silly pool of knots forming inside his stomach. To know that she prefers to do Potions essay than to spend time with her literal family at Hogwarts shows exactly where Cedric is positioned in her priority list.

Disappointed would be the most understated word he’s feeling at the moment. She has never been that close to anyone but him. He had always been the one she would drop the world for yet now he could sense that the seat was filled with others. He knew that something was going on. There’s no chance in the seven hells that they simply want to do their Potions essay early. Since when does she care about Snivellus’ classes anyway? Yet the realisation only further stomps him, making him drown deeper into the pits of anguish.

“I’m sure they’re just friends, like we all are.” Hermione comments, noticing the dejected look on George’s face “There’s nothing really to be worried about, George.”

He chuckles bitterly, not looking up to see the girl, “Why would I be worried?”

The table went quiet. They all could see the sorrow bleeding out of his skin. It was common knowledge to the pack that he’s madly in love with her. In contrast to her blatant denial whenever their relationship was being questioned, George chose the more vague path of simply smiling and clinging his arms around her shoulders, showing a sign of approval but not really. As if he was waiting for her to stop denying it so he could finally shed the mask he’s been wearing all these years.

Yet it seems like he wouldn’t ever get the chance to take it off now.

“George-”

“I’ll see you guys at the field.”

The boy shoots a weak smile to the group, standing up as he picks up his satchel and exits the Great Hall. The group stares at each other, feeling the mutual sorry for the heartbroken boy. Everyone could see the quidditch robe left unconsciously on the table and yet, for the very first time, she wouldn’t be the one giving it to him later.

—-

“There’s Stimpson.” She whispered to Cedric before faking a laugh, glancing at the girl who’s just entered the Great Hall “Quick, put your hand around my waist.”

“Is that really necessary?” He comments but still does the gesture “Could she even see my hand under these giant tables?”

“Stop, Ced, you’re hurting my stomach!”

The boy chuckles, watching her fake laughter with glee, “You’re entirely something else, you know?”

She grins as she takes a bite of her toast.

The plan was in motion. The two of them have done more public display of their intimacy, indicating that a romantic affair is happening between the two without telling anyone the truth behind such actions. Cedric found the idea to be ridiculous initially, but now seeing Stimpson to be taking silent glances and frowning lightly at the sight of them together, he came to the realisation that not only is she a great actress, she’s one hell of a genius too.

Yet he couldn’t help but to notice that the green emotions were radiated not only from Stimpson but from one of the Weasley twins too. If anything, the younger twin seems to be in a different level of jealousy that everytime he looks in his direction, he would find the Gryffindor’s eyes to be throwing him daggers.

“You know,” Cedric starts, clearing his throat “As much as I’m grateful for you for this stunt, are you sure it is fine for you to be fake dating me?”

“Yeah, of course. Why do you ask?”

“Because something tells me that one of the Weasley twins is despising it.”

She frowns, turning to see the Gryffindor table where the twins usually sit. Her eyes met George’s for a brief second before he looked away, joining the conversation Lee and Fred was having. She notices from afar the light hue of grey underneath his eyes and how his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes, no wrinkles around it as he laughs.

Guilt starts to creep inside her. When was the last time she truly looked at him? He looks awful, despite still looking as charming as ever. She could tell that something was bothering him and she feels terrible for not knowing what caused it. She used to know everything about him like the back of her hand. How long has she been gone, really?

“Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two?” Cedric asks, breaking her train of thought “I really don’t want to be the cause of your ruined relationship.”

“What, no. Nothing’s going on between us. We’re just friends.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” He argues with a shrug “I mean I’ve seen you two around. Even a blind man could tell that something’s going on between you two. Do you not reciprocate his feelings, is that it?”

“What feelings?”

Cedric stares at her with disbelief, a teasing smile tugged on his lips, “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I'm joking?”

“He fancies you!” He exclaims with a nudge “Come on, surely you’re not that daft to see it.”

“George doesn’t fancy me.” She comments, looking away from the Hufflepuff boy to hide her blush “Why does everyone keep telling me that.”

“Maybe because that’s the truth.”

She glares at him before looking back down to her breakfast.

Her thoughts were running wild. Being told that George was in love with her by their group of friends has always been something of an ordinary. She never thought much of it as she figured it was just one of those friendly teasing you make within your group of friends. But now hearing it from Cedric who was the literal definition of an outsider makes her ponder if such words ever actually hold some meaning. Is it really that obvious for others that he hoards feelings for her?

“Look, all I’m saying is this fake dating goes both ways.” Cedric continues “On my end I get to make Stimpson jealous and it seems like it’s working so far. On yours, I think that it’s making one of the twins jealous. What I’m questioning is, are you up for such a consequence? Are you ready if he somehow changes his demeanour around you because of our fake relationship?”

She frowns, “George wouldn’t change just because we’re dating, fake or not.”

“Are you sure? Because it looks like he’s ready to hex me to death.”

“Positive.” She rolls her eyes at him “In fact, I’ll come over to their table now and show you that his actions would remain the same.”

“Bet you 10 galleons he wouldn’t.”

She shows a disapproving expression before standing from her seat, planting a small kiss to Cedric’s cheek before walking away from the Hufflepuff table. For some reason she could feel her heart beating faster, unsure if she’s more afraid to prove her words wrong or true. Neither of the outcomes seem to be pleasing for her. If George really has feelings for her then she wouldn’t know how she could live her life knowing that she’s hurt him with the fake dating. Yet if he doesn’t, why does she feel like she would crash and fall from the bitter truth?

“Morning, Gentlemen.” She greets the table “Saved a seat for me?”

“Aren’t you already secured one with the Hufflepuffs?”

Her smile dilutes, George’s cold tone poisoning her, “I’m still a Gryffindor, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, well maybe there’s another spot open down the right.” George continues, still not looking up to her “You can join Ron and his group of friends.”

“There’s a spot right next to you, George.”

The boy picks up his satchel, placing it in the mentioned space, “Full. Sorry.”

She blinks at his callous gesture. It’s hard to believe that such words came out of his lips, the very one person who has always showered her with affection and warmth. She could see the same appalled expression shown on Fred and Lee’s faces, who didn’t expect George to be this bitter at her. Sure they know that he’s been struggling with the new sight of the couple, but never in a million years have they expected to see George being this hard to her.

“I see.” She replies, forcing a smile now “Well, I’ll see you guys at the field then.”

“Don’t even bother coming if you’re going to be with the enemy.”

“What’s got your wand in a knot, George?!” She bursts “Why are you suddenly so cruel to me?”

“Me? Cruel?” The boy questions, this time looking up to see her with angered eyes “I’m not the one tossing their friends away for some pretty boy she’s only befriended with for weeks!”

“Toss away? I didn’t come to one of your quidditch practices and you think that I’m tossing you away?” She questions, chuckling bitterly “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that being friends with you meant that I couldn’t date someone I like.”

George smirks, “At least you got that part right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You really think that Diggory likes you?” He asks, this time standing up to tower her “You really think that someone like him would ever like someone as bland like you? You’re dense if you think that he ever likes you back.”

She let out a shuddering breath, tears starting to prick on her eyes from his harsh words. George seems to realise the weight of his words too as he blinks, facial features turning softer yet still showing the much bottled anger he’s erupting. He opens his mouth before closing it again, unable to make up words to follow his last.

“Fuck off, George.” She says with a cold tone, glaring at the boy.

Fighting her tears, she walks back to the Hufflepuff table with a broken heart. The possibility that George likes her has certainly been crossed out. The words he uttered are not the ones you said to someone you like, let alone someone you love. His words were only the reflection of his jealousy and bitterness that she’s now found someone who could appreciate her as much as he does. Well, did, as she swore not to ever befriend the red head again.

She takes the seat next to Cedric, sniffling slightly, “Kiss me.”

“What?” He questions, looking worried at her teary eyes “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Just kiss me, Ced.”

And so the boy leans in, kissing her gently on the lips. For the first time the couple finally shows intimate gestures, something more than holding hands or hugs, something that further proves that the two are indeed in a romantic relationship. The stunt was witnessed by the eyes of the Great Hall. Some were gasping in awe, some raised their brows in confusion, and two were staring at the couple with a sinking heart. One having a worse anguish than the other.

—-

She chews on her lower lip, trying to focus on the words Cedric was telling but his first sentence rang in her head like a broken record. Stimpson has finally asked him for a study date, meaning that she’s finally taken interest in him. The objective of the fake dating is achieved, there really isn’t any reason left for them to keep the act.

She should be happy that Cedric could finally get the girl he’s always been pining for, yet a bigger part of her wished that Stimpson would approach Cedric a bit later. Perhaps a few weeks from now when things between her and George were already settled. When he’s finally come to her and apologise for the hurtful words he spat on her that day. She knew that there was no way that Cedric would ever like her, it’s not like she cared about it anyway, but did he really think that she was bland? That she wasn’t worth Cedric or any guy’s time? Is she really that unattractive?

“Hey, you okay?” Cedric asks, looking worried at her now “You seem off today.”

“I’m fine.” She says with a smile, taking a sip of her butterbeer “So we should end this act, then.”

He nods lightly, “I suppose.”

“Why don’t you sound happy about it?”

“Because I know things between you and one of the Weasley twins is yet to be resolved.” He explains, taking her hand and giving it a light squeeze “I’m very sorry that with my uprising, comes your downfall with him.”

“Don’t be silly, it wasn’t your fault.” She rolls her eyes, smiling “We’ll figure something out. He’ll come around.”

No, she wasn’t sure that he'd come around. It has been weeks since their dreadful fight and George has made every effort to avoid her. She hardly ever saw him, not even at the Great Hall or the Common Room. It was as if he was a ghost that used to reside inside her brain, now gone into thin air as some beautiful myth she’s to tell to others.

But at the same time, George was there. He was still in their classes, still at quidditch practices, and every other activity that they used to do together. The fact that he hasn’t made any effort to fix their friendship hurts her. She didn’t realise that the foolish idea she proposed to Cedric would lead to such a devastating outcome.

And she too didn’t expect that their fight would make her realise that she’s in love with her own best friend.

Perhaps she was denying everyone’s question about their relationship because she was scared that the affection only flows one way. George has never approved nor denied the accusation thrown at him about them anyway and he certainly never made any effort to advance with his feelings should he ever have any in the first place. It was hard for her to tell if what others say was true about them and she didn’t want to have high hopes over something that he himself hasn’t approved of.

But now that the fight’s happened, how he blatantly says that she was bland, she knew that the words others say were mere lies. George had never liked her that way. She has always been a friend to him, nothing more. The affection he’s shown to her was nothing more than platonic and it broke her heart.

“So should we end it here? Right now?” She asks, taking a deep breath “The sooner we break up, the sooner you can woo Stimpson. Might want to be fast before she loses interest.”

Cedric smiles, nodding and standing up to give her a hug, “Thank you, and I hope you can reconcile your friendship with Weasley.”

She nods, waving goodbye to him who’s now walking out of the inn.

She let out a sigh, feeling pathetic to herself now at the corner of the Three Broomsticks. She’s lost George and now she lost Cedric too. Just how worse can her life be now?

Yet as if she’s spoken too fast, she saw her group of friends entering the inn. Fred waves at her, followed by Lee who calls for her name. George was standing not far behind them, seemingly not ready to meet her yet still follows the other two.

“Hello, stranger.” Fred greets, walking to her table “Long time no see. Where’s pretty boy?”

“Freddie,” She replies with a smile “Gone, we broke up.”

Fred’s smile fades, frowning, “I’m sorry, Love, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, it just happened, actually.” She answers nonchalantly, turning to George this time “Supposedly you're happy now, aren’t you George?”

The boy didn’t say a word, only staring at her with an apologetic expression.

“You know what, I have to go.” She says, not wanting to spend any more minutes with his presence “I’ll see you guys around.”

And so she takes her purse and walks away from the table. She exits the inn in a hurry, not wanting to be followed by any of them. Her chest was tight and head loud. So many things running inside her mind and every one of it revolves around one particular ginger.

How could she face him now? How could she face him after their fight? He was being a jerk that day and now that they’ve broken up, it would only further feed his ego. Being right about their short lived fake relationship would be something George would wear like a badge of honour. She couldn’t care less about him being right, what bothers her is the fact that not only was he right but that she’s also the loser who hoped that her best friend was actually in love with her too.

Why couldn’t George be jealous the way Stimpson did? Why does he have to be jealous for a whole different reason? Why couldn’t he like her?

“Love, wait!”

She fastened her pace as she heard his voice calling from behind. No, she’s not ready to talk to him. Her head is still fuzzy from all the questions and self blame. Meeting him would only lead to another argument and she’s unsure if her quivering heart could survive another turbulence.

“Wait,” George says as he catches her arm, making her stop on her track “Please, I just wanted to talk.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk, George.” She says, still not looking at him “You’ve made your point and you’re right, no need to rub it on my face.”

“No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. What I wanted to say is-”

“Look, I’m tired, alright? It’s been a long day and I really want to get back to my room.”

“I know, this would be fast, I promise-”

“Not now, George.”

She turns her body, ready to walk away before he grabs her wrist again and turns her.

“What?!”

Before she could complain further from his persistent action, she finds herself being kissed on the lips. She could feel how tense George’s body was, in contrast to how gentle his kiss was. His eyes were tightly shut, as if afraid to see her rejection from the abrupt action. The grip on her wrist loosen, giving her the chance to pull away and shove him off if she would want to.

George lets out a nervous sigh when he pulls away. He could see her appalled expression when he opened his eyes, his blood running cold from the possible outcome of his hasty action. Would she hate him even worse now?

“I’m sorry.” He gathers, voice barely above whisper “I- I don’t know what came into me. I just-”

She didn’t let him finish his words. She pulled him for another kiss, this time showing him how to properly kiss a girl. She pulls him close, eliminating any distance between them that seems to be growing further apart lately, He hesitantly rests his hands on her waist, showing more meaning and confidence to his action. Both of their hearts were beating wild, adrenaline pumping through their vessels as they prayed that the other party wouldn’t regret this once they breath for some air.

“We have so much to talk about.” George says in between the kisses “How is this happening?”

“Less talking,” She answers short “More kissing.”

George grins through the kisses. He now has his hands cupping her cheeks gently, giving her his most possible soft caresses. Merlin knows how much he waited and prayed for this to happen. The second guessing and self doubt now has dissipated, melting away with every peck they share. At last the denial has come to a close. Both acknowledging and embracing their long hoarded feelings for each other with glee. What was once loved and lost, have now returned, giving them the chance to properly show their devotion this time.

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