#loving parents a normal life a good college friends who care for me and who i care for not that financially fucked up a good career

[aashiqq]

I lied

#so #dni #idek where to start man #the first thing i can remember is that im a misogynist now apparently #wait not now #ive always been #that i judge girls for living their life and guys for having what I don't have #surely not what i want to be like literally the last thing i want to be is a misogynist #the world is not a sunshine place i imagine it to be where nobody is a racist or sexist or homophobic or ableist and everybody sings hakuna #matata or sunshine songs its pathetic it makes me wanna vomit i want to be happy but it forces me to become nihilistic with my thoughts #its fucked up its just so rotten at its core that even the smallest emotions feels like a huge generosity from the gods themselves #im at the pojnt in my life thaf if i dont act now im going to lose the years ive already lost #my entirety of teenage is gone now and im unprepared and unequipped to fight around for my life #im left catching up and apparently ive been sleeping on the track even though im the turtle #it fucking sucks to be me yk #im so so soo self centred btw i cant think of others i cant care for others unless its about me somehow #i deserve to die for whatever goes on in my head its so blasphemous to existence itself its pointless to even exist anymore #i have everything a person could ask for #loving parents a normal life a good college friends who care for me and who i care for not that financially fucked up a good career #lined up in the future #i could be stable yk i could be happy grateful satistfied #i should even be working harder to achieve what i want without losing up on reality chasing my dreams #and what do i do #what the fuck do i do????? #cry over a girl just because she was supposed to *save* her virginity for when we got married??????? #how stupid is that????? #she doesnt owe me anything she can do what she wants with her life she isnt someone i control or any such thing #who am i to judge people im literally just a loser npc simpleton who's been left alone and normal so long he's forgotten how to exist #i feel disgusted with myself #its just like the times i have the wild theories about whos doing what behind my back

[heich0e]

No because thank you for putting sukuna as best friends big bro into my head. You’re the one who started it for me and I love you for it

I can’t get him out of my head. Being bullied by him as a kid and becoming besties with yuuji, growing up together until sukuna goes to college and you don’t see him for a good few years because you end up going to a different college too. Finally you come back home to visit. It’s been way too long and damn he looks fine. Shoulders have widened, his thighs are twice the size and his hands?????? Dear god, he could probably grab both your hands in one hand.

Imagine the holiday you decide to visit during is Christmas??? I wanna see him in an ugly Xmas jumper so bad

I WANT TO POUNCE ON HIM SO BAD

heheheh you r very welcome little guy!!

he bullies you looooong after you can rly be considered a kid, it's like.. the only way he knows how to communicate with you.

in my particular AU, sukuna goes away for college but when he and yuuji's grandpa dies, he drops out and moves home to take care of his little brother. you and yuuji are still only in high school at that point, but you remember seeing sukuna again for the first time at the funeral, dressed in a black suit that doesn't fit him quite right. his eyes were strangely vacant the whole time, like he was mourning the loss of more than just his only surviving parental figure, and you couldn't help but watch as he accepted the condolences offered from the attending guests with a nod or few words. that day you stuck close to yuuji, coping worse with their grandfather's passing than his older brother, but sukuna would come to check on him often throughout the wake and each time you had a hard time meeting his eyes.

you visit them frequently in the days following (it's only a few doors away after all, since you've always been neighbours.) you bring food your mother sends to them. help clean up their apartment when you can. over time normalcy returns to the itadori home—or at least a new normal. new routines replacing old ones, like a silvery scar settling into skin once a wound knits itself closed. you're happy to be a part of their life. grateful to be of help where you can. glad that their new normal includes you, too.

#liv got mail #ALSO I HAD A BIG BRO SUKUNA CHRISTMAS FIC IDEA AND I THINK THIS ASK ENABLED ME BUT I WONT SAY ANYTHING ABT IT YET #big brother!sukuna #jjk hcs

[milkpup]

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 3 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

art by @g00miato (PLS GO CHECK OUT THEIR PROFILE OMGGGGG PLS IT'S SO GOOD)

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ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: ch 5 is in the works, it's just taking me awhile bc i have a naoya fic i'm fixated on rn x-x enjoy!

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 3: Innocence

--

Toji leaned against the balcony railing, smoking a cigarette. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “What the fuck were these idiots up to?” He questions himself, thinking back on what he just witnessed.

You and Megumi, in your bed, asleep. This is normally of no concern to him, you both grew up together, often having sleepovers in each other’s rooms. But this time… it was different. Why were there clothes strewn about the floor? Why was he wrapping his arm against you, pressed against your naked form?

All these thoughts were plaguing his already troubled mind. But the most problematic thought came to him overbearingly: Why am I hard?

His large cock was straining against his sweatpants, making it unbearably hard to think clearly and rationally. He felt guilty. Guilty for thinking of you that way, for tarnishing his relationship with you, and for letting his mind wander about what you and his son did. As much as it stung his heart, his body was heating up. His cock begged to be released from its clothed prison.

He took another long drag of his cigarette. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Y/N is undeniably attractive, kind, and intelligent. Any man that didn’t fall for her would be a fool. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he thought about Megumi getting to you first.

But jealousy was not the only emotion that consumed him. He put out the cigarette and went back inside his room, sliding the balcony door shut.

He walks towards his shower in the adjacent bathroom, stripping as he’s walking towards the bathroom entrance. His large cock is fully exposed, and he’s about to go fuck his fists at the thought of you and his son.

He knows it’s wrong to already think of you in this way, but he doesn’t care. He’s a man who is a slave to his desires, no rationality could bring him back in the heat of the moment. He didn’t feel too guilty though, it’s not like he was doing anything with you. He was just thinking about you. That’s fine, right? I’d never touch her. What’s wrong with a little fantasy though?

The water is almost scalding hot. He turns it down slightly and steps inside. Toji wishes it was you here instead of his hand, but he’s unsure if he would cross that line.

His back is facing the water, his forearm is against the wall of the shower. He’s leaning on it for support as he fucks his hand, thinking about how beautiful you look, how your body is such a fucking tease, how Megumi gets to be close to you but not him.

He grunts, picking up speed. He doesn’t mind sharing you, but he wants to be your first. He’s jerking his cock praying to God that Megumi hadn’t taken that part of you yet. He wants it to be his.

He licks his lips, he’s going down the rabbit hole and losing his morality. If my son can have you, why can’t I? I can please her better, and I honestly deserve it.

He pumps his cock more, thinking about how you owe it to him after all. He took you in, fed you, clothed you, basically raised you… he’s thinking of collecting his debt now. While Toji tries his best to be a generally amiable guy, he can’t fully suppress his innate urge to be an asshole. He loves you, but maybe not in the way he should.

He moans, nearing the edge of his pleasure. “My sweet Y/N, fuck..ahh” He can’t even finish a sentence, cumming at the thought of taking what’s rightfully his, and maybe letting Megumi watch just for the thrill of it.

He turns around and lets the water wash away his sinful thoughts and actions, and finishes cleaning up.

It’s Friday night, but a little too late to go out and do anything. Tomorrow, he wants to take you out.

--

 Megumi wakes up earlier than you. He’s usually an early riser, but this time he was grateful he could look at the soft features on your face while you’re asleep. He would be way too embarrassed to watch you as intently if you were awake, he’s blushing even while you’re asleep. He doesn’t mean it in a creepy way at all, he just admires how beautiful and peaceful you seem while asleep.

You yawn and shift in the bed, and Megumi uses this as his cue that he should probably leave. He kisses you on your forehead, gets up and dresses himself, and silently lets himself out of your room.

He walks towards the living room, passing by his father’s room on the way. Toji isn’t in there, and Megumi finds him sifting through items in cupboards and in the fridge in the kitchen.

Toji is cursing himself silently, upset that he doesn’t have all the required ingredients to surprise Y/N with breakfast. Toji isn’t categorically an asshole, he wants to do nice things to spoil you but doesn’t know how. He figures this is a good idea since you usually take care of meals. He’s upset because now he has to waste time getting the ingredients, but he knows you like to sleep in on the weekends anyways.

Toji turns around and sees Megumi approaching the kitchen. “Oh hey, Megumi. Do you think Y/N would like omelettes or waffles more for breakfast? I’m trying to help her out a bit.” He smirks a bit.

“Probably waffles. I think she’s more of a sweet person.” Megumi replies, unsure why Toji even cares enough in the first place. I mean, Toji used to live off of takeout and instant food. Why is he suddenly interested in cooking? Megumi brushes it off. He doesn’t care that much anyways.

Megumi yawns as he walks towards the counter where the coffee pot is located. He starts brewing coffee as Toji moves towards the front door, grabbing his keys on the way out.

--

Toji returns, bags of food in hand as Megumi sips on his black coffee. He works his way to the kitchen, setting down the bags and begins to unpack them. He has to rush if he wants to make the food look presentable enough for you.

Megumi silently watches his father hastily beating eggs and flour together to make a batter. He notices so much effort on Toji’s part, it’s unsettling.

--

You wake to find the other side of your bed is empty, a little bit sad at the thought that Megumi got up before you. You yawn, slip out of bed, and pick out something to get dressed in. You still need to shower, since you passed out after... that.

Your face flushes immediately as the thoughts of last evening come flooding back to you. Heat pools between your legs, remembering the feel of his touch against your body.

You ignore your uninvited thoughts as you make your way to the bathroom to clean up a bit. You’ll shower after breakfast though. Fuck, I hope they’re not waiting for me to make something for them. I definitely slept in a little late. You rush to finish getting ready and exit the bathroom.

Your cinnamoroll slippers flop as you make your way to the kitchen, stifling a tiny yawn. You smell something cooking, but Megumi is sitting on the couch watching something. So that means, Toji is cooking?

He notices the soft patter of your footsteps and turns around as he finished putting the last of the batter in the waffle maker. He grins, “Good morning, Y/N. I figured I’d help you out this morning so you could sleep in. You must have been tired.”

He knows exactly why you’re tired, he’s teasing you at this point. You blush at his comments, “Good morning, Toji.” You sit down at the table beside you. “It smells delicious. Thank you Toji, I really appreciate it,” You add as you’re looking up at him with your half-lidded sleepy eyes, softly smiling.

Toji’s heart skips a beat seeing your precious smile when you’re still tired. He walks over and sets down the food, calling Megumi over.

You set a waffle on your plate, adding syrup and strawberries on top. It smells delicious, and you can’t wait to try it. You take a bite, and, it’s not that good. The toppings add flavor, but he could’ve added vanilla extract or more sweetness to the batter itself. Nonetheless, you eat it with a smile on your face. “It’s really good, Toji. Thank you!”

Megumi takes a bite. If you say it’s delicious, then it must be right. As soon as he tastes the overwhelming intensity of mediocrity and flavorlessness. “Tch.” He clicks his tongue. It’s not that good, and she’s definitely lying to him. Why?

Toji smirks at your compliments. He’s glad he made you happy. He gets up to start cleaning the table and kitchen, and you follow suit. Megumi is uninterested and returns to the living room, putting on some random, boring show.

“Thank you Toji, it was good. I was worried since I slept in late that I left you all hanging,” you chuckle out.

Toji is washing dishes beside you, as you’re picking them up and drying them. “You’re welcome, Y/N. Anything for you.” He looks over at your flustered face and smiles.

You get caught up looking at his adorable grin and reach over to grab the next plate to be dried. Instead, you make contact with his soapy hand instead. You linger for a little too long, hyperaware of the small touch you just made. You’re embarrassed and pull away. “S-sorry…” You manage to stumble out, blushing and looking away.

“Don’t be, doll .” He eyes you up and down, smirking. She’s so fucking hot, and innocent too. It’s almost too easy.

Megumi overhears chatter and catches you a blushing mess in front of his father. He can see the way Toji observes you, like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. Why am I uncomfortable? Am I jealous? Of my own father? I mean, we just had an amazing night together, why should I be jealous? His heart was pounding, feeling suddenly possessive over someone that wasn’t even his. The loudest thought roaring through his mind, however, was the most disturbing. Why am I hard?  He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. This should not be happening.

You finish cleaning up with Toji, when he gently grabs your wrist and looks at you. “Let’s go out together. We need more stuff for the house.”

You already knew this and were planning your usual errands for later today. You look up at Toji and nod, “Sounds good. I’m going to shower and get ready first.”

He releases the soft grip on your wrist, and you walk away towards the bathroom. He licks his lips as he watches your womanly figure recede from vision. He can’t stop looking at the way your shorts hug your hips and ass as you walk away. He grins mischievously and thinks to himself: I can’t wait to get all of that later.

--

‹𝟹 notes: ch 4 is on my ao3, i'll be posting it to tumblr shortly! lmk what y'all think!!!!

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‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

#jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x reader #toji x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #toji smut #megumi smut

[sanzaibian]

Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs.

Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be.

I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing…

I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there…

And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something…

It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others !

- Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears.

- And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard…

- Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it.

- Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed.

- What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time !

… at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s-

Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin.

How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember…

However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving.

What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right…

Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus.

She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ...

I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me.

- Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow…

- Do you want to see the results ?

- Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich !

I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters.

As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up.

I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

#male transformation #male tf #nonbinary transformation #nonbinary tf #nerd to jock #nerd to himbo #jock tf #himbo tf #douche tf #dumber tf #mental change #reality change #transformation #tf story

[shapard]

Thorned 🥀

Human!Lucifer x fem!reader

Zombie Apocalypse Au

Writing the first words of a story really is a pain in the ass sometimes.

mention of SA and gore (English is not my first Language so errors ahead!)

And here I am to feed y'all another Lucifer x reader!!

In the Closet

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2

It should’ve been a normal school day in your boring life. You are a silent nerd student in college just trying to survive with all the college bills. 

Your parents aren't very supportive nor did they care about you. So, you moved out of your parents house trying to make something out of yourself.

And let's just say your mother wasn't pleased with the news and declined all your calls.

Not even your father bothers to get in contact with you. When you do get lucky he just shrugs you off and says he is busy.

Clearly a complete lie.

Your head laid on the desk not caring what the Professor is saying right now. 

Your life is pretty boring. No romance, no drama and no friends. Not that you mind. You're here for a good education rather than a tragic love story.

Your mind was drifting somewhere else and thinking about the rent you must pay. It was a struggle you wished you don’t have to face. 

Beside college you worked in two other part time jobs which drained you completely out. No private time or going out.

High school was the only time where you went out partying and met your ex-boyfriend. He was toxic and very self-centered.

A loud scream caught your attention. Your eyes travelled down towards the tumult that started outside. 

The Pick me girl from the upper class was screaming and pressing her hand tight on her mouth. Your eyebrows raised in question, even though she is the pick me girl she never reacted this terrified? 

There was screaming, gasping and sound of metal meating flesh.

Interested you watched the scenery as the girl got jumped by a guy. Shocked you saw how that guy, or rather that thing, ate her face bit by bit. Your heart felt like sliding down to your stomach, you wanted to puke. 

Her new boyfriend swung a baseball bat onto the monster. The bloody tone that played when blood started to burst out was disgusting.

It made you sick to the stomach.

This is different than any movie or series you watched. This is real. No actor playing a role and no CGI.

Soon enough alarm sirens rang through the town and in the college. You tried to keep a cool outside but the panic inside you was immense. The whole classroom was screaming and some even had panic attacks. 

This type of reaction wasn’t helping at all.

In your whole life of existence, you’ve never imagined that this could be really happening. 

A Zombie Apocalypse. 

You’ve seen it in movies and Series but never have you imagined that it really would happen.

The Professor closed the door and told you all to wait till the police comes and handle the little situation. But help never came.

You pulled out your half-charged phone hoping that the news would report that the government can handle this. All you saw was that the Police departments were under attack, and almost no one survived. 

The whole city was on lockdown. And you were hiding in your classroom with your classmates. 

The professor never came back. He probably died in the chaos at the own hands from his students who are just trying to protect themselves. or by Zombies. 

Now the classroom seems like a save place but for days, weeks maybe even years (when you’re still alive) you knew that escaping the college is the safest idea. 

Searching in the classroom for any weapon that could help you found a dissecting knife. You took it fast into your position before anyone can take it from you.

The classroom was quiet, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm. 

You must find a better weapon than the small dissecting knife that’s used for surgeries or inspections on dead animals. 

Most likely you wouldn’t find a weapon here in the classroom. 

Your eyes shifted towards the door that has been locked, in hope none of those creatures would come here. It was a fake feeling of safety. 

Everyone knows what a zombie is. But these are different. The way they move, the way they ate and who knows how they are created? Maybe a bite isn’t the only thing that transforms someone into a zombie.

A loud crashing sound made you snap out of your thoughts, and you looked at one of your classmates attacking one of your ex-friends. 

Everyone watched in horror and didn’t knew what to do for themselves. The screams pierced your ear and the other didn't move an inch.

Without wasting time, you ran to the locked door and jumped with full force in the hard wood door. You have to escape and watching a slaughter isn’t the way how you’re going to die.

The pain from the harsh compact against the door didn’t stop you. You will not give up and most likely will not die in here. 

Your classmates were watching how you were trying to open an escape but didn’t try to help you.

They were afraid that if they move that the zombie attack. 

Your friend laid there in full display; half of the face is eaten away by the monstress being. 

Your bone cracked slightly, you hissed in pain but continued. The adrenaline was pushing you to things you never thought you'd do. The pain only fueled more Adrenaline into your system.

Your heart raced a mile per minute. Your body heated up and you swung your body every time harsher against the wood surface.

Your skin, flesh and bone begged for a break, but you pushed your body against your limits. The door whined in protest as you lunged your body another time against it. 

The door burst open, and the blood covered college hall came in your view.

You stumbled forward when your other classmates ran against you, the others almost walked all over you. 

Your hands covered your body hoping it'll protect you from getting stepped over.

Assholes. 

You looked up from the floor, your breath hitched as you looked at your dead Professor. In the middle of the floor there laid your professor in a pool of blood.

Karma hit the guy that rammed against you in full force. Your professor raised and lunged at the defenseless boy.

His screams were unbearable to hear. The anxiety in your body only grows every second.

You wanted it all to stop.

You sat in the middle of the chaos, your skirt you chose to wear today was soaked completely with blood. 

You watched helplessly how your class clown got eaten in the most disgusting way. 

The zombie lunged towards his body as if he searched something, something that he misses. But what could that be? 

The zombie clawed with his short nails into the skin ripping the e guys fully open. Your body trembled under the disgusting sight.

As the professor seemed to not find what he was looking for, his body shifted to your direction. 

His arms stretched out wanting to grab you, and a sound escaped him, a terrifying one. 

Your body didn’t move as panic started to settle in, you’re the next to die. Tears started to burn their way in your eyes.  

You are terrified.

His other arm was ripped off and he was still bleeding. But the zombie professor couldn't care less. A lifeless body who was searching for something desperate.

A bloody sight you wanted to look away from but couldn’t.

A hand clasped around yours and pulled you up on your feet. You were being dragged across the college, you stumbled a couple of times but never fell.

Your gaze never left your professor though as you ran through the red painted halls. As he wasn’t in your sight anymore you looked at your savior just to see your ex-boyfriend.

Striker.

“Are you okay sweetie?” His deep voice was irritating for you and brought flashbacks from your relationship.

He tried in these couple days to get back to you even though he cheated on you. 

You forgot something in his house and just wanted to get it back. It was a short visit so you didn't tell him that you're going to pay a visit.

That’s when you saw Striker pounding into one of your friends Nova.

The betrayal was hurtful, you trusted her with all your heart and that stung more than some guy. Your heart ached from the loss of your boyfriend and your friend.

Striker only said the usual line: This is not what it looks like. Seriously these men need to have better excuses than this.

You pulled your hands out of his. “Fucking asshole, keep your disgusting question to yourself.” Striker rolled his eyes and tried to take your hand again, but you dodged his attempt.

“You got quite rude stallion. Remember when you used to get all cuddled up with me and begged me to dick you down.” He winked at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

A cold shiver went down your spine at his pervert comment. “You’re disgusting.” Striker hummed at your respond and looked you up and down.

“Only for you baby.” He purred and stroked your cheek. You slapped his hand out of your face and walked towards the exit of the college.

He didn't change a bit.

You’d rather find a way to survive than staying any longer with your ex. Ignoring striker is the best option right now. 

As you walked outside of the gates from the college grounds that was covered in corpses just to be met with way more outside. The sun was burning down on you making you sweat in anxious and the sudden heat.

A shiny object met your eye, it was a small butterfly knife. You sprinted towards it and danced in victory.

fuck yes! “Why are you dancing?” You cursed under your breath, “I thought you were already dead.” Striker chuckled and laid his hand on your shoulder. “You’re so mean baby~” He whispered in your ear. You wanted to gag at the nickname.

Since when was he behind you anyways? 

“I know a place where we can stay.” Finally, something helpful from striker. “Yeah? Where?” Your positive voice brought a grin up to striker’s face. “Just follow me hottie.” His grin only raises a suspicion, but nonetheless it was safer with him than with these monsters.

As you followed behind striker the anxiety in you only grew and your suspicion was high. You two were now in the middle of nowhere in some kind of forest. 

A large one at that. 

Your pace started to slow down a bit and you regret your past decision to follow your ex-boyfriend in some lonely woods. 

It’s not uncommon that exes kill their ex-partners. And in a zombie apocalypse no one would disagree with being a cannibal if it means to survive.

Humans were always self-centered. Even if some are generous. In the matter of living or dying every human is on their own and always just see themselves. Even you would hesitate when it comes to sacrifice yourself for a stranger.

Striker stopped and you walked right into his back, and you snapped out of your deep thoughts. 

You Apologized and asked striker, why he stopped so sudden. “You play all brave and mighty but here you are quivering in fear.” You didn’t even realize that you started to shake in fear.

Striker spun around and pulled out a rather beautiful knife, “Now listen little bitch. Either you’re going to do what I say, or we can do it in the more fun way.” His tongue ran across the silver, and he laughed in pleasure. 

You knew this was a bad idea. “What do you want striker?” 

Stand tall, stand tall Y/n. 

“I want you stallion.” His hand went out to grab your hair throwing you onto the grass ground. Confused you looked around and saw the butterfly knife laying peacefully in the green. It must’ve fallen out of your hand as Striker forced you to the ground. 

“You really thought you could break up with ME?!” His hand collides with your shoulder, and he pressed down hard.

You bit on your tongue to stop the groan of pain. The damage of the door breaking was still fresh and introduced itself. 

“Oh, babe you messed with the wrong one.” His knife ran across your cheek drawing red. His tongue ran across the new wound. 

Your hand searched for the weapon but it was too far away from you.

“Let me go Striker” It was like you’re talking to a wall; he pushes himself down on you. His erected member was pressed onto your thigh, and it was disgusting.

You really hoped that his dick wouldn’t be anywhere near you.You wanted to puke into his face right now.

“You’re so hot stallion. So pretty and perfect for me.” You spat in strikers face. Striker growled in anger, but you don’t regret it even a bit. And it only angered Striker even more.

“Fucking cunt!” He shouted out loud and you just smirked bitter. But when Striker started to smile you frown. What has he planned? His hand travelled down onto his belt, and you heard it buckle.

Oh no.

He laughed at you terrified face. Now he hit your nerve. Striker was about to pull his trouser down but got interrupted.

“That’s not how you treat a Lady, y’know.” Striker stopped as he heard another voice that wasn’t yours and you sigh in relief. 

Striker closed his belt back and let you go. Your feet pushed you away to the next tree and your eyes travelled to Striker towards your savior. 

He had a large smirk onto his pearl white face, he had a weird sense of fashion. A white cylinder with a small snake on it was on his head. He was kind of short for a Man. 

His eyes were brownish but a scarlet red shine through them, it fits perfect on him. Beautiful Man, beautiful eyes. You could watch hours in those eyes, it was like they were telling their own story. How they flicker and shimmer when the sun hits the iris was so beautiful.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Striker hissed, a reminder that he was still very near you. “Lucifer, not so a pleasure to meet you.” His smirk widens as Striker tried to attack him. 

Yep, tried. 

Lucifer dodged him perfectly and kicked with his heel right in the back from Striker. Striker hissed in pain and rolled on the floor. “You better leave and never come back to her, or you’ll regret it.” Lucifer voice was filled with Venom as he looked down at Striker. 

His eyes shrunk in a snake like eye, scary but sexy at the same time. With a whimper Striker ran far away from Lucifer. 

Fucking pussy.

Lucifer sighs and turned around to you. His hand stretched out for you to take it and you gladly accept. “Thank you for saving me.” Your thanking warmed his heart, “No Problem, it was the least I could do.” 

You felt save around the new stranger. Maybe it was again the wrong decision to just trust a random handsome guy but how can you not.

“Lucifer, right?” Lucifer nodded with his head. “The one and only, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lucifer bowed his hat firmly in his hands and you giggle at his antics. “And who are you darling?” He readjusted his hat and smiled as you Introduce yourself.

“I think we both could use some help and company in this mess.” Lucifers voice was almost like a warm sun breeze. Complete contrast than strikers. “It all happened out of nothing. First the zombies and then this.” You didn’t want to cry but at that moment you felt weak. 

Your body betrayed you and you just cried in front of your new friend you could say.

_____

After a while you two found a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be a lost place, and no one lives in it. You and Lucifer planned to stay in the cabin for a while. 

Life in the cabin was peaceful. Lucifer was the greatest room mate you could’ve Imagined. He was supportive and helped around the household. A man that women can only dream about. 

Today Lucifer was out looking for any food he could find meanwhile you built up a fence. 

When Lucifer came back you couldn’t help yourself better than to watch. 

His shirt was draped over his shoulder and his god given abs and waist were showing. You gulped hard as you watch how the sweat pearls pearled down from his chest. 

His body was more than just perfection, you almost felt jealous because of that waist of his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He winked at you, and you only rolled your eyes which earns you a chuckle. 

“You’re so mean kitty.” You huffed and gave him a side eye, “I’d stop if you wouldn’t be so annoying.” Your hand stretched out to get another nail. You hissed as the nail pierced through your fingertips. Lucifer laughed at your clumsiness. “This is already the fifth time kitty cat. Or should I say sleepy beauty.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your heart skipped a beat at his newfound nickname for you. 

“Let’s get you patched up.” 

A/n: FINALLY I CAN SHARE THIS. So, First thoughts?

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei

If you want to be added please comment on the post I linked below under Taglist.

Taglist

#shapard #hazbin hotel #y/n #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #zombie apocalypse #zombie au #naughty lucifer #pervy Lucifer

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Not a thot but a question, do you have any headcanons for Frank/Matt/Bucky?

Ohhh yeah I have a few. Thanks for your patience, I wanted to respond to this when I could sit and think and type everything out on my computer, not on my phone. Normal HCs at the top, spicy stuff below the cut.

Matt

Okay so I had this friend in highschool who was beyond disgusted by peanut butter, no allergy just totally hated the stuff. Like wouldn't kiss his girlfriend if she'd eaten it recently. I feel like Matt has an extreme food ick like this. Def not peanut butter but something like olive oil maybe? With his sensitive senses he gags when he even gets a whiff of whatever it is.

Speaking of peanut butter, I think it's a food staple of Matt's. The man can't take care of himself, so cooking full meals is just not a thing for him. So 2AM, back from patrol and he needs something to eat. Matt just eats PB straight out of the jar with a spoon like I did for meals in college.

Frank

Loves karaoke. Well, used to when he lived a more normal life. I don't think he sings amazingly well, but he doesn't care. He plays guitar obviously and Col. Shoonover mentioned his impressions skills, so that all concludes me to the fact the Frank likes to sing. He sings to himself/along with the radio when he's driving by himself between jobs. A lot of John Denver and Elton John.

For a holiday/birthday/anniversary gift one year he absolutely recorded Maria a CD of him playing and singing a few of her favorite songs. He'd probably do the same for you too if you were dating.

Bucky

Has a bit of a video game addiction. He was so fascinated by Stark tech at the fair, that I imagine he loves learning about everything that has come along since, but really got hooked on video games. I'm thinking your standard XBOX, Nintendo or Playstation games like the MLB/Baseball game and the Mario collection. Not big on first person shooter games like Call of Duty cause he's lived it obviously. But he can literally spend hours playing like FIFA or something. Absolutely gets on live to play with Sam, AJ, and Cass all the time.

Spicy Thots under the cut, 18+ please, I tried to keep it gender neutral in terms of x reader

Matt

Is really touchy during sex and also not during sex. Since the visual stimulation of sex obviously isn't there for him, he makes up for it by always having to be pressed against you fully or by having hands roaming and groping everywhere.

But also not during sex he's always grounding himself to you by being pressed as close to you as possible. Only time he isn't is when he's in a Matty Mood™ and feels like he doesn't deserve you or you deserve better or whatever Catholic guilt BS he tells himself. He gets over it eventually.

I feel like he likes really intimate sex but also is really playful during it as well. We saw a glimpse of this in She Hulk but I also think his just generally flirty demeanor hints at this. I'm talking like does things to make you giggle in the middle of sex.

Man also has a bit of a breeding kink. He's absolutely not ready to be a parent because his life is in shambles and as much as he loved his dad, he did not have good parental examples in his life, but regardless of his partner's gender or bodily anatomy, he likes the idea of filling you up, knocking you up and having that claim on you. I'm again blaming the Catholicism somehow.

Frank

The eye contact during sex!!!! Dude lost his whole family so anything good in his life he is afraid is going to slip away so he treasures it and takes it all in. We saw this during S2 with Beth but yeah, big guy just loves to watch every facial expression you make during sex.

He's also just really tender in bed. He's not big on kink stuff but will try it if you want but just wants to feel really connected during sex. He's mostly serious in bed but in a really beautiful and intimate way.

Mostly groans and grunts but loves to thrown in a "c'mon baby girl/boy" and begs for "just one more for me"

Bucky

I wrote a whole spiel about my Bucky bedroom hcs, but here's some more.

Of the three, I feel like Bucky is most playful and open to new things in bed. I don't think any of them are open to a full on Daddy kink, dom-sub kind of play but Bucky is the most likely to lean into elements and try things. After his time being under someone else's control I think he likes to feel a little in control, especially of his own body and sex life. But again, not fully into that type of dynamic. Like he might like to boss you around a little or call you dirty names in bed. Afterall, 1940s Bucky was a total flirt and very smooth with the ladies, so it stands to reason in bed he'd still bring some of that out.

#bucky barnes #matt murdock #frank castle #sebastian stan #charlie cox #jon bernthal #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #matt murdock x reader #frank castle x reader #the punisher #daredevil #winter soldier #mcu #mcu headcanons #headcanons #nmcu

[kineticallyanywhere]

Matt "I can and will remind everyone that Link is REALLY wierd about Normal with like no real explination at this point" Arnold out here like "let me see if I can underminine my entire point in this character arc defining interaction" and I unironically love him for it Link is SUCH a messy b word rn

(this turned into a long response, let's talk Fascinating Character Flaws!)

I dont think it's so much that he's weird about Normal, if I'm understanding what you mean by 'weird', especially in this episode. I feel like it circles back to what I keep thinking about, which is his newest teen fact. the one where he-- does this count as poisoning? he made other children ill in a fit of jealousy for anyone having any time with his dads.

listen, I've had many homeschooled friends. At one point in college I was the "actually went to public school" member of the friend group. People can go in and out of homeschooling and be... not whatever the heck Link has going on. I was excited for him when that fact started, like, "oh he was part of a cohort!" until uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!

(the following are thoughts that I'm still developing in my head as I type and probably after I post)

whether it's due to the overprotective parenting or just Link's nature or a Symptom of a Condition (op has their own Condition but is not a psychologist) Link's got an issue with like. not getting what he wants? not usually in super obvious ways, it's not spelled out, he doesn't throw tantrums or anything. unless you count the thing at Normal about Normal not wanting to do "cool plans." and most of the time he doesn't want anything complicated, his wants have been pretty straight forward and in line with what anyone would want in these circumstances. he wants people to not die is the big major one, he wants to not feel betrayed again, he wants his friends to stop fighting, he wants to get this over with NOW. and he's been going through so much of not getting what he wants (COMPLETELY REASONABLE THINGS TO WANT, IN THIS CASE. TRAUMATIC THINGS TO NOT GET) that he seems to not know what he wants at all anymore.

like, his understanding of the world has been rocked so bad that he's pretty sure all those things I just listed just aren't things he can have. in the past whenever he needled his parents or acted out or did certain things he'd get what he wanted. not to say that he's spoiled but uh... okay yeah I am saying that a bit. but mostly in the ways that it keeps him from developing the coping mechanisms for when you ask something from life and it punches you in the teeth instead.

So in a world where he doesn't know how to get what he wants and maybe he isn't sure what he even can want, he's kinda just shutting down internally. In the mean time, he may as well make sure his friends get what they want, and then maybe at some point he'll want something again. so, in a way, what he wants is to feel and want something, so that "wants what he wants" part of him snapped out again at Normal with "well at least you're feeling something." in other words, "you have the thing that I want right now, and I'm gonna sound pretty bitter about not having it myself" which is an effed up thing to say when that thing he's having is a mental breakdown.

Link. Buddy. Bud. Kiddo. Pal. you need Help.

tl;dr and conclusion: imo for their mental health the party should split into Link & Taylor and Scary & Normal again for an episode or two. Norm and Scary for hopefully obvious reasons; and Link and Taylor because while Taylor is unquestionably a rich kid spoiled for material goods who is very good at wanting things, he is also a kid who's mom knows how to say "No. Absolutely Not. Give me the knife right now I don't care what seppuku is" and who's dad left an emotional void for over a decade that he is clearly adept in coping with and he could give Link some pointers.

also because it would be a cool callback and parallel to early episodes to do those pairs again. see how they've changed and stuff

#didn't mean for this to get so long #or to read taylor for filth at the end there lol sorry taylor youre perfect #literally was self analyzing what my pet peeve is with each pc earlier #(which isn't a bad thing; thats a rounded character right there) #and i got to taylor and went 'hes perfect no notes' lol #cast darkness again kiddo i believe in you #anyway this helped me figure out my understanding of link so thank you anon! #though im still not sure i properly understand what you meant by link being weird around normal #hes been weird around everyone; i think; normal just talks the most #dndads #dndads 2 #dndads spoilers #link liwilson #ask ka #me talking

[hongcherry]

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 1

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [general tw (won't be repeated in the other chapters)] reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, reader is not nice, character outfit descriptors, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying | [chapter tw] “joke” that implies prostitution in a negative way, near car accident (rear end), brief mention of death thru a joke

🍒 WC: 14.8k

🍒 Betas: Huge shout out to my bae, @love-strike, for being with me throughout this whole process, for listening to me whine, for helping me brainstorm majors for OT13, and for being so supportive! tysm 😭 And thank you to @playmetheclassics, @here4kpopfics, @angelwoozi for also beta'ing this series! ty for your time and for your sweet feedback! i really cherish everyone's efforts and brains hehe 🥰💖 i understand this was not an easy task to take on.

🍒 Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!!!!!!! 🎂♥️ I started this fic in September 2022 and contemplated even publishing it multiple times. I think this will be the first fic I've worked on for so long and published. Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so that's exciting! It was supposed to be one long one-shot, but I ended up writing way too much for a one-shot LOL. I'm really proud of myself for powering through and not abandoning it, as I've done in the past. I also wrote this all in past tense and spontaneously decided to change it to present 😪 Anyway, please enjoy the start of this couple's journey 😁

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

When people say good students are those who arrive on time, you find it hard not to scoff. Professors should care more about how hard-working one is rather than if they show up on the dot.

Of course, you do try to make it on time, but can you really leave your house looking less than perfect? Absolutely not. Plus, the first fifteen minutes usually consist of professors getting set up for their classes, so you don’t feel like you are missing anything of importance.

Today is no different.

Ten minutes past the official class time, you stroll inside the room. Students are seated where they normally sit, some are on their phones, and others are trying to finish some last-minute homework assignments. It’s a fairly small class, and being in your senior year means everyone knows each other well. Although, most of the people in your class think ill of you and don’t talk to you.

At first, you thought it was a pity, but in the end, you realized you didn’t want to befriend those who would only talk shit behind your back. This is what you figured they did since they were never discreet when they exchanged whispers with their eyes glued to you. 

Luckily, you have at least one friend in the class. Quality over quantity, right?

“Right on time,” your friend, Dae, says with a sly smile when she spots you.

You chuckle and slide into the seat next to her. “Class started fifteen minutes ago.”

“It did, but you’re right on time for you,” she explains with a knowing grin.

“Guess I need to be more late from now on,” you tease as you take out your iPad.

The device is a holy grail to you. Majoring in fashion design means all your ideas and creations over the past few years are stored there. When you don’t have it, it’s stored in secret in your house. Maybe that’s a little excessive, but losing it would feel like losing a part of yourself. After all, art creations always include a part of the creator. The device almost feels like it’s an extension of yourself—something too personal for others to peek at.

Dae rolls her eyes. “Or you could come on time. That would be different.”

“Why would I? The first fifteen minutes are worthless,” you huff and open your notes.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Dae answers, sliding a piece of paper over. You glance down at it.

Prepare for the annual Senior Fashion Show! Students are to create their own fashion show with a theme of their choice. The show will be toward the end of the semester in the Main Theatre (official times and dates TBD). The project will count for 80% of your grade as this will require you to use all the skills you’ve acquired as a student. When creating your show, be sure to be mindful of the following…

“This was handed out at the beginning of class. Seems like we’re going to have to work with students from outside our department,” Dae comments after she gives you a few minutes to read everything.

So, this is it.

Every senior majoring in fashion design is required to participate. You attended every fashion show hosted during your time as a student here. You were always left in awe, motivated to be a student that would leave behind a name for themselves at the college. You want to inspire the next seniors just as the ones inspired you before.

While this assignment has your body giddy with excitement, there is a part you are dreading.

People skills are not your forte.

Not because you feel awkward talking to new people, but because the conversations always end unpleasantly. Sometimes with back-handed compliments, insults, or them trying to scold you. You hope that won’t be the case while recruiting volunteers.

“So, do we have the class period to start getting things together?” you question once you finish skimming through the instructions again. You’re responsible for a lot more elements than you anticipated. You need lighting, music, a theme, backstage helpers, hair and makeup artists, an advertiser, and most importantly, models. This is when you wish you had a large network. Though, every friend you tried to make didn’t end up lasting. Dae is the only person who has stuck by your side.

“Yup,” she replies. “We’ll be doing mini assignments throughout the semester to help us prepare. I think it’s just a way for Dr. Lim to give us grades so he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“Probably,” you sigh. You are already feeling stressed. Quickly, you scribble down a list of to-do’s in your notes.

“Do you have a theme in mind already?” Dae asks after a moment.

“No, do you?” you wonder.

Dae sits back in her chair, pen resting between her fingers. “I was thinking about something with space? Maybe my main colors will be blue, purple, and black.”

“Oh? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, though? Don’t you want to try something different?”

Although the question is harmless, the tone of your voice must have rubbed Dae the wrong way. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at you again.

“Think of it as branding, okay? Why does it bother you so much?” she wonders with a frown. Realizing your mistake, you inhale slowly.

“It doesn’t. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure your stage will do well,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips.

“No ‘sorry’?” Dae asks despite knowing it isn’t part of your favorite vocabulary.

You narrow your eyes at her. “Nope. Just don’t be so defensive next time.”

“You’re insufferable,” Dae answers. “One day, you will be sorry for your behavior.”

Shrugging, you say, “There’s always a chance, but maybe if the world wasn’t so insecure, saying sorry wouldn’t be so wanted.”

Dae exhales disapprovingly at your thought process, displeased with your reply. “Well, for now, maybe try to be more empathetic?”

“I have bigger things to worry about right now. For instance,” you start, a finger at the top of your to-do list, “I’ve got to find someone who can provide me with music.”

Fuck, it’s too loud in here.

The sounds of different instruments being played at once, all emitting different tunes, have a migraine bubbling in your head.

You make a beeline to the professor who is sitting in the corner. She is an older lady, evident by her wrinkles and gray hair. Yet, her features are soft, and the smile she gives you makes you feel at ease.

“Hello, miss, can I assist you?” she asks when you’re in hearing range.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could help me with an assignment?” you wonder and offer her a kind smile, hoping she won’t shoo you away immediately.

“Ah, it’s alright. They’re just practicing for an upcoming assignment today. What is it you need, dear?”

“Who would you consider your best student? Is there a way you can get me in contact with them?”

The professor’s eyes widen slightly at the question. She didn’t expect that. Nevertheless, her gaze rises to scan the classroom.

“There,” she points as discreetly as she can. You follow her finger, which lands on a blonde-haired guy tuning his guitar. “Lee Jihoon. He’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.”

“This semester?” you ask out of curiosity.

The professor shakes her head. “Ever.”

You can’t stop the small disbelieving huff that escapes you. The best student ever? You aren’t sure how long she’s been teaching, but you doubt out of all her time, he is the best. He looks too young.

“Now, now, don’t judge a book by its cover,” she scolds gently. You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the phrase. You’ve heard it too many times that its meaning lost its effect on you.

“What makes him your best student?” you question, sight going back to the man who is oblivious to your stare. He sits next to another student who also has a guitar. They seem to be friends from the way they are laughing together.

“His work is versatile and very good. I’m positive he will be the perfect person for your project.” The way she speaks about him makes you believe her. There was no waver to her voice, and her eyes hold a fondness in them you know one can’t replicate if not genuine.

“How long until they have their assignment due?” you wonder, realizing you may have to wait until the class ends before you could talk to him.

The professor smiles. “I’ll let them have five more minutes so you can introduce yourself.”

Internally, you sigh in relief. You’re grateful you don’t have to wait.

“Thank you,” you say before strolling to the man.

As you near, his friend glances up. He’s mid-sentence when he spots you, eyes growing slightly at the sight of you. You’re used to getting looks like that. Your fashion is always dressier than the average college student's. People just aren’t used to it.

“Hi,” the brunette friend says. He has prince-like features, and you almost consider asking him to be one of your models. You give him a small grin out of politeness before turning to the whole reason you came over.

“Lee Jihoon?” you ask.

Jihoon’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. “Uh, y-yeah. Do I know you?”

“No. My name’s Yn. I have a project in a class and need someone to provide music for me. You won’t get paid, but any extra experience is always good, right?” you greet, not wanting to dance around the subject. After all, this is only the first of many on your to-do list.

“What major are you in?” he wonders, brows knitted in confusion.

“Fashion design,” you answer.

Jihoon is silent for a moment. “And how did you find me?”

This guy is more difficult than you wished. You just need him to say yes.

“I asked for the best student, and you were recommended. So, what do you say? Will you help me?”

Jihoon gives you a small smile, but something about it rubs you wrong. “Sorry, my plate is a little full right now—”

“Do you need money? I can give you some afterward.”

You try not to sound desperate. Lee Jihoon is not the only music major—this is obvious by the amount of noise you hear in the background.

But you never settle for less than the best.

You have been looking forward to this project since your college tour here. 

“It’s not that,” Jihoon chuckles awkwardly. “I have other assignments I have to practice for, but I’m sure there will be someone else to help you. There’s a lot of talented students her—”

“But they’re not the best,” you interrupt. What else can you offer him that will make him say yes?

“Well, being the best is subjective,” Jihoon counters, voice light so you know he doesn’t mean it rudely.

You open your mouth to bargain with him more, but his friend leans into his ear. The noise from the other instruments behind you makes it hard to hear what they are saying.

Patience is something you rarely have. The longer you stand there waiting, the more annoyed you get.

“Look, you have almost a full semester to get a song done by then. I’m sure you can find some tim—”

“Fine,” Jihoon grumbles as he shoves his friend away. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” you pause. You are fully prepared to go down the mental list of how helping you will help him in return. One that will be complete bullshit, but if it gets him to say yes, then so be it. Luckily, you don’t have to. 

“Great!” you say.

You aren’t going to give him time to back out, so you quickly retrieve a business card you had made from your purse. It’s easier to exchange contact information, and you never know when you may run into someone important. Being in an artistic field means competition. You always need to have an eye out for something, or someone, that will help you get your name out there.

“Here’s my number. Please contact me before the day ends.”

Jihoon takes the card and examines it. “Got it. What kind of music will you need?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” you reply. He nods in response.

“I look forward to hearing your music. I’ll talk to you later then,” you say.

You have half a heart to wish them both luck on their assignment, but part of you is a little petty that Jihoon put you through some trouble. Instead, you give them a wave before turning on your heel.

As you’re leaving, you hear a loud sigh followed by a laugh from behind you. 

“Shut up, Shua,” Jihoon groans before the professor calls everyone’s attention.

Music, check. Now, what’s next?

As you make your way down the hallway, you stumble across Dae. She is surrounded by two other male students, none of whom you know. You don’t plan to greet her since she seems busy, but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile catches her attention.

“Yn!” she calls out cheerfully.

You halt in your tracks, turning to see her smiling at you. She gestures for you to come over, so you do.

“Hey,” you say to her.

“How’s your project going?” she asks.

“I got someone to help me with music,” you reply, then glance behind her to see the two guys staring at you. Dae follows your gaze and makes a small “oh!”

“Is that all? Do you have anyone for advertising or graphics?” Dae wonders, her voice seemingly excited.

“I don’t,” you answer hesitantly. Her eagerness has you worried.

“Perfect!” she exclaims, then turns to the others. “This is Yejun and Jeonghan. They’re both advertising majors. Yejun agreed to help me with my project, but Jeonghan,” she pauses to address the man. He has blonde hair that goes past his eyes. His soft features are handsome and almost angelic. 

“Jeonghan, would you mind helping my friend with hers? She’s super talented.”

Jeonghan glances at you, but before he can say anything, you ask him, “What are your skills? Do you have some work I could see first?”

Jeonghan looks taken aback. “O-oh, I don’t have a portfolio yet, sorry.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” you say before looking at Dae. “Thanks for trying to help me, but I’ll find someone else.”

Dae’s eyes narrow at you. “Come on, Yn. Jeonghan is really good!”

“Didn’t you just meet him?” you question and try to stop the scoff that threatens to escape.

“Well, yes, but Yejun has been my friend for a while, and I’ve seen his work. Yejun and Jeonghan have worked together as well, and their creations are unique!”

You inhale deeply, eyes roaming from your friend to Jeonghan. He offers you a smile.

“What your friend said,” Jeonghan replies with a small chuckle.

“Trust me on this,” Dae says. “Jeonghan won’t disappoint you.”

You don’t feel at ease agreeing to someone blindly. Dae’s definition of “really good” could be different from yours. Although her work is good, you feel your standards are way above hers. You had planned to ask for the best student for each assigned task, so having been offered a random helper with no proof of their credentials is unnerving. 

Granted, you haven’t heard Jihoon’s work, but you were sold on the way the professor spoke about him. Dae, on the other hand, is not a professor and could be biased as Yejun is her friend. Though, you still have a lot more positions to fill, and you need to do so soon.

Sighing, “Fine. You can work with me.”

From the way you word your sentence, it’s almost as if Jeonghan is supposed to jump up and down with glee. He doesn’t.

You grab another business card from your purse and hand it to Jeonghan. He takes it slowly.

“Just so you know, I have the right to replace you with someone else if I see your work isn’t fit,” you warn as Jeonghan slips the card into his pocket.

His eyes lock on yours. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers, not bothered by your comment.

“Oh?” you wonder and quirk an eyebrow up.

“Hm. You also need graphics, right? I have a person for that as well,” Jeonghan says.

“I haven’t seen their work yet—”

“You’re not very trusting, huh?” Jeonghan observes with a laugh. You shift your weight on one hip, not liking the way he is trying to tell you about your personality when he doesn't know you.

“I just know what I want, and I won’t settle,” you answer sharply.

Dae huffs next to you and gives you a gentle shove, indicating you to ease up. That isn’t going to happen.

Jeonghan doesn’t reply and instead takes out his phone. His fingers dance around the screen for a minute before he turns the device for you to see. On the screen is an Instagram account with various posts of different art and graphic pieces. Your eyes drift to the username. by_xuminghao_o. His art is impressive and definitely not an amateur like you half expected.

“So, about not settling,” Jeonghan trails off, a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips.

“I expect you both to contact me before the day ends,” is all you respond with.

Jeonghan pockets his phone and nods. He seems content with your answer even though you don’t confess the art meets your standards.

“All good then?” Dae asks, glancing between you two.

“We’re good,” Jeonghan replies and gives you another smile of his—one you are starting to hate seeing. There is just something about it that seems like he knows more things than you in a cocky, condescending way.

Yejun glances at his watch and then nudges Jeonghan.

“Thanks, ladies, but we have a class to attend. Nice to meet you, Yn,” Yejun says.

You hum in response while turning away from them. Dae says her goodbyes, watching as they leave before putting her focus on you.

“Do you have to be so picky?” she sighs.

“As I said, I know what I want. I’ve waited to do this project for years. It has to be perfect,” you explain and pull out your iPad. You check off music and advertising from your to-do list. Graphics aren’t listed, but you figure it will be a nice addition.

“I understand, but—”

“Just focus on your project, and I’ll focus on mine, okay?” you interrupt. You don’t feel like hearing her lecture you for a second time today.

“Alright,” Dae answers. “I’ll see you around,” she says, walking away before you can say anything else.

With her back turned, you roll your eyes at her attitude. It has your mood lowering, and you conclude you’re done with human interaction for now. You carefully place your iPad back in your bag, then make a beeline to the parking lot, ready to go home to figure out a theme for your show.

Home is somewhere you don’t enjoy being.

It always has this melancholy cloud looming over you. You can never seem to get rid of it completely. Even on the good days, it lingers in the corner of the room, always threatening to float above you. You doubt it will ever dissipate.

Your back is against the headboard of your bed, your iPad resting against your legs that are pulled to your chest. The music playing is too low for your liking, but you know if it’s any louder, your father will scold you for the high volume. Sometimes you will raise it just to get him to talk to you. Though today is not one of those days. You want to be left alone for once, which isn't usually too hard to do unless your sister needs attention. Like now.

“Today is the last day. Pleaseeee, Yn!” your sister whines at the foot of your bed. Her small body is bouncing with desperation and eagerness.

Reluctantly, you flicker your gaze up at her. The slight scowl on your face doesn’t seem to faze her… Probably because she’s seen it so much.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you exasperate, gesturing to your iPad.

Seoah frowns. “When are you not? Come on! It’ll take, like, ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to getting a Fallin’ Flower frap for months! You know it’s a seasonal drink.”

“Didn’t Dad say you couldn’t have any more sweets?” you say and peer down at your iPad again. You’re in the middle of brainstorming themes for your show. There are various words within bubbles, each connected with a line.

“I’ll just get a small,” she explains. When you don’t move, she walks around the bed to stand next to you. Her voice becomes softer, sadder. “You said you would take me. Dad can’t.”

“That was before I got assigned this project. It’s my—”

“Senior project that you’ve been looking forward to since your freshman year, yeah, I got it,” she responds, reciting what you’ve told her before.

You finally look at her once more. “I’ll take you for the next seasonal drinks, okay? They’re probably better anyway.”

“But I really want a Fallin’ Flower,” Seoah pouts.

“Next year,” you offer and return your attention to your homework.

“Yn—”

“Next year,” you repeat firmly without looking up.

Seoah pauses in her begging. You think she’s going to continue, but you hear the soft padding of her feet as she moves.

“Oh, Seoah?” you call out, glancing up.

She pauses by your door and looks up with some hope in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to shut the door all the way.”

“Right,” she mutters slowly, then leaves the room. You wait until you hear the door click close prior to getting back to work.

You sit on your bed the remainder of the day, only getting up to cook dinner for your father and sister. Your eyes feel strained and your body weak, but the sooner you pick a theme, the sooner you can get started. 

It’s days like these when your body is mentally and physically exhausted, that you miss your mom. You try not to think too much about her as it only makes the gloomy cloud above your head darker. 

Is she happier? Surely, she is. She is living her dream as a traveling journalist. Sometimes you will see her adventures if you peep at her social media. It’s self-torture to do so, but curiosity gets the best of you. You hope one day you’ll have the willpower to block all her accounts. 

At this point, you’re having the same conversation you have with yourself once a month. It never ends the way you want.

Inhaling deeply, you finish plating all the food before calling your family for dinner. While your father eats in his office, needing to continue his work, you and your sister eat in silence in the dining room.

Maybe one day things will change, but for now, you’ll have to settle with this.

You are about to knock on the door a second time when no one answers it. You have allotted only an hour for this meeting, so the longer you wait outside, the more you grow impatient. You have set mini-deadlines throughout the semester to ensure you will complete this assignment in a timely manner. You just hope your recruitees aren't going to slow you down.

Suddenly, the door is yanked open. Jeonghan stands on the other side, hair a little damp and a few wet spots on his shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he says hastily. “I thought I could shower quicker.”

“I told you eleven o’clock,” you scold. Jeonghan simply smiles.

“Never hurts to give people some wiggle room. Plus, aren’t you the early one?” Jeonghan leans back to view something. He looks at you after a few seconds. “It’s only three minutes past.”

“Early is on time,” you say as if that is an obvious life choice. Although you’re never really on time for classes, you reason that to be because the first fifteen minutes are a waste of time. This, on the other hand, is not. “Invite me in?”

Jeonghan moves aside and lets you enter. His apartment is tidy for the most part. It seems as if he had started to clean up but gave up toward the end.

“Where’s Minghao?” you wonder when you saw you were the only one here. He’s supposed to be here with Jeonghan, so you can all go over the advertising designs.

“He called and said he hit some traffic. Have a seat anywhere; I’m going to grab my laptop,” he instructs before jogging to another room. Shaking your head in disappointment, you glance around again.

Spotting his couch, you walk over and make yourself comfortable. You take out your iPad and open what you have so far—color ideas, font ideas, and a few mock-up fashion designs. It has been two weeks since you last saw Jeonghan. The majority of your tasks have already been assigned to people, but you still have to find a few more models.

“Alright, so, what’s the theme?” Jeonghan asks when he comes back. He sits down next to you, causing you to bounce slightly from his weight.

You angle your screen, so he can see it easier. “I decided on the four elements—water, ice, air, and earth. The title right now is Pinwheel.”

“This gives us multiple color options,” Jeonghan examines. “Maybe we could have five designs. One for each element and then one with all of them? That would give you a variety of exposure and make the audience feel they’re not looking at the same promo material every time.”

You sit still as you ponder his suggestion. “You don’t think people will get confused seeing different designs?”

“We can make it all tie in some way. You have your own logo, as I saw on your card. We can use that and the same fonts.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “That sounds—”

A knock on the door stops you.

“Ah, that must be Minghao. Do you mind getting that? I’m going to get my notepad, so I can try to sketch some layouts.”

You nod, setting your iPad down next to his laptop, then walking to the entrance.

“You’re late,” you groan while you pull open the door.

“Oh? Am I?” the person says with a little playful smile on his lips.

Although you’ve never met Minghao, you have seen pictures of him on his Instagram. You expected to see a head of blue hair, but you are greeted with black. Instead of a narrow face, his is slightly wider. He wears an oversized white shirt, jeans, and a colorful necklace. He looks like every other college student. Sure, he’s more handsome than the average, but not by much. Behind him are two women and one man.

“Can I help you?” you exhale a disheartened sigh when you conclude it isn’t Minghao. Meaning, he’s even later than you wished for.

The guy chuckles. “I doubt it, but Jeonghan can. Is he here?”

His voice is slightly deep. You may have found him soothing to listen to if it wasn't for his irksome words.

“He’s busy right now. You can come back in an hour, though,” you instruct and start to close the door. You don’t need any distractions.

The man sticks his foot out to stop you, causing you to exhale annoyed when you can’t get rid of him. You open the door slightly again.

“Just tell him I’m here,” he says, his teasing tone not so visible anymore but still light enough to not sound too rude.

“And who are you?” you question apathetically.

“Jesus,” someone hisses behind him before shouting, “Jeonghan, come here!”

Your eyes gaze past the man to see a woman with short-length dark hair. She eyes you haughtily, hand on the man’s forearm as if she were to push him away. Though she never does. She takes in your attire, and you once again get a look of judgment at your choice of dress. Your white dress paired with a same-colored, opened button down and beaded chain around your hips is apparently not her style.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks behind you. Reluctantly, you move aside so he can see. “Oh, Seungcheol! Right. One second. Come on in. I’ll get those papers for you.”

“Actually, do they need to come in? They’re not staying long,” you say quickly before any of them can move.

“Relax, princess, he’s just being friendly. You know, like when someone is kind, thoughtful, and considerate?” the girl questions as if you’re dumb and makes her way inside despite you standing close to the door. It forces you to move over. 

Her friends follow along. Three of them stand in the living room, while the second guy sits at the kitchen bar before pulling out his phone. You watch them with a fire inside your chest. Not only are Jeonghan and Minghao late, you now have to deal with this obstacle.

Just as you’re shutting the door, you see a glimpse of blue down the hall. Finally.

“You’re late,” you repeat, but to the correct person this time.

“I know, I’m sorry! Oh, are they helping too?” Minghao says, pausing at the entry when he sees the group of people inside.

“No. Get in,” you huff and point a finger in the apartment. Minghao enters without a fight.

“Hao!” the second girl exclaims with a smile.

Great. Do they all know each other?

“Hi, Hana,” Minghao greets with a gentle grin.

“What are you doing here?” Hana wonders.

“I’m helping Yn with her project,” he answers and gestures to you while you shut the door.

Hana looks your way, and you can see the distaste in her expression; however, she doesn’t say anything.

Jeonghan walks out of his room with a folder in his hand. “I hope this is what you need,” he tells the first man—Seungcheol, you presume.

Seungcheol smiles and takes it from him. He flips open the folder, doing a quick glance through the papers inside.

“Looks great,” he says. “Thanks for getting these for me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replies.

“Hannie, do you want to come to Shining Diamond with us this weekend?” the first girl asks, tilting her head in a way that appears as if she’s begging for a yes.

“Ah, this weekend?” he hesitates. “I have a test on Monday I was going to study for.”

“A few hours won’t hurt you,” she replies.

“Alright, Hajun, but only for an hour or so,” Jeonghan says with a not-so-stern voice.

“Great! Minghao, do you want to come, too?” Hajun asks.

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else, so sure.”

Hajun grins widely. Her eyes go past Minghao to see you standing in the corner, your arms crossed and eyes staring daggers at everyone.

She doesn’t say anything, but her look tells you you aren’t invited. As if you are silently begging to join. The thought makes you scoff quietly.

“Cool. You all scheduled your weekends,” you start and walk back to the couch. You turn briefly to Seungcheol, who is eyeing you already. “And you got your things. Can we please continue?”

Your gaze shifts to Jeonghan at your question. He offers you an apologetic look before nodding.

“I’ll see you all this weekend. You can text me the time,” he says while walking to the door.

“We can decide that now,” Hana suggests.

“Or over text like Jeonghan said,” you interject. She narrows her eyes at you.

“Be patient. It’ll only take a few minutes,” she replies.

A few minutes, my ass.

“I’d rather you use those minutes to walk out the door.” You give her a faux smile.

“Have some respect,” Hajun scolds.

You laugh though you don’t find any of this humorous. “What a hypocrite. How about you respect people’s times?”

“I did tell Yn I’d help her,” Jeonghan cuts in sheepishly and opens the door to hint at them to leave. “I’ll text you all later, or you guys can come back in a bit.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingers on yours as he walks toward the door. Your eyes catch on his as he makes his way into your line of sight. His stare has an unsettling feeling form in your stomach, and you contemplate asking what his problem is. Before you can, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Thanks again,” he says as he lifts the folder.

“No problem. Talk to you later,” Jeonghan replies.

All his friends have filed out except for the one male who hasn’t said a word. He glances at you. You expect to receive another jab about who knows what. Instead, he gestures at your body.

“Nice chains,” he compliments with a smile.

Your eyes widen slightly as you glance down briefly at your outfit. That was certainly unexpected. “Uh, thanks.”

“Come on, Vernon!” Hana yells from the doorway. Vernon gives you a thumbs up, which is uncanny given the situation, then follows his friends out the door.

Once they leave, you narrow your gaze at Jeonghan and Minghao. They’re quick to apologize again and start asking questions about your project before you can lecture them. Lucky for them, your hour is almost up, so there isn't enough time to do that anyway.

Weeks go by with you working nonstop on your project. Annoyingly, you also realize that the majority of the people you recruited to help all know each other. It usually isn’t something to be irritated by, but each time they run into each other, they usually end up making small talk that you have to break up. They can do that on their time, not yours. Even more frustrating is that this so-called Seungcheol and his groupies know them all as well. Their reactions to seeing you are always the same—ones of displeasure. Though the feeling is mutual.

You learn they are all business majors, except for Vernon. Well, he was a business major, but he plans to switch to something else. You can’t blame him. If all the business majors act revolting, you would leave that department as well.

Seungcheol… He isn’t as bad. 

You have only ever hung out with him by himself for less than five minutes. Those conversations spur when you’re both left alone after one of your “mutual friends,” because none of these people are your actual friends, abandon you both. The conversations are awkward and never hold any weight. He doesn’t throw snide remarks at you, but his presence still makes you uneasy with the possibility. You’re normally the first to leave because of that. Maybe if he didn’t have those obnoxious friends, you could tolerate him more. You can’t help but associate him with them though. You simply want to get away from them, even if that includes him. Not that you are craving his presence anyway. You barely know him and aren’t interested in changing that.

“Those are looking awesome so far!” Dae exclaims when she peers over your shoulder to see your sketches.

You smile at her and set your iPad down on the table. The weather outside is perfect, given the cool breezes in the heat. It eases your mind, and you feel more creative being in a new environment.

“Thanks, how are yours coming along?” you question and wait for her to angle her own iPad to you. On the screen are various designs, each with a hint of purple or blue.

“Those are neat,” you compliment.

“Yeah?” she says and beams at you. “What about this one? I think the shoulder looks a little weird.”

You reach over, using two fingers to zoom in on the screen to examine it.

“Maybe just lower this,” you gesture on the screen, careful as to not move the screen on accident. “You could take this part out too and make it asymmetrical.”

Dae hums, lips pursed in thought. “I’ll try it. I guess I won’t really know until it’s on someone.”

You nod in agreement before focusing on your designs again. After a while, Dae excuses herself from your homework session. She had planned to meet with one of her helpers. You bid her a quick goodbye.

Ten minutes pass when you see someone standing in front of your table, blocking your sunlight. Your eyes rise to see who it is.

“Hi,” Seungcheol greets.

You straighten your posture upon seeing him. He wears a basic navy suit that fits him well. To your surprise, it actually looks decent on him. Your eyes dart around him to see if any of his friends came.

“Just me this time,” he answers the question in your head.

“What is it you need?” you ask blankly.

“Must I need something?” he retorts.

You suppress the eye roll you want to give him. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me about your day.”

“I can if you want,” he responds, then to your utter dread, he sits down across from you. From the position he is sitting at, the breeze is blowing his hair forward and into his face. He raises a hand to push it back, but it’s no use.

“You can spare me. Tell me what you want and go,” you instruct. This is the first time he has approached you—and alone, for that matter. You don’t want to make it a regular thing.

“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles.

“I just don’t like my time being wasted,” you explain.

“So, I’m wasting your time now?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“Should I spell it out for you?” you scoff. It should be obvious that you don’t feel like talking to him.

“You can try, but do you know how to spell it?” he stares at you through the hair on his face. Even though you can’t see him clearly, you can tell he has a challenging gleam in his eyes.

“At this point, I think you just came to bother me,” you sulk.

He smirks at you. “I didn’t, but it is a little fun to see your feathers ruffled.”

“They’re perfectly content being unruffled.”

Seungcheol chuckles at your response. He pushes his hair back, but this time he rests his hand against his head, keeping his hair in place. His elbow is propped on the table while his other arm lays flat on the surface. 

All the times you have seen him, his hair has covered part of his forehead. Now, it’s all exposed, and you feel you can see him. Maybe it’s because he’s donning a suit for once, but he looks almost… handsome like this—dressed formally with a small glint in his eyes and his lips spread in a gentle smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies. “I think you need to have more fun.”

Well, he was handsome until he opened his mouth.

“I don’t need a stranger telling me how to live my life,” you say.

“A stranger? I would think we’re at least acquaintances,” he frowns.

“You only see me because your friends are helping me. Speaking of, is that why you’re here? Does it have anything to do with one of them?”

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, and you can’t stop your eyes from lowering to his mouth.

“Maybe,” he answers slowly. Your eyes snap back to his when he speaks. He gives you a knowing smile that has you shifting in your seat. You had only looked at his lips because he brought attention to them. Nothing more.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you groan, finally unleashing the eye roll you have been trying not to do.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy. The need to be alone becomes stronger with each second.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice returning to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From the way he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they are cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket. You want to ask why he is wearing that, but that will mean you will prolong this conversation. Fortunately for you, he starts to stand up before you succumb to the temptation.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

The second time Seungcheol approaches you by himself is a few days later when he catches you exiting a building he is approaching.

“Don’t tell me someone else lost my card as well,” you say after he calls your name. You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for his response.

“About that,” he starts sheepishly.

You put your weight on one hip and cross your arms, and set your mouth in a straight line. You wait for him to tell you who is the perpetrator.

“I may have left your card in my suit jacket when I washed it.”

Well, that explains why you haven’t received a message from Seokmin yet.

“Seriously, Seungcheol?” you exasperate.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says, lips pouting and eyebrows angled.

Shaking your head, you retrieve another card. You make a mental note to restock later as you are running out.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab it from you, but you quickly pull back.

“Put this in your bag,” you instruct. 

You slowly give him the card and watch as he slings his bag around to his front. He makes a show of unzipping one of the front pockets and sliding it inside.

“Done,” he says, acting like he should be rewarded for doing as he was told.

“Good. Is that all?” you wonder. You’ve just finished your last class of the day, and all you want to do is climb into bed.

“Yes.”

Seeing no need to continue the conversation, you start walking in the direction of the parking lot.

“Great. Bye, Seungcheol,” you say over your shoulder.

“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, walking briskly to be by your side. “We’re going in the same direction.”

You peer up at him momentarily. “That doesn’t mean we have to walk together.”

“You said before we’re strangers. This would help us not be that anymore,” he shrugs casually.

“I never said I wanted that,” you reply flatly.

“It might benefit us since we’ll have to see each other a lot.”

“Is that so?” you sigh sadly.

Seungcheol smiles at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You did ask my friends to help you.”

“Well, if I knew you were a package deal, I wouldn’t have.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad.”

Sighing, you slow your steps to look at him better. He stops next to you, awaiting your response. His gaze is hopeful, but you’re not sure why.

“I’ll agree if you leave me alone,” you finally say.

Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown. “I’ll get you to admit it one day.”

He starts to walk again before you can reply. Now is your chance to let him get a few feet from you. You have the opportunity to finally end this conversation you’ve been dreading. Though, for some strange reason, your feet quickly move on their own accord.

Seungcheol’s steps are small, and you catch up with him easily. Neither of you says a word, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

Instead of parting ways once you reach the parking lot, he follows you to your car. Something about it being dangerous for you to walk to it alone, even though it’s light out.

“Yn?” he says to catch your attention when you open your door. You turn and give a small “hm?” in response.

“My friends and I plan to go to this poetry lounge in two weeks. Would you want to come?” he asks. You aren’t sure why he appears to be anxious.

The shock you feel must be evident on your face because Seungcheol’s apprehensive expression relaxes into a gentle smile.

“Business friends or our ‘mutual ones’?” The idea doesn't sound so bad if you are hanging out with the people who are helping you. Although you have your issues with them, they aren’t that bad to be around if you’re being honest.

“Business.”

That’s not what you want to hear.

“Do your friends know you’re asking me this?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, but I don’t need their permission. What do you say?”

You can’t recall being invited to a night out with someone other than Dae. If you were to go out without Dae, it would be with your family or for a class assignment. To be invited to a place by Seungcheol, out of all people, catches you off guard.

Despite having an opportunity for a different change of pace, you answer, “No.”

“No?” he asks, perplexed.

“Your friends don’t like me, Seungcheol,” you explain matter-of-factly through a sigh, leaning against your open door.

“They just like to tease you. I’ll talk to them before,” he explains. 

Tease is a funny way to describe it, you think.

“I don’t need you fighting my battles,” you answer, referring to the latter part of his reply.

“Still. I want you to enjoy yourself. You’ve probably been glued to that project of yours. Step away for a bit,” he reasons.

He isn’t wrong. Your focus has solely been on the project. Of course, you have other classes, but you aren’t putting as much effort into them as you are this one.

“I’ll pick you up and pay for any expenses,” he offers. The more he talks, the more taken aback you are. You figured he’d drop the offer once you rejected him. From every interaction you’ve had with these “friends,” it never ends well. You doubt this will be any different. Regardless, something in you feels a little… honored he is so adamant about getting you to come.

Thus, hesitantly, “Fine.”

Seungcheol’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay. I can give you my number, so you can text me your address.”

He starts to pull out his phone, but you stop him.

“No need,” you say. At Seungcheol’s confused expression, you continued with a faint smile, “You have my card.”

His mouth opens briefly in realization before the corners are pulled up.

“One step ahead, I see,” he teases, pulling it out to inspect it as if confirming your number is there. You suppose he may think you’re lying to get out of going.

“I’ll text you then,” he concludes and places the card back.

“Alright,” you say, shifting your weight. You aren’t sure if he wants to say anything else. Why are you giving him the time to? You have already given him enough of it.

Sensing your readiness to leave, he waves as he slowly takes steps backward. “Drive safely, Yn.”

“You too, Seungcheol.”

You climb into your car’s seat, turn on the engine, and watch as he makes his way through the maze of cars until he is out of sight.

That Friday comes sooner than you would’ve liked.

Throughout the times you had met with your “friends,” you had bumped into Seungcheol one-third of the time. Sometimes, you were left alone with him again. Each interaction you had with him became easier the more you talked to him. 

Dare you to admit; his presence wasn’t actually teeth-gritting anymore? At least when he was alone, you didn’t have to deal with his business friends. Despite him not usually laughing at their jokes, he never really stepped in to stop them teasing you at first. Maybe only a few times when he felt things got too heated. He wasn’t your best friend, but part of you did hope he would’ve said something. 

Each time he didn’t, you felt your disappointment rise. He apologized on their behalf constantly, but his apology meant nothing when they kept insulting you. However, lately, he has been stepping in sooner. Although you didn’t want him fighting your battles initially, some things you couldn’t do alone. One thing you and his business friends had in common was that no one really knew where the sudden change of attitude came from. For once, you didn’t complain, though.

You’re tempted to cancel this outing, but talking to Seungcheol a few days ago made you realize he was a little more excited than he was letting on. The reason is unknown to you—maybe he really likes poetry lounges—but you’d feel slightly guilty if you ditch last minute.

It’s not like you haven’t been out on a Friday night with people, yet your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You have changed about six times, exchanging your accessories with each outfit. Normally, you would dress up more, but these aren’t your friends you’re about to hang out with. They are Seungcheol’s—business majors who think skirts more than two inches above the knees mean you’re a slut. Though, you can’t figure out why that matters. You never dress with the thoughts of others. If you want to wear something that day, even if it’s “over-the-top” for some, you wear it. So, why are you in such a fashion dilemma now?

In the end, you settle for a simple, spaghetti-strapped red dress that is slightly bunched on the sides with strings that are tied in bows. You pair it with a small, heart-shaped purse and white heels. There isn’t any bling in your outfit, which is unusual for you. The accessories you wear are minimal and small. They are a matching cherry set you were gifted by your mother on your 12th birthday. Although it’s been years since you received them, they’re still wearable and delicate enough not to call much attention—unlike some of your other accessories. 

You reach for a white fur jacket only to stop when your fingers graze it. Your eyes travel to yourself in the mirror as you debate on wearing it. The jacket will be too much, you conclude.

The buzzing of your phone catches your attention. It’s Seungcheol telling you he’s five minutes away. After stuffing your phone in your purse, you quickly apply red lipstick and toss it in your purse for later touch-ups.

When your phone buzzes again, you hurry to your front door. Your family is home, and you don’t want Seungcheol to meet them. Life at home isn’t ideal, and the only person who has a hint of what is going on is Dae. You doubt Seungcheol will find that out from one quick meeting, but you don’t want to risk it.

You throw your door open, ready to meet him at his car. Instead, he stands in front of you with a hand raised. He takes a step back in surprise. His eyes glide down your body quickly, but you’re too concerned about your family coming to notice.

“Oh, hey,” he greets. “I was just about to knock.”

Before any of your family can intervene, you close the door and start your way down the porch steps. Seungcheol follows you.

“You didn’t have to. I can make my way to your car by myself,” you answer. Although you’ve never been in his car before, you’ve seen it around. Plus, it’s the only unknown vehicle near your home.

You stand next to the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it, arms wrapped around your body when the chilly weather hits you.

“You sure you don’t want a jacket?” he asks when he notices you didn’t bring one.

“It didn’t go with my outfit,” you explain. It’s a lie. The coat did go with your fit, but you didn’t feel like disclosing the fashion crisis you had gone through.

Seungcheol chuckles. “So, you’re going to freeze instead?”

“It’s not that cold,” you lie again.

“It’ll get colder later, though,” he explains and comes closer to you. You step aside when he is a few inches from you. You press your arms tighter around you, eyes averting from his because of his close proximity. The small distance has you wanting to squirm away, but your feet can’t move. He peers at you with a small smile while he reaches behind you.

“My lady,” he murmurs when he pulls the door open and gestures for you to get inside.

“How chivalrous,” you reply after you force your nervousness away. You carefully slide inside his car, situating yourself comfortably in the seat.

Seungcheol waits to ensure you have all your limbs inside before shutting the door. As he walks around to the other side, your eyes scan his car. The seats are leather, and the interior has higher tech than you thought it would. It is a nice car—not overly luxurious, but enough to show it isn’t cheap. It makes you wonder how much it costs.

“You warm enough?” Seungcheol questions after he gets in and buckles.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, hands resting awkwardly in your lap. The heat from the vents aids in your goosebumps disappearing.

Your mind is already wondering what to expect tonight. You know his friends aren’t fond of you. At least most of them. That guy, Vernon, seems nice enough. He is the quiet one in the group; however, you did notice he has his own quirks that make him unique. You foresee yourself hanging out with him most tonight. But even then, you don’t feel too great about going.

The longer you sit in Seungcheol’s car, the more you regret agreeing to this.

He stares at you for a moment; brows knitted together slightly. You feel uncanny acting so meek, and Seungcheol can't help but notice.

Silence consumes the small area for a few seconds until Seungcheol says, “Seatbelt.”

You look at him confused, then realize he is talking to you. Of course he is, who else?

“Right,” you mumble, quickly pulling the belt over your body.

“You don’t have to come, you know?” he says with one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick.

You sigh and gesture to the road ahead. “Let’s just get going. I’ve got stuff to do after.”

It isn’t completely a lie. You still have to work on bringing your designs to life for the show, but it isn’t like you are behind schedule that you need to do that tonight. You just know you might actually back out if you ponder on leaving more.

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, averting his focus to the road. He doesn’t reply and obliges to your request by shifting the car into drive.

During the ride, your gaze drifts to Seungcheol. He is relaxed in his seat. One arm stretches to hold the wheel while his other rests on his thigh. One which is clad in a pair of light-washed jeans with a black belt between the jean loops. He wears a white shirt tucked in and a black jacket.

You peer forward slightly to read what his shirt says. Propriety of Balenciaga? The Balenciaga? You don’t think he’s wealthy enough to afford one of those shirts. Perhaps it was a gift or a knock-off brand? Maybe he thrifted it… Though, Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the thrifting type.

“Do you need this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s holding his jacket open to show you what he means. You must’ve been staring too much.

“No, I’m okay,” you say and turn your attention away quickly. “I just didn’t realize you wore glasses.”

Although the comment is true, you need something to say before he questions why you truly are staring at him. You had noticed the spectacles earlier but didn’t feel like mentioning them.

Seungcheol laughs lightly, “Actually, I don’t. I just thought I’d try to improve my fashion. What do you say, did it work?”

He glances at you after stopping at a traffic light; his mouth quirks up in a teasing smile. You turn toward him and scan his face quickly. They do look good on him, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

“They certainly did something, but whether that effect is good or bad is a secret,” you reply, looking away again.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting to admit they look nice on me,” Seungcheol says and continues driving at the green light.

“I think they’d look better on someone else,” you answer. Though, you don’t believe what you said. Something about the glasses on him has you wanting to stare at him more. They fit his face well and make him appear more attractive. You don’t want to sit on that thought for much longer.

“Is that so? Here,” he says, pulling them off his face. The glasses come into your view, and you stare at him, puzzled. 

When you don’t take them, he adds, “They won’t bite.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and finally grab them from his grasp. You pull down his sun visor to look at yourself. After sliding on the spectacles, you turn your head from side to side to see the different angles.

“I think I was right. They do look better on someone else,” you tease and face him as you shut the visor. Seungcheol turns to you at your reply.

His eyes wander across your face, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll have to agree with you this one time,” he says. His stare lingers on yours so much that it has you shifting in your seat. When you avert your gaze, your eyes widen.

“Cheol!” you shout as he was about to rear-end another car. Instinctively, he shoots an arm out across your chest that has your back pressing firmly against the seat. The sudden act causes you to reach up and grab onto his arm tightly.

The car screeches as it comes to a sudden halt. Luckily in time to not hit the other car.

You both sit still, breathing intensified at the near accident. After a few seconds, Seungcheol retracts his arm. It’s then you realize you’re still holding onto him. Your eyes dart to his forearm and frown when you see small crescent shapes indented in his skin.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Seungcheol’s focus is ahead of him but glances at you in confusion at your apology. “What?”

You quickly gesture to his forearm. When he sees the marks, he rubs a hand over them absentmindedly. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you reply, heart rate slowing down to normal.

“I’m alright. Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make you play dress up in the car.”

“No, it was my fault.”

Seungcheol eases on the gas pedal when the light turns green, keeping a safe distance from the car in front. He remains quiet for a while to ensure you are both safe.

“Are you sure you’re okay? First, you apologize, and now something is your fault?” he jokes.

You don’t remember what you said a few minutes ago, so it takes a while for you to comprehend what he is saying. “Shut up,” is all you can respond with in the end.

Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t pester you about it any longer.

“Oh, you can take these back,” you say and tug off the reason for almost hitting another car.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides the glasses back on his face.

You nestle yourself back in the seat again and glance out the window. As the buildings pass, it dawns on you that you’ve never called him Cheol. The thought of using a nickname for him has your body tingle with an unknown feeling. It’s strange. You aren’t the first to call him that, but you aren’t that close to him to start using nicknames. Annoyingly, you spend the remainder of the car ride fretting about how he felt toward you shortening his name. 

Did he even notice? If he did, did he like it? Had you crossed a line?

When he parks, you become acutely aware of everyone’s attire. Many wear jeans or tights with a plain shirt and jacket. A few have on skirts or dresses, but they are more t-shirt dresses or plain skater skirts, if anything. Plus, they are accompanied by tights because of the weather. No one has as much skin showing as you do.

The sinking feeling of not belonging consumes you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this way, and that alone has you questioning yourself even more.

“I’m too dressed for this, aren’t I?” you think out loud.

Seungcheol turns off the car, eyes raking your body again. Though this time, you’re aware of it. You tug down the bottom of your dress at his stare. It’s not like it’s predatory, but it still has your nerves skyrocketing.

“Since when did you care about what others thought of your outfit?” he wonders. The question has you sighing, momentarily closing your eyes as you remind yourself you dress for you, not for others’ approval.

“Right,” you swallow harshly and sling your purse over your shoulder—mentally throwing away the negative thoughts too. “Let’s just go.”

With that, you open his car door and step out.

“Yn wait—” you hear Seungcheol call out right as you shut the door.

Your hair is immediately pushed from your face as the wind blows past. It makes your body shiver, and for a split second, you wish you took up Seungcheol’s offer to grab a jacket when you were at your house.

Seungcheol’s car beeps as it locks before he stands in front of you. His broad body blocks the wind, and you feel your own ease from feeling a tad warmer.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude,” he apologizes softly. “I think you look great.”

You look at him, face void of emotion. You don’t believe him, but you don’t want to argue. At least not standing in this weather. 

“Okay,” you reply. “We need to go meet your friends.”

You take a step forward, thinking it will get him to start walking toward the building, but he doesn’t budge. You only decrease the distance between you two.

“I mean it,” he whispers.

Goosebumps are forming on your exposed skin the longer you stay out. You blame the cold weather for them, but something in your chest tightens at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.

“I think red is your color,” he pauses. “You should wear it more, Cherry.”

Your head tilts at his last word. “Cherry?”

The corner of his mouth raises at hearing it from your lips. Slowly, he brings a hand to your face. You stand still as you stare at him with wide eyes. His hand brushes past your cheek before he grazes his fingertips along your ear. 

“It suits you,” he murmurs, eyes moving away from yours. 

You follow his gaze and realize he has been looking at your cherry-charmed earrings. His eyes then flicker to the matching cherry-charmed necklace resting below your bare collarbones. You’re not sure if he means the color suits you or if the nickname he just made suits you. Either way, you’re surprised at his words.

Suddenly, the weather doesn't feel as chilly anymore. Your body heats quickly at his comment, or maybe it’s from how close he is to you. Nevertheless, you need to distract yourself from this warm, odd feeling bubbling in your chest.

You clear your throat and step back. His hand lowers steadily.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply more confidently and clearly.

Seungcheol takes the hint and moves aside, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He nods his head in the direction of the building, and you start walking toward it. Your pace is slightly faster than his, but you don’t mind not walking next to him. If anything, you need distance from him anyway.

The moment you open the door to the lounge, the heat from inside greets you in full force. You step inside and are welcomed by a worker. He is young, maybe a few years younger than you. He gives you a friendly smile.

“Hi, are you wanting to be seated, or are you with a group already?”

“With a group,” you reply. The worker nods.

“Do you need help locating them?”

You shake your head as the jingle of the door opening sounds behind you. Seungcheol stops behind you. His hand comes to hover over your lower back, not really touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiate from his hand onto your skin. It has you shuffling away.

“They’re over there,” he says. You peer up to see where he is gesturing. Fair enough, you see his friends at a table toward the back of the building. There are five of them, all smiling at each other. You can spot a few familiar faces—one of them being Vernon. You feel a little at ease knowing he made it here.

“Thanks,” you murmur to the worker before making your way to the table. The closer you get to the table, the slower your steps become. You’re used to keeping your chin high in situations you aren’t completely comfortable in. The whole “fake it until you make it” is on repeat in your head.

Yet the saying is not encouraging you much right now.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Seungcheol asks when he catches up to you. You don’t realize you had stopped a few feet from the table.

“No,” you say. You aren’t mad at him; you just need some space from him for now. You don’t like how you aren’t in control of your emotions when you’re around him. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”

Seungcheol eyes you for a second before nodding. You make your way to the bathroom, but right before you enter, you can hear the welcoming echoes coming from his table of friends. All of them sound cheerful and excited to see him. You don’t expect any of them to look forward to your presence, yet you feel a little disappointed when no one brings up your name—in a positive way.

After using the restroom and washing your hands, you stand in front of the mirror with your hands lingering under the warm water. Your eyes roam your face and body, taking in your appearance. Compared to your normal fashion, you really did dress down. You sigh when you realize you’re circling back to the same issue.

You retract your hands from the faucet and grab a few towels to dry them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re overly dressed. You usually are and don’t care. You look great. You should feel confident in your fit. 

You gently tug the dress down before turning in front of the mirror.

You look fine. You look nice.

As you reapply your lipstick, you keep repeating compliments and reassuring phrases in your head. 

They’re going to look at you funny. You are going to ignore them.

“That’s right,” you sigh to yourself as you toss the lipstick back into your purse. 

Suddenly, your phone starts to vibrate. You pull it out to see Dae’s name appear across the top. You eagerly answer her call.

“Hey babe,” Dae’s voice comes from the other line. “How’s it going?”

“I’m ready to go home,” you say with a small huff.

“Damn, that horrible? Is he treating you badly?” Dae questions. You had told her about Seungcheol’s invitation when you got home that day. She was shocked, but ultimately supportive of you going.

You shake your head despite her not being able to see you. “No, he’s been fine. I just,” you pause. Although you have your ups and downs with Dae, she has stayed with you when no one else has. You don’t disclose your troubles often, wanting people to not see that side of you, but you’re feeling too low that you can’t stop the confession from coming out.

“I’m way overdressed for this place. Everyone’s in jeans or tights. I don’t belong here,” you say.

Dae sighs sadly. “Jeans are boring. I think I only own a pair,” she answers, trying to make you smile. “Just remember, if you were to die right now, would you want your last outfit to be something boring?”

“No,” you answer slowly.

“Exactly. These are people who are used to looking plain. They’re probably jealous you’re outdressing them. Don’t let them get to you, Yn. I’m sure you look beautiful.”

Your shoulders ease at her words. “Thanks, Dae.”

“No need. If they had the talent to dress themselves better, they would.”

You let her words sink in, but the reassurance doesn’t last long.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, beginning to pace the small area in the bathroom.

“It’s good for you to be around people from outside our department. It’ll make you more open-minded,” she encourages. “Plus, Seungcheol isn’t as bad as he seemed, huh?”

There is a teasing tone to her voice that you don’t like.

“One outing with him doesn’t mean he’s my friend,” you argue.

Dae giggles. “No, but it’s a start. Do you like him?”

“No!” you answer quickly.

“I was just asking in general. Not ‘like’ as in crushing on him,” she explains nonchalantly, but you can hear her smile.

“He’s,” you pause as you try to think of a word to describe him, “he’s been alright.”

“Well, I better let you get back to him then. I just wanted to check in,” Dae answers.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you say.

“Remember, you don’t need their approval. You never have, and you never will. People want the confidence you have.”

“I’m not feeling too confident right now,” you mumble.

“That’s because you’re overthinking. Chin up, okay?”

Sighing, you reply. “Okay.”

“Good. Talk to you later!”

“Yeah,” you say before hanging up.

Taking one last look at yourself, you roll your shoulders back and exit the bathroom.

Seungcheol is sitting in the middle of Hajun and someone you don’t know. His eyes lift to meet yours when he hears the sound of your heels.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. 

Nodding, your eyes roam for a spot to sit.

“You knew you were just going to a poetry lounge, right? Not the runway,” Hajun comments with a small scoff.

Your eyes move to look at her, and you quirk an eyebrow. She wears leggings with a graphic tee. Her discarded jacket is slung over the back of her chair. “Are you sure you know that, as well? Or did you think you were just going back to your bed?”

“This is how normal people dress,” she replies.

“Relax, Hajun,” a voice you don’t know sounds. You direct your attention to them. 

The guy has black hair that is parted on the side to expose his forehead. His eyes are narrow, and even though he has a soft appearance now, you’re sure his gaze can be fierce when needed. 

“People don’t need to dress up for special occasions,” he says.

You’re taken aback by his comment. Seungcheol’s friends have always questioned your wardrobe, so for this new “friend” to not agree with Hajun is surprising. 

“No, they don’t, but you gotta’ admit she’s a little overdone huh, Soonyoung?” Hajun replies.

“Hajun,” Seungcheol interjects, giving her a pointed look.

“I understand not everyone knows how to dress. It’s okay, though. I can offer my services if you need some help,” you comment, half tempted to reach in your bag to get a business card. Although you aren’t on campus, you never know when you’ll run into someone who will make a good connection, so you keep them with you wherever you go.

“Services?” Hajun laughs and rests her crossed arms on the table. “And what ‘services’ are you offering? Because from the looks of it, I can tell exactly what you offer. Sorry, I’m not interested.”

Her eyes roam your body once more, indicating that the way you are dressed, means your services consist of paying to be with people in bed.

“I don’t think those services would help you anyway. Your rotting attitude is enough to repel anyone. Though I guess some people are willing to lower their standards when they’re desperate,” you counter.

“You’re such a—” she starts.

“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks Hajun quickly, but he doesn’t give her the option to answer because he takes her hand and pulls her away from the group.

The table is silent for a few seconds before Soonyoung speaks up again.

“Don’t pay any mind to her. It’s nice to meet you. You must be Yn?” He smiles at you, slightly bowing at you.

“Correct,” you say, trying to not show how irritated you feel.

“Come sit,” he offers, pulling up a chair so you’re sat between him and Vernon. You thank him before sitting in the chair. You sit your purse in your lap as conversations begin to spark again.

Their voices become background noise as your gaze drifts to Seungcheol and Hajun in the corner. They stand close to each other and are in a deep conversation—clearly about you. Seungcheol has his back to you, so you can’t see his expression, but you can see Hajun’s. Her lips are in a frown, her expression not as sassy as before. 

Though her pouting seems forced, her bottom lip a little too far stuck out. Soon enough, she rolls her eyes, an expression similar to how it was earlier. Her eyes then move from him to you over his shoulder. When she catches your gaze, she smiles and raises a challenging eyebrow. However, her gaze doesn’t last long because Seungcheol’s hand comes up and guides her eyes back to him. Even though his hand isn’t touching her completely, she leans into his touch. The act has you stilling.

“Yn?” Vernon questions, tearing you from your thoughts. You don’t realize you’re clutching your purse until your focus goes to Vernon. You ease your grip and raise an eyebrow.

“Soonyoung was asking what your major was,” Vernon explains.

“Oh,” you say, glancing around the table. It appears the others are in their own conversation.

You look at the man to your left. He gives you a reassuring smile that tells you he is patient. “I’m studying fashion design. Are you in business, too?”

Soonyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I could never. I’m a dance major.”

“Wow, that sounds nice,” you say. “Aren’t your career choices limited with that, though?”

“A little,” Soonyoung replies honestly. He doesn’t seem offended by the question. Maybe he gets it a lot. “But it makes me happy. I can always teach or maybe even become a dancer in a well-known group.”

You hum, understanding his words.

“Isn’t fashion design limited, too?” Vernon asks.

“Clothes are everywhere. I can do a lot with it.”

“But not everyone will wear your clothes,” Hana says, having finally heard your discussion.

“There will always be someone,” you argue, confident in your work. It may be a slow start, but you believe in your designs.

She laughs. “Who? Your mother?”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of your mom, and Hana is quick to notice the change in attitude. Instead of letting go of the topic, she continues.

“Ooh, trouble at home? See? I knew the ‘Great Yn’ isn’t as perfect as she seems,” Hana says. What makes her think you are so “great” is unknown to you, but you aren’t surprised to guess people have made up a persona for you. 

“Stop, Hana,” Vernon says, but it has no effect.

“Oh, so we were right?” Hajun’s voice comes from above. You glance up to see she and Seungcheol have returned. It appears their little chat did nothing to keep Hajun from being a bitch.

“Seems so,” Hana says with a smile. “Care to share with the class what kind of mommy issues you have?”

“No wonder she dresses like that,” Doyun, another one of Seungcheol’s alleged friends, adds. “She’s not getting attention at home. I guess Daddy isn’t there either?”

“That’s enough,” Seungcheol scolds them all.

Your eyes are darting from everyone at the table. Their stares are akin to shrink rays, making you feel tiny and minuscule. You know when you aren’t welcomed, and there’s no reason to stay listening to this. You want to snap back, end the conversation with your own last words, but nothing comes to mind.

In lieu, you push your chair back and stand up. Your hands twitch with the temptation to dump their food all over them, but you just want to get out as soon as possible. 

You waste no time careening for the exit. 

Seungcheol calls your name; you ignore it. The worker from before sees you, telling you goodbye, but you couldn't care less and push past the door before he can finish his sentence.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sudden breeze that slams into you. Instantly, your arms wrap around you once more. You glance around and see a bus stop down the street. You don’t care that it’s the other way from Seungcheol’s car. You hurry to the station, not sure when the next bus will come.

The bus stop isn’t deserted despite the cold weather. The area must be busy all the time since the sidewalks are littered with more people than you expect. All the seats at the stop are taken, yet you still shuffle under the shelter in hopes to get away from some of the breeze.

You are shaking, and your teeth are chattering. It’s impossible to force your body to stop since you need to generate heat somehow. You probably look like a pathetic naked chihuahua in winter.

You take out your phone, open up a browser, and search for bus times. Thankfully, there’s one coming in three minutes in the direction you need. The thought of taking the bus is not pleasurable. You hate the idea of your skin touching something so many others have touched. It feels unsanitary.

Accidentally leaning back against the wall while you silently groan has you jumping at the cold material touching your bare skin. Your jolt catches the attention of an older woman who is sitting near you.

“Aren’t you freezing, child?” she asks as she stares at your attire—or lack of. 

“I’ll be fine soon,” you say, not really in the mood for talking.

“Where is your coat? Did you not know the weather was going to be cold?” she continues.

Utterly done with all the people-talk tonight, you hiss, “Focus on yourself. I’ll focus on me.”

She seems startled at your outburst. Her already crossed arms tighten as she turns away from you. Her muttered “bitch” doesn’t go unnoticed, but you don’t say anything about it. There’s no point in arguing with a stranger.

The sound of the bus calls your attention, and you mentally thank the universe for the great timing. After people leave and all the new patrons enter, you finally take a step up the bus’ steps. Before you can climb all the way, you hear your name being called. You look past the bus doors to see Seungcheol running toward you.

Just what you need.

You disregard him and step farther up the steps of the bus.

The bus driver looks expectantly at you, and it dawns on you that you need to provide payment before you can board fully.

“Card?” you wonder. The bus driver nods and gestures to a device to the right.

As you unzip your purse, you feel a hand grip your arm.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, slightly breathless. His hair is disheveled from running, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Home, idiot,” you huff and pull your arm out of his grasp so you can retrieve your card.

“Just come with me. We can talk somewhere else,” he pleads, a hand stopping your movements again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Seungcheol,” you hiss. “Now, let go of me.”

He hesitates but slowly releases your arm. He doesn’t leave, though. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to take the bus. Come on.”

“Go with him or get on! We have places to be,” a passenger exclaims, clearly annoyed with your drama.

You raise your head to the person, narrowing your eyes in a glare that tells them to pipe down. It has no effect on them. They shoot a fierce look back.

“I know you don’t want to take the bus,” Seungcheol comments quietly.

He’s right. Not only do you not want to sit next to a lady whose arms are filled with shopping bags—the only available seat—you really don’t want to add time to your trip home.

Seungcheol reaches out again and carefully takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t fight him as he guides you off the bus. Once you’re both off, the bus doors shut and begin its trip down the road.

You watch it silently, not knowing Seungcheol is discarding his jacket until you feel the warm material cover your shoulders. Your eyes snap back to him as if remembering who you’re with.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff. I told them not to do that tonight,” he says remorsefully.

“Oh, so you’ll let them talk shit about me another day?” you chide and start walking away from him. Thankfully for Seungcheol, it’s in the direction of his car.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he replies as he hurries to catch up, which doesn’t take much effort as you aren’t walking too fast due to your cold, stiff legs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll do that whenever they want to. They wouldn’t be the first,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t make it right regardless,” he says. You halt in your steps, causing Seungcheol to stop and turn to look at you.

“I talk shit about people behind their backs, too. Does that make me a bad person?” you question. Perhaps if he sees you as one he’ll leave you alone.

He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car, okay?”

“You can admit it,” you challenge and walk closer to him. “Does talking shit about someone make me a bad person, Seungcheol?”

He stares down at you, soft gaze turning dark with annoyance.

“To the car, Yn,” he demands slowly just in case you won’t understand; his tone is sharp in a way you haven’t heard before. You don’t let that scare you away. Maybe if you weren’t so fired up, you would have been a little intimidated.

You laugh darkly and roll your eyes at his command. “You want me to sit next? Bark, too?”

“Now, you’re just being dramatic.”

Dramatic, he says.

“Woof?” you reply, dramatically giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches at your response—not pleased with your sarcasm. However, instead of replying in an annoyed tone, he takes a step forward. His head draws closer to your face to ensure your eyes are glued to his.

“Wanna be a good girl and go to the car, Cherry?” he murmurs lowly, an eyebrow quirking up for a second.

His sudden change in tone has you stiffening. You want to bite back—figuratively or literately… you aren’t sure yet—but you can’t even remember what you are mad about in the first place.

“Hm?” he croons when you don't reply quickly.

Rather than a sarcastic reply, you simply grumble, “whatever,” before pushing past him to get to his car.

You stand next to the passenger side like before, waiting for him to unlock it. Seungcheol comes beside you and swiftly unlocks the vehicle. Although you aren’t arguing at the moment, you can sense some irritation lingering from him.

You get the feeling he'll always hold the door open no matter how annoyed he is with you.

You feel suffocated.

The air in the car is too hot. The weight of his jacket has you overheating. The tension is unbearable.

Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the road, not throwing you a single glance as he drives. Every once in a while he will tighten his hold on the steering wheel. One time you even catch the way his muscles flex at the motion—now exposed from not wearing his jacket. You never realized how fit he is. This isn’t the first time you have seen him sleeveless, but you just never stared long enough to notice. Or if you did, you simply didn’t care. Regardless, you notice now, and you have to force your eyes away before he catches you staring.

You want to ask for music so you don’t have to sit in this insufferable silence, but your mouth feels dry. You decide to just deal with the quietness, shifting in the seat so you’re facing the window more. Your eyes drift close as you let the hum of the car distract you. 

Seungcheol’s jacket is snuggled around you, and his woodsy cologne fills your senses. It’s pleasant, and you don’t mind if you smell more of it in the future.

By the time you arrive home, you are on the verge of sleep. You stumble out of the car and shut the door without saying a word to Seungcheol. You expect him to drive off, but the sound of his tires moving never comes. Instead, you hear his car door opening and closing.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you say while you glance behind you. Seungcheol is following you languidly.

“No, I don’t,” he says and pauses at the bottom of your porch steps. He places a foot on the first step while a hand holds onto the rail. You have your keys out, ready to slide them into the keyhole when you speak.

“Then don’t,” you reply sternly.

He chuckles lowly but doesn’t say anything about it.

“You can go now,” you say when he doesn't move.

“You have something of mine.”

Puzzled, you stare at him for a second. Seungcheol gestures to your body, and you quickly remember you’re wearing his jacket. You tug it off and toss it to him. He grabs it from the air with ease. The loss of heat makes you wish he didn’t say anything.

“Goodnight, Cherry,” he murmurs as soon as you click open your door. You step inside before turning to face him.

The nickname you used earlier forms on your tongue, yet you can’t find the courage to say it consciously.

“Night,” you answer, then shut the door before either of you can say anything else.

With your head bowed, you turn the lock slowly while you exhale deeply. His nickname falls from your lips under your breath—unable to keep the desire at bay.

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

A/N: Can't believe the first chapter is actually published 😭 I sat and stared at this for a few before hitting "post" because I'm so anxious! dfl;kbjdvs. Please feel free to share your thoughts on it so far!

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @iammisstora, @christinewithluv, @lithelust, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @yoozuku, @lockburn-castle, @mystikhal-blog, @oncloudvii23 (couldn't tag :c), @cheolcherries (tysm!!!)

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#svt fanfic #svt angst #svt fluff #scoups fanfic #scoups angst #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #svt series #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #svt slice of life #seungcheol x reader #scoups x you #s coups fluff #s coups angst #s coups fanfic #seventeen fanfic #scoups x y/n #seungcheol x y/n #scoups series #kvanity #kdiarynet

[faceeeeee]

I wonder if you made backstories for the tadc employees or smh-

(I wanna know Gangle's :3)

I have some concepts and ideas in my mind but it's all very vague and I haven't written anything down so forgive me for any incoherent sentences or messy writting:

Pam:

Ever since she left for college she cut all contact with her family and "friends" (she calls them acquaintances/contacts) and put all of her attention in her studies. She graduated at the top of her class in computer sciences and got hired at C&A almost immediately. The moment she left college she noticed a sudden shift in her routine. She dedicated her entire life into her studies and grades and completely disregarded any social interactions, hobbies.... She excepted that when she got a job, all of her problems would've been solved but she found out that she was wrong. Her first few months at the company were okay to say the least but as time went by she felt more and more empty and depressed. Her lack of social skills and pride didn't help either and rejected all of her coworker's attempts to befriend her. So she spent her time either overworking herself, drinking or sleeping. She worked in that company for 5 whole years: Her sleep schedule was a mess, her salary wasn't exactly ideal and she started taking anti-depresants and a hunch of other stuff and Reggie's disappearance (or "temporary departure") took a toll on her. Not only because her boss decided to make her the head of her department but also because he was the only one who was still willing to talk to her. So now she was left with a bunch of deadlines and work and the only one who even looked at her and said hello every morning was now gone. Her life was shit, basically, so why not try again in a new life, a new world and with new memories?

Reggie:

Good ol' Reggie has been working in the company for 18 years now and he couldn't be happier. He had a decent childhood, a loving wife and a decent job that keeps the both of them stable! And a father-daughter relationship with Genevieve, so he couldn't be more happy with life! The only thing he wishes is that he could have more time to spend with his family and his hobbies (he keeps and collects cool bugs, obviously :) ) and that the company wasn't so strict with deadlines and such. He is the head of the programming department so he has a lot of work on his plate...but it's all for a good cause: the digital circus! In his eyes, it's a magical place that helps people to to distract themselves for a while and to have a little fun before they return to their normal lives! So you can imagine his excitement once his boss told him that they were going to let the staff be actual play testers! He was ECSTATIC! he spent YEARS fixing and refining the digital plains so of course he decided to be one of the first playtesters. Queenie was a little hesitant at first but he told her not to worry! He knew that the code was a little finicky at times but that's okay! He has Pam and the rest of the staff to take care of it if anything goes wrong, after all he wholeheartedly trusts them :) nothing could possibly go wrong right?

Jack:

Dear Jack....the C.E.O's son. He has been wandering around the company for a few years now, working in some low paying positions to earn a little pocket money from his parent. He's known as the office's little miscreant as he just goofs around all day and nobody can touch him or say anything cause if they do they're gonna get fired! Ain't that fun? But his luck runs out when even the C.E.O has had enough of his bullshit and offers him to take a little time off from his studies and work to go and be a beta testers for his folks vr experience. Ain't that idea fun? Just log in, fuck around and then come back for dinner, right?

Agatha:

Agatha, a hard working gal with lots of siblings to take care off. Her folks aren't around to help her so she takes care of em all throughout college until she gets the position in the robotics department! She goes up the ranks and even becomes the head of her department :). She mainly works with the headset design and with the new technology that the company has introduced. She has never seen anything like it: with it you can feel and hear your surroundings whilst hooked to the digital plains. So when she heard that they were offering people to beta test the digital world she couldn't help but to want to experience all of those things herself! She does wonder why they have to have her sign a contract but she trusts the company. She has been with them for some time now and the staff and boss have been nice to her so far, so why wouldn't she trust them?

Genevieve:

Dear Genevieve has had a sort of rocky life. Her mother has been very overprotective over her and that has left her with no real life experiences. She was homeschooled almost her entire life so when she entered college she had a hard time adjusting to her new routines. She's very explosive emotionally and very finicky over her personal space so she couldn't (or didn't want to) make acquaintances and so, she made it to the company with no connections apart from her obsessive mother, just like Pam. She worked a year and a half in the company, and that was enough time to meet and befriend Reggie. At first she was very wary of him and very hostile to him. But good ol' Reggie just keeps saying hi to her every morning, just like he does with every employee he sees. One day, when they were both on break, Reggie tried to break the ice and tried to start some small talk with her. She got scared and basically yelled all sorts of barbaric things to him and he just gave her a warm smile. Nothing can hurt this man, god. Genevieve was surprised that he hadn't yelled back at her or left and stared at him for a while. Then guilt overcame her and she started sobbing. Reggie comforted her as best as he could and since then they formed a bond. So when she learned that he had left to be a beta tester she was again left alone in the office. Desperate for his comfort and precense she decided to follow him to the digital circus...

Zephyr:

They had a relatively normal life (apart from an accident that left them without a bloody leg but it's alright), graduated from art school and started working at C&A. They overestimated the pressure and stress that came with working at the company to the point that they were exhausted. They would've left if it wasn't for the fact that getting a job with their degree was extremely difficult and the chances for getting hired were very slim. So they kept on working. They worked day and night. A million coffee cups had started to pile up on their desk and they had severe bags under their eyes. They were tired, so very fucking tired. Why wouldn't they try to escape reality for a bit? Goof around in the digital plains, maybe use it as some sort of rage room. Maybe they could do all of the things that they had thought of without any consequences. Yeah, just for a little bit....it couldn't hurt, right?

#tadc employee idea #faceee rambles #I'M SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO RESPONDDDDDD As you can see it's a LOT #Also i couldn't edit the timeline so that zooble and gangle meet in the au I'M SO SORRYYYYYYYY #Yuri can only exist in the digital plains #can't have shit in the real world #anyway fuck time they will meet somehow- #these concepts kind of suck.....But i can't come up with anything else IM SORRY #the amazing digital circus #tadc

[unabashednightmarepizza]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙣 𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙄𝙩'𝙨 𝙎𝙪𝙣

A/N: Okay so I don't care if you guys will judge me but damn I had fallen for this Mister Bird Man and I thought like " Why the heck I won't write for this fine specimen?" So enjoy darlings, because that's gonna be a wild ride and there is probably gonna be another part! And a friendly reminder, when the italics start, please listen to "Only Love can hurt like this"...

Summary: After being alive for 20.000 years alonsgide your brothers, losing one, losing your parents,your home and Thanos snapping everyone, you were ready to take a break from everything. While having a different identity and a somehow normal life, you couldn't have guessed that a shy, Egyptian nerd would come to ask for your help which eventually led you to meet with someone you thought had betrayed you.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairings: Khonshu x Goddess!Reader( romantic); Steven Grant x Goddess!Reader( Platonic); Marc Spector x Goddess!Reader( Platonic); Jack Lockley x Goddess!Reader( Platonic); Layla El-Faouly x Goddess!Reader( Platonic)

"Thank you so much for covering for me, Leena! I don't know how I can pay you back..."

"Don't worry, darling! Just bring your daughter over for a play date and everything will be fine!"

You waved at the young mother who you called as your friend and watched her get out of the shop hurriedly. You sighed heavily and sat down to look at the many people passing by with a sad yet content smile. All of these people who didn't know anything about the snap just went on with their daily life and those who were aware of what happened were trying to adjust to life again. You were happy that everybody was safe and sound but remembering how two of your best friends died and the anguish you felt when you couldn't feel the heartbeat of your little brother Loki was...

You shook your head when someone came in and you immediately grabbed your apron to go to the front. You passed by a young girl who was struggling with college and feeling sympathy for her, you touched her forearm slightly to give a relief to her. She looked around curiously to see if there was something wrong around her, not being used to feeling so relaxed after days of stress. You called out her name, making her scared out of the thought that she did something wrong. Smiling reassuringly at her, you made a thumbs up at her.

" Don't stress over college that much! It's not that worth it and please go home early and rest! That's an order!"

She widened her eyes at you and with slight tears, nodded her head to go and change her outfit. A pair of brown eyes were watching your interraction with curiosity and wonder. He wasn't used to seeing such kindness on a complete stranger ever since his childhood. He slightly turned to the ancient God next to him to not catch any attention but just gaped at him since he was feeling... sadness? Love?

Can this sassy old God even love someone?

"Hey, just wondering? How do you know this woman and how can she help us?"

"And why are you being all mushy?"

"Marc Spector, if you talk about her like that one more time, this will be the last time you'll ever talk."

Steven raised a hand in surrender and just pouted, turning to look at you talking sweetly at a child, he couldn't help but think that you were just an ordinary girl who had a simple life as a barista who was kinda cute and motherly who was also great at making coffee.

Elegant look, kindness that could match even Gods, and good looks-

"Don't you dare to think nasty things, little worm!"

"Okay, easy there Murder Bird!"

He scoffed and wanted to throw a snarky comment at him but when they heard you laugh over your phone while holding your chest thightly, Steven jumped up on his seat at Khonshu growling loudly at you- no, to the one you're talking with.

"You know, Buck... I prevented a death today and I'd like to consider this as a character development!"

"Oh, yeah? How did you do it then, doll?"

"Self restraint, of course!"

You were idly fixing the tables while talking to Bucky who became a close friend to you after helping them for some time with the new Captain America. Even after you three parted ways, they were still a part of your daily life since your daughter loved Sam's corny jokes and your son adored how strong Bucky was. They both weren't used to someone so young, little yet strong kids look up to them, especially Bucky who thought that he wasn't a good man that deserved praise. Before you could scold him for laughing at your answer, you visibly beamed at hearing your son and daughter over the phone, both of them laughing joyfully.

"Is that momma you're talking? We want to talk too!"

"Yes, Uncle Bucky! We want to!"

You sat down and looked at the many pastries before you absent-mindedly while Bucky was trying to set the excited kids down to let them speak to you. He couldn't exactly blame them for their excited fidgetings since it's been a long time they saw you and he wasn't sure if he could keep up with their powers and smartness any longer.

Being born to the two strong Gods wasn't that easy. The spiritualness, smartness, and limitless power the duo held between their little hands were inmeasurable and that made you worry more than anything in the life. Who knew what would happen to them if humans learnt about them? Or your enemies? Would you be able to protect them from the harsh world?

You winced when a particular harsh and angry scream erupted from your daughter. Heart pounding hard in your ribcage, you asked if everything was all right when Bucky told you that she got angry at her brother for pulling on her hair and threw a blue and white ball at him?

"Wait... Did you just say a ball of blue and white?"

"Uhh, yeah, doll... That's exactly what I said but- Hey? Y/N? Are you there?"

"Ah, yes I am! I think I should come there quickly though... I guess her powers are starting to appear and I need to be there to calm her."

Sighing heavily to yourself, you touched the star necklace around your neck to find some solace and comfort midst your anxiety attack. Remembering your one and only love used to bring a painful stab to your heart and an inexplicable feeling of revenge and hatred but now, there was just a hollow emptiness inside where your heart used to be. Your eyes started to sting, your heart paced faster at the memory of you two's last day together.

The late night sky was shining with the bright twinkling light of millions of stars. The purple galaxies across the endless universe and constellations was such a sight to behold that you just admired what your lover created while swinging your feet in the river. Your father, Odin, was pretty much angry at this relationship you two created, stating that you were a princess and therefore deserved the best, strongest God as your husband... and preferably a human one. You giggled at the memory of you yelling at him so hard that your beloved Sun almost scorched the whole Asgard. You could even feel the air shifting around you and hearing what sounded like a coo and awe, you felt your cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink before sprinting out of the Great Hall to visit your lover in his realm.

And now here you were, throwing your head back fondly to look at the endless sky. Seeing your grumpy yet sweet lover, you smiled so wide that it made even the aloof God smile at your small form. It was hard, being with a 8 feet God while you were hardly 5'7 but somehow you managed by finding that he can posses a human body. You didn't like the idea that much since he was using a poor guy who didn't know anything and you loved the true form of him more than anything.

"My Goddess, why are you smiling so hard for?"

You hugged yourself hard when you heard his deep and raspy voice while he was holding his staff between his hands and folding his legs to sit next to you. Looking up at him and kissing his beak softly, you took his long arm between yours and looked at the lake before you which was painted with a deep night blue which was lighted by the little fireflies.

"Nothing, My God... Just thinking about my father and you."

"Hmm... I hope you don't think about pranking him with your brother, my star."

"Ah, never never! Me, the Goddess of Sun, Power and Eternal Life, is going to prank the Father of all Gods? No way!"

A deep chuckle rumbled inside his chest and vibrated to your own smaller figure which made you close your eyes peacefully. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, you made the most with the time you two had before you went back to the palace to work with your mother. Looking at the hollow eye-sockets of your lover, you made an attempt at speaking first. But before you could open your mouth, he beat you into it.

"My Moon, My Star... You do know of how much I love you, right?"

You looked at him with your pointer finger up, mouth forming a shocked "o" shape at the voice of the God of Moon and Vengeance, the one who would throw snarky comments and annoy everyone sounded so... insecure and unsure. The realization made you look at him in sadness and also curiousty, wondering why he brought this up so suddenly.

Turning your head to the big and shining Moon, you looked back at the God that was your lover who was looking down at you, waiting for an answer. You couldn't probably see it that well, but internally, he was at the verge of freaking out. Eveey second you weren't answering was like a year of torment, a million swords piercing his body at everywhere. He knew he was rough around the edges, that you deserved a more romantic lover who wouldn't yell over you when you fluster him, or someone you could cuddle easily, walk around easily... The list was a long one, and unfortunately, Odin threatining the absolute shit out of him if he didn't leave you was good enough as reason to be sentimental.

"Leave my daughter alone, you little God! How can you possibly think that you're good enough for her?!"

He still remembered how your mother tried to calm him down while he was walking back to where he came from, mind already clouded by what he was supposed to talk to you. He wasn't gonna just leave you like that just because Odin told him to. Heck, he felt like he found the other half of his existence! You, with your bubbly personality, caring self, smile full of love and eyes that couldn't even rival the brightness of his Moon were everything to him.

And he would rip out his own heart if it meant that you could be together, even if it was in another galaxy.

"You know... The Moon actually shines thanks to the Sun, and without the Moon, Sun wouldn't have such a meaning to anyone except brightining around while burning itself for the sake of others..."

Khonshu looked at you with what you assumed as wonder and a deep love, your bond being strong with him. You definetly have a way with your words, my little one, he thought while gently caressing your hair. He hummed at you, urging you to go on and you grabbed his hand. Putting something a little heavy in his hand, Khonshu tilted his head to left and opened it, only to see a sun-shaped golden necklace. Looking at you for any affirmation, you just nodded your head and got up to put it on his body, right in the middle of his Moon Symbol.

" You're the reason I don't loose myself, the reason I always give life and enlighten paths for people. I'd like to think that we both complete each other and... I really don't believe my life would have such a meaning if you weren't in... there..."

You blushed and shied away from him, taking a few steps back when you felt him freeze and get tense. You beat yourself in your mind for speaking so carelessly and pouring your heart out at him. You two weren't even in that part of your relationship! You didn't even mutter any "I love you"s to each other, and you had to go and utter such words! Idiot YN!

" Why?"

He didn't know why exactly he said that, I mean you literally serenaded to him and he asked "why?". But he really wondered the reason. You were such a powerful God, beauty that could rival Helen of Troy, or Aphrodite and Hathor and every Goddess all around the realm yet, you chose to be with him. You chose to love him, cherish him 'till the day you'd die and felt so strongly about him that you even created your very own hidden heaven just for you two to come and love each other.

Knitting your eyebrows, you smiled sweetly and kissed his forehead. Lingering there a few second, you took a step back and put his hand on your chest, right where your heart was.

"Because I'm in love with you."

And just like that, he pulled you to his lap and smelled your every part, he always thought that even though there was a heart, nothing could make it beat so loudly. Not protecting humans, not ripping hearts, not Hathor's music, nothing.

Except you...

"My Moon, be mine. Let me make you mine and cherish you forever in the presence of our love for each other."

Feeling every inch of love he had for you through his lovesick voice, you nodded at him with slight tears. Bandaged hands started to caress your body and took you in his arms to go where your palace was residing. You couldn't help but caress the skull and whisper to him.

"Silly, Don't you know I've always been yours..?"

And the Moon shone so bright that it was visible even in the morning and the Sun was shining in such a warm yet strong way that people were curious yet happy since their days will go with peace. You two made your bond stronger by making love to each other for the first time, both in his true form and in a human, laughed freely and happily, not caring about how you'll be in trouble for all the bruises he gave to you but you were fine. You had your lover here, with you, soon to be married for eternal life... Turning to look at him, you softly kissed his jaw and closed your eyes for the sleep to take you over...

Not knowing that the Sun you adored so much would loose its spark in a matter of seconds, and the heart that was once filled with love would be nothing but a heart that screamed for one thing:

Revenge.

*****

"Lee! There is a creepy looking guy and a sweet girl looking straight at you for the past 30 minutes! Shall we call the police!?"

When a co-worker whisper yelled at you, you almost fell of the chair, if not for grabbing the table at the last minute. You looked at her with wide eyes, almost hearing what seemed like an amused chuckle and she got panicked, stuttering over her words while trying to apologize but you cut her off to understand who she was talking about and where that damn chuckle was coming from.

"What man and woman? Where? Show me, show me!"

"Right behind you but don't be too... Obvious..."

She sighed annoyed when you turned abruptly to look at what she was talking about, and you saw a curly-haired woman who had a sweet yet awkward smile and a man looking at you as if you were his next prey with soft curls that fell on his forehead. By the look of his eyes, you could guess that he was somehow in a lot of wars or jobs that included killing, not serial killer since he wouldn't come with a girl to observe his victim, maybe a mercinary or something like that.

Keeping the eye contact, you turned on where you were sitting and looked at them with whole of your body turned to them, legs dangling both sides of the chair. Leaning down a little bit more, you tilted your head to see if any of them would stop looking, whether it was out of discomfort or their human eyes finally loosing the batte against being dry for so long.

"Are we going to keep staring at each other until your eyes will dry so hard that not even water would help, or are you going to stop?"

And you smirked in victory when both of them groaned out in discomfort, rubbing their eyes to ease the pain. You chuckled and grabbed your eye drop for dry eyes, whistling at them, you threw it at the girl while fixing your clothes.

"You know, staring at people is rude and you even kept looking at me when I clearly warned you? You got some real guts, darlings!"

You stood in front of them, folding your arms in front of your chest, waiting for them to finish dropping the eye drop. You turned your head to the back slightly and smiled at your co-workers to let them know that everything was fine and that you were going to deal with the duo. Taking off your notebook and pencil, you waited for them to talk so you can just go and prepare their orders and go back to your place to your kids.

"Okay, gentleman, my lady, what may I bring you?"

"Look, we aren't here for-"

"An Iced-Latte and Americano would be great! Right, Marc?"

You looked at them with a bored yet curious gaze and raising your brow at the look the woman was giving him, thight lips with half wide eyes that screamed for him to shut up, you shrugged your shoulders and wrote their orders. Smiling at their way, you went back to your place and started to prepare what they wanted while trying not to laugh at their banter.

"Look, I know you want to ease into the talk but we don't really have time! Harrow is right on our tail and-"

"And freaking her out would be no help, Marc! If she really is who she is, than she already knows everything just let us get her trust!"

Oh My, What could two mortals do with a God?, you thought, while twisting your rings anxiously. You could just march up right there, tell them to go away since they'd be throwing themselves into more danger by being with you but your mind couldn't help but wonder: Who was this Harrow and how do they know who you are?

Meanwhile, a certain ancient God was right behind you, with his staff planted on the marble floor firmly. He extended a bandaged hand out to you, wanting to touch the face he dreamed of seeing again for all these centuries but he looked at you in shock since his hand just... slipped through you. He shuffled where he was standing and clutched the sun shaped necklace on his chest thightly, as if he was in pain. He didn't understand, do you not see him? Was he wrong about this woman being you? Did you forget about him?

Marc, thinking that Khonshu was right behind him, turned to question the God but when he saw that there was no one, he frantically looked around, finding him right next to you, trying to touch you and fail miserably. He nudged Layla and they both looked at him curiously while Layla was sad. She frowned at the scene since the snarky, grumpy God looked like a little kid trying to grab his mother and that he was somehow looking at her with pure sadness and a sullen look. Layla turned to Marc and leaned down to his ear to speak what was in her mind.

"Do you think... Maybe they have a shared past? It's not normal for him to be so... depressed."

"I don't know but I guess we're about to find out..."

You shivered slightly and looked around to see if there was any open windows than necessary and upon finding none, you grabbed their drinks and walked towards them. Smiling to yourself at the delighted look on the woman's face which made you smile softly at her even more and before you could go and change your outfit, she called out to you.

"U-Uh, Miss! Can we talk a little bit!"

"Uh... Sure, just let me change quickly okay?"

When you came from the back room and sat down in front of them, you could see that the man next to her was no longer the one you saw earlier. Sure, the body was the same but the look he was giving were shy? Anxious, and a little bir excited?

"Sorry for asking this but... Are you Egyptian?"

"Uh, yeah! I am and my friend here is-"

"You sure?"

They both looked at you with their mouths hanging open widely, the man spilling his coffee almost over himself and you gighled delightfuly at their shocked faces while handing a napkin to the poor man who thanked you stuttering.

"Ahh, that's the best part of the day! But seriously, your pheromone levels are quite high to be just friends and I'm not dumb... Actually I didn't mean the sexual tension you both have, more like you used a singular word whereas there are 3 people in one body..."

"Holy Fuck, she really is a Goddess!"

"Shhh, you idiot! Don't shout thing like that!"

You closed his mouth with your hand and looked around you anxiously to see if there was anyone who heard you. You sighed in relief since most people were outside and sat back down on your seat. Looking at them with hooded eyes and a tired look, you lifted your head to look at the woman before you.

"Look, sweetheart... I don't know who do you think I am or how much you know about me but I'm not the one to help you..."

"Wait, please! We know you faced many shit but you have to listen to us, you're the only one that could help us and if you don't want to help, then we'll let you go!"

Layla would have pressured you into listening to them more, even using harsh words but the look on your eyes touched her heart deeply. The tired eyes,dull look that screamed to let go of you... They were the same eyes she used to have and even though she didn't have a great sense of feeling people's emotions, she was sure as hell that you have been through a lot.

Thinking about her offer for a minute, you looked at the door and to them, trying to decide which option was better. To be honest, walking through that door and never looking back was a good idea. You didn't even know these people, you owed nothing to them to accept their offer and you weren't in the mood to deal with a bunch of kids... But the desperation and scared look in their eyes, even though they tried to hide it, was clear and that made you sit straight on your seat. Whining and pinching the bridge of your nose, you nodded and accepted to talk.

The woman, who later told you her name was Layla, smiled in gratitude and looked at the man beside her, who was Steven who had three alters, to speak since things were about to get complicated.

"Okay so, even I don't really understand what really is going on but one time I woke up in the middle of a meadow, got chased down by people and was holding a dung beetle. Later, I saw a man who was talking about the other world, the after life and then used a cane and then sucked the life out of a woman, saying that maybe bad thing will happen in the future and then everyone screamed-"

"All Hail Ammit, right?"

"Yes! But how did you..?"

"Ammit is the ancient Egyptian God that devoured the soul of those who she deemed unworthy. Eater of Hearts, Devourer of the Dead... Please, continue with your story, Steven Grant."

" And I don't know they were after the dung beetle and when I opened it, it just started to fly around, there is a God that wants me to be his avatar, well actually Marc is his but since he's inside my body, I kinda am his avatar too... And how do you know my surname, I didn't even tell you!?"

You sighed lovingly at the man who forgot that you were a Goddes yourself and waited for him to realize his mistake and when he did, he blushed so hard that he just wanted to crawl under the blankets and hide there forever. You pat his hand softly, telling him that it was okay and asked him to show you the beetle. Inspecting it while turning it upside down, you started to murmur to yourself.

" The ancient Egyptians identified this with creation, the indisputable strength of masculinity, procreation, wisdom, reincarnation, immortality and renewal... Ammit has been imprisoned for centuries and if there is a man, using her powers to collect souls... and thinking of the meaning of dung beetle... It's obvious that this Harrow man is trying to set her free, Steven..."

You gave it back to him and rubbed your face while thinking. The Egyptian Gods have always been into chaos more than anyone, being like little children and all that. They never gathered around one topic or aim, resulting in more chaos. They didn't even care about humanity anymore, opting to observe them through their avatars and even then, they didn't really give a single fuck about them. Always thinking so highly of themselves, looking down at humans... No wonder you hated their guts.

If this man would set Ammit free... You didn't want to imagine what would happen to the world.

"But... How can we stop them? We don't even know any God except you and you might not even help-"

"Who told you I'm not gonna help? I mean sure I'd have loved to have the retired life but... Unfortunately, if you come face to face with the other Gods, they wouldn't be nice to you... and probably wouldn't listen either. With me in the picture, they'd have no choice but listen."

"And Miss Lee... Since you're gonna help, can we learn your real name and identity please? If that's... okay?"

Looking at her sharply, you looked down and up at her, knowing that you were making them anxious second by second. Grinning joyfully, you nodded your head and popped a lollipop into your mouth, extending your hand out for her to shake.

"Nice to meet you, Layla El-Faouly! I'm the Goddess of Sun, Power snd Immortal Life... Daughter of Odin and Frigga, elder sister of Thor and Loki, a mother of two children and a woman who is this close to loose her shit."

She laughed at your way of introducing and watched you hug Steven to yourself lovingly, patting his head softly and praising him for being smart enough to find you. He curiously looked at your right and you turned your eyes at where he was looking but seeing no one, you ssked him what he was looking at.

"Oh, nothing! It's just... we didn't find you, he showed you to us..."

"He? Who?"

"It's the God of-"

Everyone inside the shop screamed when multiple bullets sounded around. Protecting Layla and Steven, tucking their head under your arms, you looked around to see a man with a cane walking towards you three. Creating a light shield around them, you took tentaive steps to the man looking at you with a fond smile. Feeling uneasy of his presence, you took out your staff and directed it to him. He stopped where the end of your sun staff ended, he bowed in front of you.

"O' the strong Goddess of the West, the one who enlightens paths and give what they desire, I find such pleasure in meeting the daughter of Odin..."

"As much as I like being praised, I really would rather you talk to me standing up, Arthur Harrow."

Smiling at you, he got up and after setting your staff down, he kissed your hand softly which made you raise a brow at his action. Meanwhile, Steven and Marc was having a headache over Khonshu screaming right next to him.

"IF YOU LET HIM TOUCH HER ONE MORE TIME, MARC SPECTOR, STEVEN GRANT, I'LL TEAR DOWN EVERY SINGLE MUSCLE OUT OF YOU!!"

Not being aware of what was happening behind you, Arthur started to talk while looking at you in astonishment.

"I never thought I'd see the day I'd be in front of such power but even someone like me can get lucky from time to time..."

"Cut the bullshit, darling... Enough of the praises, I already know why you're here."

"Then you also know that I've come here to convince you to join-"

"Who do you think you are, convincing me? I am the one that will decide on what I'll do and I'm the only one who will decide whether you're telling truth or not!"

Layla and Steven let out a wow at your voice echoing all around, and your body shining in an angry orange and red, Arthur's men took a few steps back but he only came closer to you with a manic grin. Directing your staff at him again, he didn't care and continued to talk.

"Oh, I can see why such a power is coming from you... Who would have guessed that a Goddess can have revenge inside of her so powerful that it's enough to burn everything?"

"I don't have revenge or anything like that inside me, watch your tongue, boy..."

"Oh, but you do. The fall of your home, your brother and your friends, being betrayed by the one you thought who loved you... So many sins have been committed against you..."

"Shut up..."

"I know the feeling... The same God who spoke such lovely words to you, whispering his love and affections also deceived me as well..."

Well, that caught your attention. Did he even know what he was talking about? Did he really know Khonshu at some point? You looked him up and down to see if he was throwing any lies at you but you saw... none.

With wide eyes, you lowered your guard and looked at him with big, shaky eyes. Seeing that he was getting under your skin, Marc took over an tried to break the shield that surrounded them.

"Do you... really know him? I mean-"

"Khonshu? The ever changing God? Yes, my dear... I know him and how he betrayed me just like how he betrayed you..."

Marc grunted in pain and cursed at you for creating such a strong shield. And the fact that Khonshu was screaming and trashing out didn't help.

"MARC! SAVE HER FROM HIS CLUTCHES!"

"Who is that woman to you anyways?! WHY ARE YOU SO-"

"BECAUSE SHE'S MY WIFE, YOU IDIOT!

"YOUR FUCKING WHAT?!!"

Before Arthur would try and touch you with his filthy hands, you heard the breaking of your shield and it was as if something switched back on. Growling at the man before you, you punched him hard from the balls and threw him away from you. Fighting against the men surrounding you, you turned to look at Steven and Layla to see if they were fine but what you saw made you falter and silently cry...

For the same bandages and Moon shape was on Steven, and your husband standing right in front of you protectively with a pleading and crushed look...

#marvel x you #marvel x gender neutral reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #khonshu imagine #khonshu x reader #bucky barnes #thor #loki

[csuitebitches]

What do you think about consumerism in relation to the "hypergamous" lifestyle?

Great question. I'm going to be honest with you. There’s no point in sharing my opinion, I’d rather share my observation.

there is this perception that you have to spend crazy $$, wear designer, go on expensive holidays, be a part of exclusive member-only clubs in order to bag a wealthy guy. The thinking is, “if I look the part, I will fit right in.”

let me break it to you. If you’re Asian, Middle Eastern - you come from a culture that basically defines marriage as something between two families and not individuals - you could live the above lifestyle, live way beyond your means but your chances of bagging a wealthy guy are low. If you do not have the family background or education level to support your lifestyle to be with a rich guy, it’s going to be very difficult, not impossible. You could bag someone who is upper middle class, but definitely not the 0.01%.

While it’s true that the rich do spend like crazy - you have to understand that (especially in Asians) the level of spending is completely different. They can book a first class emirates flight without caring about rates, they have access to concierge services, the circles are small but tight. It is extremely difficult to break into these if you don’t have the money or are extremely good friends with someone who is in this circle. To keep up with this circle is another financial headache.

The consumerism is crazy, it is high yes, but often it’s for things you might not expect. “Silent luxury”, investing in jewellery, properties, experiences, hobbies, drivers, PAs, 24/7 staff to take care of your home, having personal managers at the banks that have your accounts, seeing the top CEOs, politicians, actors etc as regular people - keeping up is not easy. Even if we look at normal stuff, like shopping for clothes - they’re able to blow this thousands of $ on a simple Hermes tea cup set, break it, and buy another one very nonchalantly. Not to mention the constant social gatherings, the clothes (god forbid you repeat), your life’s experiences etc etc. Women here don’t work to maintain their lifestyle, they work to enjoy what they are doing. Even if they stop working tomorrow, they will be financially taken care of by their families or husbands.

hypergamy here is completely different and obstructed. Let’s take my own example. I date boys that my family picks out for me - boys whose families own massive conglomerates, who are cultured and sophisticated, etc etc. I ended things with my last boyfriend because of multiple things, but what mattered most was that my father felt that he wouldn’t be able to provide for me the way I was used to all my life. (Even tho my ex came from a wealthy background too). At every social gathering that my parents organise or take me to, I’ve got my parents friends asking my parents if I’m single, if I’m interested in meetings their sons, etc etc. Dating and marrying hypergamously in Asian and Middle Eastern cultures is very much a family affair. There is a lot of talk that happens in these circles - who married who, whose kids are dating who, did you hear that A’s son fell in love with some middle class girl he met in college - not to your face, but behind your back.

What I’m trying to say is - you could look the part but still not bag the guy. You could dress nice, you could wear expensive perfume and make up but in the end, backgrounds are vetted extremely carefully. Especially in today’s day and age where looking the part has become easier than ever. So now when you tie this to consumerism, you can see why it can be difficult to keep up with this level of consumerism and spending. And even if you can - that may not guarantee anything. Unfortunately life isn’t like kdramas and some rich guy isn’t going to take pity on you and transform your life when he could just be with someone who has a similar upbringing which is more comfortable.

I’m not sure if I answered your question correctly, but I assumed that you were basically asking me if looking the part can get you any points in the hypergamy scene.

#q/a

[zayndrivesmeinvain]

The One That Got Away - Part 1

A.N- This is one of my first series that I wrote after a long hiatus and I am just getting back to it. I hope who ever comes along for this journey, they enjoy it. I would love to hear everyone's thoughts, ideas, opinions. Enjoy!

Summary: In which Harry and Alena were college sweethearts, however, all of that has changed and the only thing keeping in contact is the fact that they have a child together. Is it possible for them to even get to a normal standing friendship or is that long gone?

Word Count: 2.9 K

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Alena

Pain. 

Pain is something that is different to everyone but to me, it's caused by the distress and lack of control I feel as though I have in my life. I’m pained that I am not able to give my daughter the best life that she absolutely deserves. It pains me that she doesn’t have a two parent household, because growing up neither did I and I vowed everything inside of me that when the day came I had a child that I would pick the utmost perfect partner that would stick around and be madly love with me in which we would make a life for ourselves and have that happy ever after - but unfortunately those cards were not on the table for me. 

I live a pretty generic life I would say. I work a 9-5 as a social media manager and editor for a top design magazine, I have a tight knit friend group, as well as a dog and a house and a daughter. I’m not the crazy going out type of girl, or the hook-up kind of girl. I keep to myself, take care of my daughter and live life to the best of my ability. 

-

It’s an early Monday morning which means I need to get myself ready for work as well as my daughter ready for school. I am lucky enough to be able to work most of my days from home and the office is used as an as-needed basis especially since I am a single parent. I’ve never been one to take “ the easy way out” but I sure as hell will take advantage of situations that do benefit me. 

My chestnut brown hair falling down my back as soon as I get out of bed, one quick look in the mirror and I can say thank the Lord himself that I work from home today. Over the years my hair has become unruly and quite the challenge to maintain. My skin slightly goose bumped due to the slight breeze in my bedroom, thanks to my ceiling fan. My feet are cold against the hardwood floors in my home, and I almost curse myself for not having enough carpet or rug in my room - when first purchasing my home I swore that carpet would not be part of the home's aesthetic but I would be young and dumb and would refuse to go back. 

“ Good morning Sunshine” is my go-to for waking my daughter up in the morning, unfortunately my daughter is not a morning person - a trait that she picked up from her father. Her emerald green eyes stayed hidden from me as she did her absolute best to try and stay asleep as she knew that it was time to get up and ready for school. 

“ It’s time to get up, Bubs, how are you going to become an Astronaut princess if you don’t go to school?” my arms embrace my daughter as I gently pick her up and walk her into the bathroom. 

“ Mommy, my tummy hurts.” my froggy 5 year old croaked. Now that I think of it… she does feel a bit warm. I was lucky enough that she was typically an energetic child who looked forward to going to school and meeting her friends, another trait she got from her father, however, today seems to be different. I placed her down on the edge of the sink and placed my hand onto her forehead as she seemed to be burning up. I do my best to be a fair and strict parent, so I can instill a routine and boundaries but it wouldn’t be fair to send her to school like this.

“ It’s okay, Bubs. Why don’t you stay home today and rest up. Why don’t we give you a bath and you can lay down next to mommy while she works, yeah?” I make my way over to the tub and start running a bubble bath for her to enjoy. “ Stay still, mommy will text daddy so he knows not to pick you up from school later.” 

Texting my daughter's father isn’t my least favorite thing to do, but I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite by any means either. There is so much built up pain and history even when I see his name pop-up on my phone or even see a picture posted of him. Harry Styles. My childhood best friend, my first crush, my first love and my first heartbreak. How is it possible for one person to be so many of my firsts? Some would say that Harry & I ended on a mutual note but it doesn’t mean that it hurt any less. We did our best to try the long distance thing while we tried finding ourselves in college but one thing led to another and it didn’t last. After agreeing to end things, we met-up one night and one thing led to another and a few weeks later I found out that I’m pregnant. Harry is an amazing father and I couldn’t ask for anyone better for my daughter, but he was not a good partner. He often slept around, could not commit to anyone and played every girl like the fiddle. We tried once more after Aria was born but that is when he was unfaithful and would stay out late and it's almost as if his whole personality changed.I guess people do change while in college and even after. 

“ Hey H, Bub’s isn’t feeling well. I’m going to keep her home with me today so no need to pick her up from school… thanks :)” I place my phone back down onto the counter and get Aria undressed for her bath. While allowing Aria to play around a bit in the bubbles I notice my phone has none stop been going off. 2 missed calls from Harry & 4 text messages. He’s so over dramatic. My phone rings again, before I could even say hello he gets his word in: 

“ What the hell, why haven’t you answered your phone?” I could sense his annoyance over the phone. 

“ Because I am bathing our daughter and I believe her cleanliness is more important than  worrying about my phone” I could see his eyes rolling already. 

“ What’s wrong with her? What happened?” His concern for Aria is something I could admire and could almost push past all the horrible things he has done to me in the past. 

“ Harry, she’s sick. She’s around other sick kids almost everyday… it was practically bound to happen. She’ll be fine in no time… she just needs to rest for the day and drink fluids and cuddle. I promise you I won’t let anything happen to your precious angel.” The last sentiment of my statement to Harry was meant more as sarcasm but in all honesty, she really is an angel and couldn't ask for a more perfect child. 

“ Erm, yeah.. Okay. Can I stop over after work later on? I can pick up some dinner for us three and maybe watch a movie with her…” I can sense the hesitation in his voice. Harry and I had an agreement that we would be civil parents for Aria, but I would prefer to not have “family hangouts” as much as I could avoid it. As much as I wanted a two-parent household for my daughter, I refused to confuse her anymore and give her a false hope that Harry and I would ever get back together. However, there are some exceptions to this rule and tonight is one of them. One thing I hold my ground on is never holding Harry back with Aria or anytime he wants to spend with her. 

“ That would be nice, Har… thank you. Just let me know what time you think you’ll be over later on tonight, and remember.…her bed times  9:00 PM” a gentle smile plastered on my face when I look back over at my daughter while she plays with the bubbles in her bath. 

“ Of course, give her a kiss for me to hold her off until I get there” before I could even say goodbye the line drops. 

-

The day was filled with many email correspondences, phone calls as well as planning for the upcoming next few months. Being the lead editor for one of the top design magazines in the country was no easy job by any means, but my passion and dedication for the job was what makes it all worth it. I’ve been very fortunate as well to have a very understanding team behind me which were my top supporters, and they absolutely adore Aria. 

Besides all of the work I needed to attend to, cuddles and a napping child were on my top priority list as well. I mostly worked from my couch today, which I excuse to my child being needy because she wasn’t feeling well but I would be lying to say that I just didn’t want to leave her side as well. For a while, it was mostly just the two of us together navigating through the world with no idea or plan in mind. 

Before I knew it, it was close to 5:00 PM and Harry said he will be here in less than an hour. While Aria was sleeping and I was on my “lunch” break earlier I was able to sneak in some dishes, laundry and a quick shower. My unruly hair from this morning was washed and maintained and I was able to apply the lightest layer of make-up. My outfit of choice for this gathering we were about to have was a pair of basic black leggings, paired with an oversized sweatshirt. 

“Mommy, do you know when Daddy will be here?'' She adores her father, a total daddy’s girl. I wish it didn’t make me jealous but knowing that he is her favorite person pulls at my heartstrings a bit. 

“ I think he’ll be here shortly, Bubs. Why don’t we get you changed in your comfy pjs so when daddy gets here, you guys can watch a movie?”

I gave Aria a quick bath to help her fever settle down. Her fever has been on and off for most of the day; but it seems as though it was getting back to normal for the last hour. She picked out her favorite waffle knit pajamas to wear with the pink and red hearts. She swore up and down that they were her movie watching pajamas & that they were the most comfy for “lounging around”. By the time Aria and I made it back into the living room, Harry had arrived. 

I walked to the front door with Aria in my arms & by the time I opened the door she couldn’t jump into Harry’s arms quick enough. There he stood with his work attire on: a pair of dress pants and a button down shirt paired with his matching tie. The young frat boy has turned into a businessman, Harry followed in his fathers foot footsteps and is now a partner in his fathers law firm. His hair looks like it’s been freshly cut, but a few curls still peak out on the top. 

“ Hi Bubby, I’m so happy to see you.” A smile is plastered across Harry’s face, he’s always been a proud father. He always says that Aria lights up his world, and that she in fact saved him and has made him a better man. The same smile he gives Aria, is a similar smile that he used to shine at me, those pearly whites were once my weakness. 

-

Harry so kindly brought over Chinese for the 3 of us, the three of us scattered on my dining room table. Harry and Aria spike up most of the conversation, Aria tells Harry all the letters and colors that she’s learned at school so far and what she thinks her classmates worked on today without her. It amazes me watching the two of them interact together, it’s almost as if I’m seeing double: Aria is so much like Harry in so many different ways: between their smiles, the way their nose scrunches up while them are really focused in on what the other is saying, to they way they chew at the the same time or how they both furrow their brows the same exact way. 

-

After dinner, I excused myself to flip some laundry as well as clean the kitchen up from the day's mess. Harry and Aria are now sprawled out in the living room watching Lilo and Stitch, Aria is laid out in between Harry’s legs, with her back to him while his hands are laid in her lap. Every so often I catch Aria holding her fathers hand and even planting kisses on them. Aria’s love and admiration for her father makes Harry a little bit more bearable, he is someone I will always love but I fell out of love many years ago after everything he had put me through: the lies, the cheating, the girl, the uncertainty… It was all just too much. 

-

It’s a little after 8:30 PM now, Aria fell asleep watching the movie with Harry and he insisted he would take her to bed and do her nightly routine with her which consists of cuddles and reading a book, if we ever skip this step she never has a good night's rest. I hear soft snores coming from her bedroom which indicates that Harry can handle her nightly bedtime routine and he will be leaving shortly, which allows me some alone time before the end of the day. 

- 

“ She’s fast asleep now…” a soft smile has taken form on Harry’s tired face. 

“ Looks like she isn’t the only one that needs to be put to bed” I begin walking him to my front door, to kindly let him know that I would like for him to leave, however, he asks if we can have a talk. 

Harry and I walk back over to my living room as I take a seat on my sectional and he sits across from me. The expression on his face indicates that he’s nervous and is testing the waters out before he opens his mouth. 

“ I’ve been seeing someone…” is what he blurts out with. “I’ve been seeing her for a while now and I would like to know if it’s okay if I introduce her to Aria.” His words take me by surprise, one of our initial rules was that we would not introduce Aria to anyone unless we thought it was serious and up until now it had not come up. For whatever reason, his confession stings a little bit. I was under the impression that Harry wasn’t really into keeping anything serious or that’s at least what his mother gossips to me about. Anne and I always had a very close relationship, even after everything that had happened between Harry and I. 

“Uhmmm, yeah…” my heart starts pounding a little quicker than usual and I’m hoping Harry can’t hear it. 

“ Her name is Elizabeth, she works in the same building as I do at the accounting office across the hall from my law firm… she’s the receptionist there. She’s really great, and makes me really happy. I’d like for them to meet this weekend… I’m going to my parents for dinner and they’ll be meeting Elizabeth for the first time too.” 

“ Har, I’m happy to hear you’re happy. If you feel as though this is someone you would like to introduce Aria to, then go ahead… under one condition.” I can see Harry’s once anxious demeanor break and a look of curiosity takes over him. 

“Under no circumstances and I mean none, are you to have any sleep overs with this girl while Aria is there. If I find out from our daughter that you had a woman sleeping over while she is there… I promise you Harry, I will raise hell.” A slight nod is always I get out of him before he speaks again. “ Understood… thank you.” Call me traditional, however, I don’t think it’s appropriate to have girls in and out of the house while our daughter is there.. Even if they are dating but knowing Harry, he can sometimes spin the truth. 

“I’m gonna go… I have a long day tomorrow.” I nod and get up to walk Harry out of my house. As we approach the door, I gently open it for Harry to walk through. 

“ Have a goodnight, Har. Thank you again for dinner.”

As Harry walks out my door and into his car, all I see is the young guy that I grew-up with and wonder how things went so wrong for us. My heart aches for what ifs? What if we did end up being the end game, would Aria be happier? Would I be happier? Would we have regular family dinners and have family vacations and family traditions?

I wiped those ideas out of my heart as quickly as they came, because I did not get to where I am in life harping on the past. I, Alena, do not sit around and feel sorry for myself or what my life currently is versus what I once dreamed of it being.

#harry styles #fanfiction #harry styles imagines #fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #harry fanfic #fanficton #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #daddy harry styles #harry styles feels #harry styles and alena #harry styles and reader #daddry #harry styles dad

[prfctparis]

I’d Give You My Lungs So You Could Breathe (I’ve Got You, Brother) CH4

AO3 Link / One / Prev / Next / Masterlist

summary:

Danny Fenton was adopted at age ten, with little to no memories about his former family. At age fourteen, he died yet lived and those memories began to return. He didn’t do anything about those memories – didn’t plan to, at least not yet – but then he got captured by the GIW, saved by his friends and someone who might be his sister who he only somewhat remembered, and taken to Gotham to, apparently, his biological father for safety until further notice.

Team Phantom was there, too, and they did not sign up for this family drama.

a/n:

i am so sorry for such the long wait!! but here’s ch4 finally lmao hope you guys enjoy :)

warnings for entire fic:

canon-typical violence of the DC variety; angst; memory loss/repressed memories; do i need to say major character death(s) or is that just a given for this fandom; questionable parenting tho every parent is trying to do good & care for the kids; implied/referenced past child abuse bc of the child assassin backgrounds; pls tell me if i missed something

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: Alfred tells Bruce of Danny’s injuries, but nothing in explicit detail

CHAPTER FOUR —

Tonight did not go the way Bruce thought it would.

The day started out peaceful enough. For his family, that was. Tim had stayed the night after patrol rather than heading back to his place in the city, so he and Damian, both half asleep still, had gotten into a snarky quarrel about cereal bowls, of all things. Apparently there was favorite bowl; it was the perfect size and depth. Damian woke up first, grabbed it, and Tim became grouchy when he discovered that.

Bruce had then taken the bowl away when they wouldn’t stop arguing about it, handed it to Duke who had entered the kitchen at that exact moment, and continued on to get a plate of French toast that Alfred had made and a large mug of coffee. He dutifully ignored his sons’ complaints while his other son just went along with what had just happened.

Then Alfred took Duke and Damian to school, Stephanie appeared out of nowhere to drag Tim into helping her study for college finals that were coming up, and Cass regularly sent him pictures of Hong Kong as a means to let him know every thing was going smoothly for the case that had lead her back over there. Bruce called Dick during his lunch hour at WE, tried to get out of an afternoon meeting only for Lucious and Tim (who was now only a partial shareholder instead of the majority shareholder, since that went back to Bruce) to drag him to it anyway, and told Jason that he might have found something to aid him in one of his cases through e-mail because, once again, Jason had blocked his number.

Bruce had no idea what warranted it this time, and he was hesitant to ask.

All in all, it was a normal day. He might even describe it as a good day. So, of course, he expected patrol to be hell. Maybe a breakout of some sort; an intense hostage situation; one of his children getting majorly injured again; a near death experience or two. Possibly more than one of those, or even all of them. That was what Bruce Wayne – Batman – expected.

Not this.

Not Damian having two secret, older, biological siblings.

Not a group of kids in their late teens obviously on the run, brave faced but scared.

Not a daughter finding him on a random roof on the verge of a panic attack, brave façade crumbling with the fear her brothers weren’t okay.

Not a son no older than eighteen having been vivisected by someone Bruce has yet to find out, and warranting Alfred to perform emergency surgery on him.

After Damian, Bruce swore he was done. No more kids for him; the children and pseudo-children he had were enough. The amount of love he had for them was immeasurable, and with them – because of them – Bruce had a mountain of happiness in his life among all the other shitty and dark valleys of depression and torment.

Now he’s learned Talia had lied yet again.

First, about having a miscarriage back when she had been pregnant with Damian. Second, about how before that, from their first meeting five years prior, she already had twins.

His twins.

Damian had also lied, yet he had been told to do so and promised to by his older sister herself. And he had no idea why.

It occurred to him, then, that Jason knew as well. He recognized Damian’s sister on the roof.

It hurt to know that they knew yet didn’t tell him. Everything about the current situation hurt, if he was to be honest.

“My name is Athanasia al Ghul,” Bruce’s daughter, introduced herself as he helped clean, re-bandage, and stitch her injuries. “My twin– our brother… He was born Dányál al Ghul, but he got adopted when he was ten. Legally, his name is now Daniel Fenton. He goes by Danny most of the time.”

It was surreal. Bruce had to keep himself from questioning her until he got answers – about her, Danny, why Talia never mentioned either of them, why Athanasia told Damian to keep them a secret, what and who they were running from and why, and tens of others. It wasn’t hard to do, but the urge was still there.

Making sure his daughter (he had another daughter) got some much needed medical attention took precedence over that.

For now, he would merely let her speak to him on her own terms.

“Do you have a preferred name you go by?” Bruce asked, because his eldest went by ‘Dick’ and Tim hated it when ‘Timothy’ was used and Steph only let ‘Stephanie’ slide if the person was a stranger and Cass didn’t care one way or another, but she did seem to like when the family used the shortened version of her name more. If Athanasia wanted a specific name or nickname used, he planned to use it.

“My brothers called me ‘Ana’ sometimes,” she said. “Hardly anyone else calls me that, but I won’t mind you do, too.”

Bruce nodded and smiled. He finished bandaging the newly stitched up cut on her thigh as he said, “I will be sure to remember that, then.”

“I still will if you want me to,” Damian spoke up immediately from the other cot he sat on. His foot was propped up and an ice pack laid on his ankle, curtesy of Duke who had brought it over a few minutes ago; he seemed to want to stay, but got dragged away by Jason almost immediately.

What his youngest said took Bruce by surprise. Damian wasn’t the type to use nicknames or shortened versions of names; the exceptions were probably Jon Kent and Maps Mizoguchi. And, now, apparently the twins.

And he offered to.

One corner of her mouth twitched up before she smothered it, going for a neutral expression. Bruce still saw something akin to happiness and relief in her eyes as she nodded. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” she said, “As long as I can still call you ‘Dames’.”

Damian pressed his lips into a thin line to lessen the size of his smile that he then twisted in a faux frown of annoyance. “If you must.”

Bruce refrained from reacting to that. He knew that Tim tried to call Damian that once, and his youngest son had a very sudden, negative reaction to it. Tim went to Bruce later that day, guilty and frustrated, because he didn’t mean to upset Damian and now they were at odds again; Bruce only got the story out after a spar.

It certainly made some sense now, why he had reacted like that. And also why he was more tolerant of ‘Dami’ than everyone thought he would originally be, back when Dick first started using it.

…A lot of things about Damian made sense now.

Bruce wondered often about how Damian, an apparent only child, grew accustomed to older brothers and a sister rather seamlessly. Well, after he stopped attempting to murder Tim, of course; and after he stopped insisting that he didn’t have siblings, that he was the only blood son and therefore superior than the others.

(He still occasionally pulled the blood son card. More so now to annoy the others, than anything.)

He grew accustomed seamlessly to the others because of Athanasia and Danny. He had always been the youngest. He was used to nagging, protective, annoying older siblings already.

It made Bruce emotional in so many ways.

The next fifteen minutes or so were spent in silence as Bruce finished tending to Athanasia’s wounds. When he got done, he stepped back to give her space as he picked up everything he had used.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked her.

“No,” she said. Athanasia almost sounded confused on why he asked, and Bruce sincerely hoped he imagined it. No one of any age should be confused when asked that. “Thank you, Batman.”

“Of course.”

Footsteps, hesitant and soft, grew close, catching their attentions. The redhead, Wesley ‘Wes’ Weston as he introduced himself as earlier, stopped a few feet away. His posture and the way his hands sat in his pockets said casual, but his muscles were tense and his expression held exhaustion.

“Wesley,” Athanasia said as a greeting.

Wes half smiled. “Hey.”

Bruce frowned a little. “Is everything okay?”

The teenager nodded. “Oh, yeah. Um, the others just want to talk about something as a whole. I came to get Ana.”

Bruce saw Damian straighten just the tiniest bit in his peripheral.

Athanasia began to get out of the cot, but Bruce held out a hand. She froze, so he kept his hand in the air rather than placing it on her shoulder like he was about to. Then, lowered it.

“You need rest. I’m sure the conversation can wait,” Bruce said to them.

Wes shook his head. “It can’t. It’s important.”

“Talking does not require extensive body movement,” Athanasia said. “And I’m sure Wesley is right about the importance. I can rest later.”

“You need rest now.”

Athanasia stared him dead in the eye and got out. She stood in front him, back straight and no sign of discomfort or pain.

She was tall for a girl, he noticed for a second time that night. Maybe a bit taller than Tim, if not the same height, but still shorter than Dick. The way she stood reminded him a lot of Talia, but that defiant look was something Damian definitely learned from her at a young age.

“I’m eighteen – an adult,” she spoke in Arabic, and that fact made his heart hurt. “I know my own limits by now. I will rest later.”

She then pivoted on her feet and walked off. As she passed Wes, she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to drag him along. Other than a slight noise of surprise at being forcibly turned around in the opposite direction, the boy didn’t seem that fazed.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed behind the cowl at him as Wesley casually grabbed Athanasia’s hand to remove her grip. Her fingers twitched, almost holding his hand instead, before she pulled away and quickened her pace.

‘Acquaintances’ she said.

Damian huffed. “I don’t like him.”

“Hn.”

Alfred stepped halfway out of the curtained off area and requested his presence. A surge of panic washed over him and he walked over, telling Damian to stay put. Whatever Alfred needed, he hoped it was better than all the negative thoughts now plaguing his mind.

+++

Athanasia ached – for multiple reasons.

The soreness and pain was finally, truly settling in post-fight. With the adrenaline gone, and now able to relax with Danny being taken care of, she was way more aware of what hurt and what didn’t, except for the number areas where Batman had to do stitches. She probably should have asked for Tylenol or Ibuprofen. She didn’t.

Then, there was Damian. Her baby brother. She said that he was still short earlier, and he was, but he had also grown so much. Watching him from afar when she visited Gotham kept that fact from settling in until now.

He wasn’t the tiny, baby faced nine year old anymore. His hair used to be medium brown and wavy, but over the past few years it’s gotten a few shades darker and now the strands curled like her own. His limbs were lanky as he began to enter his teenage years, the baby fat was disappearing, and he was much taller than a nine year old. He stood and had the mannerisms and forming attitude of any other 13 year old.

Dányál was whole entirely different type of ache from realizing Damian had grown and the pain of her injuries. It was tangled up in anger and fear. At the GIW and Ra’s, and what they did to him.

She almost felt ten again, following the servant in the shadows to the Lazarus Pits. Except this time, there were no pools of bright green liquid to heal him to assure survival. Just the talented Penny-One, Alfred Pennyworth, the butler of Wayne Manor and doctor of the Batcave and a pseudo grandfather to many.

And her father… He was kind and gentle in a way she hadn’t expected. Yes, Jason said he was a good man, but she honestly never was able to picture it. Batman? The man who took down criminals nightly? Gentle? It was jarring, but not completely unwelcome.

It hurt knowing he was like that, and Mother kept them at the League of Assassins. It hurt that she now knew Jason spoke the truth, and Mother knew too, and even after Ra’s ran a sword through her son’s chest, she still kept them there. That she didn’t have her servant take her and Damian, too, and rather acted as if Dányál had truly died.

It hurt because she still didn’t believe it. Obviously he trained with the other members of the family, but all Athanasia was able to picture were the training tactics and punishments of the League. Batman trained with them, years ago, after all. Who’s to say he didn’t use the same ones on his kids?

And then there was Wesley. No one knew about Wesley. Not even the rest of Team Phantom. She even kept herself from thinking about it until the mission of finding and saving her brother was done.

Manson and Foley were the first members of the team she’d met – technically. Wesley Weston wasn’t a member when she first visited Amity Park and met him. They grew close; then Athanasia panicked and ran away left town, only to come back when the GIW took over. She felt bad for leaving him, truly, and she didn’t understand why he didn’t seem to be as angry as she thought he’d be.

There were so many aching emotions within her. It was almost overwhelming. Athanasia wanted to rest; she knew her father was right that she needed to. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Gray and Wesley needed to get back to Amity Park to get Ellie, and then figure out a way to get to Jazz Fenton, or at least somehow inform her of everything that happened.

They needed to figure out what, exactly, they were going to tell Batman about Dányál and literally everything else.

Athanasia sat down where the others had gathered – far enough away so they wouldn’t be heard, but still seen – and made short eye contact with Wesley when he sat in the only free spot beside her. They both looked away at the same time.

Gray and Manson had their own share of fresh bandages, but hardly the amount Athanasia had. Foley had one. A lucky shuriken cut his bicep and an ectoblast singed the bottom hem of his shirt, but other than that he was fine yet exhausted. Wesley was the only one injury free.

A pack of water bottles sat on the edge of the table. Everyone already had one when she got to the table. Foley was the closest to the pack, and he took one out and rolled it over to her without a word. There was a bottle of migraine medicine by Manson’s elbow where she was laying her head down.

“So,” Gray began to start the conversation. “Batman. I thought you were taking us to your dad?”

“I was, but I knew he would bring us to Batman anyway, so when I spotted him I decided to cut out the middle man.”

“Are you sure we can trust him?” asked Foley.

Athanasia nodded. “As a member of the Justice League, I fully believe Batman is trustworthy.”

“Exactly,” he sighed. “He’s a JL member – a founding member. In hindsight, it’s a good thing they have never visited Amity because that would risk any of them getting possessed, but not one member has checked on our town.”

“Well, actually,” interrupted Gray, “there was that British dude in a trench coat, remember? He smoked a lot. I think he mentioned a…Justice League Dark, or something? It was two or so years ago, so I’m not really sure.”

“Oh him!” Foley started laughing. “Oh, Ancients, how did I forget? Danny scared the shit out of him!”

Manson didn’t move, but she did snort amusedly. “That was hilarious.”

“So… What are we telling Batman?” Wesley asked when the laughter died down.

“Not everything,” said Manson. She finally lifted her head, and placed her hands around her eyes to block out some of the light. “For one, we need to figure out if he knows of the Anti-Ecto Act. We need to explain what’s happening in Amity Park, too. As for everything else… Danny should be the one to explain his powers and everything. Not even Athanasia knows it all.”

It was true. It annoyed her. She knew he had to have gotten the powers somehow, but Danny’s friends were tight lipped about it. All she knew was that Danny had ghost-like abilities, could change his looks, and also had whatever an ‘ice core’ was. She shouldn’t know about that last one, but she overheard Foley and Manson talking one night.

By eavesdropping she had hoped things would begin to make sense regarding her twin’s powers. Rather, it did the exact opposite.

“Batman will dig for answers,” Athanasia warned them. “He’s a detective – a good one, possibly the best in the world.”

Manson frowned.

“Then we give him enough info to keep him happy until Danny wakes up,” Foley said. “Then, he can make the decision on telling Batman everything else.”

“What about the others?” asked Gray. She looked at Athanasia. “Batman, sure. But does that include Robin? I saw you with them both earlier.”

“Robin is as trustworthy as Batman. All of the Bats and Birds in Gotham are, including Nightwing in Blüdhaven.”

“You sound so sure for someone who doesn’t know them personally,” Manson said.

Athanasia raised an eyebrow. “I never said I didn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You never said you did, either.”

“Sam has a point,” Foley said.

“About what?”

“You never said if you did or didn’t know these vigilantes personally. You said you were taking us to your dad, and we’re here instead.”

Athanasia’s brows knitted together. “I said my father would have brought us to him, anyway. Why does that matter?”

“Because you said nothing about him in the first place.”

“Why does that matter?” she repeated. “Where do you think we would end up taking Dányál? Certainly not Arkham.”

“I don’t know, but it would be nice if you told us things,” he said, tone turning frustrated. “Like, who was the old dude you wanted to avoid?”

“That isn’t important right now,” she forced out. She knew she had to tell them about Ra’s, but she planned to do that later.

Manson scoffed as Wesley hesitantly said, “Well, no. It kinda is.”

“You mood completely changed when Tucker mentioned him on comms,” Gray said.

Athanasia drew in a deep breath through her nose. “That is not,” she spoke slow and low, “important right now.”

“Like hell–” Gray began.

“Why does it matter right now?” she stressed. “Can we focus on what is happening right now?”

“Whoever the fuck the old man is who came out of the room where they kept our best friend is isn’t important?” Manson asked incredulously.

“For now, yes!”

“How?! That makes no sense!”

“It really doesn’t make sense,” Wesley agreed, with Gray nodding along in agreement.

“C’mon, Ana, just–”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped at the other boy.

Taken aback, Foley frowned. “But Wes calls you that?”

Athanasia shrugged. “I knew him before you guys,” she admitted after a beat of silence.

His eyes, along with Manson’s and Gray’s, went to Wesley.

“It’s true,” he said with a nod.

Gray leaned her forearms on the table. “So, did you know about the assassin thing?”

“No.” Wesley’s tone wasn’t exactly clipped, but it was clear that he wasn’t happy.

Athanasia held back a grimace.

Gray’s eyes flicked between them, and a spark of realization flashed in her eyes. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ and she nodded slowly. “Well,” she said, somewhat awkwardly, “have fun talking that out.”

She crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “Can we get back on track? Please.”

“That old guy–”

“Say it one more fucking time, Manson, I swear,” she snapped.

“Or what?”

“I will make that splitting headache of yours literal.”

Someone cleared their throat behind her. Everyone looked in that direction, and Athanasia was mildly surprised to see her father’s most recent foster kid standing there with a silver tray of sandwiches. He wore a t-shirt and basketball shorts and shoes, and had on a the helmet from the Signal suit. She knew he wore a domino mask earlier, so he must have switched one for the other when everyone else was too busy to notice.

“Athanasia, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, that’s me. You’re Signal.”

Signal – or rather, Duke Thomas – nodded as well. “Yep. Hood said you guys might be hungry so he snuck off and made these real quick.” He set the tray on the table.

“Oh,” she said, still a little surprised but pleased, because honestly Jason made some of the best food. “Thank you, Signal.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Wait, Hood?” Foley choked out. “As in, the Red Hood?”

When she and Signal both nodded, Manson sarcastically said, “Oh, so the one you do know personally is the Ancients-damned crime lord. Great.”

“Why is a crime lord working with Batman?” Gray questioned.

“He’s a Bat,” Signal told her. “And these days, he’s more an anti-hero.”

“Former crime lord, then,” she said. “That’s suspicious.”

“Not if they’re family,” Wesley said

Athanasia looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Signal just stared at him and didn’t make a sound. When he noticed, Wesley shifted in his seat, seeming a bit awkward and uncomfortable from Signal’s stare.

“How do you know that for sure?” she asked him.

Wesley shrugged. “I don’t, it’s one of my theories. I’m not sure if it’s an uncle-nephew thing, a father-son thing, or pseudo family thing, or a brother-brother thing, or what, but I believe it’s something along those lines. Otherwise, why isn’t Batman treating Red Hood like any other criminal, like Bane?”

“Hood is nothing like Bane,” Signal stated. The corners of his mouth had turned down into a frown, and Athanasia noticed the defensive and protective undertone.

Honestly, she almost said the same thing in the same way.

By the way Wesley’s eyes widened, he noticed Signal’s tone, too. He raised his hands. “Hey, man, I didn’t say he was. That’s just the first criminal who came to mind!”

Signal stared at him for another second, visibly unnerving Wesley even more, then finally looked away. “Anyway. Eat the sandwiches if you’re hungry.” Then, almost resigned, “If you need anything, please tell me. I’m stuck babysitting to make sure Robin doesn’t walk on his ankle, and that kid is borderline grumpy on good days.”

Athanasia smirked. “Good luck.”

“Ugh.”

When he walked away, Wesley spoke up again. “My family theory is growing.”

“Please don’t start trying to figure out their identities,” Foley practically begged. “I’d like to stay on their good sides.”

Silence.

Foley sighed.

“Seriously, Wes?” Gray complained.

“We can talk about Wes’ obsession with secret identities later–”

“It’s not an obse–”

Manson cut him off with a glare. “Later,” she emphasized. “Batman. GIW. The assassins. What and how much are we telling him?”

Much to Athanasia’s relief, she didn’t try to bring up Ra’s again to get her to explain. Her shoulders relaxed at that, and conversation finally got back on track.

+++

Much to Bruce’s short lived relief, all Alfred needed him for was to give him an extra set of hands to apply bandages to the teen. They were almost done. It took longer than Bruce liked, simply because he had so many injuries, old and new.

Alfred finished wrapping bandages around the boy’s torso. Gently and carefully, Bruce laid him back down, having been holding him up to make things easier.

He stared down at Danny. Even under anesthesia from surgery and with a safe amount of morphine to ease the pain, his face was still slightly pinched in a way that told them something still hurt. Bruce wished he knew what else he could do to help him. His kid.

Danny and Athanasia, he thought. Another son, another daughter. One who had one giant wound on his chest and other smaller ones littered about, one who had defensive and offensive injuries and bruises.

He almost lost another son tonight. He didn’t know Danny, didn’t even know he existed until a couple of hours ago. It still hurt. Still settled an ache in his heart – for him, Athanasia, Damian, and the other teenagers.

“Whoever did this…” Bruce began, anger seeping into his tone. “Who would vivisect a child?”

“I’m afraid, these days, that list is longer than any of us would like, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.

Bruce pushed back the cowl and rubbed his eyes with his pointer finger and thumb. “This is…” He had no words. With a sigh, he dropped his hand. “How bad is it, really?”

There weren’t many times Bruce could count on his hands where he saw Alfred look so devastated that he was near tears. To see it now, Bruce almost retracted his question.

“He had internal bleeding that I had to stop. Multiple broken ribs. Broken sternum.” Alfred hesitated. “Misplaced organs that I had to put back.”

Bruce shut his eyes, and backed up to fall into the chair behind him. He leaned back, hand over his eyes. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Anything else?”

“Master Bruce–”

“Anything else?” he repeated, firm.

Alfred sighed. “He has bruises and cuts on his wrists – signs of a struggle against cuffs of some sort. Burns from something I am unsure of. His right forearm is fractured; we will have to call Dr. Thompkins to get it properly taken care of. Until then I placed a splint on it. He has other injuries, but those are superficial and nothing to worry about. If he is anything like anyone else in this family, he will make a miraculously full recovery.”

Taking in the information, Bruce rubbed at his temple, then looked back at Danny. He was pale from blood loss, and from where Bruce sat he couldn’t see the splinted arm but he did earlier.

The heart monitor beeped slower than an average human. It set Bruce’s anxiety off, afraid that at any moment it will slow down to a complete stop.

“There is…another thing that has my concerns,” Alfred spoke as he began to clean the area.

“The Lichtenberg figures.”

“Yes.”

Bruce noticed them when he first began helping Alfred. It was hard not to see them. The ones on his back started at the base of his neck and went all the way down his spine. Most branched off into faint, small lines that followed the nervous system of the body, and quickly faded out; a few went up towards his hairline. But there was one figure that branched off, that stayed prominent like the one down his spine; it went across his shoulder blade and down his left arm, not stopping until it reached the palm.

“They are old, from what I can tell,” said Alfred. “A few or so years, perhaps.”

Bruce brows lowered. “Lichtenberg figures disappear after a few days.”

“Not these.”

Bruce sighed.

The Lichtenberg figures. The horror of what happened and who did it. The Lazarus green on both twins, and Danny’s bandages. The secrecy of the twins.

Bruce had so many questions. He needed answers.

“Might I suggest, Master Bruce, that you wait to interrogate the traumatized teenagers?”

He stilled from where he stood back up. “We need answers–”

“And we can get them once everyone is well rested,” said Alfred. “We have no idea how long any of them have been awake, or where they even came from. Ask questions now, and you will have five exhausted and frightened teenagers giving you the hardest time of your life.”

Bruce thought back to when they first got to the Batcave. Of the persistence and stubbornness, and blatant refusal to let the adults take over. He admired their loyalty and want to protect their friend, but he did not want a repeat of that tonight.

“You’re right,” he reluctantly admitted.

“I often am, Master Bruce.”

“Hey.” The curtain moved. Jason poked his head in. “It’s just me,” he announced. “Gave Duke a tray of sandwiches earlier to give the kids. They have water, too. Need me to do anything here?”

Alfred looked down at the bed Danny was on; Bruce did, too. The sheets and mattress were stained from the impromptu surgery.

“A little help cleaning up and moving Master Danny to a new bed will be much appreciated,” said Alfred.

Jason nodded, then backed out with a, “One clean medical cot. Got it.”

That left Bruce and Alfred to continue cleaning everything else. The former tossed away the old bandages, dirtied thread, and alcohol wipes; the latter picked up the medical equipment that had been used and placed them in a plastic tub to be washed and disinfected later. Jason quickly came back in rolling up a clean bed, and they carefully moved Danny from one to the other.

Silence fell as Bruce began to check that the IV was still secure after all of the moving.

“So,” Jason said, Alfred leaving to put everything away, stained bed included. “Danny, huh.”

Bruce hummed.

The quiet turned tense between them.

“Hell, old man, just go ahead and ask.”

With crossed arms, he looked at his second son. “You knew.”

“Not a question, but sure. Whatever.” Jason motioned to Danny. “I didn’t know about him. Hell, I didn’t even know about Damian until he came here.”

His eyes narrowed a little. “But you knew about Athanasia. You recognized her on the roof.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, carelessly. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

“For how long?”

Jason didn’t immediately answer. “I don’t know, B. I guess I was sixteen?” He crossed his arms, too. “She looked, maybe, a little younger than Damian is now.”

“So you met at the League.”

“Eh, sure… It would be more accurate to say she found me, and randomly appeared like the fucking Ghost Christmas Past or some shit.”

“And you never told me.”

“Jesus. No.”

“Why?”

“No more dead Robins. No more child soldiers. No more kids dealing with your shit,” said Jason. “Take your fucking pick.”

“They aren’t Robins, Jason, and they definitely are not child soldiers because of me,” Bruce snapped. “They are my children, all of you are, and I didn’t force any of you to do what we do. I wouldn’t have forced Athanasia to become a vigilante if she didn’t want to, if she came here with Damian!”

Underneath his domino mask, Bruce knew Jason was glaring at him. “Are you going to hound Damian like this? He didn’t tell you either!”

“Because he made a promise that he wouldn’t! You didn’t! Six years, son–”

“And she’s been visiting Gotham for two!” Jason yelled.

“What do you mean?”

“She already knew you’re her dad; don’t ask me how because I don’t know. But don’t you think she would have come to you if she wanted you to know?”

Bruce faltered for only a second.

It was long enough for a small projectile to hit him in his temple before he could form an actual response to his son. He flinched from the impact but caught it – a rock from somewhere in cave – and heard Jason begin to chuckle before he also got hit in the side of the head with another rock.

Having slipped into the curtained off area while they argued, stood Athanasia. A few more rocks were in one hand and Bruce had no doubt she would throw another one if she felt like she needed (or wanted) to.

Her expression was a guarded.

Jason glared at her. “What the hell–”

“The others want to speak with Batman. In case you forgot because of your aging mind, I didn’t tell them your identity, so I suggest you put the cowl back on before you walk out.” With that, she ducked out, not waiting for either of them to speak.

There was a beat of silence.

“Insulted by a new kid in under two hours,” said Jason. “That has to be a new record.”

“No,” Bruce denied gruffly, “it still goes to you for calling me a ‘big boob’ and hitting me with a tire iron when stealing my tires.”

“I wasn’t your kid then.”

“Hn.”

Jason exasperatedly sighed. “You’re impossible.” He walked out without another word.

Bruce put on the cowl, but didn’t leave until Alfred came back, wary to leave Danny alone. When Alfred assured him that he would alert them if needed, he left and made his way to Athanasia and the other teenagers.

He wasn’t surprised to see Damian already there. Either Athanasia got him or he forced Duke to help him; whatever the case, he and Duke now sat at the table with the others, while Jason stood off to the side against a nearby cave wall. His helmet was back on, and he watched the group with crossed arms.

He pulled up a spare chair and held laced it between Athanasia and Damian. He had barely sat down for longer than a second when the girl who introduced herself as Valerie Gray spoke up.

“We need to leave.”

“No.”

She reeled back, shocked. The others stared at him with either incredulity or anger. Tucker Foley froze with a half eaten sandwich hovering in front of his mouth, and Sam Manson looked ready to argue.

“Um, yes,” Valerie corrected. “You can’t keep us here, we aren’t prisoners. We brought Danny here for medical attention, and now that that’s done, Wes and I need to head back to Amity Park ASAP.”

“I can’t in good conscience let any of you to take another trip somewhere,” Bruce told them. “I’m not keeping you as prisoners. You need rest. All of you.”

“We can rest later,” Sam argued. “We don’t have time to just- just sit around and do nothing!”

“Resting isn’t doing nothing,” he said. “It’s making sure you don’t push your body and mind too much so you can work more later.”

“We don’t have time for later.”

“With all due respect, um, Batman, sir,” Tucker began nervously, “Sam and Valerie are right. We have a lot to do. This has already gone on for long enough.”

Underneath the cowl, an eyebrow raised. “And what is ‘this’ exactly?”

The group hesitated.

“There is a secret government organization tormenting a subspecies of humans and metas,” Athanasia explained. “The organization call themselves the Ghost Investigation Ward.”

“Ghosts,” Bruce repeated.

The teens nodded.

Duke ‘huh’ed, as if he was piecing things together in his own head.

“Ghosts?” questioned Jason incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?”

Sam rolled her eyes. “There are literally aliens on this world, a dude with a magical ring, an Amazonian woman, a gene in human DNA that gives some of us powers, heroes apparently die and come back to life on the regular, a bunch of other shit, and you’re seriously questioning ghosts right now?”

“What do you mean by ‘tormenting’?” Bruce asked before Jason could properly respond. “And why?”

“Ghosts, or anything paranormal, aren’t seen as good or friendly beings by them,” Tucker said. His eyes became downcast. “They aren’t even considered beings. Or sentient.”

“The GIW are ghost hunters,” Valerie explained. “And over the past few years, they have taken an interest in our town, Amity Park, because of the extreme amount of paranormal activity and ambient ectoplasm we have. Usually our local ghost vigilante takes care of them, and it’s never been that big of a deal, even though they have always wanted to catch Phantom and do Ancients know what. He’s always been able to stop them before anything got too serious.

“Honestly, we didn’t take them that seriously when we probably should have. We call them the Guys in White, because they’re like a lame, evil, paranormal-obsessed version of the Men in Black. Even though they did have bad intentions, they’ve never been successful. But last October…”

“They aren’t so lame anymore,” Wes muttered.

As Bruce quietly took in and filed away the information he just got, Damian gave them a somewhat judgmental look. “You underestimated them. That can very well lead to a deadly mistake,” he said. He glared at them under the domino mask. “It almost did.”

“We know,” Sam responded, sounding equally frustrated and solemn. “They are a government organization that got bested by a group of fourteen year olds when they first came along. What were we supposed to think? They have been getting better over the years, but so have we. We have always taken necessary precautions and we had plans for potential bad outcomes because Danny was insistent on that. But they stopped coming around for some time. We stupidly believed they’d given up on us. Then the Guys in White finally showed their faces again, and we weren’t as prepared as we should have been.”

“It’s why we need to get back to Amity Park,” Wes said. “They put us under martial law and we need to get in touch with another friend of ours.”

Bruce took in what they said. He still had a bunch of questions alongside new ones that he wanted answers to ASAP. Alfred was right, though; questioning them right now – let alone letting any of them leave to continue on their mission – wasn’t a good idea.

This was a group of eager, stubborn teenagers whose town and best friend were in danger. He understood their urgency to keep going, and he told them as such. “But it will do no good for anyone to run yourselves to the ground. I’m even willing to help and hear the full story of what happened, but not until each of you get some much needed rest. That’s final.”

“But–”

“Batman, you don’t understand–”

“Running on fumes will get you no where,” he spoke firmly and loudly. It was the same tone he used on his kids, both in and out of suits, when they were misbehaving or did something they shouldn’t have. “It might even lead to another almost deadly mistake. You all need to rest. You can either stay in a safe house, or I can get in touch with Athanasia’s father and see if you can go there if that’s what you want.”

“What if we want a hotel?” Sam asked with a glare that hard to tell if it was from anger at him or the migraine she had.

“I won’t let you,” he bluntly admitted. “A government organization is after Danny and you guys by proxy, for reasons I don’t know. It’s either a safe house, or Athanasia’s father’s home that I have personally created a security system for.”

No one responded. A short silence fell over them.

Bruce decided to stand up. “I will let you guys choose. I need to check on my partners out in the field.”

#dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp fic #dc x dp au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc au #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dp x dc #dcxdp #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc crossover #batpham #stay with me my blood #my writing

[p0isonyouth]

Mastermind | Spencer Reid

Spencer Reid didn't want to love again.

After the passing of his late girlfriend, Maeve Donovan, the young genius believed that everyone in his life would eventually leave him.

So he chose not to get attached.

Valeria Bela had no time for love.

Though the young woman grew up in a home full of love and care, she refused to have her feelings get in the way of her work once again.

So she chose to be closed off.

Both Spencer and Valeria had come to terms with their resentment of love, more so what had happened to get them to feel so negatively about it. But, when young Supervisory Special Agent Bela joins the BAU, both soon forget about their rule with strong rivalry and stolen kisses.

A/N - Unfortunately, I do not own Criminal Minds, nor their characters or plots. I do not own dialogue, cases, or episodes, those go to the beautiful minds of the writers (MGG EPISODES !!!!). I also do not own any of the gifs presented in this story. These were picked at random via Pinterest. I do, however, own Valeria Bela as well as any other characters that are not created by the Criminal Minds enterprise. I also own plotlines that are designed by me. Without further ado, welcome to Mastermind!

P.S. - Valeria's face claim is Shay Mitchell. Timothy's is Pedro Pascal. Antonio's is Avan Jogia. And it's up to interpretation whom her mother's is.

Warnings:

Since you are reading a Criminal Minds Fanfic, I'm sure you expect what is to happen in episodes, but just in case you like jumping into a fandom by fanfic, here's some trigger warnings: assault, depression/depressive episodes, gore, kidnapping, murder, sexual assault, sexual innuendos, swearing, torture, violence, etc... ( there are way more, but i'm sure you get the point)

NOTICE ~ CHAPTER ONE

"YOU COMING, ROSSI?" Timothy Bela questioned his partner as he started the engine of a government-owned black SUV. 

They were chasing an unsub that they had been after for weeks, a serial killer who targeted normal families. With all the information gathered, they had determined their suspect to be Stephen Jenkins, a 28-year-old man. The boy was an orphan, always by himself until he went to college, found a job, and married the so-called love of his life. That was until she passed away a couple months later. The man kept to himself, only venturing out of his house every so often. To kill.

Timothy Bela and David Rossi had no doubts that the sadistic man was not working alone due to his elaborate work, but they had to catch him first.

Timothy lived for the thrill of the chase. He loved the adrenaline that spiked in his veins as he was catching an unsub, however, he knew he had to be more careful with his life. Timothy had a wife now, Meredith Bela, and two children, nine-year-old Valeria, and one-year-old Antonio. He was expected to be a role model, a parent, and most importantly, a hero.

The red and blue lights flashed from the top of the black SUV as the duo raced through the streets to catch their unsub. David Rossi's eyes focused on the streets ahead but moved over to his partner and longtime best friend for a brief second. "So, how are the kids, Timothy? Is Valeria still up to her usual trouble?"

"She sees her Uncle Rossi a little too much for her own good." The man said with a small chuckle, turning the wheel to make a hard left turn. "Wants to be just like us when she's older."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Bela." 

The black vehicle stopped in front of an abandoned house, the wooden planks that once blocked the door from being entered were littered on the broken-down porch. "What an idiot," Timothy commented as he took his gun out of his holster, approaching the opened door. Rossi came behind him, making sure that the coast was clear.

The two stepped into the house, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Timothy winced as the sound pierced his ears, venturing deeper into the house with a careful foot. "Don't you come any closer!" A voice said as Rossi and Bela entered into a hallway. The voice was weak, tired, and out of breath. "I said don't you come any closer to me!"

"FBI! Stephen Jenkins, come out slowly, hands up." Rossi yelled gun brandished in front of him.

"I don't want any trouble. Just go away, don't come any closer!" Stephen called out again, his back against the wall. If he peered to the right a little, he could see the eyes of the men in a mirror that hung against the wall. "I have a gun, I'll use it."

"Yeah, so do we, kid." Timothy was confused. This man didn't seem like who they were looking for at all, he didn't seem like he'd hurt a fly. He was done playing the boy's game, hoping to hurry up the delay so he could get home to his family. "You have one last chance to get out here or I'm coming inside."

"I-i can't." 

"Why not?" Rossi asked, getting no reply in return. He motioned for Timothy quietly to go into the room at the looming silence, when suddenly a loud thud hit their ears. The two men raced into the room as the sounds of their team members slamming their car doors echoed outside.

Timothy entered the dusty, dark room first, desperately trying to find a source of light. He walked further into the room, pulling a cord that led to a light bulb in the middle of the room. Slightly turning, he rested his eyes on the body of Stephen Jenkins lying on the floor, shriveled in pain and frankly red as wine. The blonde boy, barely a man, struggled to breathe, his face turning pale as if he had been suddenly drained of all that was keeping him alive. Timothy's stomach dropped, and Rossi made his way to his partner's side to investigate. "Dear god," Rossi sighed, crouching to examine the pale body.

Stephen's body had bloody gashes all over him, carved into his chest like some satanic ritual. The young man looked up at the two men, fear written all over his face. His blue eyes were slightly dilated, his hands trembled, and his body squirmed.

"Stephen, who did this to you?" Timothy said, staring the young man in the eyes. 

"He..." Stephen started before choking on the blood that wound up in his throat. "He just wanted you to notice."

"Wanted who to notice what?" Rossi asked, holding pressure on Stephen's wounds, knowing it was no use.

"He wanted Timothy Bela... to notice." He said, finally succumbing to his injuries. The rest of the department entered the room, examining the scene as Rossi looked up at Timothy with confusion. Timothy's eyes never left the young man, his mind focused on what he was to notice.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ★ ✧꒱ ˎˊ˗

Valeria watched her mother pull out the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies from the oven, the delicious smell immediately hitting her nostrils. Her mouth watered for the sweet treat, getting up from her spot across from her baby brother to her mother who was standing at the counter. "How much longer until we can eat the cookies, mama?" 

Meredith laughed, taking the oven mitts off of her hands. "In a few minutes, mi amor. They must cool down first."

Valeria nodded happily, going back to sit across from her little brother, Antonio. "I can't wait until you are able to eat cookies, Antonio. I think you'll like them!" Baby Antonio gurgled in response to his older sister, slamming his tiny hands on the baby seat tray. The girl grinned, going back to drawing on a piece of paper with her crayons. 

Meredith watched her children from afar with a sad smile, disappointed that her husband was missing out on all the little moments of their children's lives. She didn't regret moving to Quantico, it was a good environment for their family. She just wished that Timothy wasn't so occupied with solving crimes. The sound of loud knocking had taken the woman out of her thoughts, as she made her way to the front door.

As she opened the door, a tall man stood in front of her, a gun pointed at her forehead. Her eyes widened with fear, as she took three steps backward into the living room. It was a rare occasion for Meredith to let her nerves get the best of her, but her mind was blank as her eyes locked on the barrel of the gun. The man followed her inside, a sinister smile appearing on his face. "Meredith Bela, as beautiful as I remember. It's been a long time, don't you remember me?"

Meredith swallowed a sob, remembering that her children were in the next room. A faux smile appeared on her face as she smiled. "I do remember, of course, I do."

The man's smile dropped, a scowl taking its place. "Don't lie to me, darling."

"I-i'm not lying. I do remember you." Her voice waivered, the gun practically resting on her forehead. 

"No need to get defensive, Meredith. I'm just playing." He sneered. "I want to say hello to the kids, let's go to the kitchen." The woman planted her feet, shaking her head frantically.

"Please don't hurt them, take me. Don't hurt them." 

"Let's remember who has the gun and who is begging for their children's lives to be saved. The kitchen. Go!" He yelled, aggressively pulling her into the kitchen. Valeria looked up to see her mother in pain, tears flowing down her cheeks. She tilted her head in confusion, watching as the man bent down to her level. "Hello, Valeria."

"Hello. Do I know you?" She asked, staring into the man's cold, blue eyes. 

"I'm a friend of your father's."

"Daddy's not home, so maybe you should come back later." Valeria shrugged the man off, going back to coloring on her paper. "And you can't have any cookies because they aren't cooled off yet."

The man stood shocked at her manners, gritting his teeth with a fake smile. The girl's face didn't show an ounce of emotion like she didn't question his intentions at all. He was intrigued by the young girl, albeit amused. 

"That's enough, now leave our house." Meredith spat, wrestling her wrist out of the man's grip, grabbing a kitchen knife that lay on the counter. "Get out, now!"

Valeria turned to look at her mother, realizing that the man wasn't a friendly visitor. A chill ran down her spine as the man began to laugh, shaking his head at her mother. "And I thought you were always up for a challenge, Meredith. Truly a shame that we had to do this so quickly." He took out his gun with a sad sigh, resting his finger on the trigger.

And shooting her quickly between the eyes.

The young girl wasn't sure if there was a sound. Valeria felt so lightheaded that she knew it wasn't long before she would pass out. She blinked but couldn't see anything except her mother's cold, dead eyes on the floor.

The man smirked at his work, turning to face the two children. Antonio was bawling at the loud noise, not realizing what had happened, and Valeria stood still with shock and fear. The man approached the crying baby, attempting to coo him. "There, there. She wasn't that special anyways." 

"What are you gonna do?" Valeria croaked out, her mouth dry from tears.

"Excuse me?" 

"What are you gonna do with us?" She questioned.

"You see, I hadn't planned that far ahead." He spoke slowly, walking over to the counter and grabbing a cookie from the rack. He took a bite, chewing with his mouth open. "Cookie?" He offered, sitting back down at the table after getting no reply. "You see, I have to get rid of the evidence that I was here... which means you two have to go. And he'll finally notice me."

Valeria stood, staring at the table, not daring to look into the man's murderous eyes. "Go? Notice you?"

"Go. Die. Exterminate. Croak. There's a lot of ways to say it." He dismissed by waving his hands, grabbing a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket. He put the cigarette to his mouth, lighting the end of it. "It's a shame really, I was starting to like you guys."

"You can't cause a fire with just one cigarette." The girl said, crossing her arms. "You need a reactant of some sort to cause the fire. Which you didn't do."

"Which I did do, actually, little girl. Do you really think that I haven't planned this through? Watch and-" He said, coughing as his cigarette smoke hit his lungs. Valeria raised an eyebrow at the man, rolling her eyes in disbelief. Amid his coughing fit, he dropped the lit cigarette on the table. The tablecloth immediately burst into flames, catching on the man. He screamed out in pain as the flames engulfed him, Valeria rushing to unbuckle her younger brother from his seat.

The man fell backward as the flames got wider, soon covering half of the kitchen. Valeria ran out into the living room with her brother in her grasp, looking for a way to escape. "This is why you don't smoke, Antonio." She said out of nervousness, as the fire captured the wall of the house. 

They were trapped inside.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ★ ✧꒱ ˎˊ˗

Timothy Bela bid Rossi goodbye as he finally finished his paperwork for the case. Though it hadn't gone the way that he wanted it to go, they were closer to solving the murders. As he headed out the door, an agent ran to him, calling his name. "Bela! Bela! Bela!" 

The man turned, eyes finding the panicked state of the agent. "Bernhards? What's going on?"

"Your house! It's all over the news!"

"My house? The man questioned his eyes widening in worry. "Bernhards, what's wrong with my house? Finish your sentence, goddammit!"

"It's on fire...!" The man said, exasperated and out of breath. "Your house is on fire!"

Bela didn't hear the man any longer as he ran to his car, racing down the streets to get to his house. Fear ran in his veins as he thought about his family, wondering if they had made it outside yet. Little did he know, they were still inside. 

By the time Timothy got to his house, news anchors surrounded the lawn. The house was up in flames, immediately consuming everything from the inside. He spotted his neighbors, running over to them and asking multitudes of questions. "Did Meredith and the kids make it out? Has anyone called the fire department? Has anyone gone in yet to check?" The neighbors shook their heads in worry, watching the flames blaze. 

Everyone outside had no idea what to do while they waited for the fire department to get there. Nobody dared to run inside and start saving the family themselves. 

Worry struck the man's features as he started to strip himself of his jacket and tie. One neighbor, Eugenia Miller, a kind lady from across the street, grabbed his arm. "You are not going in there, Timothy." 

"I'm not letting my family burn alive. Every second that fire is getting worse and worse and my children are in there." He broke himself free from her grip, hogging into the house. The flames flew behind him as he kicked down the door, entering the house. 

"Dear god, that man is a maniac," Eugenia muttered, joining the rest of the neighbors. 

Timothy ran into the kitchen, stumbling upon the burnt body of the man, his gun still in his hands. The agent furrowed his eyebrows, looking at where the table once was, before seeing the body of his wife. He choked back a sob, covering his mouth with his hands, pressing the white sleeve of his uniform to his mouth to breathe. "Meredith, amore mio." He whispered, exiting the kitchen after not bearing to see the sight any longer. "Valeria? Valeria, where are you?" He called out, his hope leaving him every second.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✧ ★ ✧꒱ ˎˊ˗

The only thing that Valeria could process during the smoke was the pain she was in. Her broken heart, her ears ringing, and a burn on her right thigh. She held her brother close to her, putting her thin sleeve over his mouth so he could breathe filtered air. She placed a kiss on his forehead, closing her eyes. "We're going to be okay, little brother. I promise. They're coming for us." As she calmed herself down, she visualized firefighters calling out her name, hoping they would reach her on time. 

She was exhausted; her throat burned with every swallow, her muscles ached, and her lungs were starting to sting from the gathering smoke that slowly leaked into the enclosed space that they were trapped in. It didn't help that Antonio started crying once again. With nothing to calm him down with, she closed her eyes tight, praying that someone would save them soon.

"Valeria!" She heard a voice shout from somewhere. "Valeria?"

"In here!" She cried out with all that was left in her. "Help! Please help!" A sob ripped from her throat, joining the cries of her younger brother. 

Timothy appeared, moving rubble out of the doorway as he entered the room. He gazed at the sight of his two children, rushing to hold them in his arms as they cried. "Valeria, Antonio. You're okay, I got you."

"Daddy, mama's dead." Valeria cried into her father's shoulder. "She's gone!"

"I know, baby. I know." He soothed, rubbing her hair. He pulled away from his daughter, noticing the large burn on her leg. "Your leg, Valeria. Can you walk on it?"

"I don't think I can."

He looked behind him at the doorway, watching as small flames began to form at the bottom of it. Cradling Antonio in his left arm, he picked up the young girl with his right. "Hold your breath, Valeria, close your eyes for me." She did what she was told as the agent made his way through the fire, making sure his children were not harmed any further. He met the fire department halfway, sobbing in relief as they made it completely out of the house.

Valeria and Antonio were taken out of his arms as he collapsed to his knees on the front lawn. A paramedic ran to his side, grasping his shoulders. "Sir, you have to calm down. Let us check you out." He cried out, his head touching the cool, wet grass. 

Rossi arrived at the scene, racing toward his best friend. "Timothy, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay." 

"Meredith is dead." Timothy gasped out, looking up at the man. Rossi helped him up, leading him to the back of an ambulance to get checked out. "Valeria and Antonio-"

"They'll be okay," Rossi reassured, nodding to the paramedic as she finished checking on him. "They're together, on their way to the hospital. You're going too."

"I'm done with this, Rossi." Timothy looked back at his friend as he was put into an ambulance to join his children. "I can't do this anymore. This happened because of me. I quit." 

#wattpad #criminal minds #imagines #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencerreid #fluff #mastermind #series #bau #chapter one #writing #author

[iidias]

I CANT STOP GIGGLIBG AND KICKING MY FEET (ps, this is in a modern au + college setting. y/n is still living at home with her overprotective parents)

tw; sacrilege, homophobia

romeo and juliet situation but with yelena and y/n. pleade just hear me pit PLEAS LLEASE PLEASE

y/n who's closeted and religious, with parents who are extremely homophobic. yelena who just recently came out; after your parents found out, they forbid her from ever seeing you again in fear of you turning into 'one of them'.

yet, they don't know, everyday after school when they think youre at bible study, you're really just making out behind the church with your 'best friend'. your hands grab at her hair, pulling her closer as she wrapped an arm around your waist; the other grasping the cross on your necklace.

she pulls away, breathless as she speaks "what would your parents think of this? their perfect little angel making out with a girl behind a house of god." your face flushed from her bold words, yet, you seemed to out of it to respond.

she laughed through her nose and pulled you back towards her, this time grabbing your arms and making you wrap them around her neck. you sat yourself in her lap as she flicked her tongue over your lips, you gladly opened.

your body moved against her, your clothed breasts against hers. you deepened the kiss by biting lightly on her lower lip. in response, she gripped your hip and grinded you up against her, her other hand behind your neck.

you felt intoxicated by her, your eyes drinking her in as much as you could. it seems you could never get enough of her; why would your parentd hide this from you? why would they attempt to take away something so precious? why would they ever try and tear you two apart?

you would never understand their reasonings. just because 'god made man and women for a reason' and 'the lord said so', it wasnt good enough. none of it was. it would never be enough, it would never be enough to tear yourself away from her.

the way her lips moved against yours, so warm and soft, it felt so right, yet so wrong. being raised to love boys, being raised knowing that women should love men and vice versa. yet, you couldnt stick with those rules. not when the most beautiful women you had ever seen was right in front of you, kissing you breathless.

and you wouldnt have it any other way. it wouldnt matter what any of them would have to say, it wouldnt matter what any of them would think or do. what matters is that in this moment, it was only you and her. no one else.

no one nagging at you to be 'normal', no one criticizing you for your 'unnatural' looks in life, no one reprimanding you for your 'sins'.

you felt comfort in her arms, in her touch. the way she woo-ed you, no, it wasn't even that. it was how she drew you in. her beauty, her humor, her intelligence, her way with her words, everything she did seemed to lure you in.

and with welcoming arms, she'd accept you. make you hers. you had no problem with that. even if the world had turned against the two of you, even if they had called you two victims of sin, she wouldnt care. because she still had you.

#loadingscreen #by the way this is extremely self indulgent #i grew up catholic and i was shamed and beat after my family found out i liked girls #yelena attack on titan #aot yelena #yelena aot #yelena x reader snk #yelena x y/n #yelena x reader aot #yelena x reader #yelena x you #snk yelena #aot yelena x reader #snk yelena x reader

[babybatscreationsv2]

Run Rabbit

Marvel | Starker

Peter has bad luck with boyfriends. The kind of bad luck that means his previous two boyfriends have ended up mysteriously dead. At least he has Tony. A stead fast and loving friend who his taking him to his cabin in the woods to get away from it all. So far away from the city, all alone, Peter might finally be able to relax. He really owes Tony for taking such good care of him…

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: kidnapping, noncon, yandere!Tony, referenced/discussed murder, graphic violence, blood play, gun violence, fear kink, sadism, blood as lube

For Aech <3

The air smelled like flowers and freshly churned dirt. It was much too gentle a scent on much too gentle a day for Peter's second funeral in only six months. He knew what everyone thought. That somehow this was his fault. The police had questioned him for hours this time. First Harry, the best friend he'd grown up with who had never given him the time of day as far as romance. At least not until college. Then Quentin, whom he'd only been dating for about a week. He hadn't even really been ready, but Quentin had insisted he would feel better if he moved on and Peter did just want to be happy again.

A warm hand came to rest on his shoulder. "You ready to go, kid?" Tony asked. His voice was gentle and comforting. Too gentle once again. They were the last to leave. Even Quentin's parents were long gone. Peter just couldn't shake the guilt.

"Do you think they're right? Is this my fault somehow?"

"Did you kill him?" Tony asked simply.

Peter flinched. "Of course not!"

"Then don't worry about it." He squeezed his shoulder. Peter turned around and looked at his face. He was such a comfort to have in these moments. Even if none of this affected him. It wasn't his fault he wasn't great at emotional advice. At least he was here.

"Thank you for coming, Tony. I don't think I can do this alone."

The man gave him a small smile. "Anything for you, Peter."

He almost smiled back. "I think I'm ready to go now."

Tony offered his arm and Peter took it, glad for the comfort of physical contact. They walked back to Tony's car parked to the side of the narrow cemetery road. The shiny black metal was at contract in the natural landscape. It seemed cold. Yet those leather seats were warm as Peter sunk down in the passenger seat. He was safe in here. He was always safe with Tony. The man gave his hand a little squeeze before starting the car.

The drive was long and quiet. Tony grabbed a blanket from the back and wrapped him in it when he started to cry. He fell asleep leaning against the door. He woke each time the car stopped. Tony kept trying to feed him at every gas station fast food place, but he just wasn't hungry. And he fell asleep every time the tires touched the highway.

Tony had a cabin up in Maine. The long drive was well worth escaping the city. Getting away from whatever demon had cursed his life. At least here it would be just him and Tony. No boyfriends to get murdered and no murderers to come after him. He was safe here.

Tony made dinner. It was warm savory comfort food. Finally, Peter felt hungry. He couldn't remember the last time he actually ate, but Tony put a plate of chicken and gravy in front of him and he couldn't get enough. He finally felt himself relax. He was safe. Everything was okay now. And Tony was so easy to talk to. It was nice to laugh again.

They ended up sitting on the couch talking by the fire as the sun set.

"I know Quentin wasn't great for me," Peter admitted. "It still hurts that he's gone."

"That's normal," Tony said. "There's someone out there for you though. Someone who makes you happy." Peter looked away from the fire to Tony's face. Tony's eyes seemed to stare into his soul.

"Someone who loves you unconditionally, who makes you laugh. Makes you feel safe. Someone who would do anything for you."

Peter laughed awkwardly at his intensity. "Yeah, wouldn't that be nice."

A hand came to rest on top of his. "I would never allow anyone to hurt you, Peter."

"Thanks-"

"I know what they did to you. How Quentin was pushy even when you were unsure. How Harry didn't give you the time of day until he realized how easily he could have you. They didn't deserve you."

Peter pulled his hand back. "What are you saying?"

"You don't have to worry about boys like that anymore, Pete. I'll take care of you."

"That's really sweet Tony but-"

"But?" He raised his eyebrows. "I did all of this for you, Peter." Peter leaned away from him. What was he saying? Why was he so angry all of a sudden? Then he laughed lightly. "No, it's okay. You don't understand yet, but you will."

Peter looked at the man. Really looked at him. He seemed deranged in a way that made his hair stand on end. A sixth sense told him to run. He wasn't looking at a man, he was looking at a predator.

A hand stroked his hair and he flinched. Tony pretended not to notice. "You're smart. I'm sure you're putting it together. Don't be scared, sweetheart. It's just love. Love can make a man crazy."

"You killed them," Peter breathed.

Tony nodded. "I did. I saved you from them. You don't have to suffer sleeping with lesser men now. I know it was me you always wanted."

"Yeah..." Peter's hands were shaking. What should he do? He couldn't stay here with a murderer, but Tony wasn't going to just let him leave.

Tony smiled. "See, I knew you'd understand."

"Yeah, of course." Tony took his hand away and Peter was grateful when he changed the subject. It was concerning how easily he moved on as if murder were nothing at all. Peter almost thought he imagined the whole conversation. He tried not to let the terror show. He needed to stay calm, find a way out without pissing him off. He bit his lip to hold back the tears, but they came anyway.

"Oh sweetheart, don't cry." Tony reached for him and Peter pulled away. He just came closer until he could wrap his arm around him. His hand stroked his cheek. The concern in his eyes seemed almost real. Maybe it was to him. "You've been through a lot, I know it's scary. Let me help you."

Tony left the couch looking for something. Peter glanced at the door. It was just around the corner of the couch. He could make it if he was quick. He glanced at Tony again. His back was to him. He could make it. He could...

Peter lurched to his feet and ran, but his fingers fumbled on the lock. When he grabbed the handle and pulled the chain snapped tight. Tony grabbed him around the waist and the sharp prick of a needle stung his neck.

"It's okay, Peter," Tony cooed. He dropped the syringe and pet his hair. "It's okay. Sleep tight, Petey."

Dull light from the window woke him as the sun rose. For a moment he was groggy. He rubbed his eyes, sore and raw from crying.

Peter watched Tony's chest rise and fall. He was still asleep. If there was going to be an opportunity, this was it. He moved slowly, dragging himself across the bed in such small increments it felt as if the floor were miles away. When his feet finally touched cold wood, he froze, watching Tony's face. When he gave no sign of waking, Peter slipped out and laid the blanket down carefully in his place.

He tiptoed through the cabin until he found his shoes and jacket. Then he faced the door. Was there an alarm? He didn't see one. He didn't see Tony's car keys anywhere either. His head was scrambling, trying to come up with a plan, but he had no idea where he was. He wouldn't even recognize the roads since he slept the whole way up. He looked at Tony still asleep on the bed. The best thing to do was to get away. Find help. He couldn't just stand there waiting.

He turned the dead bolt. Then he unhooked the chain. He didn't look back to see if Tony woke. If he broke his momentum he'd freeze. He turned the lock on the door knob and opened the door. Then he was out.

Peter closed the door slowly behind them and turned the knob so the latch wouldn't click. He walked carefully down the steps, but once his feet hit the grass he ran.

The morning air was cold enough to sting his face. The low light of the rising sun cast shadows in the trees that heightened his paranoia. He hadn't gotten far when behind him heard a bang.

"Oh, Peter!" Tony called back in the direction of the house. "Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?"

The sound of his voice made him stumble and he realized how much noise he was making. If he could hear Tony, then Tony could probably hear him. He stopped and crouched with his back to a tree. What should he do?

Tony went quiet. He couldn't hear anything. No yelling, no footsteps. He risked a look around the tree trunk and saw nothing. Maybe he'd gone the wrong way. Maybe he thought Peter would follow the road. Too many maybes. There was nothing he could do but run again.

Tree roots threatened to trip him if he didn't look down. Branches smacked him in the face when he didn't look up. This forest was old and dense and unfriendly to someone who didn't know the first thing about nature. He tried not to think about what that meant when he was being chased by someone who spent the fall season using this place for a hunting cabin.

"Run, Peter Rabbit, run!" Tony's voice laughed through the trees.

He was too close. Peter was afraid to look back and see how close. He was younger, more spry, that had to be enough of an advantage right? He could out run him.

Pain stole all thought from his mind. He screamed, vision going white, and fell forward onto the ground. He rolled through the leaves and stopped on his back, holding his thigh. Blood dripped between his fingers.

He tried to examine the wound, but the sight of blood and tissue made his head spin. He dragged himself to his feet, sobbing through the pain, and started running again. Adrenaline pushed the pain to the back of his mind but not for long. He felt cold and tired. He took his jacket off and tied the arms above the wound as tight as he could get it. It wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't. Tony was going to catch him.

He dropped to the ground, but he kept crawling. He won't kill me. He wants me alive. He told himself.

Tony tisked behind him. "Were you even trying to get away? You left quite a trail." Leaves crunched as he came closer. A foot planted on the back of his wounded thigh made him scream. For a moment he thought he might pass out. Maybe it would be better if he did. He couldn't look at him, couldn't pull his head up from the dirt. He didn't know the monster that stood over him.

"Sweetheart," Tony crouched beside him. "You can't get away from me." He ran his fingers gently through his hair only to grab a fistful at the nape of his neck and pull his head to the side. His pupils were so wide that his eyes gleamed. Peter's stomach twisted as he realized the mistake he'd made. It was the chase that thrilled him.

"Let me go." He could taste dirt stuck in his teeth, but that was the least of his problems.

"If I let you go you'll bleed out. Is that what you want? Do you want to die in these woods where no one will ever find your body?"

"You don't want to kill me, Tony. You love me, don't you?"

He smiled sweetly. "You know how much I love you, but if dying cold and alone is what you really want..."

He let go of his hair and his head dropped back to the ground. He barely had the strength to lift it again. "No, please," Peter whimpered. "Help me please, Tony."

A gentle hand stroked his hair. He couldn't see what the man was doing, but he felt him moving. Then something slid over his back like an uncoiling rope. His arms were pulled up over his head.

"What are you doing?"

"I caught a rabbit, didn't I?" Peter struggled as he looped the rope around his wrists, but he was quick and the rope dug into his skin as he pulled. Tony stepped off of him and tied the length around a thin tree. He pulled a knife from his hip and a grin spread across his face. "I have to make sure my rabbit doesn't get away while I skin him."

"What? No!" Peter squirmed, but Tony pinned him with a hand between his shoulders. He felt the knife scrape over his lower back where his shirt had ridden up and he still. "Please- please," he sobbed.

The knife slipped under the fabric of his jeans. Tony pulled up and the cotton split. He ran the knife down to his ankle on one side then cut through the other.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a better look at this leg." Peter couldn't help the pathetic sounds he made as fingers prodded at the wound in his thigh. "You want the good news or the bad news first?"

"What's the bad news?"

"Well actually," Tony laughed. "It's the same either way. You're not gonna bleed out."

"What do you mean?" He couldn't put together what part of that was the bad news and Tony didn't give him a chance to think it over before he told him without saying a word. The cold edge of his knife found the fabric of his briefs and in hardly a second the fabric was torn and his ass was bare.

Peter kicked with his good leg and tried to squirm away, but Tony climbed on top of him, knees hugging his thighs. "Tony stop! Stop, please- don't!"

"Don't start begging just yet, kiddo. You'll get me too excited. I want this to last."

Peter sobbed. He clawed at the ground but he couldn't crawl away and there was no shaking the man off. He was only hurting himself as he grew more fatigued. He felt Tony's cock, hard and hot against his ass. He let his head fall into the dirt, tears making mud on his cheeks.

"Spit or blood?" Tony mused. His hand covered the hole in his thigh and he pushed. Peter screamed, he felt blood gush out into his palm. He was so dizzy and cold now. He didn't react other than to moan in pain as Tony forced his cock inside him.

Tony sighed as he bottomed out. "So perfect for me aren't you?" Peter trembled. He cried into the dirt as Tony moved his hips, slowly, fucking him like they were lovers and his cock wasn't slick with Peter's own blood. It hurt as the blood dried and turned sticky, but Tony didn't stop as he cried harder.

"Please stop," Peter begged. "Please Tony please!"

Tony groaned. "Fuck, keep begging."

Peter bit his lip, disgusted to hear him getting off on his pain, but Tony grabbed him by the hair and growled in his ear. "You want this to be over don't you? Open your slutty fucking mouth and beg me or we'll do this until the sun sets."

"Please! Let me go," Peter sobbed. "Stop please- it hurts!"

"Fuck, that's it." Tony let go of his hair. He pulled his cock from his tortured ass, a hand on his lower back pinned him in place. Tony groaned as he came and Peter shuddered, feeling hot cum splatter on his ass and in the hole in his thigh. "Fuck," he groaned again.

Tony sat panting for a moment. Then he got up and untied Peter's hand. He was too tired and in too much pain to move. He didn't even complain when Tony rolled him onto his back and picked him up.

He carried him back in the direction they had come. "Don't worry, Petey. I'll get you patched up and in a week or two you'll be ready to run again."

#marvel #starker #nff #non/con