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pocket-ozwynn · 1 year

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Offline Valor: Chapter 3

[Borrower!AU]

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Next Chapter: Chapter 4

Word Count: 3874

CW: blood, mentions of death, light adult language

Not two minutes after being called a ‘titan’ and Zelly had nearly fallen on her face. She’d been so caught up in trying to make it out into the hallway, that somehow she’d stumbled over her feet. She choked back a bark of profanity as she clutched the chilled can of Baja Blast and braced herself against the wall. At least she was out of sight from Rowan.

She felt the rising need to scream. This was insane.

She shook her leg until one sandal flew off, then did likewise with the other before hurrying off towards the opposite end of the house. Hopefully that would give her enough privacy to vent some of her anxiety without totally unnerving her diminutive guest. Her feet thumped across the cool hardwood as her mind swam with noncoherent thoughts…

Wonder and worry mingled caustically as Zelly hurried Rowan in. And while she couldn’t deny the quiet marveling she had carrying this finger-tall man in her hands, there was also a certain degree of horror and concern. He felt so frail. His breathing was shallow and his muscles faintly trembled as he spent the last of his energy just staying awake. And when he slipped into unconsciousness and nearly fell out of her hands, she was run through with a fresh spike of anxiety. She couldn’t ignore how delicate this life she held in her hands was—like flickering embers of a dying flame.

She made a mental checklist of what to do: first, she’d need to stop the bleeding; second, she’d need to get his core body temperature down; third, water. Rowan was bound to be dehydrated, so she’d need to make sure to get him a bottle cap full and make sure he sipped.

As she got the kitchen sink going, she noticed something. It was a little thing–literally–but she noticed his hand. The palm was upturned and the fingers were slightly curled…

His hand looked just like hers.

After staring for perhaps a beat too long, she shook herself from her stupor and gingerly laid the Borrower out on the countertop. Carefully pinching the front of Rowan’s shirt between her nails, she ripped it twain with an effortless tug. The sight of a red-slick chest was all too familiar to her as she peeled back the halves. With lips pursed, she tugged the ruined tunic and microfiber cloth-turned-cloak off and set them to the side before gathering him up once more to examine the man closer.

Zelly’s eyes widened slightly as she examined him. Not because of the blood, but rather because of how much more worn and strong his body was than she first thought. Rowan had been covered up before, but now she saw the pale scars marbled into surprisingly lean muscles.

And that burn. Not the sunburn (that thankfully was contained to everything above the neck), but rather the second degree scar tissue that went up from his waist to armpit—it covered a huge chunk of his right side. What had done something like that? If that was on someone her size, that would’ve been an utterly massive injury that would’ve called for immediate hospitalization. But for someone like Rowan, it could’ve been anything she might’ve considered mundane…a grill? A firework? Had it been an accident, or something more cruel? She couldn’t consider the possibilities—she had to focus.

Step one, stop the bleeding. She briefly tested the faucet’s flow before gently bringing his body over so the tap water would flow over him like a cool waterfall. Zelly examined Rowan as she carefully washed him, her eyes scanning every detail of his chest for any signs of injury. And as the light refracted off of the glistening skin as she cradled his body in her fingers, she couldn’t help but wonder what life was going to be like after she turned off the sink.

She found the source of the bleeding after getting him washed off. It was a diagonal cut roughly the size of Rowan’s hand that ran across his breast.

Thankfully, it was largely stitched up with the bleeding only coming from the sternum-ward side. It looked like a few stitches had popped. And while she couldn’t be sure what caused that in the first place (Chu Chu maybe?), her mind was caught up with who did the stitches in the first place. Rowan? Or someone else?

Thankfully the treatment was easy enough. His blood coagulated fairly quickly after she applied pressure on the wound with the tip of a clean kitchen towel for about five minutes. From there she applied some Vaseline, then—with the smallest band-aid she could find, which was still huge in comparison—she wrapped the band-aid as best as she could, then got him settled into a shot glass filled with cool water to get him started.

And yes, the shot glass was a stupid idea. But hey, it worked.

Wood turned to carpet as she reached the living room. She fumbled with the pull tab on her soda as her hands uncharacteristically shook. After a few moments of losing the fight to her Baja Blast, she finally cracked it open on the third anxious lap around her living room. She took a drawn out swig and savored the fizzing lime as she allowed the last ten minutes to sink in.

God, what the actual hell, Zell, she silently lamented. She still felt the imprint of Rowan—the sensation was burned into her memory: a full-grown man breathing shallow, ragged breaths as he lay unconscious in her pal-

“Okay, so tiny men just-” Zelly exhaled through her teeth. She tried violently shaking the feeling from her hand, as if it was covered in fire ants. “-EXIST now? Great, cool, good!!! Nothing insane about THAT, right?!”

With no one to respond to her exasperated query, she took another defeated swig. She silently wished for a stronger drink, but she knew better than to consider that when she was dealing with a patient. She chugged the rest of her drink, set it on the nightstand, then threw herself onto the couch. She buried her palms into her eyes as she just groaned.

Before stepping out of the kitchen, Zelly had left Rowan with a Gatorade cap filled with water. It had been comically large in comparison, but it was clean water that he could drink and that’s what mattered. Food would be next, despite his insistence.

But what came after that?

A familiar, useless feeling percolated at the corners of her heart, and she had to be careful not to let it overwhelm her again. But thinking realistically, she was just some idiot streamer right? What was she going to do to help this weathered warrior, aside from putting a band-aid on his chest and getting him a bowl of ramen?

God, her eyes were just…Opened now, weren’t they? That terrified Zelly. As an EMT she saw a lot of gruesome things that she could never unsee, but she eventually grew desensitized to it. But Rowan and these Borrower (she still had no idea what that meant) had been living right under her nose this whole time…how many were there? Were there other things like fairies that were real too? And all of those scars on his body…were those by accident? Or did someone inflict those upon him?

“You’re spiraling, babe,” Zelly noted quietly to herself as she felt the anxiety rising. She needed something to keep her busy. And while she sorely doubted there was a WikiHow that would help her reconcile her new reality, she still wanted to give it a shot.

So she fished out her phone and frantically typed with it held above her face at arm’s length. First she searched for Borrowers—that’s what Rowan called himself after all, so it seemed appropriate to start there. Nothing came up, though she wasn’t really surprised. She screwed up her lips and tried Little Men next, but only an old-as-dirt book from the 1800’s that apparently was the sequel to Little Women. Interesting! But still useless.

No matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t find anything that matched Rowan’s description. She tried Googling fairies, leprechauns, Pikmin, tiny-little-elf-men…

Nothing.

And while she got close, everything she found missed the mark (though it didn’t help that she would find herself aimlessly scrolling through Instagram without realizing it at times). Her anxiety now mixed with frustration. Surely she couldn’t really be the first person to meet a Borrower before right? The weight of that implication was too much for her to really consider–she never asked for that burden of responsibility.

Zelly racked her brain for more possibilities. She hadn’t tried pixies yet, right? She was three letters in, and a migraine began to blossom right behind her eyes. A string of colorful swears tumbled past tired lips as she stopped typing.

“This is pointless,” she murmured to herself. She kept her phone lifted as she closed her eyes to just try and focus on her breathing. She could hear the distant squawking of a mediocre marching band, the splashing of unseen cannonballs, and the laughter of children amidst the anxious yells of fretting parents.

Why did it have to be her?

Before Zelly could bemoan her fate further, her phone vibrated and slipped through her fingers. It dropped and smacked her square in the face—a nonsensical cocktail of profanity and anatomical slang was her only response after a brief yelp of surprise. She sat up with a humiliated huff before answering the phone.

“S-Sup?” Zelly ran her fingers through her hair and prayed she could keep the nervousness out of her voice. She hadn’t even checked who’d called her anyways…

//Hey babe!// It was Nikol. //Sup? You okay?//

“Yup,” Zelly lied with a smile. She knew she couldn’t be honest with how she was really feeling, but her reality was too insane to admit at the moment, “Toooooooooootally fine. What about you?"

There was a pause. //Oh, cool! I was worried. Are you still comin’? I thought we were grabbing Starbucks?//

Realization hit Zelly like a truck. Nikol was the whole reason she found Rowan in the first place—her silly little “mental illness Starbucks trip.” It was the reason why she was able to save him from the jaws of her neighbor’s cat.

“Oh shit, I-” Zelly gasped. “Dude, I TOTALLY spaced! I’m so sorry!”

She chewed her lip as she entertained the notion of telling Nikol.

On the one hand, Nikol was her best friend—Nikol knew EVERYTHING about Zelly. But on the other hand, she couldn’t violate Rowan’s privacy. That poor man had clearly been through a lot. And while she did trust Nikol to keep a secret, it didn’t feel right to talk about Rowan without his consent.

“Something came up,” Zelly replied as guilt gripped her gut. “S-Sorry baby girl. I hate to bail on you like this, I just…have to take care of something. Rain check?”

//For sure, no worries. Do what you gotta do. Just let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?//

Zelly licked her lips, her heart beat heavily in her throat. “Y-Yeah, for sure. Thanks dude. I’ll, um…I’ll text you when I can, alright?”

//Sounds good. Mwuah.//

Zelly echoed the affection before hanging up. She let the phone drop to the floor before ruffling her hair with a restrained groan.

Now what?

—

Zelly held her breath as she peered around the corner back into the kitchen. There was a 50% chance the guy just bolted while she was away (wouldn’t be the first time), but to her surprise Rowan hadn’t left.

Since she’d been gone, he’d climbed out of the shot glass and hung his boots to dry along the rim of the glass. Meanwhile, the man knelt quietly on the countertop with his head bowed and eyes closed. Unlike Zelly, Rowan was remarkably calm–which was shocking, given how much worse his day had been in comparison. Sunlight poured through the kitchen window and washed over him as he held his microfiber cloak reverently in his hands.

She caught herself staring again.

Zelly tried to keep her approach deft as she crept into the kitchen, lest she startle him. She spied his ruined shirt and a teeny satchel over by the obnoxiously bright orange Gatorade cap she had filled with some water for him to drink while she was away.

The closer she got to him, the more she found herself marveling again. And she wasn’t sure why.

“H-Hey,” Zelly croaked as she finally got within arm’s reach. She jumped as Rowan scooted back with a start, his eyes snapped open with wild surprise—he dropped a hand and went for one of his thumb tack daggers. When he saw it was Zelly however, his demeanor shifted. He took the cloak in his lap and in a single, fluid motion threw it around his shoulders and wrapped it in such a way that it fell like an impromptu poncho to cover his scarred chest.

“S-Sorry!” Zelly took a step back in reply, her hands raised. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“N-No no,” Rowan murmured bashfully. “The apology is mine, I would have covered up had I known you were there. I was just, ah…”

His voice trailed off before he cleared his throat. “Never mind. Forgive me.”

“You’re fine dude,” Zelly chuckled softly. “It’s not like you’re the first guy I’ve seen shirtless, so…”

Rowan didn’t reply. She wasn’t quite sure if he was spacing out or still feeling the fatigue of the heat exhaustion, but he still didn’t look great. When was the last time he ate? Originally she came in ready to learn all about him and his world, but now…that didn’t seem nearly as important.

“How hungry are you?”

Rowan looked up with bleary eyes. “Sorry?”

“How hungry are you?” Zelly repeated with a raised eyebrow.

Rowan looked somewhere between confused and conflicted. After a pregnant moment of hesitation, he shook his head. “‘Twill be alright. I-“

“Yeah that’s bull,” she teased. She realized that might’ve come off a bit harshly, but she didn’t back down—she knew she was right. “Do you have any allergies?”

Rowan looked bewildered. “No, but I-“

That was all she needed. With a nod, Zelly grabbed her phone and pulled up GrubHub. She leaned up against the counter, but kept Rowan visible right in her periphery. “Swag, I’m ordering Greek then.”

“W-What do you...?” Exasperation crept into Rowan’s voice as he moved to stand. He couldn’t even finish his question, he seemed too tired to bother, “But please, Miss Zelly, you do not have to worry about me. If this is too much of a hassle, rest assured I am fi-“

“It’s not a hassle.” She flashed him a smile as she got their order put together: two Deluxe Gyros (one lamb, one falafel. She wasn’t sure if Rowan was a vegetarian or not), some fried pita served with a couple sides of tzatziki sauce, and some sweet potato fries. Most of this stuff would be MASSIVE compared to him, but she hoped it would be a nice spread of some mild food that Rowan could pick at while also making sure he didn’t eat himself sick.

“Besides—” Zelly dropped down slightly so she could be at eye-level with Rowan. He took an instinctual step back, but he didn’t seem overly surprised by the sudden motion. Then, with a dramatic flourish, she hit the order button, “—the order’s been placed, they’ll be on their way!”

“I…do not understand,” Rowan furrowed his brow, looking from her to her phone. Borrowers probably didn’t have phones, huh? Well, that was a question for another time.

“Look dude,” Zelly huffed after noticing his conflicted expression. “I’m starving. And if I’m starving that means you sure as hell are. You can try and be big, tough, macho-man or whatever, but there’ll be plenty for both of us. And I’ll feel a lot better when I know you’ve eaten, okay?”

Rowan seemed to sense that this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. “Thank you, Miss Zelly. I appreciate your generosity. Though I do feel guilty…”

Zelly put a hand up on the counter and grinned. “Well don’t then, that’s stupid. I’m offering you food.”

“You wanted answers, correct?” Rowan asked. “And I promised not to leave before I gave them, but I did not mean to impose and force you to provide food.”

“First of all, I wasn’t forced,” she pointed out. “Second, I mean…yeah. I do have questions. But they can wait.”

Zelly pursed her lips. She could spy the burned tissue peeking out from what his cloak couldn’t cover on his chest.

“You’ve been through a helluva lot,” she breathed, her gaze returning to Rowan’s. “And I want to help—even if it means getting us some takeout. So yeah, don’t worry–I can wait.”

Rowan’s expression was conflicted. There was frustration, but the exhaustion seemed to outweigh it…and even for the briefest of moments, he looked grateful. Zelly smiled.

This she could do.

…

Basil was disgustingly sober.

Were it not for his fast, he would’ve been nursing his brewing frustration with a frothy pint. The day was blistering, and the prospects of good work were few. Clip had gathered some scavenging listings from the Carvers League in town, and the rest of their crew had split off for the afternoon.

Wanting to get out of the sun, the pair ducked into The Lively Priest. And though Basil quietly hoped he could relish in the second-hand revelry of others, he was met with the sleepy, boring atmosphere of a handful of farmers and travelers just looking to grab some shade and water. They’d grabbed a corner table and he’d been forced to settle on iced water while Clip barely touched his ale.

The Freewalker’s mind wandered as he tuned out the insistent rustling of leaflets as his companion did his research. He peered over the scrawny Borrower’s shoulder to see if he couldn’t find a little entertainment. There was a trio of merchants from the Cherrycliffs who had come in not too long ago who were just sitting at the counter silently signing to one another. Closer towards the entrance, the chef spoke with a baby faced courier who wore the colors of House Silver.

But what really caught his attention was the waitress.

She was a beautiful, ageless Faofolk with literal porcelain skin and curves chiseled in all the right places. She glided gracefully, her feet clinked against the wooden floor as she moved. She was a pretty little dancer, and Basil was confident he could get her spinning to his new tune.

The rustling stopped.

“No.”

Basil sneered, his eyes snapping back to Clip. His partner knew what was on his mind, and it made his blood boil. “Do your job.”

Clip sighed as he peeled back from his papers and splayed both hands. “I am–in fact, I believe I found myself doing BOTH of our jobs. Sometimes I feel like I should be in charge of the crew–you barely do jackdreg while I’m the one stuck doin’ all the REAL work.”

Basil picked up his empty plastic mug and tipped it back. The teeny trickle of melted water did little to whet his appetite, so he took up a bit of ice and chewed it.

“Skies yer annoying,” was the best retort the giant of a Borrower could muster. “Just read the damn papers and get us somethin’ GOOD this time.”

“The last job was good,” Clip insisted with a pointed glare. “300 notes got us three meals, yeah?”

“The last job was sifting through bodies,” Basil’s lips curled back with a sneer. He leaned back till his chair groaned beneath him. His skin crawled as he remembered the stench of the dead and picking bloodsoaked pockets. “I want somethin’ with riches–not whatever skuggin’ cud Ash was suckin’ on.”

“Careful for how you speak of the dead,” his companion warned him as he picked up his own mug for a careful sip–the ungrateful man didn’t even seem to enjoy his drink. “Clan Ash was snuffed out violently, I doubt their spirits are at peace…”

Basil ignored the superstitious warning. “Listen, I wanna snag a BIG job this time! I wanna rub shoulders with the ELITE like the Silvers and Blooms–not with the molderin’ dead and mumblin’ priests.”

He swirled around the crushed ice as he mused. “How ‘bout a job with arcana? Courtiers pay good for that junk, right?”

His companion’s expression turned grave. Clip took a longer sip on his spirits this time, “Nothing good ever comes from titanis arcana, boss–and you know it.”

Clip shot a careful glance at Basil’s empty mug of ice. “‘Sides, don’t your people have taboos on even touching it?”

Basil’s blood boiled as his stomach growled. He slammed the mug down–a faint crack spidered up the side. It caused enough noise to prompt the Faofolk waitress to jump and shoot him a glare. Despite his infatuation prior, the Freewalker now had little care for the brittle woman at the moment–Clip had poked the hornet’s nest.

“Like I care what the ‘Walkers think,” he spat. “Who cares about skuggin’ taboos when you could eat? Tell me bud, when was the last time you ate? Not crust, not rat–but ate REAL food?”

Clip hesitated.

“Exactly,” Basil replied with a huff, his syllables coated with crushed ice. “Harvests ain’t yieldin’ what the use’ta, and the Crown’s taxes are drainin’ us dry. …I say we go big. Just cuz arcana is a bitter dreg for some, don’t mean it hasta be for hardworkin’ guys like us–know what I’m sayin’? So how ‘bout we get on that cricket first, and snag a big payout while we can?”

The seconds ticked. Eventually, Clip sighed. “Well…there is one job we could try…” A crooked grin split across Basil’s face.

“Adda boy,” the Freewalker rumbled.

Clip carefully rummaged through the pile before drawing out a surprisingly clean piece of paper. He gave it a once over before pushing it towards Basil with his fingertips. It had pretty, useless filigree along the edges and a picture which Clip tapped.

It was an unremarkable piece of arcana: a thin, boring rectangle. And while the diagram indicated it had a sheath that could slide back to reveal yet another, smaller square hidden inside, he sneered at how shockingly simple Titans could be.

“‘S’all?” Basil demanded. “What the Sky’s shite is that suppose’ta be?”

“The Faofolk call it a Youesbee,” Clip shrugged. “Dunno much beyond that…only that some newly wedded noble wants one, and he is willin’ to pay a queen’s coffer for it.”

“How much we talkin’?” Basil huffed. “I know of some pretty poor queens…”

“Fifteen hundred notes.”

Basil balked. “Bullscrap.”

Clip shook his head. “Like I said…queen’s coffer. Dunno what is so important ‘bout it—but he wants one. Now the trick is finding one… ’s’not something you would find just anywhere.”

Basil tapped his finger against the mug. His mind swam with ideas of where to look, but one particularly colorful and bright domain stood out. He’d seen plenty of arcana there before…

“I think I know a place,” he smirked. “Get hungry, bud–we’re eatin’ good tonight.

#g/t #giant/tiny #sfw g/t #g/t writing #sfw g/t writing #wholesome giantess #gentle giantess #The Borrowers #Borrowers!AU #Borrower x Streamer #Offline Valor #ogtoc Rowan #ogtoc Zelly #HA I don't care if it's midnight imma post this NOW #this is still on a technical hiatus #but the creative juices were flowing enough that we got to this point<3 #also we HAD to introduce The Goons eventually #so meet Basil and Clip<3 #wonder what this Youesbee thing is huh

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lovelyhan · 1 year

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— underlying pretense ⟢

pairing: wonwoo x reader

summary: being two of the most popular streamers across the board, your subscribers often speculate if your constant bickering with wonwoo has some underlying pretense. little did they know, the two of you have everything on display on a single, unsuspecting twitter account.

word count: 10.3k words

tags: fuck buddies, not quite enemies to lovers but it's the thought that counts, streamer!wonwoo, streamer!reader, attempt at humor, smut

warnings: wonwoo n reader run a shared porn account bc they're filthy like that, alcohol consumption, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: thank you sm for giving the teaser some love! this was just supposed to be pwp filth but...it grew itself a plot :| it also has some valorant jargon here and there but i'll come clean and say i've never played a second of that game my entire life LMAO

this is part of the game over series!

smut tags: sex tapes, unprotected sex, degradation, daddy kink, hard dom wonwoo, choking, overstimulation, aftercare

additional notes for the chat names!

texts: 🐈‍⬛ (ww), 🐈 (reader) discord: W0nwoo (ww), Koyahngi (reader) twitch: everyone_woo (ww), Koyahngi (reader)

taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @seoksoop - @hanieb - @dreamhannies - @renjunphile - @thvhannie - @sysymei

Wonwoo doesn’t make it a habit to watch your streams for two reasons.

The first is because you’re one of his tightest competitors in the streamer market. Giving you even a single view means that he’s contributing to your rise in popularity, which is very much detrimental to both Wonwoo’s pride and his career.

Not that someone who only plays boring, open-world games can easily dethrone one of the most renowned competitive players on the platform, but he learned the hard way to never underestimate the charms of a cute girl who knows her way around both technology and the wallets of her subscribers.

The second reason is…somewhat related to the first.

They’re all hanging out in Seungcheol’s apartment when Vernon opens up a Twitch stream to watch. Wonwoo is in the middle of a petty but intense Fruit Ninja competition with Mingyu on their phones, so he doesn’t get to see which streamer he’s watching. Vernon is the type that likes to give newbies a chance, though, so at that moment, Wonwoo couldn’t really care less.

But when he hears a familiar, high-pitched voice dish out her opening tagline for every stream, even Mingyu notices the way Wonwoo's face scrunches up with distaste.

“Can’t believe you pulled a Koyahngi and Chill while Wonwoo’s in the same room,” Seungcheol laughs when he returns with some beer. “We all know he’s allergic to the sound of her voice.”

“Hey, I think it’s cute,” Vernon says. “Her outfit is, too. Look.”

Wonwoo, still stewing in his annoyance, doesn't move an inch, while Mingyu scoots closer—glancing over Vernon’s shoulder before letting out a wolf whistle.

“I really don’t see the benefit to playing Stardew Valley in maid-cat girl fusion cosplay, but at least she’s still in theme—oh, shit.”

Seungcheol looks at him once he settles himself on the sofa as well. “What’s wrong?”

“My phone died while I was in the middle of a game,” Mingyu whines. “Wonwoo-hyung, lemme borrow yours. We still haven’t decided who’s buying takeout tonight.”

While Wonwoo would’ve normally responded by scoffing at Mingyu to just borrow a charger from Seungcheol, he completely ignores him—stern eyes glued to his phone as he types away at rapid speed. The moment he hits send, Wonwoo hears a soft chime ring over Koyahngi’s lo-fi background music.

You pause for a moment from whatever introductory segment you have planned and tell your viewers you’re just going to answer a text. Wonwoo’s friends are none the wiser when he receives a reply the moment you put your phone back down and interact with the chat.

🐈‍⬛: What did I say about wearing that outfit?

🐈: hmm, can’t remember :P

Fucking brat.

“Hyung?” Mingyu calls out after emerging from Seungcheol’s room—presumably to hunt for a charger—when he spots Wonwoo already halfway to the door. “Where are you going?”

“Friend’s having set-up problems. He texted me asking if I could come over and take a look,” he reasons calmly as he slips his shoes back on. “I’ll head back here once I’m done.”

Seungcheol pouts at him. “You better! Mingyu over here told us you’ve been busy with some girl, that’s why you couldn't hang out with the boys anymore.”

Vernon glances behind him to shoot Wonwoo an incredulous stare. “Wonwoo-hyung? With a girl? You’re not just making stuff up, right?”

Mingyu immediately springs into action, blabbering something about how Wonwoo isn’t the heartless prude people thought he was, but Wonwoo really doesn’t give two shits about how his friends perceived his sex life. In fact, he was more interested in what’s playing on the screen of Vernon’s iPad—the view now unobstructed because the youngest has deigned to move away.

Again, the second reason why Wonwoo doesn’t watch your streams is related to the first.

You’re literally his tightest competitor, but when he sees you all dolled up in your stupid fucking catgirl outfits, he’s suddenly no different from the degenerates vying for your attention in the chat.

And there is nothing else that Wonwoo hates more than being thrown off his game like that.

Funnily enough, he’s reminded of the very thing that started this constant back-and-forth he’s been toeing around with you for a better part of the year when he slips into the driver’s seat of his car. Just before he can drop his phone into one of the cup holders on the middle console, a Twitter notification lights up on screen.

Wonwoo would’ve thought it was from the account dedicated to interacting with his viewers outside of streams. He’s got a decent number of followers there after all. Except the notifications for his official Twitter account have long been muted because of the massive online traction his tweets gain everyday.

No, this one’s from another account entirely.

He feels no shame, opening up the most recent video you put up. What he does feel is a sick sort of pride at the sheer amount of engagement that the video received overnight—those faceless Twitter accounts in the replies looking for other desperate fucks to recreate it with.

This is one of Wonwoo’s favorites. Part of the select few that he actually deigned to keep hidden in the gallery of his phone for…future use. He can barely contain his own heady arousal as he watches the same clip he took with his own camera the previous night.

Those desperate little noises you made. The way your body writhed while getting a good dicking down. And how you were so fucking eager to slide Wonwoo’s cock back inside your cunt after having him cum all over your tits.

Seeing you wearing the same goddamn fishnet bodysuit beneath your stupid maid costume on the stream not only made him pop a hard-on in the middle of boys’ night, but also called for drastic interventions, so to speak.

🐈‍⬛: Finish up that stream asap. I’ll be there in 20.

🐈: fuck you, i just started 5 minutes ago

🐈‍⬛: You know I don’t like it when you talk back, right?

🐈: fine

🐈‍⬛: What?

🐈: …yes, daddy

🐈‍⬛: That’s what I thought.

It all began during a relatively harmless Discord call between their circle friends.

Hanging out with other streamers isn’t such a foreign concept to Wonwoo. If you live in the same apartment as renowned social butterfly Kim Mingyu, you’re bound to get roped into his goings-on anyway, so Wonwoo relents every time—telling himself there’s no harm in meeting a bunch of new people, as long as they aren’t shitty teammates in-game.

Tonight, though, it’s Vernon who brings a new face to their server, and their Discord tag is something that Wonwoo recognizes almost immediately.

“Hey,” says one Koyahngi#0000, sounding a lot different than Wonwoo remembers. “It’s nice to meet you guys. Vernon said I could come hang out.”

The others in the voice call greet you with varying degrees of enthusiasm—from Jihoon’s mirrored but relaxed ‘hey’, to Soonyoung’s immediate invitation to team up with him on a new FPS game they’re trying out for the night.

As if having the same train of thought as Wonwoo, someone immediately pings him from the private server he shares with Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Vernon—one that Mingyu pathetically named as GAM3 BO1s. Wonwoo is quick to click on it more to eliminate the annoying red ping notification than anything else.

Min6yu: hey isn’t she the new streamer who always gets on wonu-hyung’s nerves

Min6yu: bc her voice is always so…squeaky

Min6yu: @W0nwoo

5coups: hasn’t it occurred to u that maybe that’s just part of the online persona

5coups: i think the reason why wonwoo is annoyed is bc she’s stealing his brand

5coups: you know, as the government-assigned twitch cat

V3rnon: you guys aren’t seriously talking about the person i invited in a server i’m also a part of, right…

5coups: gotta live with it, vern. you know gyu is the town gossip

W0nwoo: can we talk about this later?

W0nwoo: i can’t be the only one hearing soonyoung wailing in the call because we’re taking too long to form teams

The first few rounds progress exactly as Wonwoo envisioned them to be—with you being a constant dead weight to Soonyoung’s team, as Wonwoo’s comes out victorious each time. But it seems that the only person remotely miffed by your presence is Wonwoo, as everyone else in the call would resort to saying things like, that’s alright, you’ll get better with practice or come hang out with us more often so you can get used to it!

Wonwoo isn’t a fan of the latter, but if the tides of favor are pitted against him, twelve to one, he can’t just overrule the majority like that.

Of course, he doesn’t have a personal vendetta against newbies. That’s where everyone starts. Back in high school, Wonwoo used to be so bad at aiming his shots in FPS that Mingyu wouldn’t talk to him for an entire day because Wonwoo inadvertently embarrassed him in front of some girl he was trying to get with at the time.

But there’s just…something about you that ticks him off.

You aren’t even using that pick-me-girl voice you typically do on your streams whenever you’re in a voice call with them, but it’s like you’re playing badly on purpose just so his friends could coo and coddle you. Wonwoo seems to be the only one who can see straight through the farce, and he doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it.

Or maybe he shouldn’t have to deal with it. He can just suck it up whenever one of his friends invites you to play games or fuck around in a Discord call. It’s not like anyone’s holding Wonwoo at gunpoint to interact with you.

Except one day, Jeonghan thought it would be a wonderful idea to have a quote-unquote friendly Valorant competition on-stream.

Wonwoo isn’t as opposed to it at first. These little contests have always been a constant since they all started gaming years and years ago. Chan, Minghao, and Jun left the call a bit early for some prior commitments, which means the opposing team would be Jeonghan, Joshua, Woozi, Seokmin, and Seungkwan. Should be easy enough.

But just when Wonwoo thought he’d be playing with his usual Valorant team consisting of Seungcheol, Mingyu, Vernon, and Soonyoung, he’s presented with a bit of a surprise.

“What?” Wonwoo blurts out of instinct once the news that you’re going to be replacing Soonyoung for today’s stream reaches his ears. “What’s wrong with Soonyoung?”

Jeonghan tuts at him in the call. “Now, Wonwoo-ah. Weren’t you the one who suggested switching things up every now and again? You’re the only one who seems miffed at the idea of getting to play alongside our new friend over here.”

“Yeah, and there’s a new banner coming out tonight in this gacha game I’m playing,” Soonyoung quips. “I’ve been sponsored with a fuck ton of cash to use on summons, so I gotta do the rolls live. Actually, I’m gonna head out now. Good luck!”

The moment Soonyoung leaves the call, you’re all-too quick to jump into the spotlight.

“Don’t worry, Wonwoo, I’ll try not to drag you down too much,” you tell him, and Wonwoo startles at the sound of your voice speaking to him directly. “You might have to carry me a little, though~”

He doesn’t like the idea of letting you have the last word, but Wonwoo would rather not antagonize you right before a joint stream with his buddies. Even if you seem to thrive off pushing his buttons whether knowingly or unknowingly, he has enough tact to keep things civil, especially in the middle of a voice call.

At least, that’s the plan until all of you are several rounds into the first game.

“Do you have some sort of grudge against me?” Wonwoo mutters into his mic as his agent dies for the nth time on stream, while you—having played Sage since the beginning—stand over him without doing a single thing. “You haven’t tried to resurrect me even once.”

The jeering laughter of his other friends on the call inadvertently pisses him off, but the sound of you simpering is what makes his blood pressure rise into dangerous levels. “Oh? Sorry, I kind of forgot how Sage’s abilities work. My bad!”

“This is our twentieth round,” he reminds you, eye twitching with annoyance. “And you literally just resurrected Cheol, like, a minute ago.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to waste her ult on scrubs who can’t dodge headshots,” Mingyu snorts and Wonwoo has to keep himself from getting up from his chair just to give his best friend in the other room a knuckle sandwich. “I dunno if Wonwoo-hyung’s just terrible today or if Seungkwan actually got better at using sniper guns, but this is the most fun we’ve had in a while.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole,” Wonwoo grunts.

He can hear Seungkwan laugh as well. “It’s a compliment, but that somehow still feels like an insult—whoa! Shua-hyung, Vernon’s planting a spike in—”

Before Seungkwan can even finish the sentence, his agent is swiftly annihilated by yours from behind—making quick work of Joshua, who was hiding behind a cargo holder while you’re at it, too. Wonwoo can hear Jihoon belting out a string of very colorful language that Jeonghan might have to edit out once he cross-posts the stream on YouTube. But with all agents from their team having been eliminated, the twentieth round inevitably goes to Wonwoo’s team.

Normally, Wonwoo would’ve been glad to celebrate his team’s victory, even if he was hard-carried for an entire round because of some careless choices early on. But the fact that his best friends are all-too enthusiastic with that last play you made did his peace of mind no favors.

“See, we told you you’d get better with practice,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo would honestly like to digress.

You’ve never been bad at FPS. That’s just what you wanted everyone to think, so the moment you finally made groundbreaking plays, all attention would magnetize solely on you. Not that he’s been much of a glutton for the spotlight, though. Wonwoo simply despises people with hidden agendas, no matter how harmless, and the fact that he’s the only one who realizes this makes it even worse.

It doesn’t help that he has a hunch that whatever blatant dislike he has for you, is very much reciprocated on your end.

Your friends assumed the constant bickering you had with Wonwoo during these streams is nothing but good-natured banter at the end of the day.

However, Wonwoo knows much, much better that this is more than just to boost the viewer engagement because of how entertaining it is to watch the two of you argue about the smallest things. (Typical ‘everyone_woo and Koyahngi catfight’, as Soonyoung horrifically dubbed it.)

There has to be something he can do to make you see yourself out of their circle as soon as possible. Pretending you don’t exist just won’t work anymore because: 1.) Wonwoo is very, very easy to get a rise out of and; 2.) You always seem to go out of your way just to fuck with him every chance you get.

He needs to get rid of you, stat.

Don’t misunderstand, though. Jeon Wonwoo isn’t some sort of vengeful person who makes it his life’s goal to break you off from their circle entirely. It’s not like he’s actively looking for some dirt on you so he could finally make his idiot friends see the light about your real personality. He kind of just hopes that karma would do its thing without requiring Wonwoo to lift a single finger.

Eventually, that does sort of happen. Just not in the way he ever would’ve expected.

Wonwoo isn’t particularly fond of using Twitter. Aside from the fact that he doesn’t have much to say for his followers to see, the things that appear on his timeline can be a bit…questionable.

From threads justifying that everyone_woo and min6yu_k have been dating since middle school, here’s why to the blatant Twitter porn that his other, more degenerate streamer friends keep bringing onto his feed with their likes—Wonwoo is yet to have a pleasant experience with the stupid app. He mostly just uses it to post stream schedules ahead of time, and thank the occasional follower when they make nice cat-themed merch for Wonwoo to see.

Wonwoo doesn’t know what compelled him to scroll through the dumpster fire that is his Twitter timeline on this specific day, at this specific hour. When he has nothing better to do, he usually just channels the boredom into working out.

But today is more of a lazy day, and Wonwoo wants nothing more than to lounge on his gaming chair while waiting for something interesting to pop up. Why he’s expecting such a thing on Twitter is beyond him, but he’s already here anyways, right?

About five minutes through his infinite scrolling, it finally pops up.

It’s another porn video liked by this guy he collaborated with for a Twitch event once—a rather…promiscuous person named Johnny. Now that he thinks about it, Johnny seems to be the main source of all the NSFW content popping up in Wonwoo’s feed, and he considers soft blocking him for a due timeline cleanse altogether.

But when Wonwoo finally reads the caption attached to the video…

🔞 • @_asd624915 pov: you’re fucking k0y4hng1 from behind 🤤

He scoffs the moment he finishes reading it, attempting to just block both the person who posted the video and Johnny at the same time. But what catches Wonwoo’s eye is the red neon setting of the scandalous clip.

Wonwoo doesn’t have to watch your streams to be familiar with the trademark neon red lights you had set up inside your gaming room. The streamer portrait at the bottom corner of your screen always contrasted with the games you played, and it was sort of an eyesore sometimes.

As the degen who tweeted it described, the girl in the video is being railed from behind while her partner films the entire thing with his phone. Wonwoo couldn’t make out any other details because of the stark, neon red lighting, as well as the shitty 480p quality, so he figures that person just wants to project his sick fantasies about you on some amateur sex tape.

Thinking about why Johnny would even like this sort of thing gives Wonwoo a headache, so he just quits the application altogether—deciding to finally drag his ass back to the gym so he can just let it pass.

It’s none of his business anyway.

Except it happens again a few days later.

The gaming community isn’t completely full of people with questionable tastes. There are still streamers like Saerom that Wonwoo would actually consider a friend outside of his usual circle. She used to be more popular back when battle royale games were still a hit, but Saerom has since lied low in the gaming scene, and only goes live on Twitch at least once every three months.

So Wonwoo finds it a bit surprising to see her in the chat for tonight’s stream.

His newer viewers don’t seem to know her, but some of the veterans on his channel all greet Saerom happily—spamming the chat with the cutest emojis available on stream. He thanks them for their discretion, as he can’t quite scroll back to read her first message. The chat is moving a little too fast, and things are getting a little too heated in the Valorant Icebox map.

Wonwoo isn’t quite used to queueing solo anymore, so after carrying the rest of his team for thirteen rounds straight, he decides to cut the stream earlier than he usually would. He says goodbye to the viewers, not forgetting to give Saerom a quick special mention before ending the live.

However, just when he’s about to shut off his computer, he gets a Whisper notification.

SAEROM: hey, you’re friends with koyahngi, right?

everyone_woo: Uh. Sort of. Why?

SAEROM: oh um

SAEROM: i’m sorry if this seems a bit odd…but i’m just concerned about her.

Saerom’s response makes him arch an eyebrow.

Did something happen to you? And is it so bad that a semi-retired Twitch streamer is reaching out to him just to check in on you?

everyone_woo: Is something the matter?

everyone_woo: I haven’t really hung out with them in a while, so I wouldn’t know

SAEROM: oh, i see

SAEROM: it’s just that…there are some weirdos on reddit saying they discovered her sex tapes

SAEROM: i had something similar happen to me in the past even if it's complete bs, so i’m just looking out for her, yknow?

SAEROM: their reasoning is so stupid too! just because the girl in the video has red mood lights, doesn’t mean it’s koyahngi, right?

Huh. She must be talking about the same video that Johnny unknowingly put on Wonwoo’s timeline a few days ago. He hasn’t really been paying attention to social media platforms that aren’t Twitch and YouTube, so he wasn’t aware that those clips managed to gain some traction in the degen community after all.

everyone_woo: You know how fans and viewers can be sometimes.

everyone_woo: That’s the reason you laid back for a while, right?

SAEROM: well, yeah but just bc it’s a normal thing, doesn’t mean i have to just sit back and watch it happen again to other people

SAEROM: sigh sorry i’m rambling. all of this just doesn’t sit right w me, and you’re the only friend of hers that i’m still in touch with

SAEROM: you must think it’s weird for me to be fussing abt someone i’ve never spoken to before lol

Wonwoo feels quite the opposite, actually. It’s kind of relieving to know that there are still people like Saerom in this world—caring enough to be frustrated on your behalf even if the two of you have never interacted.

everyone_woo: Would it make you feel better if I talked to her about it?

SAEROM: omg? you’d really do that?!

SAEROM: seoyeon was completely wrong abt you, you're not a cold-hearted guy at all!

everyone_woo: …So is that a yes or?

SAEROM: ok first of all, i’m not sure if that’s necessary ‘cause idek if she knows me

SAEROM: you don’t have to Talk to her about it, but at least look after her for me?

everyone_woo: Ok. I’ll try.

SAEROM: thank you, you’re the best!

It’s only when he’s halfway through his evening shower that what Wonwoo just offered to do for Saerom finally dawns on him. The moment the realization hits, Wonwoo closes his eyes and let the steady spray from the showerhead prickle his face—breathing deeply through his mouth before...

“Fuck!”

Mingyu asks what the commotion was about when Wonwoo joins him at their two-seater dinner table. He probably heard him not-so gracefully lose it inside the bathroom, but Wonwoo is too pissed at himself to entertain Mingyu’s question, and thankfully, his roommate is sensible enough not to pry.

“Gyu, can I ask something?”

Wonwoo asks this in the middle of cleaning up after dinner. He’s in charge of doing the dishes, since Mingyu was charitable enough to cook dinner for both of them tonight. Mingyu glances at him from the couch, pausing the RPG he fed into the PS5. “Yeah?”

“If you have something important to tell a girl, where would you do it?”

Honestly, Wonwoo thought it would be alright to check up on you through a quick message on Discord. But the nature of your supposed…problem is a bit too sensitive to bring up in a casual conversation. He figures that talking to you in person would be more appropriate. Never mind the fact that every other instance Wonwoo has met you in real life consisted of him completely avoiding you.

The sound of the water running is the only thing that can be heard throughout their apartment as Mingyu processes Wonwoo’s question with an unreadable look. It’s the first time he’s seen his roommate look so serious about something, so Wonwoo decides to give him some time to answer while he scrubs off some particularly tough fond sticking to the frying pan.

In reality, Mingyu actually had a last-minute meltdown in his head the moment Wonwoo asked the question. His roommate and best friend for more than ten years never expressed feelings or interest in other people. So the fact that Wonwoo is coming up to him now, asking about where to confess his feelings is kind of a big deal.

(Okay, that’s definitely not what Wonwoo asked, but it might as well be, right?)

So to speak, Mingyu is trying to handle the situation as delicately as possible. He just knows the moment he lets even the tiniest laugh slip, Wonwoo would just scowl at him and drop the matter entirely. Which Mingyu does not want to happen, because surprise, surprise. He’s actually rooting for his normally stoic roommate!

“Hmm, I think the new samgyeopsal joint downtown serves some mad bulgogi,” Mingyu suggests because barbecue is always a safe choice. Unless the girl Wonwoo’s trying to get with is a vegetarian, but that’s out of the scope of Mingyu’s concern right now.

Wonwoo scrunches his brows together. “Samgyeopsal? Do I really have to eat with her?”

His roommate looks at him like that’s a pivotal piece of information that everyone is aware of. Everyone but Wonwoo, it seems.

“Duh! It’s to set the mood and stuff,” Mingyu says, and Wonwoo is starting to wonder if they’re talking about the same thing. “Anyway, it’s better to invite her out for dinner. Nothing beats grilling meat and sharing a beer after a long day, am I right?”

Mingyu isn’t exactly wrong about that.

Every time they all went out for samgyeopsal and a few drinks, the atmosphere has always been oddly comfortable. He might not like you as a person all that much, but Wonwoo would want you to be comfortable before he asks about…the thing.

“Fine,” Wonwoo relents just as he’s finished putting the last plate on the drying rack. “Thanks for the input.”

When Wonwoo slowly pads back to his room, he wonders again if he should really exert this much effort for someone he doesn’t even get along with. Sure, he told Saerom that he’d check up on you, but…she insisted that he didn’t necessarily have to talk to you, right?

All of a sudden, Mingyu starts clapping all the way in the living room—effectively startling Wonwoo from his quiet contemplation.

“You can do it, hyung,” he says with an earnest smile. “I believe in you!”

Wonwoo simply shoots him a bizarre stare before slamming the door behind him, muttering about how strange Kim Mingyu could be sometimes.

W0nwoo: Hey. Are you free tomorrow evening?

Koyahngi: …did you send that to the wrong person or

W0nwoo: No?

Koyahngi: who are you and what did you to do wonwoo

Koyahngi: the Real wonwoo would rather throw an entire match than ask me if i’m free tomorrow evening

Koyahngi: you better start fessing up or i’ll tell mingyu

W0nwoo: Can you stop being weird about it? I just need to tell you something important.

Koyahngi: oh? professing your undying love for me already?

W0nwoo: Just answer the question.

Koyahngi: oooh you like ordering people around huh? but yeah i should be free after my stream.

Koyahngi: where are we going, lover boy?

W0nwoo: New samgyeopsal place downtown. Gyu said you already went with them once.

Koyahngi: okay, sounds like a date to me.

W0nwoo: Whatever. Just don’t be late.

Of course, you make it a point to arrive twenty minutes late.

Wonwoo is already in the middle of grilling the restaurant’s famed bulgogi when you slide yourself into the seat adjacent to his, grinning so sweetly at him, Wonwoo almost rolls his eyes.

You aren’t dressed the way you usually are in streams and conventions, having settled with a worn out sweatshirt and a pair of leggings. It’s a far cry from all those complex catgirl outfits that Wonwoo has no idea how you have the patience to put together every stream. The switch up throws him off a bit, but he doesn’t comment on it—content with grilling his meat in silence as you flag down a waiter to get your order in.

“So,” you start, lacing your fingers together, “what does the elusive everyone_woo want from little old me?”

He forgot that if you’re annoying in their damn voice calls, you’re ten times worse when you’re actually in front of him. Wonwoo breathes in the fumes from the grill, willing the succulent aroma of grilling meat to calm him down before he responds.

“You should eat first,” he insists, popping a piece of beef into his mouth. “You might lose your appetite if we talk about it right away.”

You snort. “You make it sound like you know a deep dark secret that can potentially ruin my life.”

…In a way, he does, yeah.

Wonwoo assumed that eating outside without the company of your mutual friends would make the entire ordeal awkward as hell. He’s used to bearing the brunt of uncomfortable silences, but it’s just like you’re built to never feel cumbersome in your life—easily carrying the conversation with someone you supposedly hate, and hates you right back.

You’re not someone who just talks and talks without discretion either. You know perfectly well when to fill the silence and when to let that silence set. Given that majority of his interactions with you involved his twelve other friends, that’s not something Wonwoo would’ve noticed about you right away.

Fine. Maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought.

“Oh, right. Do you remember Saerom? The famous battle royale player from a while back?” you suddenly ask, and Wonwoo nearly chokes on his beer. “She popped into my stream earlier. It was fucking crazy! I’ve looked up to her since I was still in college, and then I see her leaving little hearts in the chat.”

As Wonwoo attempts to compose himself, he feels slightly reassured by the thought of Saerom easing herself into your orbit. The fact that you consider her as some sort of idol might just be a bonus, too. He wonders if he still needs to carry out what he’s supposed to do tonight, but then again, he’s already here.

And he’d be lying if he isn’t the tiniest bit concerned about your PR once that Reddit fiasco starts spreading around.

That evening, he learns that you’re somewhat of a lightweight. Just two beers in, and your face is already red, and you’re laughing way too much in between sentences. Wonwoo has a sinking suspicion that he won’t be able to get his main agenda over with tonight.

He takes it upon himself to help you into the passenger seat of his car, trying to keep your grappling hands off him as you whine about how this is the only opportunity that you’ll get to be in close proximity to Wonwoo before you go back to hating each other again in the morning. Wonwoo can only sigh in complete defeat—wondering why he ever thought doing Saerom this tedious favor was worth it in the first place.

Thankfully, you’re coherent enough to tell him your address, and much to Wonwoo’s chagrin, you live on the other side of the district. It makes him ponder about why you accepted his invitation if the restaurant was completely out of the way, but then again you’ve always been a little eccentric.

“We’re here,” he says, nudging your knee once he pulls up in front of your apartment complex. “Can you climb up the stairs or am I going to have to be your human crutch again?”

Blinking out the sleepiness swimming in your eyes, you manage to beam at him with a smile that makes your eyes crinkle.

“Your duty is not over~”

You did not just fucking quote Sage in your drunken stupor.

There are only two things that pisses off Wonwoo these days. The first is Mingyu’s penchant for leaving his dirty clothes in the bathroom after a shower. The second is every single thing about you, which is un-fucking-fortunate for him because he’s forced to play Good Samaritan while you repeatedly wail, “Even death cannot stop me,” and every single one of your favorite agent’s in-game voice lines for no one but him to hear.

Wonwoo distantly wonders, if those weirdos on Twitter and Reddit saw you now, would they still think about you the same way?

When he’s finally in front of your door, you fumble a bit for your keys—doing a pathetic little fist pump once the lock turns on the first try. Wonwoo sighs.

“Y’know…” You peel yourself away from his grasp before leaning against the doorframe, staring at him in the fluorescent light of the hallway. “Saerom-unnie already mentioned the rumors going around about me after my stream.”

At that moment, Wonwoo feels like an anvil has been dropped into his stomach. He narrows his eyes, wondering if this is some sort of conversational bear trap that he’s in danger of falling for. But the look in your eyes is a little too glazed over to be anything but honest.

“What did she say?” he asks instead.

You hum, chuckling to yourself as you fold your arms in front of your chest. “That you went out of your way to check on me on her behalf. So sweet of you, Wonwoo. Here I thought you were just some asshole who’s never dated a girl in his life. That definitely explains why you’re always so mean to me.”

Wonwoo’s gaze turns stony in a split second—the familiar dregs of irritation prickling the back of his neck. “I’m assuming you’re at least sober enough to walk back inside your place without my help? If that’s the case, I’ll be going—”

“They’re all true, you know.”

Your voice came out so softly, Wonwoo would have missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he is. He scrutinizes you for a moment, deciding whether or not you’re messing with him again, but the way you hold his gaze so confidently tells him it’s the latter.

“Of course, I didn’t tell that to Saerom-unnie,” you sigh, carding your fingers through your hair. “But yep. The girl in the video that a bunch of creeps are saying resembles me? That’s actually me.”

The clip in question replays in the forefront of Wonwoo’s mind like he didn’t spend days forgetting about it altogether. He shakes his head when he catches himself thinking about it a little too long.

“Okay.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “Why are you telling me then?”

You shrug. “Beats me.”

“You’re being very strange tonight, you know?”

“Yeah. I know,” you chuckle, leaning your head back while exposing your neck in a way that’s a bit too sensual to be normal. “Maybe it’s because I know the truth’s safe in your hands. Kinda weird if you think about it, though—trusting the guy who hates your guts with a dirty little secret that could end your entire career.”

If the context was any more different, Wonwoo would’ve agreed. This is what he’s been waiting for, right? To get enough dirt on you so he can convince his friends to just kick you out of your little circle altogether.

But as insufferable as you might be, Wonwoo isn’t such a terrible person that he’ll throw you to the wolves without an ounce of remorse. He��s seen what scandals like this have done to the careers of old streamer friends he no longer has contact with. Even if you’re purposely living your life on the literal edge, he would never consider deliberately ruining it.

He tells himself that the only reason he feels that way is because he refuses to get his hands dirty from…whatever you’ve got going on for yourself. Not because of outright concern for you. Definitely not.

“If you don’t have anything else to say to me,” Wonwoo starts, trying not to think about the flush on your cheeks while you’re slumped against the doorframe, “I’m heading back home.”

He turns around with full intention of leaving without hearing your answer. However, you completely anticipated his next move, immediately snapping into motion to grab Wonwoo’s wrist before he could even take a single step away. He grunts with surprise when you tug him closer—enough that your chests are flush against each other.

“I just remembered the other reason why I decided to tell you,” you giggle, running a finger along the rim of his glasses. “My old dom quit on me, so I need to bring in someone new to make more content with.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen by the second as the implications of your words start to connect in his head. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “No need to act so prissy with me, Wonwoo. I make sex tapes on the side for the entire world to see. As of the moment, there’s no one to have sex with. You’re a semi-attractive guy that’s pressed up against me right now, and I’m pretty sure fucking around with you wouldn’t be too—”

“Stop. Holy shit. Stop talking,” Wonwoo rasps. He physically has to push you away so he can hear the sound of himself talking over the thundering of his heart.

You pout at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t once thought about fucking me. I’m pretty sure your other friends have entertained the idea at least once.”

“Can you shut up for one fucking second?”

That seems to do the trick. In fact, Wonwoo doesn’t miss the dazed yet pleased look in your eyes the moment he says the words with a bit more authority that he meant to channel into his voice.

Oh, you are so fucking sick.

“Look,” he sighs in between, dragging a palm over his face out of perplexion. “This probably isn’t a conversation we should be having in the hallway of your apartment complex. If your neighbors overhear, what then?”

“Hmph. You think I’ll let myself live in a place with paper thin walls? The soundproofing here is great, mind you. The couple that lives a few units over might be having the wildest sex imaginable and we’re none the wiser!”

“That’s not the fucking point,” Wonwoo growls. “You’ve obviously had too many to drink tonight, and you’re spilling all your life’s secrets willy-nilly. Don’t proposition me like that again when you’re not sober enough to deal with the consequences after.”

You simper, hands gliding to the lapels of his jacket as you tug him back. He has to physically bite the inside of his cheek when those fingers glide across the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt, grazing across every ridge of his muscled chest.

“Oh? Those consequences you speak of sound a bit too tempting to ignore.”

Wonwoo looks at the pristine ceiling of the fourth floor hallway, as if praying for some sort of deliverance.

“Go home and get some sleep. Don’t make me repeat myself,” he says, testing the waters of…whatever the fuck this is, and Wonwoo finds relief in the fact that you actually do as he says, stepping away from him just like he ordered.

“Not even a good night kiss?” you ask—the teasing lilt in your voice yet to fade.

Mustering all the self-restraint left in his body, he turns on his heel and walks away without another word.

Wonwoo doesn’t hear from you for a few days after that.

He convinced himself that the conversation he had with you just outside your apartment was nothing but a fever dream. Though he only had one glass of beer, as he’s supposed to drive home, he can’t really underestimate the effects of alcohol.

But just when he thought his life had finally resumed his preferred cadence of normalcy, another unexpected visitor hops onto his latest stream—sending the chat into a complete frenzy.

Unlike the mixed reactions that Saerom’s arrival last week incurred, seeing the renowned Twitch streamer Koyahngi leaving cat emojis in Wonwoo’s stream chat is enough to drive his entire viewerbase up a wall.

Thankfully, he isn’t playing a game that requires 200% of his utmost concentration—having given the open-world gacha game that Soonyoung keeps begging them to play a chance—so Wonwoo gets to peer over at the messages flooding across one side of his screen. One in particular catches his attention: why are a bunch of hot girls dropping by wonwoo’s stream these days?

Wonwoo ultimately decides to brush them all off for now.

However, unlike Saerom who just observed his stream quietly after making her presence known, you constantly made comments about his overworld progress—saying that he’s building this character wrong, and that there’s an easier way to go around the obstacles; he just needs to use his head. Wonwoo forgot that this is a game that you also played frequently, and having to be on the receiving end of all your unsolicited advice made him want to end the stream altogether.

Except he can’t dish out his snarky rebuttals like he typically would on their friendly Discord calls because, wow, his viewers really were eating this shit up. Since the two of you typically argued on your friends’ streams and not his, Wonwoo hasn’t seen the gravity of these splintered interactions until now.

His eyes parse through the fast-paced comments flying into the chat, catching on a few questionable ones, like someone begging for the TikTok fans to make edits, the fanfic writers to create stories about the greatest enemies-to-lovers couple in Twitch history, and so on.

Wonwoo has been making his livelihood off the internet for years, but he still can’t get used to how strangely people behave sometimes.

He half-expects you to continue pestering him even after he finishes up with the stream, but his Discord notifs remain oddly silent, and Wonwoo decides to just hit the gym when Mingyu asks if he wants to come.

After he’s satisfied with today’s session, Wonwoo waits for Mingyu by the locker room, as his roommate is still getting their usual trainer to spot him while he does his bench presses. But when he fishes his phone out of his gym bag, he’s surprised to see a couple of messages from yours truly.

Koyahngi: sooo are you free tonight?

Koyahngi: i haven’t posted anything in a while, my followers must miss me

Wonwoo scowls at his phone once he reads the contents of your messages—earning himself a wary stare from this one person that passed him in the hall. Clearing his throat, he schools his expression into complete neutrality as he types in a response.

W0nwoo: Why do I have to get roped into this again? Can’t you just make your own content by yourself?

Koyahngi: they’re more into seeing the actual thing that just me playing with myself

Koyahngi: that, and i’m kind of really horny these days

W0nwoo: …So this is your idea of a booty call?

Koyahngi: pretty much, yeah.

“Wonwoo-hyung, you wanna get some chicken before we head home?” he hears Mingyu call out at the other end of the hall.

He has half the mind to tell him that stuffing his face with fried food right after working out is counterproductive as hell, but then again, it’s not like Wonwoo can reprimand him when he won’t even be there to begin with.

“I…actually have other plans.”

…

What the fuck is he doing here, honestly?

It’s not like Wonwoo doesn’t have any sort of sex drive or anything. In fact, the night after he dropped you off at your apartment, he might’ve had to…relieve himself during a quick shower before bed. Not that he’d ever admit to ever doing it. Letting off some steam every now and again is understandable though.

But this? Sitting at the foot of your bed as you got ready for him to fuck you silly?

This is a different breed of foolishness.

He seriously considers sneaking out of your apartment before you can emerge from the en-suite. Wonwoo can just shoot you a quick message, saying that this was all a mistake, and that he hopes you can find a more suitable partner to fuck around with. Because…he doesn’t just do these kinds of things with other people. He wouldn’t go as far as calling himself a romantic, but casual sex has never really interested him—insisting that there are other things in life to focus his energy on.

However, you come out of the bathroom before he can even hope to make up his mind, a cute robe patterned with pink kittens hiding your body from view. You muster up a kind smile as Wonwoo swallows thickly.

Yep. No backing out now.

“You look so tense for someone who just came from the gym,” you chuckle, making a beeline for your desk to grab your phone. “Aren’t work outs supposed to be a form of stress relief or something?”

“They are, but a certain someone is stressing me out again.”

“Hm. I wonder who?”

A few moments later, the mood lights hooked up to the ceiling start to glow, and you pad over to flip off the light switch. Almost immediately, the room is plunged into near-darkness, and Wonwoo feels himself take in a sharp breath when he sees how the red lighting paints your objectively cute robe in a more…lascivious light.

“So how do you wanna do this?” you ask before finally making your way towards the bed—planting a knee on either side of Wonwoo’s hips before hoisting yourself up to sit on his lap. He doesn’t dare to move an inch.

“Why are you asking me? Aren’t you going to direct how your own content plays out?” he questions gruffly, keeping his palms firmly at his sides despite the sudden compulsion to place them on your hips.

You chuckle as you make a show of biting your bottom lip—one finger trailing down the dri-fit shirt that Wonwoo changed into after showering at the gym. “I don’t think you understood what I was telling you the other night. You’re my dom, Wonwoo. You get to call the shots, not me.”

He closes his eyes with a withering sigh, wondering what sort of atrocities he’s committed in a past life to warrant having to end up in this situation.

“Don’t we have to get this on film? Can’t exactly hold a phone when you’re all over me like this.”

A soft giggle reverberates in your chest before you roll your hips, earning an exasperated groan from the man below you. This time, Wonwoo can’t contain the need to touch you, and his hands migrate to your thighs as he presses his hips further against yours—eyes never straying too far from your own.

“You don’t have to think about that just yet,” you murmur, trailing your lips along the cut of his jaw. “Let’s get a feel of each other first. I’ll let you know what I like, and you let me know what you like, yeah?”

It gives him so much vertigo, seeing you like this under the same red lights he’s always found disparaging to catch a glimpse of in your streams. Wonwoo is tethering dangerously across the tightrope of his self-control, but when you lace your fingers around his nape to press your foreheads together, Wonwoo realizes the effort is completely futile.

“What do you say, daddy?”

He doesn’t have a daddy kink. He knows he doesn’t. He’s always found it weird how others got off at the prospect of calling their sexual partners such a thing.

So why the hell is Wonwoo crushing your lips together like he’ll die if he doesn’t kiss you right this second? Why are his fingers gripping the swell of your ass as tightly as they are—grinding you down on his hardening length with a growl resonating deep in his chest? And why does he feel a rush of pride surge straight into his skull when you whimper against his mouth?

As he busies himself with devouring your lips, you shrug off the sleeves of your robe, making Wonwoo peel himself away for a second to get a glimpse of what you’ve been hiding underneath. When he’s rewarded with the spill of your bare breasts, he takes a sharp breath through gritted teeth—rolling his hips upward at the thought that you’ve chosen to forego underwear altogether.

“What’s your safeword?” he rasps, mouth hovering above your chest before he goes in for the kill, nipping and biting at your skin with the intention for it to hurt. A sick sense of satisfaction ripples in his chest when you moan out his name in response, and Wonwoo all but secures a strong arm around your waist to keep you from falling off.

“Red,” you mewl, all while you discard your robe altogether, rutting your bare cunt against his middle.

He sighs, reaching between your thighs to get a feel of just how ready you are for him. Wonwoo nearly bites down harshly when he finds you wet and wanting—your essence already trickling out of your needy hole and onto his sweats.

“Fuck,” he groans, lathering his free hand in your slick. “So fucking wet for me already. Did you touch yourself before I got here?”

“Mmmm,” you purr, taking his bottom lip between your teeth. “Fucked myself with a little toy thinking it was you.”

You assumed your eagerness to finally lie with the guy you’ve been trying to get with for months might spur him further into action. But something unspeakable shifts in the air and for a moment, Wonwoo is so silent, you figure he didn’t hear what you just said. Just when you’re about to call out his name, however, Wonwoo quickly maneuvers you off his lap, shoving you back onto the mattress with little heed for your comfort.

At first, you thought he was about to manhandle you into oblivion, but when the searing warmth of his body departs from yours, you look up at him with an inquisitive scowl.

“Sounds to me like you don’t need my cock after all,” he says coolly, yet fails to mask the anger sparking in his dark eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re obviously content with using a toy instead, right?”

“Wonwoo,” you groan, frustrated that he’s playing games now when you’re finally so goddamn close to what you’ve been hoping to happen for months. “Can you not go too deep into the domspace because I really, really need you to rail me like, right fucking now.”

“Shut up,” he scoffs before crossing his arms together. If it weren’t for the outline of his cock bulging through his sweats, you would’ve thought he was genuinely displeased with you. “Cocksluts like you don’t have the right to make demands.”

Fuck.

You only had a hunch back then, but Jeon Wonwoo might just be the dom of your dreams.

Instead of playing the brat like you always do, you let out a helpless whimper, sliding down to the floor before crawling to Wonwoo’s feet. He watches your movements with an impassive stare, looking so immovable even as you prop yourself up on your knees to nuzzle his clothed cock.

“Then what can I do for you, daddy?” you ask, fingers catching purchase on the strong flesh of his thighs. The heady scent of musk and detergent pervades your senses, and it takes every ounce of patience for you to keep yourself from pulling his sweatpants down and take him into your mouth. “You’re not just going to stare at me all night while you’re all pent up like this, right?”

Whatever semblance of playfulness you deigned to parade around Wonwoo is quickly snuffed out when he roughly grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his ticked off gaze.

“I don’t think you understood your own words when you said I’m the one calling the shots here,” he growls, and you can feel another gush of slick seeping between your thighs. “You’re not allowed to talk until I say so. Keep those cheeky fucking comments to yourself or I’ll leave you high and dry. Got that?”

Oh my god, he’s fucking perfect.

When Wonwoo finally gets to fuck the frustration out of his system, he lies next to you on the sheets—waiting for you to swim out of that post-orgasmic high as he inspects the damage he’s done to your body.

It’s been a while since he’s gone out of his way to hook up with someone, so he isn’t surprised to see the plethora of love bites and bruises he ended up scattering across your skin. Wonwoo feels particularly pleased with himself when he sees the deep rise and fall of your chest—the bloom of hickeys you’ve amassed on your breasts still recognizable even under the deep red lights.

“I think I might be in love with you,” you sigh wistfully once you finally come to your senses. Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “I haven’t come that hard in months, Jesus.”

“Compliment me any more and it’ll get to my head,” he says before adding—much more sincerely than he usually sounds— “Are you okay?”

Turning around to face him, you pull him down for another kiss. Wonwoo grunts against your lips but snakes a hand around your waist anyways.

“I think you’re just about ready to film us now,” you whisper into the kiss, licking into his mouth in a way that’s stoking the ebbing flames of his arousal back to life. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your request but moves to the nightstand where he unceremoniously discarded his phone before fucking you stupid. There are a couple of texts and other Discord notifications on screen that he completely ignores in favor of handing it to you unlocked.

You adjust your position on the mattress, easing your legs apart with the silent invitation for Wonwoo to come between them again. He can hardly believe that you’re still looking at him with the same bedroom eyes that you’ve been giving him since the night began. Just how much cock can you take, really?

“The mood lights shouldn’t be too dark, so don’t use flash,” you instruct him, handing Wonwoo his phone back with the Camera app already up and running. “Other than that, you’re free to do whatever you want to me, daddy.”

Wonwoo heaves yet another internal sigh as he positions himself between your legs, rubbing his half-hard cock along your ruined cunt. With a bated breath, he hits the Record button.

He hasn’t watched a lot of Twitter porn for a dozen reasons, but Wonwoo figures he shouldn’t get your face in the frame. Now that he’s finally in the shoes of whoever was fucking you from behind in the first clip he saw, he realizes it’s a little hard to keep filming this debauchery while subsequently trying not to lose his mind from how good your pussy feels. And he isn’t even inside you yet. Fuck.

The sensual way you move your body to meet his shallow thrusts makes him want to just chuck his phone back on the nightstand and ravish you all over again. But Wonwoo doesn’t do that. He simply continues with his ministrations, relishing in the cock-drunk look in your eyes once you reach out to pump his length in your smaller hand.

You don’t talk; neither does he. All that matters is the sensation of his cockhead sliding across your wet pussy lips while you jacked him off with a hazed out look in your eyes.

A possessive part of him takes great pride in knowing he’s the one making you feel like this; that he’s the reason behind that depraved expression you’re wearing. The moment you guide Wonwoo’s cock back into your tight channel, he uses his free hand to clamp his strong fingers around your throat—pressing down with just enough pressure to make you feel lightheaded.

The squelch of your cunt is sickeningly sweet, especially knowing that you still have his load inside you. Wonwoo is a bit too eager as he fucks his spend even deeper into your abused cunt, all while maintaining a steady grip on his phone as he captures all this on camera. He’s ruined you so badly that each time he slides himself to the hilt, he can see the creamy ring of your mixed juices at the base of his cock.

You’re driving him so fucking crazy, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

After a few experimental thrusts, Wonwoo picks up the pace—the grip he has on your throat tightening ever-so slightly. Just enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Fuck it.

He tosses his phone somewhere on the bed before moving to hook your legs over his shoulders. You shoot Wonwoo a bewildered look, a question already resting on your tongue, but the words are ground to dust when he pushes himself back into your sopping heat—deep enough that you can feel the fat head of his cock graze your cervix.

“Fuck, daddy!” you wail, completely helpless as Wonwoo pounds into you with unforgiving vigor. “So good… So fucking good.”

If you uttered those words the first time he fucked you earlier, he would’ve choked you out for going against his ‘don’t speak unless I say so’ rule. But Wonwoo is just so obsessed with the tight fit of your cunt fluttering around his cock that he can’t even find the headspace to be mad about your disobedience.

“You’re such a greedy fucking slut,” he growls, nipping the lobe of your ear. “Can’t get enough of this cock? You had to come onto me and let me ruin you twice in a single night?”

The only response you can come up with is a high-pitched keen of his name as Wonwoo feels your cunt pulsate around him, squeezing his cock so fucking tight as you lose yourself to your nth orgasm. He hisses as he pulls himself out of the velvet heat of your pussy, jerking himself a few times before he’s painting your tits with white ribbons of cum.

Wonwoo delights himself with the sight of his emission shining atop the marks he’s left on your body, and even entertains the thought that he won’t ever mind seeing such a sight again.

It takes about thirty minutes for you and Wonwoo to clean up—at his insistence, of course. After all, if he’s going to break you apart, it’s only fair for him to put you back together once all’s said and done.

For some reason though, you haven’t stopped looking at him weirdly as he runs a clean washcloth all over your spent body. Like the concept of aftercare is something completely foreign to you. But instead of bringing it up, you ask Wonwoo if you can borrow his phone again, and all he gives you is a small grunt of affirmation before padding over to the en-suite to get himself cleaned.

“You didn’t stop recording when you tossed it away?” He hears you laugh from the bedroom. “Oh my god…”

He didn’t…? Oh, well. He was too goddamn horny to notice anyway.

Wonwoo gets dressed while you continue tinkering with the video he took on his phone—airdropping it to yours so you could do a couple of changes. Turns out, there are a couple of instances where your face got caught in the frame, and you’re going to have to crop it and trim out the part where you’re audibly moaning each other’s names if you want to keep committing these acts of deviance on the side.

“Gotta say though, you’re a natural at getting my good angles,” you say, sounding completely pleased. “I wouldn’t mind having you over again~”

“Don’t push your luck.” He scoffs as he fastens the string of his sweats and puts his glasses back on.

But the two of you know he’ll be back either way.

When Wonwoo gets back to the apartment, he finds Mingyu lounging in front of the TV despite it being almost three in the morning. Something about marathoning a new drama that Wonwoo might’ve heard in passing. As exhausted as he is, he decides not to reprimand Mingyu altogether and marches straight to his room.

But just as he’s about to collapse straight into bed, his phone buzzes with another notification that makes him click his tongue in annoyance. It’s been going off non-stop since he left your place, but he didn’t pay it much mind since he assumed they were all Twitch and Discord notifs. Some of his friends did like pinging him unnecessarily even in the dead of night.

Although when Wonwoo realizes they’re Twitter notifications, he pauses.

He muted the notifs on his Twitter account ages ago.

Confused, he takes off his glasses and places them on the nightstand, eyes narrowed when he realizes a new account has been logged onto his phone. An account that just happened to tweet the same video he just took on his phone not two hours earlier.

🐈 • @ goodcat_badcat miss me? 💦

As fate might have it, a text notification hovers on top of his screen—with a contact name he doesn’t remember putting himself, but recognizes all the same.

🐈: hope you enjoyed the show, daddy <3

As he reads through the text, he wonders distantly when this will all come back to bite him in the ass.

But then again, Wonwoo really couldn’t care less.

part one - part two - part three - part four

end notes: hehe i really enjoyed writing this, so i hope you enjoyed reading as well! this is actually slated to have a second part sometime in the future, but for now, i think it'll do well as a standalone. i'll let wonwoo and reader fool around with their spicy sex life first before giving them ~feelings~ to worry about ^__^

this is part of the game over series!

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #wonwoo smut #wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #streamer au #lovelyhan #🐇 1k #🐇 500 #full length fic 📚

3K notes · View notes

gothic-thoughts · 2 months

Text

Slow on the Internet

(idek how i found this pic of him but im SO glad this shit exists😭)

(AGED UP) Yuji Itadori x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Streamer!Yuuji, Shy!Reader, RoommateAU, Friends2Lovers

CW: oblivious Yuuji 😭😭, yuuji talking to his twitch chat, reader speaks some Japanese 🤝🏾 Yuuji speaks some English, not proofread

Word Count: 1701

any Japanese is written in Romaji and confirmed by DeepL

It was 10 pm, Itadori was sitting in his gaming headphones on his stylish armchair, playing a popular game while Spotify was quietly playing a mellow song in the background.

"Guys, the stream's gonna be a little quiet, I don't want to wake my roommate."

Itadori tried not to make too much noise, talking quietly to his audience.

- Which one?

- Is it (Y/n)??

- Megumi or the American girl you brought on a while ago?

- The girl??

"Yes, I’m talking about (Y/n). Megumi's out for the night. Uh, for those new to stream, a couple streams ago..." Yuuji laughs into his hand, "Like 3 streams ago, I forced my roommate, (Y/n), to make a... commentary vid with me."

- You should force her back fr 👀👀

- Bring her back, yall were cute

- You guys chemistry was adorable, u sure she's just a roomie??👀👀

He laughed at the comments, a little embarrassed at the idea of having chemistry with his roommate, but it was sweet of them to think that. He shook his head and laughed, trying to brush it off as a friendly relationship.

"Shut up, it’s a normal amount of chemistry! I like to think we have a cool dynamic.”

- UR TELLING ME U DON'T LIKE HER??

- denial isn’t healthy, Itadori

- but does she want to STAY ur friend??

It was flattering how invested they were in a relationship between him and (Y/n). He wasn't sure what his chat was implying, surely they were teasing him. There was a little part of him that liked and even agreed with his chat's implications. He was glad they were taking so much interest in his friendship with (Y/n). It was sweet.

"I- what are you guys saying?" He laughed nervously, his cheeks red.

- THAT SHE LIKES U DUH

- U LIKE EACH OTHER??

- ITADORI UR FUMBLING

"You really think my roommate likes me? Really?"

- YES

- The only she could make it more obvious was if she kissed you like r u srs 😭😭

- Does she take or borrow ur stuff a bunch?

"Oh yeah, all the time." He laughed, nodding. "Like she'll use my body soap and won’t give it back unless I ask. Sometimes she'll even just take my clothes and leave them somewhere in her heya (room); sore wa wakaranai (I don't get that)."

- Bro cuz she likes u

- YUUJI WHAT

- She got it bad too. Both of u do

- AND U FRIENDZONED HER??

His heart was beginning to race a little as his chat spoke and said all these things. He laughed nervously, but he didn't deny any of their comments. He wondered if all these things actually were happening because she did have feelings for him.

"No, no I didn't... did I?"

- How do u curve a goddess BY ACCIDENT?

- Rejecting someone by accident is crazy

- She is fine asf lowkey

He shivered a little as his chat continued, making him begin to feel a little bad for keeping his feelings to himself and even stupid when realizing that he wasn’t reading her feelings correctly.

"I don't know, I mean.... it never crossed my mind that she really liked me. Maybe... but she just did small things."

He rubbed the back of his neck, not sure what to say. "I didn’t think she’d like me, I thought she was just doing it cuz she’s still fairly new to Japan. Aside from the fact that she’s out of my league."

- is it because she's older than you?

- I dont even think ur age gap is even that big smh

- how old is she anyway? U look about the same age

- Ik ur 21 but how old is (Y/n)?

"How old? She's 23, but still..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, his face red. He just didn't know what to say so he just laughed nervously. They kept describing her and it made him feel bad, thinking that he had been doing this to her, hopefully she still liked him so he could try again.

- ONLY 2 YEARS AND U STRESSIN BOUT AN AGE GAP???

- If you don't GO CONFESS LIKE AN ADULT😭😭

- Ur both young adults so age is just a number fr

- Yuuji, don't piss me off 🙄😤

Itadori couldn't help but laugh the more he read, unable to deny the comments that his chat was making. It felt like his chat had read his mind.

"Okay okay, wakattyo (i get it)! She likes me, I might like her, age isn't an issue. What am I supposed to do though?"

- Talk to her wat 😭😭

- UH TALK TO HER??

- Ask her out duh.

He laughed and read the comments. His chat was making it so simple.

"Come on guys, it can't be that simple. I live with her! What if she doesn't feel the same and things end up being awkward?"

Itadori jumps out of his chair, his heart beating out of his chest when he hears the only other person in the house knock on his bedroom door. Shit. Of course. He then realized he had his stream on the whole time so she definitely heard everything. He got up and walked over to his door. He cracked open the door, peeking through with his cheeks still red.

“Hey, Yuu.”

"Hey... did you hear nandemo (anything)?"

"Hear what?" (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows, "You on the phone?”

He paused and smiled, "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I was just making sure I wasn’t being too, um, loud. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was, but I woke up wanting something sweet. I'm running to the konbini, nani ka hoshi mono wa?"

“Yeah, sure.” He paused, thinking of something, "Can you get me some ichigo pocky?"

“Honto ni? I was gonna get the same thing.”

He laughed, her answer surprised him. "Really?"

“Yea. Alright, I'll be right back."

He smiles, waiting for her to come back. He had so many thoughts, so much to process about the stuff his chat said and his own feelings for her. He waited for her to come back with the strawberry pocky.

- Well???

- Did she seem to like u??

- What she say?

“There's really no reason for me not to like her, ya know? I'm starting to think I like her back, really like her, she’s so sweet." He rubbed his neck, feeling guilty, "You guys were right, I've been rejecting her by accident. When she gets back, I want to tell her."

- YAAY

- LETSSGOOO

- THATS MY BOY

- GAMER BF + SHY GF FTW

The comments made him smile even brighter. The chat called her his girlfriend, but he didn't want to get too ahead of himself. He could only hope she'd respond positively.

"Shut up guys, I'm not her boyfriend.... well, yet hopefully."

20 minutes later, she walks into his room with snacks and a few drinks in a bag. He didn't expect her to come back so fast but it made him grateful. He was smiling wide as he took off his headphones and paused his game again, realizing how cute she was when she was just being herself. (Y/n) pauses in his doorway with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“Are--” She lowered her voice, “Are you streaming?”

"Uh, heh yeah. Uh, my chat they made me see something. It has to do with you."

“Oh god...” She chuckles and waves shyly at the camera, walking over, “They don't want me on another stream, do they?”

His chat was blowing up with comments, excited at the appearance of his roommate again. "Shut up guys, I swear. It wasn't planned. Anyway, you don't have to come near the camera.”

“I don’t, good; I was freaking out already.” She laughs.

“Do you mind if I keep streaming while we talk?"

“Uh... sure, why?” She hands him a soda and the boxes of pocky then backs out of the camera, “You making me nervous~”

"Yeah, sorry. They've really grown to like you, so they're excited to see you again."

“I was only in one stream!”

"I know, I know, but they really liked you. So every time you show up again, they get really excited because they love seeing more of you."

“I didn’t know I had fans; is that what you wanted to tell me?”

He sighed, "No, it's not. There's something else."

“Mkay...?”

"Alright.” He takes a deep breath and stands, hoping he doesn’t make a fool of himself, “So chat made me realize that I’m a biggest idiot in the world. I... I like you, (Y/n).”

“You're...” (Y/n) chuckles uncomfortably, “You’re joking? Kore wa jyooku desu ka?”

"No, no. I mean it. They helped me realize that you liked me so I wanted to tell you that.”

“But I thought you didn't like me.”

"Yeah, well, I thought I didn't, I realized it after they pointed out how we treat each other. And they were right.”

“So you were rejecting me... by accident?!”

“I just thought you'd stick around me cuz you’re still a little new to Japan!"

“Yuuji, I've lived here for like 5 months now!”

“Yeah, but I thought, like... I don’t know!”

“God, you be so clueless sometimes.” She sighs deeply, “Since I know now, finish your stream and we can eat the snacks and maybe, uh, eiga o miru?"

Itadori froze. “Movie? You... want to watch a movie with me?"

“Seems like the only thing to do this late at night," She chuckles, "Everything but the convenience store is closed this late."

"Hell yeah, I’d love to!”

(Y/n) laughs, “Mkay, lemme know when you’re done.”

(Y/n) leaves his room with the bag of her sweets and closes the door. Yuuji sits back down in his chair with a wide smile on his face as he starts playing his game again. He was so focused on finishing it for his stream and going to watch the movie that he wasn’t reading the chat’s confused and riled comments. He finally looked over at them and laughed, pausing the game:

- ITADORI IF U DON'T END THE STREAM

- GO BRO

- END STREAM

- STREAM TMR TF

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(a/n): unfortunately not sponsored by strawberry pocky cuz 🤤🤤

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #x black reader #black reader #x black fem reader #black writers #jujutsu kaisen #black fem reader #yuuji x reader #jjk yuuji #yuuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuuji fluff #itadori yuuji fluff #yuuji itadori fluff #yuji x reader #itadori yuuji

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frenziedfireworks · 9 months

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Party Nights

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : Reader goes to extreme lengths to ensure Fred's party is a success.

CW : Fem!Reader, making out, hints towards sex, alcohol & partying

If there was one thing the Weasley Twins knew how to do it was party. Their little celebrations had always been the talk whenever holidays or Quidditch were in season. Getting an invitation was also quite the hot commodity and people would go out of their way to be in line of sight of the twins - much to your dismay.

“George! Fred! Great to see you!” A hufflepuff girl passed by, winking and fluttering her eyes. You felt yourself want to gag.

“Well, aren't people so nice.” Fred snorted as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you along. You just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah because she’s just going out of her way to be nice. You don’t even know her name.”

“Wow! Someone is jealous! It’s okay Y/N you’re still my favorite girl.” Fred’s words made your stomach do a flip, quickly shaking it off. He was first and foremost your best friend. You never wanted your silly crush to ruin what you had with either of the twins.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re his favorite because you’re definitely not mine!” George grinned as you smacked his chest. He was always teasing the two of you.

“Yeah well you’re not my favorite either, George. Quite the opposite actually. I think I’d prefer Percy to you.” You snapped back and Fred’s laughter filled the halls.

“Percy?!” George mocked offense, hand flying to act as if he had fainted.

“Yeah you heard me.”

“I wish I hadn’t.” George and Fred continued making jokes as you followed to wherever they were going. It wasn’t long before all three of you stood in front of an old classroom door. Both boys had wicked smirks adorning their faces and mischief gleaming in their eyes.

“One of you want to fill me in? What are we doing staring at a raggedy old door?” Your questions fell on deaf ears as they looped their arms around your frame and yanked you in. The old room had been turned into something different altogether. One of the ancient desks held cups and a punch bowl. A dance floor lit up the dank stone walls and streamers littered from the ceiling. There was a small table filled with Weasley ‘delicacies’ that you knew would end up spreading like wildfire. After all, your boys were more genius than anyone ever gave them credit for.

“This looks nice!” You turned to find the boys staring at each other, supposedly deep in thought.

“Yes it does but something is missing.”

“Exactly what I was thinking Fred.”

“What could possibly be missing?” You sighed, knowing all too well you were about to be put to the test.

“Music.” Fred’s face contorted into a sad puppy, his eyes pleading.

“Merlin’s beard. What do you want me to do?”

“I knew you were my favorite for a reason! I really need you to go ask Hermione for her music player - please? I’ll do anything.”

Now you were intrigued. Fred had rarely made promises where he allowed for anything, knowing full well the trouble it could lead him into. It couldn’t possibly be hard to get Hermione’s music player - right?

—

Wrong. You were incredibly wrong and suddenly knew why Fred had promised anything. Trying to coax Hermione into letting you borrow the stereo was like watching paint dry. Incredibly tedious and her answer would not change.

“Mione-”

“Y/N I love you but I said no! I know you’re going to give it to the twins and I promised myself that I would not indulge their parties! You know exams are around the corner!”

You groaned and felt like pulling out your hair. Fred was relying and trusting you with a big part of his plans and if you failed you would feel like shit. You somehow had to convince Hermione to give you the stereo.

“Please. I’ll do anything!” You found yourself thinking back to only an hour ago when the same words left Fred’s mouth. You knew that Hermione also would’ve had a harsher consequence for Fred than she would for you. No wonder he had begged you to do it. Hermione shut her book and raised an eyebrow.

“Anything?” She questioned and you nodded aggressively.

“Anything! I promise.” You grabbed at her hands practically pleading.

“Fine. Let me go grab it and tell you what I want.” Hermione was quick on her feet and ran off. You were glad you were able to convince her within such a quick time. To be honest you were worried she wouldn’t have anything she needed.

“Here.” Hermione handed over the stereo and you happily took it. It was big and bulky but you could manage to get it back to the old classroom in time.

“So what do you want me to do? Steal some potion items or something?”

Hermione snorted and gave you a little grin. You had never seen her look so devious.

“No. I want you to tell Fred that you like him tonight.”

It was as if you had been punched in the chest. Out of any of your close friends that knew about your crush the least expected one to betray you was Hermione. Well, not betray, but more so force you into the unknown and risk losing your dear twins. You wanted to be mad but you knew better considering you had promised her anything. She was always pushing you to tell Fred but it was quite hypocritical considering her and Ron - not that you would mention that. You never wanted to be on the bad side of Hermione Granger.

“Fine. I’ll uh.. Let you know how it goes tomorrow.” You whispered and went on your way. Somehow you had to manage getting the stereo back to the boys, get dressed and sneak out to the party, and admit to Fred your absolute obsession with him.

—

“Y/N! Here let me have that.” George greeted and took the stereo off your hands. You were glad for that considering it felt like you had been walking around with a sack of rocks tied to your arms.

“Your girl got it! Can’t believe my eyes!” George yelled out to Fred who came out of an old cupboard. His face was covered in soot and his clothes looked like he had just enjoyed a mud bath.

“Don’t you look lovely. I’m off to get dressed too. Is the theme crawling in the chimney?” You laughed as Fred dusted himself off, cheeks going red from your comment.

“No but it can be if you want to match. I think we’d be sexy chimney sweepers.”

There was that charm that he somehow always knew how to use. You didn’t know how he somehow made a chimney sweeper sound so.. Romantic? Whatever. You had bigger worries to think about.

“Yeah, whatever you say. I’m going to change now. Bye!”

—

You had gotten back to your room without a hitch and stared at your closet. You had to choose something memorable if tonight was the last night you would ever see the Weasley Twins. Finally deciding on an outfit that was a little risqué you left your room. You casted the disillusionment charm and headed back down to the old classroom you had been in not an hour before.

Opening the door you were hit with the smell of sweat and alcohol. Everyone was pushing against eachother and cheering. Music played loud from the stereo and the twins were at the front near their kiosk.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you!” Angelina smiled and pulled you in for a quick hug. You could tell she was already drunk off whatever the twins had supplied.

“Lovely to see you too Angie! Having fun?” You questioned and she just nodded.

“Yeah! I hope to see you out on the dance floor!” She winked and made her way through the room. You had hoped she would spend a few more minutes with you because that was more time to drain instead of thinking about telling Fred. There was no way in hell you were going to do this completely sober either.

You made your way through the bustling crowd and fought with quite a few people before you were able to fill your cup. The punch was sweet and barely tasted alcoholic - dangerous. You knew if you drank too much before it hit you would be shitfaced by the end of the night.

“It’s super good, right?” You almost had a heart attack as you heard Ron right behind you. You glanced up at him and sighed.

“Way to scare the shit out of me! And yes it’s pretty good. Enjoying yourself without your girlfriend?” You teased the boy, watching as his freckled face lit up red.

“Could say the same about you. Having a few drinks before you go kiss up on dearest Freddie?” Ron raised an eyebrow as you let out a defeated sigh. It wouldn’t hurt to tell him about everything…

“It’s going to be a shit night Ronald.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Ron was surprisingly kind when you were serious with him and opened up. Maybe he was a bit inept with feelings but he really tried his best.

“Well.. Fred made me get the stereo from Hermione. To be able to get it I promised her to do anything and well.. She told me that I had to tell Fred..” You mumbled off. Ron’s eyes widened a minuscule bit and chuckled.

“Brutal isn’t she? If you need any help getting out you always have Harry and I.” Ron gave you a heartwarming pat and began to wander off. So much for moral support..

—

“And do tell what my best girl is doing here all alone being ditched by my little brother?” Fred’s form engulfed you from behind. His lips dusted against the shell of your ear and sent a pleasant shiver up your spine.

“Looking for you actually.” You decided to get it over with. There’s no better time than the present. You turned in his hold and met his gorgeous face. The usual smirk adorned it and within the strobe lights his eyes seemed to glow like lanterns.

“What can I do for you then? Offer you another drink or cure your boredom?” You could only wish that could be your answer. It would be much easier to drink the night away with him than heartbroken without him.

“Uh no. Not yet at least. I really need to tell you something. Can we go someplace a bit more quiet?” Fred bobbed his head and dragged you along. Before you knew it you were shuffling into a broom closet. Fred was way more close for comfort than you would’ve wished and it only added to your nervousness. How the hell did you get this far?!

“So…” Fred started.

“So…”

The two of you sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before laughter struck.

“What in the world did you pull me into a broom closet to tell me?” Fred choked out and you groaned. It was time to finally rip the bandaid off.

“Well you see.. I have had this feeling for you for a while now.” You grumbled out and stared at your feet. If the proximity didn’t kill you then his glance definitely would.

“Right. A bad feeling or good feeling? Because I usually cause a lot of those.” Fred joked and you smacked at his arm. You couldn’t believe his sarcastic ass.

“Good! Very good actually. I- Oh fuck me. I really like you.” Now it was all out in the open and you wanted to shrink away. There wasn’t any going back and you could only hope he would have some mercy on your soul.

“Y/N, I've been flirting with you for like two years. I obviously like you too.” Fred’s hand rubbed against the flesh of your arm creating goosebumps all over.

“What?” You spluttered out still confused. There was no way he had been flirting for that long. You would have to be as daft as Ronald!

“I call you my favorite girl and you think that’s me being kind?” Fred’s hand rubbed against your cheek, finger dragging ever so slowly against your lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Your fantasies were finally fulfilled as his warm lips met yours. Fred was an impatient man and yet he took his sweet time to work you into the kiss, hands pushing you against the stone wall. His tongue lapped at your lips for permission and you relented. He tasted of chocolate and alcohol - fitting and tantalizing. His tongue prodded yours making the moment even more intimate.

“This is all I’ve been wanting for so long.” Fred’s voice was deep and you could barely think.

“Me too.” You whispered and yanked at his shirt for more. He laughed into the kiss, hands running up and down your sides. He separated from your lips much sooner than you had wished and pecked at your forehead.

“As much as I would love to take you in a closet I was thinking maybe something more romantic? I also have a party I am hosting right now.. Maybe we can go kiss in there for a while?”

You pretended to think for a while as you adjusted your clothes and hair before nodding.

“I suppose I can go back with you. But I think you owe me later after the whole stereo fiasco..” Your fingers trailed his bare arm and you could feel him shake.

“My ever so generous girlfriend I would be delighted to do whatever you wish.” Fred shot you a wink that set butterflies aflame in your stomach. You linked arms with your newfound boyfriend and set off back to the party.

You definitely had to thank Hermione in the morning.

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley x you #weasley twin imagines

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auteurdelabre · 4 months

Text

Code Broken (Chapter 2) Mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze.

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [f receiving], Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk

word count: 5.1k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 2: House of the Rising Sun

Its months later, the beginning of fall in Jackson city. The homes are decorated with paper cut outs of black cats and witches. Streamers of orange and black curve around the poles of the canteen. Pumpkins are carved and placed on doorsteps in preparation for next week.

It's your favorite time of year here. The time after the oppressive heat of the summer yet before the blankets of snow that overstay their welcome a little longer each year. It's the time when you pull out your favorite knitted scarf and go for long walks within the expanse of the community.

Trish is getting married to one of the butchers in town. He's shy but quick to smile with white blonde hair that falls into his eyes.

As with most celebrations the entire community is invited and involved in some way. You're making the dress. The girls from work are joyfully putting together decorations, citing that these will be even nicer than the ones done for Tommy and Maria's wedding party. The event is still months away but you want it to be perfect. Trish means so much to you.

You have a basket overflowing with multicoloured foliage to decorate your home but when you notice a pale yellow groundsel amongst the sleeping earth you stop. You bend down and pluck the flower, marvelling at the softness of its plush petals. Under your fingertips they feel like the gentle lips of a lover.

The sudden, intrusive thought that comes with that unbidden thought causes you to scowl, crumpling the delicate flower in your fist. You drop its crushed body to the ground as you continue on your walk.

You know with the encroaching cold weather you'll have a lot to mend at the office tomorrow. Pants, jackets, curtains, blankets. You're never in need of something to do, that's for certain and you like that. You like a purpose, you like seeing people walk by in your knitted scarves or patched jeans. It gives you a satisfaction that just surviving from place to place for years never could.

You like the people you work with, they always invite you for a drink at the end of the week as if the job you all do is such a strain. As if you don't all work half a day, mending and darning around the circular table over coffee and laughter, taking turns using the sewing machine for the bigger projects.

It's at your job where you'd first met Trish who was bringing in a stack of fabric she hoped could be turned into curtains. She was one of the teachers of the younger kids, desperate to bring some color into the drab classroom she'd been given. You'd been new, shy and Trish had taken you under her wing. She had always looked out for you, always supported you.

It's why you want her wedding to be as perfect as possible. You know she would just borrow some nice dress a neighbor owns instead of getting one made by you. You know she wouldn't ask for the work you’re putting into her dress, but you do it anyway. Those extra touches mean something to you and to her.

The dress is far and above the hardest thing you've ever made. Designed it, sewn it, and cried in frustration over it.

When a pile of old lace had been brought in to the sewing room you'd squealed with delight and claimed a bit for yourself. It would be the perfect accent to the dress, only the lace is yellowed with age. You've tried a few home remedies but nothing gives it that snow white color you need. You'll need a bit of bleach.

It's that thought in mind that sets you off early the next day, your scarf wrapped loosely around your neck, your cheeks pink from the wind. You're heading for the general store before going to work, hoping you can find what you need.

The slanted wood roof comes readily into view just off the main square. You come at the start of every week to the general shop with its tall ceilings and solid shelves to see what can be salvaged for clothing or other textile needs.

Everything non perishable that gets salvaged in travels comes through the main building and sorted. Fabric, paper, soap, shoelaces just to name a few. Some of the older folks spend a few days but divvying up where each item goes - kitchen, stables, general shop.

You push the green door open, the familiar tinkle of the bell ringing overhead to announce your arrival.

"Here for fabric if any came in last week," you say with a smile to Ralph, one of the folks who mind the shop day to day. He's sitting on a stool near the side of the space reading an old paperback. He gives you a warm smile, showing off the whitest teeth you've ever seen.

"Just got a box yesterday."

He pops off his stool, the recent page of the paperback dog-eared for later reading. Looking at the yellowed pages you think back to the lace soaking in your sink at home.

"Oh and bleach if you have any extra. Just a little."

Bleach is a hot commodity here, used for everything from cleaning to drinking water if there's a need for it. But Ralph knows you wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.

"Might have a small container of it in the back. Gimme a second."

Your eyes drift to the back of the shop as he says this. "I'll browse for a bit, then."

"New ones in the lower right," he laughs while he heads to the storage in the back room, calling out to you from the space. "Lucky you came today, had a few people asking for extra fabric for the kids costumes last week."

"Really?" you ask, but you're not really listening to his reply. Your eyes are already going to the back of the shop that leads into the little lending library.

It's modest, barely bigger than an elevator but its shelves go to the ceiling and are weighted down with books. You've read almost all of them. This space is where books come to live, be read, returned, traded. It's one of your favorite places in your small world.

You step into this sanctum, greeted by the scent of aged pages and feel your heart skip a beat. It always feels so good to be here, to be surrounded by so many topics and worlds. These are world's you'll only see in the written word, a world with no outbreak, a world bigger than Jackson City.

Ralph asks you about your plans for today as you browse and you answer distractedly, dropping to a knee when you see a book you've never seen before in the lower right, just like Ralph said.

Jane Eyre.

You skim the back and read the summary: haunted mansions, an orphaned heroine, a brooding romantic lead? You decide this will be a good read for tonight in front of the fire.

You right yourself as the tinkle of the shop door sounds behind you. Something in the air changes, an electricity that you can't explain. It's like the world expands and contracts all at once and then suddenly you just know.

It's him.

"Morning Joel," Ralph says cheerfully.

"Mornin'."

The rumble of his voice is unmistakable. You'd know it even if you hadn't heard his name. That low rasp of Texas twang in the richness of his timbre. Your pulse skyrockets, the world growing quiet under the sound of your heartbeat.

Immediately you're moving to the far shelves, ducking your head and trying to regulate your breathing. Boxes are stacked at one end, meaning the odds of him sneaking up on you are minimal.

"Need help finding anything?" Ralph asks helpfully.

"Nah," Joel replies in that quiet, even way of his. "I know where the shampoo is."

His boots shuffle over the grainy floor, slow and deliberate. You haven't seen him yet which means he hasn't seen you. There's a chance you can just slip out unnoticed. You place the book on the shelf next to you beside the canned peaches. You'll come back for it tomorrow. Right now you need to get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

Despite living next door to him, in the past few months you've managed to stay off Joel's radar. After that horrible experience in his house you've gone to great lengths to avoid him. You go early to work during the week, you don't go to the movie nights anymore, you'd never been a big rider but now you don't even go near the stables.

Sometimes you might see him in the crowd during a meal but you're always able to avoid him, to duck away before his cold eyes land on you.

But here now? There are three of you in the shop. It's still early, most folks aren't even at their jobs yet.

You see the top of Joel's head over the shelving, his dark waves gliding until he finds what he's looking for in the hair care section. You catch yourself thinking of his hands massaging the shampoo into his scalp, his head tilted back under the water of the shower, rivulets of ---

Stop it.

"Here ya go," Ralph calls your name from the front of the shop. "All packed and ready to go."

You see Joel's head snap in your direction as your called and you press your forehead against the cool shelf in frustration. So much for getting out unseen. You take a beat, gathering your courage and your focus.

It's simple. Joel's on the other side of the shop. You'll just dart over to Ralph, grab the bag and go back to work. It's simple. You'll be fine. You won't look back.

Then you see it out of your peripherals.

Two dark brown boots stopping at the end of your aisle with a gentle scrape. You can't go backwards, the boxes behind you form a cardboard wall. The only way out is through, past the man with the wide shoulders and strong hands. Past the man who gave you so much only to immediately take it away.

He hasn't moved, hasn't said anything. You don't dare make eye contact with him. Your face flushes red, your head ducking as you shoulder past him. He makes no attempt to stand or shift back so it's easier for you. He just takes up space at the end of that aisle and you can feel him watching you maneuver past him, desperate not to touch him.

He lets you pass without issue. You think you're safe until you feel the back of his hand brushing your knuckles as you pass by. It's gentle, a ghost of a touch. You're not even sure it happened; a part of you is convinced you imagined it. But you don't slow, you don't look back, don't want to see if he's watching you.

You don't care even if he is.

Fuck him.

You mumble a thanks to Ralph, taking the heavy bag swiftly and rushing out of the shop. You're only steps away when you hear the door to the shop tinkle open and Joel's voice calling you by name.

You instinctively pause in the street, your eyes blown wide at the gravelled sound. But you don't turn to face him; you don't even tilt your head to show you've heard. But he knows you have all the same, his distinctive footfalls coming in your direction until he's standing front of you. Your eyes remain on the ground, on his boots.

He says your name again, this time softly. You didn't even realize he knew it. You refuse to look him in the eyes and decide his chin will do. He's so close you can see the spot he missed shaving just under his jaw.

He extends his full hand. "You forgot this."

You look down to see Jane Eyre, the book you'd been about to purchase, the one next to the peaches in his grip. How had he known it was yours? Your eyes swim over the cover before glancing back to his chin.

You have so much you want to say to him and none of it is kind. You want to scream at him for treating you so poorly. Want to punch him across the jaw for calling you pretty eyes and making you believe it. You want to shove and berate him until he confesses why he did it, why he went warm and then turned so cold. But you know you won't because there's a large chance you don't want to hear the answer.

He hates you. He was using you. He was fucking with you after you fucked with him.

Your hair stirs in the wind, twisting and knotting in it. You say nothing when Joel's right hand comes to touch a wayward strand, smoothing it between his fingers and if testing it. The shock of his nearness is broken by this gentle action and you take a large step backwards, your hair jerking out from between his fingers.

"That's not mine," you mumble motioning to the book.

Before he can say anything else you've turned and jogged off in the direction of your job, your heart smacking harshly against your ribs with each step.

///

In your house that evening with lace soaking in the bleach solution you pull on a sweater and pour yourself a cup of tea. When the tea is prepared you go to the fire with your teacup and a distant look on your face. You wish you had that new book but grab something else from your shelf instead.

It's the photo album, the one non necessity your mother brought with you from place to place. The only sentimental item that shows there was a time when the world wasn't on fire.

When you first got to Jackson city you looked at it every night. You spoke aloud to your favorite photograph of your mother, the one where she's laughing at the beach while the two of you build a sandcastle.

Now that it's been a few years since you arrived here you only look at it once in a while. It used to make you happy and bring you comfort when you first got here. Now when you look at the photos of your childhood all you can feel is robbed.

No prom. No college. No career as a graphic designer. No sweet sixteen party like the one you'd been planning when the world went to shit.

The day you'd come home from school to see your neighbor writhing in her front yard, tendrils peeking out of her mouth and straining for sunlight. That had been the day your mom had packed you up and . . .

You don't like to think about it. You thumb through the photos until you get to the second to last grainy image. The photograph that brings tears to your eyes and a pounding of your heart.

You close the album.

You drain your teacup; shuffle to put it in the sink. You peek at the partially submerged lace and smile. The bleach solution worked perfectly. The lace, once yellowed with age is now a beautiful white. It'll look perfect on what you've done so far with the dress.

You rinse the lace before placing it into a bowl of lukewarm water to sit in overnight and then head upstairs feeling warm but not contented.

You get to the bedroom and change into your nightdress, yawning. You feel strange, keyed up. Today has you feeling off kilter and you know it's because of your interaction with Joel Miller this morning.

You glance at the window that faces his house. It's propped open slightly to let the breeze in. You like the crisp air of Jackson city at this time of year. There is music playing faintly, The House of the Rising Sun. You draw slowly over to the window, bathed in the blue of the light. A cursory glanced tells you all the lights are off in Joel's home. He’s either asleep without turning off his record player or he’s out and left it on by accident. You’d bet money on the former.

You go to close the window when your eyes fall to something placed on the ledge of the windowsill. Your heart hammers when you realize what it is.

Jane Eyre.

The book you'd left with Joel Miller.

You frown, gripping the book and righting yourself. Still frowning you crawl under the sheets, your eyes scanning the book’s cover but not really paying attention. Joel obviously did this. Was it a message? A warning that he could enter your home at any time? Was it an apology for how he treated you?

You turn off the light, falling into a restless sleep.

Its hours later when you sense something isn't right.

There is a creak behind you and a hand is over your mouth, stilling and silencing you. Immediately you panic, flailing under the bed sheets.

"Don't scream."

Its him.

You know that if his hand wasn't over your mouth you would be. You'd be screaming shrilly in his face trying to wrench free of his grip. As it is, now that you know it's him you feel the panic subside, but only minutely.

"Don’t scream,” he repeats.

You nod, staring up at him in the darkness. He removes his large hand then he steps back, still staring down at you. You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before speaking.

"What are you doing here? In my room?"

"Fair is fair," Joel counters placidly. "You broke into my place, I break into yours."

You don't know what to say to that. This whole situation is so surreal. Joel is in your bedroom, standing at the side of your bed staring down at you with that familiar, heavy gaze. His frown deepens but his irises remain unreadable in the shadows.

“Why’d you run from me this mornin’?”

You sigh, rising to a seated position in the bed, bringing the blanket up with you. You never take your eyes off Joel as you do this, and he doesn't hide the way his eyes are sliding along your body.

You motion for him to take a seat on the edge of your bed, near your feet. Instead he comes closer, sitting inches away from your hip with his right leg crooked in your direction. The bed creaks under him and you glance down at his knee, so close to you. The coverlet of your bed, a delicate pale blue, is a stark contrast against the dark stonewash of his jeans. Your eyes move from his knee back to his face.

He's waiting for you to explain with his brows raised. You swallow finding your mouth impossibly dry. After a beat you manage a shaky reply, a half shrug.

“I dunno.”

There is a cleave between you, as wide a chasm if it physically existed. You hold tight to the blankets, not releasing them. You stare at your fingers gripping the fabric tightly.

“You do so.”

He leaves the words hanging there in the semi darkness.

You make a gentle sound of surprise when his hand tugs the blanket down out of your hands. His eyes drink you in, shivering in your nightdress. Is it from the chill or from Joel's gaze? You're not sure.

"The way . . . Last time," you utter quietly. The shame of that last interlude is still a stain on your mind, a humiliation you've replayed a thousand times. "Why?"

"I couldn't control myself," Joel explains without hesitation, his gaze dipping to the collar of your nightgown. "Just like I don't think I can control myself now."

You absolutely loathe the thrill that goes through you at those words. You despise that the low rasp of his voice and the soulful eyes combine to make your entire body throb. You wonder if Joel can tell, if he can sense the way your pulse has started tripping into a gallop.

But you need to say it. Need to explain that it wasn't okay how things ended last time. You keep your eyes on the blanket between you.

"You made me feel," you search for the words, glancing from him so you can think clearly. "Used."

There is a pause, a clearing of his throat. His voice drops a bit.

"I'm not a good man."

If you thought he was looking for sympathy that belief is erased when you look to see his challenging gaze fixed on you.

You search his face, looking for doubt or for pain or for something he's trying to hide and you see it all there barely hidden in his eyes. You muse that one day you'll learn more of his secrets, but for now you're content to wait.

You'll wait for his secrets, but not for his touch. You move up onto your palms and with a short crawl you close the gap between you. He sits still, watching you approach in measured breaths.

You press your lips to the side of his neck, knowing that kissing his mouth would ruin you. It would make it so much harder if Joel turns cold again. Instead you'll enjoy the quiet groan it elicits from him vibrating against your lips.

You move back, looking at him from under your hair in a way you hope communicates that he has permission to continue. There is a moment where he looks unsure, as if he’s fighting an inner battle. But then with a low growl he pushes forward, crawling over you and pressing you back until you're lying under him, your knees pressing into his sides. His body is heavy on yours but you don't want it any other way.

He's kissing your throat, wild open mouthed things that make you keen. His hips grind against yours as he kisses and nibbles. You feel the bulge grow in his jeans and this makes you groanw wantonly. When one large hand goes to cup your breast through your flimsy nightgown you whimper.

Then he's stopped, holding himself above you and breathing raggedly.

"I'm not a good man," Joel repeats. And now you see the hesitation in his eyes, in the way he looks at you.

You take his hand, still wrapped around your breast and slide it downward. He lets you do this silently, allowing you to move his wide palm down over your tummy, your pelvis and then finally . . . Over the soaking gusset of your panties.

"I don't need you to be good," you sigh.

This is all the encouragement he needs. His hand jerks your panties to the side, so desperate to continue touching you his finger begins sliding along your damp slit. It’s a short tease. You hiss as one of his fingers curls inside your cunt abruptly, the slick allowing him to slide in with ease. You jolt at the intrusion, your fingers flexing into his shoulders.

He stares down at you, your eyes creaking open to watch him. His face is neutral save for the way his dark eyes stay on your mouth. His fingers curl, coax, pleasure. His thumb taps your swollen bud and you give a strangled whimper. It feels so fucking good.

Your hand is at his belt buckle, preparing to undo it when his free hand bats yours away.

"We've done enough for me," Joel murmurs as his hands go to the waist of your panties, dragging them down slowly. They glide over your legs, the fabric leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trails down your body and is then tossed onto the floor.

You're lying back on your elbows watching this when he pushes you back into the bed. He follows you, kissing your collar with a dizzying softness. You arch as his mouth moves down your body, his hands teasing and grazing you everywhere until you feel about to unravel.

You give a ragged breath as he kisses you, just below your navel. Your skin twitches at the sensation of his facial hair rasping against the smooth flesh of your abdomen before he pulls back. Your eyes crack open to see he’s still fully dressed, not even palming himself through his jeans.

Instead he’s gripping your ankles and with a soft pull he brings you to the edge of the bed before he moves between the vee off your thighs. His eyes linger along your lower half, a tongue coming to trail the seam of his lips. His intent is clear. He's not going to stop at kissing your belly.

You draw your knees together, anxious. You're nervous. You know what he wants but you've never had a man do this before. You don't know what to expect and Joel seems to sense your hesitation. Much like your first time he's serious, all business. Warm calloused hands are on both your knees.

"Open for me."

It seems he feels most comfortable when he's in control giving orders. You can imagine that's how he survived outside the walls of Jackson City.

The blunted tips of his fingers dig into your flesh, a silent way to prompt you. You'll feel so exposed like that though, in front of Joel Miller of all people. He's so serious, so intimidating. And he's looking down at you as if he wants to consume you whole.

"Open."

His voice is a low purr, and his fingertips start to move in slow circles over your kneecap, gentle and stirring. You know you're absolutely soaked, probably dripping onto the blanket under you.

You swallow before you allow your thighs to fall open for him. His eyes dart down to your slick cunt, the trembling of your body, the way you're looking up at him with a look of fear and deep need.

You aren't expecting the almost pained look that crosses his serious features, the slack of his mouth as he hits his knees on the wood floor beside the bed.

"Fuck," Joel moans, his hands coming to grip the blanket on either side of you. "I need a taste."

Without ceremony he's gripping your thighs and moved his mouth between your legs, a flat tongue slipping between your slit. Immediately you arch back, the sensation fucking divine. Your head hits the pillow so quickly you see stars.

He holds fast to you, even when you begin to wriggle. He’s making soft groaning noises, kissing you, licking you there. You feel helpless to stop from opening your eyes and looking down the length of your body. The sight of Joel Miller between your thighs makes you moan,

You aren’t expecting Joel’s eyes to be open, fixed on your face as he tastes you. You expect him to look away, caught, but he doesn’t. If anything his gaze pierces you and he begins fucking you with his tongue. You had no idea it was possible.

You wish you could say you held out, that you were in control. But soon, too soon, you feel the warmth in your lower belly start to spread. As if he can sense it, Joel's mouth drags from your cunt to begin pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs.

You give a sound that is both pleading and desperate. Joel lets out of soft rumbling chuckle that you can feel grazing against your cunt.

"So impatient," he rumbles, huffing warm air against your exposed clit.

You let out a shuddering exhale. He's holding you with one arm over your abdomen; the second snaking is way between your thighs. His fingers comes to circle your clit as his lips move back between your legs, working together to bring you to the edge. Your head falls back sharply and you try to hold yourself back from bucking into Joel's greedy mouth.

"Keep looking at me," he insists from between your thighs. His eyes are stormy, looking up the length of your body as he tastes you. You don't know what penetrates you deeper, his tongue or his dark, glittering gaze.

"That's she is" he croons, his lips pressing sweet open mouthed kisses to your cunt. His fingers are removed and now it’s just him, his talented mouth pulling you deeper into the pleasure you can’t hide from. But it’s almost too much, the pleasure frightening you and you move to inch back from him.

His grip is steel and instead of his arm banding across your waist, he moves to your hips, holding you in place. His tongue is flicking now, causing choked noises to emit from you. Your entire body is trembling, and now Joel’s tongue laves your swollen clit.

"Give it to me," Joel groans. "I need it."

You arch up off the bed, your hands groping the blanket for purchase. You can feel yourself rocking into his mouth, your fists holding tight to the blanket on either side of you as you begin to give short, rasping cries as you stare at him.

"Give into it," Joel demands. "Come on my fucking tongue, pretty eyes."

Pretty eyes.

There it is.

You feel a cascading pleasure move through your limbs like water. Subtle at first, but then it spreads so quickly, so different than orgasms you’ve ever experienced. More potent, flooding the length of your body. The sensation is so overwhelming that you jerk at the waist, a loud wail of release echoing within your bedroom as you tremor against Joel’s waiting mouth.

You fall back, your eyes on the ceiling as you come down from your high breathing raggedly. You feel Joel’s warm hands slide down your waist, dragging along your legs until they reach your ankles. That's where they lift off, the warmth of his touch gone. Normally you would raise up, you would make some attempt at conversation. But this is Joel Miller and something tells you he doesn't care for it.

You know he won’t say goodbye. He won’t even acknowledge that he’s made you come so spectacularly you’re ruined for any future encounter. But when you finally raise your head and see your empty room you don’t feel as alone.

The book, Jane Eyre, sits on your side table.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller #fanfiction #mean!joel #joel miller x f!reader

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joons-jun · 1 year

Text

prohero youtuber! Bakugou x prohero streamer! reader

Bakugou bringing you food while you’re streaming. Your chat always gets exciting when he has a plate of food in his hand, curious to know what dish he made this time. You always make sure to show that camera and even post pictures of it on your social media since Katsuki doesn’t use it often.

After this happens for a while, people start to ask about his cooking and if he would ever post cooking videos. Bakugou didn’t mind the idea, thought it probably wasn’t a good idea since he wouldn’t be able to post consistently, but after so many people asked and a little convincing from his pr team about how it could help with his reputation,he agreed.

When he told you about wanting to start making videos, you were more than happy to help. Bakugou borrowed your camera for the time being and you even helped him with the editing. Once the first video was done and published you promoted it on your streams and socials whenever he cooked for you.

To say the public loved his videos was an understatement. Although he didn’t really talk during his videos, seeing him quiet and have such a relaxed face was refreshing for fans to see. In less than a month the video gained over 2 million views and his channel has 1.8 million subscribers.

#bakugou is so confused when he posts a new video and it gets almost 2 million views in 48 hours #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #mha fluff #bakugou headcanons #: ̗̀➛jun.writes

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blockgamepirate · 10 months

Text

So I originally uploaded this on YouTube but YouTube removed it for violating community guidelines and my appeal was rejected. I guess y'all can judge whether this warranted the strike or not.

(... that's not an invitation to hate on any of these streamers in the notes tho)

And yes, I do find this hilariously ironic. I guess I'm the Scott Smajor in this scenario

Original VODs under the cut:

JoeHills:

youtube

SolidarityGaming:

youtube

ZombieCleo:

youtube

TheOrionSound: (unofficial because this stream wasn't on Oli's own vods channel)

youtube

Dangthatsalongname: (I couldn't find it on Twitch or YouTube anymore)

#hermitcraft #empires smp #theorionsound #smajor1995 #joe hills #hermitcraft x empires #smajor #scott smajor

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wilbursprincess · 3 months

Note

wilbur with a partner who knows how to ride a motorcycle? :o

-☁️

Wilbur With a Motorcycle Rider Partner

Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Never been on a motorcycle so warning for slightly shitty writing? Otherwise it’s wholesome fluff lmao

Hello lovely ☁️ anon! I grew up with my dad having a motorcycle and taking it out for rides, but I’ve never been on one myself so we’ll see how this goes lmao.

Headcannons below cut!

~When you casually mention your motorcycle to Wilbur, he’s immediately curious.

~Not-so-subtly stalks your Instagram afterwards to try and find a photo of you and your motorcycle.

~In awe of how cool you look, wearing your gear and helmet covered in stickers, some of which are ones he gave you!

~The next time he sees you, asks if you’ll take him out on a ride.

~You make sure he has the appropriate gear, checks the helmet he borrowed from Ash is actually safe before you let him on the motorcycle with you.

~”Safety is more important than looking cool”, you tease him when he eyes the heavy-duty pants with a confused look.

~After you take him out once, he’s absolutely hooked!

~Buys you two matching motorcycle gear and plenty of helmet stickers.

~You catch him looking up motorcycles to buy himself so he’s not stuck riding on the back of yours all the time.

~Seeing their beloved streamer and musician on the back of a sleek motorcycle makes the fans go crazy, and it’s almost guaranteed you two will get waves and cheers when you zoom down the twisty Brighton roads.

~Take trips together around all of England, whether exploring the twisty countryside or zooming around London.

*hey guys when this comes up in my notifs when it’s liked/reblogged it reads as “wilbur with a partner who knows how to ride” and it always makes my dirty-ass mind giggle

#princesswrites #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur soot #wilbur x you #wilbur soot fluff #☁️ anon #wilbur soot x gender neutral reader #wilbur headcanons #wilbur soot headcanons

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noteriii · 2 years

Text

11:55 pm (shxtou x reader)

shxtou x streamer! reader

synopsis: it’s bedtime for both of you guys, and he makes sure of it.

[heavily based off his most recent tweet lol]

༉‧₊˚.

rubbing at your eyes, you let out a tired sigh sinking into your desk chair. squinting, you read the small numbers on the corner of your monitor. it was getting late and you were already running off a little sleep in the first place. at the very second, you were in search of new games to play for your upcoming streams to plan a tentative schedule. without wanting to copy anyone’s current gameplay, you dove into a deep search of steam game reviews. closing the application, you noted the last thing you had read over onto a document and made sure everything else was saved. reaching over to the side of your desk to turn off your lamp whilst your pc buzzed, there was a faint ringing from your headset that you had put onto its stand a while ago. listening closely, you hear the light tone of the discord call notification.

slipping your headset on and pulling your microphone close to you, you yawned as you answered the call. on the screen appears the familiar mop of dark, purple hair in a dark room illuminated by dark led lights similar to the ones you had on right now. “you’re not in bed yet?” his voice rings through your ears almost immediately. you gave your boyfriend a tired smile, shaking your head as you rub your eyes. “hi to you too, shoto.” you laughed lightly, hearing him yawn through the call. “go to bed, y/n” he tells you, adjusting the way he was laying down. running your hand through your hair, you nodded and motioned your hand into the general direction of where your bed laid. “i’m ‘bout to.. was just turning off the games,” you tell him as you look at the screen. from the very corner, you see a small tuft of gray fur and an outline you couldn’t mistake. “are you sleeping with the fat squish?” you say, an amused smile gracing your features. shoto moves the camera a bit, revealing a large wolf squishmallow you two had bought together last time you had visited him. technically, the large plush belonged to you- it just didn’t fit into your suitcase. “he has a name, yknow.” your boyfriend corrects you, placing his hand over the face of the stuffed toy and giving it a light, and what you thought could potentially be violent, squeeze. “you’re sleeping with ‘lil fat guy’ tonight? since when?” you giggle amusingly. “since you left him here, idiot. he’s lonely here without you, duh.” he answers as if it were obvious that your stuffed animal ‘missed you’. “are you sure he’s lonely or are you projecting yourself as him right now?” you questioned your boyfriend, drawing a tired laugh from him as well. “just miss you, that’s all.” shoto confesses. you can swear, even in his dark room, you can see the light blush on his face. “i miss you too, loser.” you tell him, letting out a tired yawn. “come on, babe. i’ll call you on your phone instead, okay? get into bed, let’s go to sleep.” all you can do is nod again sleepily, removing your headset from your ears as he ends the call. setting your pc into sleep mode and pushing in your chair, you glance around your room. sighing lightly, you pick up a sweatshirt you had managed to ‘borrow’ from your boyfriend and shrug it on, taking in a deep breath of the scent. dear god. you missed him.

dragging yourself into bed and under the covers, you pull out your phone. as if he knew your every move, shoto calls you. he smiles, seeing you draped in his hoodie. oh, what he would do to have you in his arms right now instead of the stupid stuffed animal you left behind. “hi.” you break the silence first, placing your phone on your night stand next to you. “hi, my love.” he replies to you, his voice quiet. “‘m gonna sleep now, shou.” you tell him, nuzzling into your blanket. as you drift into sleep, you can’t help but feel even just a tad jealous of the squishmallow in his embrace.

“goodnight, my love.”

#shxtou #shxtou x reader #shxtou fluff #shxtou x you #vtuber #vtuber x reader #shoto x reader #shoto fluff #shoto x you

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madameaug · 8 months

Text

Meet the Streamer || JJK x OC

The official continuation of 'Meet the Mod.'

Pairing: Jungkook & Jennette

WC: 3.1k > (longest fic I've written so far)

Jennette was rudely awakened by the sound of bottles hitting the ground. She cracked one eye open, still trying not to lose her gateway to drowsiness. Instead, she recognized the back of her little sister's head, Asia. She was sifting through her makeup box. From what Jennette could see, she already had two of her Fenty Beauty lip glosses in her hand.

"Asiaaaa." Jennette groaned at her meddling sister. Asia too often 'borrowed' makeup from Jennette without trying to return such items promptly. Jennette didn't mind sharing products with her sister, but she hated when Asia just took things without asking.

"Uh- good morning, sleepy head." Asia put the tubes back in their designated container. Her hands were behind her back.

Jennette trudged over, giving daggers to her sister. She bent down and picked up the other makeup items that hit the ground. Thankfully, they were just lip glosses and lip liners, not expensive items.

"Don't you have school or something? Why are you in here bothering me?"

"Today is a teacher workday, so I don't have school." Asia cheesed, showing her pink braces. The two sisters were completely different when it came to their aesthetics. Jennette loved her minimalist wardrobe. Tops with funk color schemes and her endless supply of mom and flared jeans. And the occasional boot heel or wedged sandals.

While Asia ensured getting dressed was a production in itself. Her outfits were always coordinated with themes of pink or white. If Asia were blonde and blue-eyed, she would resemble the pop culture icon Barbie. There wasn't a time in which Asia didn't wear something pink. 'If it wasn't pink, then it wasn't right.' Her words. The sixteen-year-old had also taken a liking to cosmetics but makeup specifically. Asia could do a full face ranging from soft glam, kawaii, to even the 'siren' look growing popular on social media.

Asia was talented, and Jennette always encouraged her to take her hobby seriously. Chasing your passion could open the door to opportunities never seen before. She knew this first hand. Watching her favorite streamer, Jungkook, go from fifty viewers to thousands in four years. If chasing your passion allowed Jungkook to become the second highest-paid steamer (behind Kai Cenat) then she was confident that Asia could do something similar.

"Oh, I'm taking flicks with Mimi at the mall today. So I have to look cute."

"Is that my crop top?" Jennette squinted her eyes, ignoring what her sister had previously stated. The fabric on her body caught her attention.

"Oh, this old thing? I'm sure you weren't looking for it."

"Asia, I literally just bought that. The tag is still on it." Jennette held onto the tag from the online store where she purchased the magenta long-sleeved crop top. Jennette was trying to add. More color to her closet since she wore business trousers five days a week. Working in a government office didn't allow for a lot of color to be in her wardrobe.

"Well, it's pink and matches my outfit for the day."

Before Jennette could continue fussing with Asia, her phone rang. She rolled her eyes at Asia before shooing her out of her room. She answered the phone without looking at the caller ID.

"Long time no see Mang."

"Jungkook?" Jennette's eyes almost burst, hearing his voice come through the call.

"Uh yeah, you expecting someone else to call you?"

"N-no."

"Good. But I wanted to call you to talk about yesterday. What happened in the chat wasn't cool. The behavior was uncalled for, and I apologize on their behalf. "

"Jungkook, you don't have to apologize. A lot of those comments didn't faze me."

Jungkook paused on the other side of the line. He was sitting in the same position as he was on stream. Knees up to his chest with his arms engulfing his knees. He was relieved Jennette wasn't sulking about the comments. Most of them picking fun at her skin imperfections. The same skin imperfections that Jungkook had. The bright light he streams in front of drastically hides the remnants of picking his white heads in high school. Acne scars were just a part of growing up, which is why he didn't even think twice when he saw the similar imperfections on Jennette.

"Well, I still want to make it up to you somehow. My treat."

"Okay." The response came out before Jennette even processed what Jungkook had asked her. She just agreed to see Jungkook in person. The Jeon Jungkook, the hot streamer she had been watching since she was a sophomore in college.

Straying away from the original purpose of the call, Jennette and Jungkook made small talk. Making herself more comfortable on the bed, Jennette laid on her stomach. Her feet swung in the air, laughing at the corny story Jungkook was telling her.

"Wait- wait. So your friends physically fought over dumplings?" Jennette tried to catch her breath from her hysterical laughing. She imagined two high school students throwing down their bookbags and tussling each other over the small package of dumplings that Jungkook described.

"Yess! Neither of them were really fighting; it was more like grabbing each other and cussing."

Jungkook enjoyed listening to Jennette laugh. It slightly contrasted her usual tone of voice, which was direct and full of sarcasm. It was light and goofy. Jungkook also joined in the laughter upon hearing Jennette snort in laughter.

"Oh my gosh." Jennette covered her mouth with her hands. Her face was hot with embarrassment.

"Ignore that, please."

"No way. I wish I had recorded that, you sounded so cute just now."

Jennette face-planted into her comfort, wanting to hang up the phone.

"Did you call me cute?" Her head popped up.

"Actually, I called your laugh cute, dumbass." Jungkook teased.

"Ha ha ha smartass."

Jungkook remembered a similar dialogue from the night before. The feeling of deja vu, pausing his movements for a second. All that was missing was the eyes of thousands of viewers, and the impending face reveal. Seeing an outlet to tease Jennette some more, Jungkook proposed a question.

"Can I see you?" Jennette's heart rate increased yet again.

"Your face, obviously. That's the only thing missing from our little deja vu just now."

"What about the steam. You're missing that too."

"Yeah, but now it's just us, so you should be less nervous."

Jennette wanted to laugh at Jungkook's incorrect statement. She wasn't nervous about showing her face to the stream. Many of those people she followed or interacted with outside of the stream. The real reason why she was so nervous about showing her face was Jungkook. In the past year, Jungkook had started maturing into a different person.

He was more than a guy who made her laugh with his gaming fails or funny story times. He was the guy who would talk to her in the eerie hours of the morning, laughing about nothing in particular. In those late hours, she was getting to know the real him. The version of him that she and few others had access to seeing. She felt special knowing that she could crush on Jungkook, the person, and not the famous streamer. But this self-realization didn't come out as smooth and simplistic as hoped.

A viewer kept typing during one of his streams, hoping to get Jungkook's attention. She was spending points to get the AI robot to repeat her lustful comments. Drooling over his recent lip piercing. Maybe if it was a viewer that she was familiar with, she would have ignored the thirsty comments. But Jungkook, feeding into the audacity of the commenter with his relentless flirting, hit Jennette in a low spot. Icky feelings of jealousy were bubbling in her gut. With no hesitation, Jennette clicked on the username, banning them and deleting her comments. In her defense, it was a temporary ban, and they were allowed to chat after 24 hours. But reflecting on that moment, she knew she had to address the elephant in the room. Her feelings for the streamer were more than platonic.

Too afraid to confess, she suffocated those feelings under the guise of being grossed out by his flirty ways. When deep down, she wished the direction of such flirtation was towards her.

"Mangy Pangy?" Jungkook called out.

"Yeah? Sorry, just tuned out for a second."

"I asked if you would let me see your face again?"

"Nah, I'm good. Once is enough."

"Guess I'll just have to wait till I see you in person." Jungkook faked his disappointment. He stepped in his closet looking for what he was going to wear.

"I guess so."

"Try not to think about me too much." Jennette cooed over the phone.

"Real funny Mang."

"See ya!" Jennette hung up the phone, flipping onto her back. She kicked her legs in the air before squealing to herself. She was meeting up with Jungkook, of course she was over the moon.

Not long after she hung up she got a text message from Jungkook, containing the address of the place they were going to meet up.

"Let's get dressed." She spoke to herself, opening her door to see Asia stumble back.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"Umm, no. I dropped my lash and was trying to find it." Asia got on her knees before patting the carpet, attempting to cover her tracks.

"You have both lashes on your face." Jennette folded her arms over her chest. "But that doesn't matter. Can you do my makeup? I'm meeting someone and want to make a good first impression."

"Oo la la." Asia wiggled her eyebrows.

"Cut it out." A smile peeks between her lips. "I'm gonna shower and be back."

With a tap of her designated shower playlist, Jennette smothered herself in lavender-scented body washes. Lavender was her go-to scent in the fall time. Wrapping her towel around her body she stood in the mirror, thinking about what to do with her hair. Not want to do too much, because she would get getting her knotless box braids next week. Tapping her lip she thought about doing an updo buff or unraveling her twists for a twist-out look.

Deciding to go with the twist out, she decided to finish getting dressed. It was a latte brown maxi dress, a fall staple in Jennette's closet. On top of the dress was a knitted- holey shaw that was a cream color. Her shoes were fuzzy slip-on Uggs. Turning in the mirror, Jennette admired her outfit. Loving how seamlessly the outfits came together.

" 'Bout time." Asia said as Jennette sat on her bed. Her makeup brushes were laid out as she looked at her big sister's face. She turned her head from side to side, thinking about what style to do for her big sister.

"I think we are gonna do a 'natural' beat." Asia started working her magic on Jennette's face.

---- all irrelevant details laterrrr----

Jennette sent her 'here' text to Jungkook, stepping out of her car. It was a little bit cooler than she had anticipated. Walking into the building with her hands tucked under her armpit. The bell above her head rang as she stepped into the artsy building. It had funky wallpaper. Different abstract art pieces covered the wall.

"Mang?" Turning to her left, she saw Jungkook walk up to her.

Damn, he was finer in person. Jennette thought to herself. She smiled before embracing the hug Jungkook gave. His summer tan was still present, giving him an olive skin complexion. He smelled so good, masculine yet fresh. Jungkook's attire was all black and casual. It was an athletic set, loose full-sleeve shirt, black jogger pants, and white sneakers. Jungkook kept a mask over his face and a baseball cap.

"Where are we?" Jennette and Jungkook walked deeper into the hallway. Jennette could pick up the smell of paint getting stronger as they reached what appeared to be a classroom.

"I remember you said how you wanted to do a pottery-making class. So here we are." The pair stood in the doorway of the pottery class, looking at the other people settling into their spaces.

Jennette wanted to release another squeal. She recalled the conversation about a pottery-making class. It was true she wanted to take a class for the experience but also for the romantic vibes. As a kid, one of her favorite television shows had an episode in which the female main characters made pottery with their brief love interest. Jennette wanted to recreate that scene with her boyfriend. A key detail that she purposefully left out in the conversation.

"This is too much, Jungkook. Here I was thinking we were gonna get ice cream or something."

"You're someone in my circle. You deserve more than some ice cream."

Ugh, Jennette just wanted to melt. Jungkook motioned her over as they chose their station toward the back of the classroom. The instructor entered the room, passing out smocks for everyone to tie around their waist. Jungkook was able to do his quickly, but Jennette struggled slightly. The string for the smock getting caught in her knitted shawl.

"I got ya." Jungkook stood behind Jennette, tying the smock around her waist without a second thought. At this time, he noticed how much her figure was on display. Jennette wasn't an outwardly curvy woman; she leaned more on the slim slide. Nevertheless, she still shapely. Most of her weight bearing on her thighs, with hips wide enough to give her a 'pear' physique. Out of respect, Jungkook made sure his eyes didn't wander too long below her waist.

"Thanks."

The instructor lectured on the proper technique of making a bowl or plate for twenty minutes. Everyone in the room was attentive and listened to every word that he said. After speaking, he permitted everyone to mix their clay and water. Then, he flipped a switch that caused everyone's station to spin slowly.

Jungkook found himself glancing at Jennette. He was just taking in her appearance. Her bottom lip tucked in her mouth as she focused on the wet clay before her. Her hair looked like cotton ball clouds compared to the twists he saw last night. He could tell that she put effort into her appearance. He's spent plenty of time in hair and makeup to understand the true art behind it. Finding the perfect shade, understanding contour, and color correction. It was a science. It made him feel good that she also put effort into her appearance, as he did the same for her. He shaved his peach fuzz and styled his bed hair. He was growing out his hair, so a middle part would have to do. He clipped in as many earrings as possible and matched them with silver rings on his fingers. Regardless he felt a little warm, knowing that Jennette took this much time just to hang out with him. Despite her mature look, she looked like her true self with the purple-framed glasses.

He loved how large her eyes looked in the glasses. The close proximity allowed for him to see the different beauty marks underneath her frames. They were sporadically placed around her eye, but still pretty nonetheless. Blinking fast, Jungkook stopped the one-sided staring contest.

"Tada!" Jennette held her clay, placing it on the table allowing it to solidify and harden. Just as the instructor had demonstrated, she made a bowl that was even on all sides. It was nicely done.

"Wow." Was all Jungkook could get out.

"Pffft!" Jennette burst out in laughter before looking at the shape Jungkook had made. The shape was neither a bowl or a plate and looked very inappropriate at first glance.

Jennette was laughing so hard that she couldn't even speak. Her semi-dirty hands fanned her face to prevent tears of laughter from messing up her makeup. Genuinely, Jungkook thought he knew what he was doing, but the pottery before him proved otherwise.

"Why did you make a dick?" Taking in breaths to get out her question, Jennette went back to laughing. Slightly embarrassed, Jungkook felt his ears getting warm.

"I wasn't trying to make that. Had I known you were going to be an art critic I would have chosen something else to do." Jungkook explained, trying to re-shape the clay. His struggle was on display making him feel more embarrassed than usual.

"Poor baby." Jennette got behind Jungkook, taking his big hands and putting his hands in position to make a proper bowl. Jungkook watched their skin tones contrast, as Jennette held onto his hands so delicately. Her face was so close to his, that if he turned slightly then his lips would be on her cheek. Jennette talked Jungkook through the steps to make the bowl, without a condescending tone.

Truth be told, both of them were basking in the closeness of each other's bodies. It didn't feel weird or unnatural. Perhaps the years of friendship curved any feelings of awkwardness. But there was something deeper. The growing connection could only be caped as friendship for so long before it would become hilariously ludacris. Intimacy was the word that would pop into both of their heads. But it was a word that neither Jennette nor Jungkook would be comfortable to place on their relationship.

Jungkook and Jennette left the pottery place before purchasing some boba tea. They were sitting outside on a bench, enjoying the cool fall breeze.

"Thank you for today. I had a lot more fun than I thought I would." Jennette admitted, sipping her berry-flavored boba tea.

Jungkook bent over in fake pain with his hands to his chest. "You didn't think you would have fun with me? Wow, Mangy Pangy that hurts."

"You're never gonna let that nickname go huh?"

"It's kinda embedded in my vocabulary. Can't help it."

"Excuses?" Jennette rolled her eyes.

"Plus, only I call you Mangy Pangy, so it should mean something." Jungkook playfully nudged her shoulders.

"Yeah. Yeah." Jennette swatted at Jungkook.

"I wanna take a picture to remember this." Jungkook pulled out his phone, swiping through his apps to get the camera icon. With his arm extended, he took several pictures of him and Jennette. She did simple poses; a smile, a peace sign, and a wink.

"We do look good together," Jungkook stated.

"Your girlfriends won't like to hear that."

"They'll get over it. Watch this." Jennette watched Jungkook tap his screen several times, unsure what plan he was acting out in front of her.

" 'Sup chat. Guess who I am with." Turning his phone screen toward you, you leaned in smiling for the camera. The chat erupted as if there was breaking news. Text was jumping, and exclamation points were everywhere.

No way!! Mang is so lucky!!! Mang is so pretty !! Jungkook marry me not Mang !!

"We had such an amazing day. We made pottery and finished drinking boba. I'm hoping that we can hang out soon." Jungkook put his arm around Jennette's shoulder. Jungkook looked at how bashful Jennette was acting, secretly loving every moment. Jungkook looked at Jennette through the camera, staring at her once again.

Jungkook staring mad hard Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Turning his head to look at Jennette. Jungkook looked at her dual-toned lips. He can't lie and say the thought hadn't crossed his mind. But he wasn't sure if she would accept the advancement.

"It's a quick stream, y'all. I just wanted to show y'all who I am with." Jungkook ended the stream. His eyes wandered back to Jennette, noticing that his eyes were already on him, too. No longer beating around the bush, Jungkook lept with his words without a second thought.

"You think you could be a little less obvious with how much you like me," Jungkook smirked.

"Excuse me???"

"You're not denying it." He teased in a sing-songy voice.

"You make me sick, Jeon. So sick." Jennette pointed a finger down her throat, fake gagging.

"You don't have to admit it right now, Mangy Pangy. Cause I haven't come to terms with my crush either."

"Oh really, now." Jennette couldn't help but smile. Embracing the warmth Jungkook's body radiated, she laid her hair on his shoulder. She was on cloud nine. Nothing felt real, that so much could happen in a singular day. Jennette would forever remember the day she met her favorite streamer.

A/N: Yall got any favorite streamers/ Youtubers??

I wasn't going to make a part 2, but I was so kindly asked by: @mundayoonimnida hope this met your standards !!! <3

#x black reader #jungkook x blackreader #black writers #jungkook #jungkook imagine #black fem reader #jeon jungkook #black oc #kpop x black reader #bts x black reader #black army

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pocket-ozwynn · 2 years

Text

Offline Valor: Chapter 2

[Borrower!AU]

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word Count: 3587

CW: Blood, flashbacks of death & violence

Rowan the Crownbreaker, son of Clan Ash, knew he should feel more pain than this.

His fingers twitched idly as he stood upon the rampart of cardboard and cobble. Through the open window at the far end of the room came a warm, arid wind that smelled of a storm. It filled the cavernous attic’s interior almost like a whispering omen from the Low Heavens. Rowan desperately wished he could close the window, but to do so would require a strength that none in Clan Ash possessed.

With no other option, Rowan opted to stand watch. He stood vigilant upon the wall for any sign of shadow that might cross the window in front of the warm amber glow of the monolithic light pole that stood as a lonely sentinel for this block of the sleepy titanic neighborhood. He even readied himself whenever he heard a cricket too loud, lest a mercenary ranger from the Forsaken Fane swoop in under cover of night.

Despite his resolve, his eyelids grew heavy. He bit his cheek and dug his fingers into the cardboard, hoping that a bit more tactility would keep him alert. He could sleep when the Lowlord lay in a pool of his own blood.

He wasn’t worthy of rest, not yet.

Be it the gravity of exhaustion or the absence of Ash’s typical merriment around their warrior’s sacrament, Rowan found his attention flitting down to examine the meager campfires near the base of the wall. He surveyed the loose circles of tissue paper tents and the faintly illuminated faces of the remnants of his family polishing off their crumm finalis. Typically there was laughter, singing, and dancing, but tonight the camp was silent as a grave. There would be no singing before the morrow.

As he took note of those who were alive and those who were absent, Rowan felt a pain like a dull knife carving deep in the chambers of his heart. It was a slow, methodical feeling. He hurt, but he felt like he deserved to hurt more.

It almost didn’t seem fair.

Rowan spied his aunt, the Raidsinger Nail, slipping out from her tent and making her way over to speak with one of his cousins. Though the cousin sat outside the glow of the fires, he could only assume she was attempting to make last minute preparations for their final stand against Lowlord Yucca’s forces in the morning.

The stairs creaked behind him.

Rowan’s hand was a blur as fingers curled around creaking leather and plastic as he gripped the hilt of his dagger. He pivoted, the blade ready to fly from his fingertips-

-as he turned, a hand caught his wrist. Rowan grunted in surprise.

“A bit slow on the draw, nephew,” came the soft chuckle of Uncle Oleander. He released his grip and let Rowan’s wrist fall. “Rest easy, ‘tis only me.”

Rowan sighed. He sheepishly sheathed his blade. “My apologies, Uncle.”

“For being too slow? Or nearly slitting my throat?” His uncle grinned as he moved to join him upon the parapet. And though Oleander teased, Rowan couldn’t help but feel a bit of embarrassment at both his ineptitude and paranoia.

“All is forgiven, Rowan,” Oleander hummed as he laced his fingers and rested his arms on the wall. Though his lips were a permanent smile under his mustache, the glow from the campfires below cut strange shadows across his face that almost seemed to cast him in a dark, weary light.

“I see appetite has eluded you as well,” his uncle noted. “This kind of thing always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I personally try to avoid connotations between merriment and death. But your aunt typically revels in tradition. So if the Raidsinger wishes to perform one last crumm finalis, to give our clan a little faith, then I see little harm in it. Faith can be a powerful motivator, after all.”

Rowan didn’t respond. He had his own personal distaste for the crumm finalis, but that all seemed so trivial at the moment. After a few seconds of the two men studying the camps below, his uncle cleared his throat.

“How do you fare?” he finally asked as he looked toward Crownbreaker. His tone was somber. “Nail was looking for you.”

Rowan could answer honestly. In truth, he felt vivisected–laid bare before an altar of rage and anguish. But despite the pain, he still couldn’t feel anything. How do you explain a paradox of this sort?

“I fare.” Rowan shrugged halfheartedly.

There was a beat as Oleander waited for Rowan to elaborate. When he did not, his uncle turned his full attention towards the Crownbreaker. With his hand now resting upon the saffron pommel of his rapier he asked, “Is it fear? Grief? I know this last excursion into Ash Haven might have been difficult for you…and you were one of the few who made it out alive.”

Rowan shuddered. His mind went back to Lowlord Yucca…the look of fury in his eyes…the hands at Rowan’s throat. Rowan couldn’t even think of the family he lost that morning, all he could feel was the Lowlord’s fingers digging into his neck

“No,” Rowan corrected quietly. He dug his fingers deeper into the parapet till he felt the cardboard bend under his grip. “Anger.”

His uncle clicked his tongue knowingly.

“Anger can be stoked for the most righteous of causes,” Oleander admitted with a sigh. “But it is a hot coal and if one is not careful, it can easily devour if left unattended.”

Rowan flinched as his uncle put a hand on his shoulder. Rowan felt guilty for not being able to meet his eyes. He knew his uncle was right–he was always right, but the gravity of this conversation made it feel like this might very well be Oleander’s final lesson to him.

“Be careful with how long you let that emotion dwell, Rowan.”

Silence fell over the pair as they regarded the titanic vista beyond the faroff window. Oleander stroked his mustache thoughtfully as rolling dark clouds started to choke the Heavens Low. Oleander drew breath and went to say more, but-

Cold water ripped Rowan the Last back to consciousness.

He gasped and flailed. Panic replaced the air in his lungs as the chill robbed him of his breath. As he splashed around, his fingers managed to find a glass rim that encircled him. He gripped the rim till his knuckles went white. His knees knocked against a wall in front of him, and his feet settled on a floor of some kind. He steadied his breathing as he slowly regained awareness…

Not drowning then. Just standing in a vertical glass tub filled with cold water.

Rowan couldn’t be sure what was happening. His memory felt melted–it was hard to grasp the last few days, let alone what happened to get him in this position.

All he could remember was Uncle Oleander’s face…his words…

The storm.

The Lowlord.

The decimation.

Even as Rowan tried to come to his senses, he saw movement around him, before him, and above him.

When Rowan finally had the sense to look up, he recoiled and pressed up against the back of the glass tub. It all was coming back to him now, like ink to water.

Rowan had nearly forgotten about the titan that saved him.

The titan was a woman with soft pink hair that cascaded past her shoulders like soft waterfalls. Her features were smooth and her eyes dark and soft. She had grace and femininity that belied her mountainous figure.

In fact, Rowan would dare say she was rather pretty.

She pulled her hands back ever so slightly and fingers the size of able bodied men curled back instinctively; however, she still kept her hands hovering within grabbing distance of him and the glass tub.

“You’re…” The Titan seemed breathless. Her eyes were wide and kept darting with microscopic movements. “...you’re not dead. That’s, um…pog.”

As soon as that last word slipped out the Titan closed her eyes tight. Rowan wasn’t sure the meaning of, but it certainly wasn’t one that the Titan had intended.

“I mean, um…wow. Sorry, l-let’s try that again,” the Titan laughed awkwardly. She pursed her lips and swallowed. “You’re awake.”

Rowan slowly nodded. He was too exhausted to verbalize any sort of response. While out of his periphery he could tell they were in the kitchen, he refused to look away from her.

He searched her face for any indication that might suggest she meant him harm. And despite his searching, he saw nothing that suggested ill will. The memory of her words–you can trust me–was an odd reassurance that filled his chest with an uncomfortable warmth. The moment he felt that, he tried to shove down. Every lesson of Oleander bubbled under the surface of his groggy consciousness like hot tar as he considered his next move and the echoes of his family screaming in his ears: do not trust her.

And yet…

Rowan ran a damp hand down his face as he broke her gaze. He closed his eyes and tried focusing on the feeling of his calloused skin against his scruff. The sensation was oddly grounding. He sighed, then scooped up a bit of water to splash his face.

Perhaps sensing he was finally relaxing just a bit, the Titan pulled her hands back all the way and took a seat. Earth Below, even sitting, she easily towered over the kingslayer.

Rowan got a better look at the kitchen. It was a bit tidier than some of the other titan homes he had frequented. The walls were white, the cabinets were dark black, and the fixtures brass. A massive chrome coffin with two handles on one side stood proudly off to the side–it was a Frigid Vault. Rowan fondly remembered when Aunt Nail taught him how to throw up a hook and rope to get a secure grip on one of the handles. Within the Vault lay many wondrous feasts that were preserved by the icy magics of titanic understanding.

But for once, Rowan wasn’t considering looking for food. The thought of eating made him nauseous.

He was up on the counter by the sink. Between him and the brass canyon was his cloak, his shirt, his daggers, a pair of tweezers fit for the fingers of a titan, and a tube of medicine salve that Rowan recognized from foraging runs.

Finally, he spied a large washcloth bundled up like a hill of linen next to his clothing and weapons. It had once been an olive green, but now it was stained with blood. A lot of blood.

He could only assume it was his.

“Take deep breaths for me, okay?”

Rowan frowned as he listened to her voice. For some reason hearing such a gargantuan person make such a soft spoken request was genuinely disarming. He’d never met a titan before–never even thought he’d meet a one–so any expectations of what might sound or act like was based around the stories told to him. Her timbre was surprisingly clear and concise, and she sounded like any Borrower woman of his own size.

Eventually he relented, and tried calming his breathing with deep inhales and steady exhales. As he breathed he felt a bit of soreness in his left side that prickled into a twist of mild pain–it was enough to make him wince. Whether or not the Titan picked up on that, she gestured to the left side of his chest with a finger.

“I, um…had to take off your shirt. Had to see where you were bleeding and why.”

Upon hearing this, Rowan looked down. He still wore his boots and trousers, both of which were properly soaked through. His muscles glistened from the water and the lawn mower's marks stood brightly in contrast–it was a deep lattice work of scars across his pallid skin that he was still getting used to.

Opposite of the burned tissue that dominated the right side of his chest, he spied a strange patch that hugged his left pectoral. It went down to his abdomen, then wrapped back beneath his armpit and nearly touched his spine. The patch’s material was rather confusing to Rowan. It seemed to be some kind of malleable plastic.

“It looked like a stitch had popped,” the Titan explained as she absentmindedly smoothed out her shirt. “It probably came loose from your run in with Chu Cu.”

Even as the words left the Titan’s mouth, she puffed out her cheeks and looked off. It was as if some kind of realization crossed her mind. She ran a hand through her hair and looked in desperate need of a drink. “This is…absolutely f@$%ing insane...”

Rowan squinted. He wasn’t quite sure what that fourth word meant, but he presumed it was some kind of titanic vulgarity.

After a prolonged moment of silence, the Titan threw her hands up in the air.

“PLEASE say something!” she blurted. Rowan jumped in the tub at the sudden din of her words. “You haven’t said a single thing! I’m trying not to just freak out here! You’re a little man who nearly got eaten by my neighbor's cat, I just cleaned up a lot of your blood, and fixed your stitching. So I would really like some help feeling like I’m not just totally losing my mind right now!”

She looked down at him pleadingly. Rowan looked up at her as he tried to figure out a proper response. Lazuli had been the one with the silver tongue, not him. How could he possibly hope to console a titan and explain to her what he was?

As he attempted to gather his thoughts, a look of horror washed over her expression as she seemed to recognize how her outburst might’ve come off. She put a hand to her mouth then whispered brokenly, “O-Oh f@$%! I didn’t mean to shout...I-I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare y-”

At that, Rowan actually managed a chuckle. It was mirthless noise, and it seemed to catch the Titan’s off guard.

“Believe me, miss.” Rowan ran a hand over his dirty hair and shrugged. “Far more terrifying and monstrous things have left me unphased. And seeing as you are neither terrifying nor monstrous, you have nothing to apologize for.”

The Titan stared at him. Despite partially covering her mouth, he noticed her jaw hanging slightly though Rowan couldn’t be sure as to why.

“Y-You are confused,” Rowan pointed with a groan as readjusted himself in the glass tub. He winced from the accumulated pain he’d accumulated over the last few weeks of running. “I would be too, were the roles reversed…so I apologize for any untoward anxiety I might have put into your heart.”

The Titan just mouthed a three word phrase of disbelief that Rowan couldn’t decipher. She blinked and looked taken aback. “I, um…wow. Huh. I…didn’t expect you to be so, um…”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. The Titan cleared her throat and shook her head.

“N-Nevermind,” the Titan replied. “I’m just glad you’re awake and you seem to be doing okay. How do you feel?”

How did Rowan feel?

He felt carved out–hollowed. It was like there was nothing left inside. And truthfully, he felt exhausted.

None of that, of course, was the Titan’s fault.

“I am well enough off.” Rowan waved her off. “But I am grateful for the aid. You saw the beast attempting to eat me, and you stopped it. You saw I was bleeding and suffering from the sun’s heat, and you took me in and treated my wounds and put me in a…”

He paused, then looked down at the water and the glass, upright tub. “...I believe this is a bathtub?”

The Titan looked a bit flustered before correcting him. “That’s, um…that’s a shot glass, sir.”

Rowan processed that. Then a rogue smile tugged at his lips as a flicker of amusement danced in his chest. “You put me in a cup?”

“Okay well when you put it like that it sounds like a really dumb idea, but I was panicking!” the Titan protested with a furious blush. “I wasn’t gonna like, drink you or anything! Th-that was just the first clean thing I saw that could hold water!”

“I know, I know,” Rowan reassured with a chuckle. “Sometimes physicians simply have to work with what they have at their disposal.”

The Titan furrowed her brow. “You…you think I’m a physician? N-No, I’m just a-”

“Regardless of what I ended up in, I hope you know how thankful I am for your charity, lady-titan. I cannot recount an instance in recent memory where a titan has expressed that degree of kindness upon seeing a Borrower like myself. So, again, I thank you.”

The Titan’s expression softened. She smiled and hummed, “Oh, um…yeah. For sure. Y-You’re welcome, little guy. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

After a moment of awkward staring and Rowan standing in the cup of cold water, the Titan moved to stand. Rowan’s breath hitched as he was reminded of the Titan’s scale.

“I have…so many questions for you,” the Titan admitted with splayed hands, “but I don't want to overwhelm you. You’ve gone through hell, and I don’t wanna add to it. So, um…you just, ah…have a nice soak, and…um. You just shout when you’re done, okay? Take as long as you need, there’s no rush.”

Rowan felt a surprising wave of gratitude, but it wasn’t without discomfort. Time was not a luxury that nomads like Clan Ash could afford. So to hear the Titan wishing to simply table her curiosity till he had time to rest was perplexing.

“Are you certain? I understand if you have questions, and I wish to answer whatever I can. If you wish to speak now, we can speak. This is not a grievous wounds, I am well able to spe-”

“I’m sure.” The Titan grinned. “Look, guy…I’m not gonna push you. You just rest and we can talk later. But, like…also, if you change your mind and just want to leave, I mean. Window’s open. But please if you do decide to leave, just give yourself an hour or so to cool off. Then make sure you get plenty of water in you, and please please stay in the shade when you’re outside. It’s a kajillion degrees, and I wouldn’t want you getting a heatstroke, okay?”

Rowan considered her words. “I appreciate that. Though I believe I will be staying, if only for a moment. I owe you an explanation in order to express my thanks for you saving me, gracious titan.”

The Titan grew visibly flustered at that. “O-Oh, I have a name ya’ know. You’re sweet but, um…gracious? And, titan? Too much, dude. I’m just a normal person–call me Zelly.”

“Zelly,” Rowan mulled over the name. “Sounds very regal. Are you nobility?”

The Titan–Zelly–threw her head back and guffawed. When she looked back down at Rowan she gasped, “Oh, you were being serious? Um. No. Definitely not nobility. Um…are you nobility?”

“Neither am I, thankfully,” Rowan wryly replied. He was reminded of polished silver and crushed porcelain floors. An open air throne overlooking the treetops. The touch of mercury. The smell of hazelnut. A friend who placed their diadem aside, and sat close to him as they sipped from pewter mugs.

The memory was like sweet vinegar to the taste.

“My name is Rowan the Last, Once-of-Ash,” he added somberly. “But you may call me Rowan.”

“Rowan the…?” Her voice trailed off. Zelly shook her head, as if opting to ask later. “Well, um…Mr. Rowan. You just get some rest, okay? I’m going to grab something from the fridge and, um, go decompress a bit.”

She turned and walked over to the Frigid Vault–which she had called a “fridge”--and effortlessly tugged on one of the handles and opened the Vault with ease. It was a feat that typically took several teams of Borrowers to do, yet she did so with one hand. Rowan could feel a shockingly cold gust of air, even from here.

“Do you want anything?” Zelly asked as she leaned back to meet his gaze. Rowan raised his hand, indicating he was fine.

As Zelly rummaged through the “fridge,” Rowan tried to close his eyes and follow the titan’s request to rest. But even as he closed his eyes, he saw the images burned into his eyelids. He remembered the sound of screaming, the smell of gunpowder, the taste of his own blood…

He remembered hearing the crunch of Uncle Oleander’s shoulder before he vanished from sight as he tumbled off the edge of the roof.

He remembered the Lowlord Yucca running Aunt Nail through with a cruel, gnarled blade.

He remembered when it was just he and Yucca standing on the precipice of shingles while the uncaring storm rained hot tears upon the bodies and blood around them.

He remembered when their blades met. He remembered when two became one, and the Lowlord lay in a pool of his blood.

He remembered how empty that victory felt.

The dull knife carved deep. The pain pressed upon his heart. The grief was so immense that its weight made his ribs groan. No rest would come.

He would never be worthy of rest.

All left decimated, with only a single speck of Ash on the wind.

Rowan, once of Clan Ash, had truly become the very Last.