It's Jae's world, you're just living in it ♡ ★ 2005
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THE RAIN HAS AN EDGE ╰ ﹙ ☁️ ﹚ft. park sunghoon ﹕ a oneshot ﹙ preview ﹚
you are the girl with an umbrella on a rainy day, and sunghoon is the boy at the bus stop drenched from head to toe.
in a nutshell ﹒ there’s a heavy downpour so you hold an umbrella over sunghoon and he looks at you like you’re crazy // 100% fluff
word count ﹒ preview is 1.5k; full ver ~6-7k
fic one of the between the lines series ﹙ coming soon ! ﹚
“true, the sun and the wind inspire. but the rain has an edge. who, after all, dreams of dancing in the dust? or kissing in the bright sun?” — cynthia barnett
now playing ﹒ paris in the rain﹙ lauv ﹚
THE FIRST TIME you talk to park sunghoon, it’s raining, it’s cold, and jake had ditched you to “hang out” with chaewon, because he’s a crappy friend who pounces at any opportunity for female attention.
after your study session in the school library finishes, you find yourself standing at the school’s front entrance, grimacing at the downpour of rain in front of you. heavy pellets pummelled from the sky like bullets, forming puddles in the divots of the ground and lowering the temperature enough to make you shiver.
lucky for you, you remembered to bring your umbrella.
this was a habit of yours even on the sunniest of days, after spending five days bedridden with a fever following The Great Downpour of 2020.
when you reached for your backpack and unfurled your umbrella, it sprung to life and off you went, hopping down the cement paveway that led to the nearest bus stop.
you’re just about to slip in your earphones when you stop in your tracks, spotting a figure a few steps ahead of you.
the person is crouching on the ground at the bus stop, hunched over and hugging their bookbag in an attempt at gathering warmth.
the person is drenched and miserable.
and practically radiating angst and despair.
because you’ve always been a totally (impulsive) caring and selfless person, you shuffle over and hold your umbrella over the person’s head.
they look up — and just when you encounter a cold gaze, dark brows and raven hair — you realise that the moody figure is none other than park sunghoon.
park sunghoon, the ridiculously good-looking senior everybody whispers about but doesn’t actually know anything about.
park sunghoon, the guy who always wears a stoic, unsmiling expression that makes him the most unapproachable of his group of friends.
and park sunghoon, the one who’s staring at you with a baffled and slightly distrustful expression on his face.
oh.
you’re just standing here, staring at him like a creep.
crap.
you should say something.
you open and shut your mouth a few times, trying to brainstorm what you might possibly say. you want to sound smart. and funny. and cool. so, naturally, the first thing that comes out of your mouth is a very intelligent and super profound, “it’s, uh. . . raining.”
sunghoon continues to stare, his brows slightly furrowed to suggest he was questioning your sanity.
“it’s raining,” you stupidly repeat louder, as though he hadn’t heard you over the rain.
“good catch,” he replies, his gruff voice coinciding with the slight dip of his lips.
the rumors are so true.
sunghoon definitely has a very grumpy, rather angsty demeanour. you’ve actually spotted him around school a few times (you may or may not follow him with your eyes every time he’s around. is that a crime? it can’t be! you’re not the only one in the student body who finds him extremely attractive and painfully enigmatic), but he’s not the kind of person you can approach so easily.
in fact, he’s been coined the nickname ice prince for a reason.
“yes, uh,” you struggle to string together a coherent set of words, especially because he stands to his feet now, and you have to make the effort to not be intimidated by his height.
“what i meant to say is that it’s raining but you don’t have an umbrella,” you laughed awkwardly, wanting to whack your head and yell stupid, stupid, stupid for impulsively waddling over here and saying stupid things to park sunghoon of all people. “i-i mean, obviously it’s a free country and you can totally do whatever you want, but, as you might already know — and i’m sure you do because you’re one of the smartest kids in school — standing in the rain can get you sick, like, really sick, and i only know this because about three years ago i forgot my umbrella and — funny story — i ended up getting so sick that i had to take five days off school because my fever was so high.”
oh god.
you quickly slap the tips of your fingers over your lips to physically restrain yourself from talking. the motion makes sunghoon’s gaze quickly flit to your lips, before they bounce back up to your eyes.
his stare is so painfully emotionless that you cringe inwardly.
you wish he’d say something.
anything. literally anything.
but he’s silent.
well, of course he is — you basically just trauma dumped about your stupid fever story. boo-hoo, you were sick from the rain — who cares?
just when you think you’ve reached the death of the conversation, you’re surprised by the sound of his soft voice.
“. . . niki.”
huh?
you blink, leaning in slightly so that you can hear him better.
“. . . niki. my brother. he took the last umbrella.”
oh.
your lips form a small o as you nod in understanding. “oh, niki! that doesn’t surprise me. he’s in my class, you know, and he’s always playing pranks on our teacher. one time he actually hid the test papers so we got a whole extra day to study,” your voice lowers to a whisper, “can’t believe i still failed it though. . .”
sunghoon doesn’t say anything, and afraid of being submerged in awkward silence again, you rush to fill in the space.
“so where’s niki now?”
he shrugs. “soccer practice, probably.”
“oh,” you frown. “wait, aren’t you part of the soccer team, too? you’re the goalie. you saved so many goals last season and helped the team to their first win in two years,” you say, though your eyes widen in panic as soon the words leave your mouth, “n-not that i’m a stalker, or anything,” you frantically add, “it’s just that everyone knows you’re the goalie because one, it’s common knowledge, and two, the game is coming up and we’re all on the edge of our seats to find out how it goes!”
stupid stupid stupid.
why are you rambling so much?
sunghoon doesn’t seem to mind, though his lips flatten in a rather sour manner. “i quit the team, actually.”
you gasp. “you’re the person jake is replacing? he’s been so cocky ever since it was announced that he’d be on the team. what made you quit?”
he shrugs, “it got boring,” he mumbles, then his ears turn slightly red and he dips his head in an emotion you never imagined park sunghoon could wear — embarrassment. “and i accidentally sprained my ankle.”
you blinked in surprise. “how?”
he hesitates before answering. “i tripped.”
you stifle a laugh at the irony, because while sunghoon was a lot of adjectives — tall, handsome, mysterious, brooding, kind of scary, even — you never thought he was clumsy.
you softly cackle, earning you a glare from the boy.
“sorry,” you grin playfully, growing accustomed to his icy aura. “i just never pictured you as a klutz.”
“says you,” he grumbles, “weren’t you the one who tripped and fell in the cafeteria last week? ”
“what—” you choked, “you saw that?”
he exhaled through his nose in amusement. “who didn’t?” sunghoon raised a brow at you. “i’m pretty sure someone recorded and posted it. the caption was ‘dumbass fails to do simple task and ends up with food all over her clothes.’”
your eyes slammed shut before they shot open. “fucking jake,” you growled, gripping the umbrella tightly. “i’m going to kill him.”
sunghoon chuckled, and the sound made your heart beat a little faster. you caught a fleeting glimpse of his smile which — by the way — showcased the most emotion you had ever seen from the boy. it couldn’t be helped that your stomach mangled and twisted at his pearly-white boyish smile, one that made his cheeks bunch up his face and his eyes twinkle like stars.
how pretty.
his smile faded as quickly as it appeared, however, and you soon found yourself facing his usual blank expression again.
you want to try say something that might make him smile or laugh again, but he suddenly steps outside of the cage of your umbrella and raises his hand, hailing down the incoming bus.
it slowly stops by the road beside the two of you, marking the end of your little interaction.
“oh, your bus is here,” you force a smile, rather disappointed. “i’ll, um, see you later, sunghoon.”
“get home safe,” he retrieves his bus card from his pocket, glancing over his shoulder before he boards his bus. “and thanks. for the umbrella.”
“n-no problem!” you quickly smile, “and by the way, my name is—”
“i know your name,” he interjects, and you think your mind is playing tricks on you when you see the edges of his lips twitch upward. “see you around.”
sunghoon disappears into the bus and it whizzes by you, though you stay frozen in your feet for what feels like forever.
he knows your name.
he’ll see you around.
you tuck your lip between your teeth, cheeks and ears flaring up.
get home safe.
if that’s what he truly wants, then yes — you think you can manage that.
( to be continued )
this is a preview only ﹒ full fic is estimated 6-7k ﹒ taglist open — send an ask, dm, or reply !
a/n . btw this is a preview only. the full fic might come out next week ? anyway my first hoonie fic and it's 100% pure, unadulterated fluff <3 this is inspired by paris in the rain + the above quote + an exo fic i adore ^^ hope u all liked it :) see u in the full version maybe ? 🤓
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ red moonᅠᅠ 🪸✧ ᅠᅠin venus.ᅠᅠᅠ
﹙♡﹚ᅠᅠi just wanna ride get
high w my loverᅠᅠ약제
ਏਓᅠ 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 ᅠ⩋ ᅠ 🌔
HELIOTROPES
pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments
summary: the gods were sick and cruel and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.
genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.
warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, unhealthy/abusive households (dottore--locked in closet, mistreatment/verbal abuse | reader--implied toxic stepfather & equally toxic mother who constantly believes him over reader, the slap scene from prev chapter), minor character deaths.
notes: the segment sheet is DONE, this was a rlly fun chapter to write! i enjoyed exploring both of their backgrounds ehehe
THE FAMILY JEWELS
Dottore did not dream.
He used to dream before he was forced to abandon his original body but even then dreams were sparse and short. If he was lucky, sometimes he dreamt of answers--his mind always on his research even while resting. If he was unlucky, he would dream of fire, red and orange and yellow flames too close to his eyes; he would dream of the day he had received the scars that marred half of his face and his hands.
But now he was sitting in an unfamiliar home, reminiscent of the estate in northern Fontaine where the Delta segment was focusing on his research. It had to be a dream. He remembered laying down in his bed, he remembered feeling his soulmate’s exhaustion. He had been back in his estate in northern Snezhnaya and now he was here.
It had to be a dream but Dottore didn’t dream so it must be something else.
But what?
He didn’t have time to dwell on the issue, he found himself moving, standing up from wherever he had been sitting and confusion began to itch at him, realizing that something was wrong. He was shorter--stood barely taller than the couch he had been sitting on--and he had no control over his actions.
He tried to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass of an ebony cabinet that seemed to be storing some sort of antiques but he couldn’t make out his features. His features? Something felt wrong. His hands moved down on their own, smoothing down the cloth draped across his body--loose fitting, softer than anything he owned, it only reached his knees.
A dress?
There was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest--excitement but it wasn’t his own. He was pacing back and forth and as he turned on his foot for the fifth time, he caught his reflection in the mirror: bright eyes glowing with anticipation, a wide smile. It was a girl, a young one at that--no older than seven. Something warm and heavy stirred, this was of his own.
This was her. His soulmate. He knew it.
Dottore suddenly felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know how to wake himself up. He tried searching for something to read, he tried yelling, he tried blinking repeatedly--tactics that he had used all of those years ago when he found himself dreaming of the unpleasant years he spent back in his village but none of them were successful this time. His body wouldn’t cooperate… or he supposed it was her body, not his.
This was not ideal, he thought to himself as she continued to pace around. He had somehow managed to let himself get attached to the faceless being on the opposite side of the thread, however minimally that attachment may have been, he did not want to put a face to them because he did not want to risk this attachment becoming any stronger. He had to focus on severing the thread, freeing them both of the shackles that this bond placed on them.
There wasn’t much he could do, he realized. There were no tricks that he could use to wake himself up, he just had to wait this out, watch whatever was going on from behind the eyes of his soulmate. Exasperated, he resigned himself to his fate, instead trying to make the most of the situation and figure out where exactly she might be.
Not to find her, he told himself.
Or, it was to find her, he corrected, but only so that he could send Lambda off to keep an eye on her. He was the only one that Dottore could trust to make sure that she stayed alive without forming any sort of attachment to her and without even making himself known to her. All of the others would take advantage of the opportunity but Lambda would do what was necessary--he was livid enough over this whole situation and how it has been affecting their research. He would make sure that their soulmate stayed alive and unharmed long enough for Dottore to figure out how to sever the thread.
“Moooother,” the words left his lips, but the voice was young and happy, a soft singsong of a call that trailed into a gentle giggle. Innocent, sweet, untainted. “I’ve been waiting forever.”
Dottore felt another emotion that was not his own, this one more familiar to him--a growing anxiety, a creeping sense of doubt as the girl began to look around. He could feel her lips twisting into a frown, the excitement dying as she left the room to go look up and down the halls. Dottore tried to push away her growing distress, instead focusing on the windows that she was passing by as she ran up and down the halls.
Rolling hills in the distance, snow dusting the thick grass, the skies were clear and there weren’t many trees in sight. Dottore’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, it was very reminiscent of the labs he had set up on the Fontaine border.
Was she from the Fontaine countryside?
He would call Lambda back from Sumeru to send him to check it out, and order Delta to take his place in Sumeru with Theta. Theta would be livid but Dottore didn’t particularly care about how Theta felt. He had only barely been able to replicate all of the lost research before the deadline Dottore had set for him and Dottore had a feeling that Lambda had done the majority of the work because he had been furious over his research being interrupted.
Unfortunately for him, it would be interrupted again.
But where in the Fontaine countryside? Dottore tried to figure it out, irritation growing as she came to a stop in one of the hallways, no window in sight. It had to be somewhere in central or eastern Fontaine--if it were western Fontaine, there would be no snow powdered across the grass, the heat from Sumeru and Natlan melting it before it even touched the earth.
Northeastern Fontaine or north-central Fontaine. It would be easier if he could sic Rho on the job. He would be able to track her down with a general location--they’d have her whereabouts in a matter of a week… but he couldn’t trust Rho to not tell the Gamma segment, and if the Gamma segment knew, he would tell the Iota segment, and the Iota segment finding out was how this whole mess started in the first place.
“Miss Elyna!” she called and Dottore was moving--or she was, he corrected again--this time down a new hall, lips tugging down into a pout as she tugged down a cloak from a hook. Dottore winced as she pulled too hard, tumbling down to the ground. He could feel the hardwood floors scraping against her elbows. It hurt more than it should’ve, he had gone through worse but he supposed he was feeling what she was feeling, severity and all. Dottore wanted to roll his eyes when he felt her eyes water up, sniffling.
“They left me,” she said to herself, voice wobbly as she pushed herself to her feet and pulled on the cloak. It was too big for her, dragging against the floor as she made her way to the door.
Pleased, Dottore realized she was going to go outside, which would give him a better chance of figuring out where along the Fontaine countryside she was living. As soon as she pushed open the door, brisk air met his face. Her nose wrinkled, drawing her hands up into the sleeves of her cloak as she began to make her way out of the house.
The town seemed to be up a rather large hill, a mile or so away from where the estate was situated. She was of noble birth, that much was obvious, only the aristocrats of Fontaine could afford such a large estate with that much property.
Dottore frowned as he caught something in the distance--dark clouds rolling over the town that she was making her way to, too fast to be just the average storm. Even further in the distance was a sight he could barely make out: a mountain range, large, ragged peaks that were very, very familiar.
Dottore felt uncomfortable. Again. The storm was not of a natural cause--it was one of the harsh winter blizzards that should have buried Snezhnaya’s capital city, deflected by the Tsaritsa to batter Fontaine instead. His soulmate remained blissfully ignorant of the coming danger, bounding up the hill in the direction of the village, at a pace too slow to beat the imminent storm. He could feel the air around them getting colder, the wind picking up. He could feel the first snowflake sting her cheek, bitter and sharp.
There was a sinking feeling in his stomach--he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers. It was hers, he realized, because she was now looking around nervously, realizing that the storm was about to come down on her and she was too far from the estate to make it back there and she was too far from the town to make it to one of the houses on the outskirts.
Snezhnayan blizzards were dangerous. They never lasted for too long, especially the ones that were deflected to the south, but they came on fast and they were harsh--the winds were wicked and the snow came down half as ice.
“Mother!” she called, voice loud, and panicked. Dottore’s heart was racing--or he supposed it was hers, now that the severity of the situation was finally beginning to set in on her. “Mother!”
Fool, he thought to himself, you’re going to fall. His chest felt tight--this was his own, not hers, he recognized--as instead of trying to run back to the estate, she kept going up the large hill, intent on finding her parents rather than trying to get back to safety.
Just as he expected, it only took one strong wind for the girl to trip over the too-long cloak and go tumbling down the hill. She was shrieking but the wind was drowning her cries and Dottore couldn’t do anything but watch, watch through her eyes as she tumbled down the hill, nails clawing against the dirt as she tried to slow the fall.
Dottore did not do well with these sorts of movements. He felt woozy, light-headed--or maybe it was her feeling it, or maybe it was both of them, Dottore really couldn’t tell. By the time she came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, she could barely even stand up. The wind sent her tumbling down each time she tried to rise, and the snow was coming down hard, whipping around her so that she could barely even see a few steps in front of her and Dottore was suddenly back in northern Snezhnaya, four hundred years prior.
Beta, Dottore thought to himself and he felt sick and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dizziness or because of the reminder of his first segment and its destruction. He willed himself to wake up to no avail, and he couldn’t even shut his eyes because he was forced to watch through hers as she tumbled to the ground over and over again, trying to make her way blindly through the storm.
You’re going to get yourself lost, Dottore wanted to spit out, livid, stop moving. But his soulmate was terrified and frenzied, shrieking even though no one could hear her, sobbing for her mother, trying to cover her face with her cloak but she kept getting knocked to the ground, taking facefuls of mud and snow. It was hard to remember that it was the past--that this had already happened years ago as he lived through it himself through her, as he felt her fear and her pain and her panic.
He hated this.
He hated the lack of control. He hated being forced into this situation. He hated having no choice in what was going on.
He hated having a soulmate
And he hated even more that there was the chance that she was also dreaming of his past and he had no way of knowing what she could be seeing.
You were sitting by a window. You blinked, brows furrowing softly as you tried to figure out what had happened and how you had got there. The room was unfamiliar--the furniture was a pale wood instead of the ebony dressers that decorated your room and it was small, it seemed to be some sort of living room but it was barely even the size of your bedroom.
You wanted to stand up but you couldn’t and you weren’t entirely sure why. You frowned, trying to push yourself off the windowsill you were sitting at but your body wouldn’t cooperate, locked in place. You felt a bit panicked over it but you couldn’t feel panicked, you didn’t know how to describe it. It was a muted feeling, suppressed--what was more intense was the odd sense of longing tugging at your gut, the weight heavy on your chest.
Your gaze moved on its own from inside the house to back out the window. You couldn’t help but notice how the window was bolted from the outside--less like trying to keep people out of the house and more like trying to keep someone in. You felt uncomfortable suddenly, but again, it was a muted feeling, one that you couldn’t seem to feel strongly no matter how much you felt like you should.
There were kids outside, across the dirt street, lounging in the lush grass. They were smiling, happy, making the same motions you would when you pulled at your string and you felt even more alone, sad--you felt sad and you didn’t even know why.
You looked away, down to your lap, and then you felt confused because you realized, slowly, that you were not in your own body. You were wearing a pair of loose shorts--a thick rough material that felt icky against your skin, you were used to the soft silks and cottons that you usually wore. Your legs were stick thin, the bones protruding through the skin. Your knees and shins were bruised and scratched up and your hands were small but rough and calloused.
What…?
“Zandik,” you heard an unfamiliar voice call. Your head turned, but you weren’t controlling it. Again, you felt alarmed, and again, you couldn’t really feel alarmed. Instead, there was an anxiety pooling, one that you weren’t in charge of. You looked to the side--a woman was standing there, tall with pale blue eyes and dark hair. “Why are you watching them?”
“You never let me go outside,” The words were leaving your lips but the voice was not your own, it was that of a boy--a young one at that--quiet and vulnerable, loneliness echoing in his tone. “Why can’t I go outside? I want to explore. The other kids go exploring all the time, I see them.”
“Zandik, come away from there,” the woman ignored his pleas, pressed together tight as she watched him--you? you thought to yourself, confused at the whole situation. “You’re going to make them uncomfortable. We don’t need more rumors going around.”
“I want to go outside and explore,” the boy was adamant, his words edging on desperate. “I hate being stuck in here all day, I want to go out. I want to explore. Why don’t you let me out?”
“You know why, Zandik,” the woman had not one ounce of sympathy for the boy and the hurt that you might have felt personally at the harshness, he felt tenfold. You could feel yourself sniffling--he was sniffling, you corrected, his lip wobbling and his vision going blurry.
“I don’t get it,” he said, voice cracking, the telltale sign of a meltdown in most kids but he seemed to be controlling himself, somehow. You had never seen a kid mature enough to hold back their tears and wails. “I don’t get it, you keep telling me they don’t want me outside because of my soulmate but that’s not fair. I’ll get my mark soon, why are they being so mean? I just want to go out and explore.”
Oh, you realized suddenly as you finally began to feel tears track down your cheeks and as the boy finally let himself cry. This was your soulmate when they were younger.
You had heard rumors of this, you read about it in some of the books in the palace’s libraries. There were certain half-stages or rare effects of the bond that soulmates could experience, some called them mutations, others called them extra blessings. There were rumors of people not being able to see certain colors until they met their soulmates, rumors that some had two different eye colors--one of their own and the other to match their soulmates, and then there were dreams. Dreams were a frequent mutation, be it seeing each other’s past through the dreams or it being a shared space for them to talk to each other in.
You assumed this was the former.
And suddenly you were angry. The woman, who must be his mother or caretaker, was watching him coldly even as he cried. She made no attempt to console him, no attempt to calm him down or reassure him, not even a single word or action of comfort. She watched him cry with empty eyes, unmoved by the tears. It was hard to only be able to watch--you wanted to scream at the woman, you wanted to slap her, you wanted to comfort the crying boy, but all you could do was watch it happen from his eyes, feel his distress.
“It has been over five years Zandik,” the woman said, tone void of any sort of empathy for him. “No one has gone this long without receiving their mark. It is a bad omen for the village, you are a bad omen--they say the divine have cursed you. They do not want you around and if you continue testing your father’s patience, he will stop advocating for more time with the village elders. Do you understand?”
He was crying, hard, and you could feel him shaking his head. “I don’t understand. I do-”
The glass behind you shattered and the boy didn’t have any time to react before a rock flew past him into their house, shards of glass cutting through the skin of his cheek and his arm--shallow cuts, but you could feel the warm, thick liquid dripping down his cheek. He had stopped crying suddenly, stunned by the sudden pain and the loud sound of the glass breaking.
The woman was staring down at the rock in the middle of their small living room, making no move to get a wet rag to help Zandik clean up. You could hear the kids laughing as they ran away--evil little demons, you thought to yourself, personally aggrieved by the situation.
“What was that noise?”
A new voice--male, deep, and Zandik was forced out of the state of shock, heart-racing and nerves returning, this time way more intense as he looked at the woman, “Moth-” he began, voice dripping with anxiety but he didn’t even have time to finish the word before a man had made his way into the room.
He was tall, taller than your father was with wavy blue, fair skin and sharp red eyes. He was intimidating, you weren’t even really there and you could feel your nerves beginning to heighten… or maybe it was just Zandik’s emotions forcing themselves onto you, you couldn’t tell at this point. But the man, his father, was livid, his lips were twisting in an ugly sort of fury as he stared at the broken window.
You thought he would storm outside, yell at the kids who had thrown the rock into their home and hurt his son but instead, he was moving toward Zandik. Your stomach dropped as you felt yourself--him--trying to scramble away, unintelligible, panicked babbles spilling from his lips but his father’s legs were longer, strides too big for him to escape.
He leaned down, a large hand wrapping around Zandik’s thin bicep and you winced at the bruising grip he had on him as he yanked him to his feet so hard that the boy went stumbling. “How many times do I have to tell you-” his father started to spit out, cutting himself off as he dragged Zandik through the small room and toward the hall.
“Zakai,” his mother began, following Zandik and his father, exasperated and maybe even a bit nervous.
“Stay out of this,” his father said roughly, turning down another, smaller hall that led to a single door at the end of it.
“No,” Zandik was panicking, desperately trying to rip himself out of his father’s grip. “No, I don’t want to go in the dark room. I don't want to go in there.”
He went ignored, flinching as his father yanked open the door and a sharp pain flew up your back as he pushed Zandik into the room--the closet, you corrected, horrified. It was a small space with no windows and barely enough room to sit comfortably, and his back hit the wall hard before he crumbled to the ground.
“This is for your own good,” his father told him. “It’s hard enough convincing them to let you remain in the village as it is. If you continue to give them reasons to want you gone, I’ll have no choice but to concede.”
“I didn’t even do anything,” Zandik choked over his words, you could barely make out his father’s face now from how much his vision was blurred with tears. “I was just sitting there.”
“They don’t even want to look at you, boy,” his father hissed, grabbing Zandik’s cheeks and squeezing them together hard. “They see you a monster, do you understand? The same type that rose from the damned lands and razed our villages to the ground--those cursed people had no mark either, you know? Are you like them? A monster? Cursed? Are you? Answer me!”
“I’m not!” Zandik shouted, pulling his face from his father’s hands. “I’m not!”
“Then prove it,” his father snapped before slamming the door in his face, drowning the small, enclosed room in darkness and leaving Zandik in there alone.
In an instant, the scene warped--another dizzying sensation that had Dottore sick to his stomach. Gone was the ferocious wind and the snow pummeling his soulmate’s small body, gone was the panic and the fear. Instead, it was replaced with beams of sun warm against his face, a bubbling excitement that was overwhelming any sort of irritation he might have had.
She was older now. He caught sight of her reflection through the window that she was running past--still young but probably closer in age to the Iota or Gamma segment. She looked happy, she felt happy. It was a far cry from what she had been feeling before and it was giving Dottore whiplash as he tried to figure out what exactly was going on.
She was clutching something to her chest--a flower, purple hydrangea--and there was a hop in her step. From what he could tell, she was making her way to her family’s estate from the town. There was nothing in her field of vision that could give him any hints as to narrow down where she might be.
But it was warmer, and he remembered how the mountain range encasing Snezhnaya’s capital had been visible in the distance when she had been walking to the town. It had to be a town along the Snezhnayan border--central Fontaine, most likely, considering the positioning of the mountain range and the warm weather. Central and western Fontaine frequently dealt with waves of heat drawn in by Sumeru’s desert and Natlan’s fields of magma while northeastern Fontaine rarely ever got warm, surrounded by the mountain ranges of eastern Snezhnaya and northern Mondstadt on both sides, it was pretty much a pool of cold air… and he couldn’t see any mountain ranges to the south, so it had to be central Fontaine.
But central Fontaine was large and he had no way of knowing where exactly the town could be. It was somewhere up by the Snezhnayan border in the western sector of central Fontaine, yes, but dozens of towns could match that description, more than that even. Fontaine was littered with small towns in its countryside, even without adding in the city’s population, Fontaine was the most populous of the seven nations.
Lambda’s issue, Dottore told himself as she finally got to the front doors of her family estate, pushing it open and stepping inside. He had more important things to worry about than her location, he had narrowed it down far enough that Lambda would be able to figure it out.
“Mother!” she called loudly, making her way down the halls. Dottore could feel how happy she was--it was strange. He had felt her happy a million times before but now it was as if he were feeling it himself. It wasn’t that distinct muted feeling he had learned to decipher from his own and locked away. It felt like it was his, it felt like he was happy and he wasn’t sure he had ever felt like that before.
He didn’t like it. He felt warm, at home in a way that he usually only did in his labs and even though he knew, realistically, that these were not feelings of his own, he didn’t like the way it was affecting him.
“Moooother,” his soulmate repeated, louder this time, but it lacked the singsong lilt it had years prior before the storm. “Moth-”
“What is it?” an unfamiliar voice asked, sharp and cold, interrupting her call. Dottore felt the change in mood instantly, the giddiness replaced by hurt, smile fading for just a second, and Dottore felt livid, murderous, but even that was displaced because he was feeling her own emotions more strongly than his own.
His soulmate turned to face the other direction, where walking down the side hall toward her was a taller woman that looked just like her, although her eyes were sharper and her lips were pulled down.
She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and Dottore could tell that she was bothered by the woman--who he assumed was her mother--and her coldness.
Despite the discomfort, she still managed to smile again, “I made a friend down in town,” she said, excited. “His family owns the flower shop. He gave me a flower.”
Irritation pricked at the back of his mind, he pushed it away.
“That’s nice,” she did not sound interested. He could feel his soulmate’s smile falter again--the irritation grew, developing into subtle anger. “You were supposed to be back for lunch.”
“He was really nice,” his soulmate continued, perturbed but trying not to let it show. Dottore wanted to roll his eyes, he had no desire to hear about a childhood crush. “And guess what? You’ll never believe it! His soulmate, she’s up in the north too.”
Dottore felt her mother’s change in demeanor instantly. His soulmate remained oblivious, giddy, and excited. He didn’t have to look in the reflection to know that her eyes were shining and her smile was wide, he could practically picture it on his own. He felt tight, having a bad feeling about what was going to happen next.
“How do you know that?” her mother asked, icy.
Blissfully ignorant, his soulmate looked down at the flower she was holding tight to her chest. “We talked about it, he said he was going to go north to find her one day and I asked to come with and-”
Her head snapped to the side, hard, and a painful, stinging sensation spread across Dottore’s face. At once, Dottore felt a wave of emotions all at once--only one was his own and that was rage, rage at being slapped, at her being slapped--but more predominantly, he could feel her shock and he could feel her distress. He was reminded of the day all of those years ago when he had gone to meet Pantalone for the first time when he had been cut off mid-sentence by a slap on her end.
Her mother grabbed her face hard, squeezing her cheeks together, and Dottore was livid--he wanted to rip his face out of her grip, grab her by the throat, and force her off but he couldn’t, he couldn’t control anything because he was stuck in his soulmate’s body, watching it all happen from behind her eyes.
The worst part was that he didn’t even know if he was angry because it felt as if he had been the one slapped, or if he was angry that she had been slapped.
“How many times must I tell you?” her mother spit out. “No one can know. No one, you and I, your father and Miss Elyna, they’re the only ones to know of your thread. To everyone else, you have no soulmate. How many times must I tell you?”
Dottore was taken aback. So taken aback, that he didn’t even register his soulmate’s response—something along the lines of a stuttered ‘but he was nice, I trust him’, but it only infuriated her mother even more.
To everyone else, you have no soulmate.
Why?
Were they able to figure out who he was through the words? No. That wasn’t possible, this was right after the beginning of the second stage. She hadn’t received any words from him at this point.
Then it had to be something else. His location? Was Fontaine so anti-Snezhnaya already?
They had expected it considering their archon’s stance on Celestia but how was it even possible? The Hydro Archon should have no way of knowing the plans of the Fatui but Dottore wasn’t sure what else would turn the deity against them like that.
… unless there was a spy. But even then, they should know that if that was the case, Arlecchino had implanted one of her spiders into Fontaine’s court.
Dottore was frustrated as he was forcibly ripped from his thoughts, drawn back into the situation at hand. Her mother was still going on, and his soulmate was still quiet, but she was crying now, silent tears spilling over her cheeks.
“… and your stepfather was right. Ever since he came into our lives, ever since the twins were born, you have taken every chance to act out or put our family at risk. Getting yourself lost in that storm after you told him you didn’t want to join us in town, refusing to show up for your siblings’ birthday, constantly talking back, and now this-”
“It’s not true,” she hiccuped, trying to pull away from her mother only to fail. “I wanted to go to their birthday, he never told me where it was, and I wanted to go to the town but he left me, and-”
“Enough!” her mother shouted and his soulmate flinched. “The lying is getting out of hand, all of this is getting out of hand. Do you understand how much risk you just put our family in? Your siblings?”
“I didn’t mean-“
“I will handle this,” her mother spit out, voice dripping with venom, “but this is the last time. The next time you act out of line, you will be living with your father indefinitely.”
She left her standing there, alone, and the happiness from before was gone, leaving her as cold and empty as Dottore felt normally. Her flower lay limp at her feet, and she made no move to pick it up.
Dottore didn’t like it.
She didn’t move for a long time, not until another figure came into the room—another woman, with dark hair and kind gray eyes, who let out a sigh when she saw her standing there alone, tears still tracking down her face.
“She doesn’t mean it, little one,” the older woman sighed, patting his soulmate’s head gently as she kneeled to pick up her flower, placing it back in her hands. “She loves you, she’s just scared.”
Dottore wasn’t so sure about that. Resentful and angry, he wasn’t sure he had ever felt such a visceral desire to kill since his days as a Fatui recruit when he was volatile and ready to snap at any given moment. He hated how a person he didn’t even know managed to draw out all of the worst aspects of himself, the aspects that he had killed and carefully tucked away a very long time ago.
“I don’t understand,” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I hate it here. She’s so mean, and she always believes him over me, and he hates me because of father, and he’s always trying to leave me out and he tells her that it’s my fault, and she believes him.”
“Love is blind,” the woman murmured softly. Dottore wished he could roll his eyes. “Your mother never thought she’d find her soulmate… now that she has-”
“It’s not fair,” his soulmate interrupted, shaking her head and turning to face the woman. “Miss Elyna, he’s a liar. He’s a liar and he hates me. I didn’t even do anything wrong. And I have no friends because of my stupid soulmate and I finally make a friend and I’m not allowed to, and I always get in trouble when I don’t even do anything. I want to live with father. I hate it here.”
Dottore thought he should be offended--stupid soulmate, he thought to himself, irritated, but he couldn’t be offended because he was intrigued, trying to piece together what exactly she meant by the fact that she had no friends because of him. He was clueless as to Fontaine’s stance on those that never received a mark… and if that was the issue and she had to pretend she didn’t have one…
“You cannot go live with your father,” the woman, Elyna, sighed. “You are bad enough at hiding your bond here in the countryside, your father is still living in the city. You will have all eyes of the court on you once you’re there, and if you slip up once…”
Confirmation that it was Fontaine, he already knew it but it was good to have it confirmed—only Snezhnaya and Fontaine had courts.
“It’s not fair,” she was melting down, shrieking. Dottore could barely even see through her eyes because they were blurred with big tears. “It’s not fair, I don’t want to hide it. I don’t want to. Do you know how mean people are because they think I don’t have a soulmate? They call me cursed, they say Celestia rejected me.”
“Are you like them? A monster? Cursed? Answer me!”
Dottore felt cold but more than that, he felt something heavy in his chest. He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t want to know, so as always, he pushed it away. Instead, he found humor in the situation because he thought it was all ironic—he was persecuted for not having a soulmate, and she had to pretend she didn’t have one to avoid persecution. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, he spat at Celestia’s wicked sense of humor.
“… hate me either way, so I might as well-”
“Enough,” Elyna hissed. “You can’t speak like that. It is not a matter of hate, it’s a matter of freedom and imprisonment, life and death. Your father sent a letter warning your mother that Her Excellency was becoming even more extreme in her position on Snezhnaya, you have to be careful.”
There had to be a spy, Dottore realized. Someone leaking information from the higher levels of the Fatui to other nations—this had to have been nearly a decade ago. How had they gone so long without knowing?
He would have to bring it up to Pantalone, he would be able to work with Pulcinella and Arlecchino to weed out the rat.
“He lies to her,” his soulmate cried harder after being scolded. Elyna wrapped her arms around her and Dottore felt uncomfortable, claustrophobic. He wanted to yank away but his soulmate appeared to have no intention of doing that. “Who lies to their soulmate? If he loved her, he would love me. I didn’t do anything wrong, I was nice to him.”
“Hush now,” Elyna said gently. “You-”
“No, it’s not fair. None of this is fair. Soulmates are supposed to be good and he’s not. He ruined my life, and my soulmate is ruining my life, and none of it is fair. I have no friends, I just want friends, and now mother is going to ruin that too. And if father cared about me, he’d want me to live with him but instead, he makes me live here with them.”
“It’s safer-”
“I don’t care,” she shouted.
My soulmate is ruining my life, he echoed in his head.
Bitterly, he thought, well that goes for both of us but at the same time, that heavy feeling returned and this time, he couldn’t bring himself to push it away.
You were running. He was running. Your heart was racing, beating outside your chest as you slammed into a tree, stumbling past it to continue in whatever direction you were running in. It was so hot, it felt like the air around you was suffocating you; it felt like your mouth was stuffed with cotton. You couldn’t tell what was going on--you felt panicked, frantic, as if you were fighting for your life against an invisible enemy.
Invisible.
As soon as the word crossed your mind, an explosion rocked the earth beneath you, sending you flying ten feet forward, slipping on wet, mossy rocks, and rolling down a steep hill. You hurt, your whole body ached, branches dug into your skin, rocks scraped against your face--ordinarily, you would have given up, the pain too much for you to handle, but somehow he kept going.
You felt him push himself to his feet, you could feel blood tracking down his arm and the side of his face, but he didn’t cry nor did he falter. Wheezing for air and eyes wide and wild, he continued.
Something large was behind him, large and metal with a glowing orange and gold orb in the center of its head--a ruin guard, you realized, horrified. You had heard there were a lot in southern Fontaine, on Sumeru’s border, but they couldn’t traverse the mountain ranges and vast rivers and lakes that littered central Fontaine, freeing the north of their destruction.
But you had studied them. You had studied ruin machines for a long, long time once you began receiving words from your soulmate and had access to the palace’s extensive library. You received odd words like chaos cores and circuits and bolts and oculi that you learned were associated with the old, destructive technology. There wasn’t much information on them and you thought that in itself was telling. The Hydro Archon censored any material that could be interpreted as fostering dissent against her rule, or the heavens, expunging the history that she didn’t like.
You wondered what exactly was it about the ruin guards that she wanted to prevent the masses from learning.
Zandik gasped as the ground beneath him trembled again--the ruin guard had caught up already, heavy steps tracking after him. You could hear a whirring noise behind him and you knew it was going to let out another blast of energy in his direction. Your throat felt swollen with anxiety, or you supposed that was his anxiety, but he was focused ahead. You could see a village in the distance, in a small clearing of the dense forest he was running through.
He didn’t cry for help, he didn’t scream, and you remembered the last dream of his life. You wondered if he didn’t call for help because he knew no one would answer and you felt sick.
The explosion didn’t hit close to him this time, veering off into a tree, and Zandik spared a glance behind him to see the ruin guard falter as it skidded on wet rocks, the same ones that Zandik had slipped down. He let out a shaky breath and you could feel his relief as he made a break for the village.
The ruin guard did not stray too far behind.
When he got to the village, the people were oblivious. Some spared him looks, mostly of irritation and distaste, but most ignored his presence.
Zandik made no effort to warn them of the imminent danger and a part of you hesitated, uncomfortable, a foreboding feeling bearing down on you as you realized what might be about to happen.
He kept sprinting through the small village, past a small bakery, and right through a crowd of people who cursed him for his interruption. He was running somewhere specifically, or to someone, you realized as he set his eyes on a woman you recognized from before: his mother.
She looked angry but more than that, she seemed distressed, grabbing Zandik’s forearms as he nearly crashed into her at full speed.
“Where have you been? Your father and I-”
“We have to go inside,” Zandik said, voice little over a wheeze. “We have to-”
He didn’t have a chance to give any further explanation because at once, there was a massive explosion, one that shook the ground beneath the entire town as the ruin guard finally set its target on the villagers.
Zandik turned his head, eyes wide, and you wished he would look away because you felt sick to your stomach at the gory scene before you. The blood, the fire, the screaming--every single one of your senses felt overwhelmed as catastrophe met the peaceful town, ravaging the unexpecting villagers.
But as much as you felt sick, you realized, slowly, that Zandik did not feel that same horror that you did. You wondered if he was in shock… you wondered if it were something else. He stared in the direction of the destruction, lips parted, unable to draw his gaze from the ruin guard as it prepared itself for another attack, energy swirling around the orange and gold orb. People were running, calling desperately for family members and friends, trying to hide behind houses and wells to escape the onslaught. There was blood. There was so much blood and so much death, and it was readying to attack again.
But he felt no guilt. No fear. No shame.
There was only satisfaction… awe. It was subtle, bubbling beneath the surface, but it churned your stomach. You told yourself that you didn’t know the whole story, that you didn’t know the extent to which the villagers had put him through hell--you hadn’t even scratched the surface with that previous event in his life you had dreamed of but-
“Zandik, Zandik,” it was his mother screaming, tearing him from his trance as he watched the ruin guard and forcing you from your thoughts. She was shaking him violently, fear stretched across her face. “What happened? What did you do? What did you do, Zandik?”
“It followed me,” his voice sounded hollow, void of any sort of emotion. “I went exploring.”
“You brought it back here?” his mother was on the verge of tears and Zandik remained unmoved, standing there limp as she continued to rattle him around. “You stupid boy, they’ll kill you. They’ll kill you.”
“Not if it kills them first,” you wondered if he intended to say that because you felt a jolt of surprise that was not your own.
His mother stared at him, horrified, but she jolted as a figure grabbed her arm.
His father.
There was an unreadable expression on his face. “Inside,” he said, voice brusque and cold. He grabbed Zandik by the arm, dragging him inside after his mother and slamming the door behind them.
He felt empty. You didn’t like it. It made you uncomfortable, it made you sad. You didn’t think anyone should feel like this, much less your soulmate. Even as his father let go of his arm, Zandik just stood there, gaze trained out the window much like how he was years earlier, watching the kids lay out in the grass--except this time, he was watching as they ran for their lives, screaming for their mother and father, hurt and bleeding.
You didn’t know how long he stood there watching the horrors outside. Eventually, they managed to destroy the ruin guard, and as the sun set in the distance, they began to collect the dead and the wounded. Every now and then, you could hear his parents shouting at each other: “They’ll have him burned! We have to do something!” and “They already thought of him as one of the heretics from the cursed land. There’s nothing left we can do for him without us meeting the same fate.”
Zandik didn’t react to any of it--there was a vacuum where his emotions should have been, a cavity where his heart should have been. He felt cold and numb and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was in shock over what had happened and what he had caused, or if it was because he truly did not care.
It seemed like an eternity when the shouting finally began again, you could see the torches lit outside, the crowd of survivors in front of his home. They were angry, bloodthirsty, out for vengeance, and still, Zandik remained apathetic, standing in the same spot.
“Bring the boy out, Zakai,” the man at the head of the crowd called loudly. “You can’t protect him anymore.”
Neither his father nor mother responded but the words broke his stupor. Finally, he turned to face his parents and you could feel a bit of anxiety start to pool in his stomach as if he were finally realizing what was about to happen.
You were starting to realize it too and you wanted to throw up.
“The Celestial gods have turned their backs on us for harboring a heretic. We have faced famine, drought, plague, and now this, all within the ten years that abomination has resided here. Our wives, elderly, children were slaughtered because he brought that monster from the cursed lands to our homes. If we don’t do something about it, it will happen again and again and again until we’ve atoned.”
“Zakai,” his mother whispered, shaking her head.
No way, you thought to yourself, horrified, as his father refused to meet her gaze, looking away from both Zandik and his wife. You could feel Zandik’s stomach drop and you could feel the fear begin to settle in his stomach.
“Zakai, you can’t,” his mother said desperately. “It was an accident, they’ll-”
“Enough,” his father responded quietly, and finally he looked at Zandik, only for a moment before he made his way to the door. “There’s nothing else we can do for him. It’s time to let go.”
When you woke up, you knew you had dreamed of your soulmate. You could remember the pain, the shock, the loneliness, and that terrifying sort of satisfaction he felt after he had accidentally led the ruin guard back to his village but you couldn’t remember anything that mattered and it made you want to cry.
Cursed, they called him, you could remember that but not his name, not the place he had been living, not the faces of the people that had been in the dream, not even his face--you couldn’t remember any of it. It felt like a distant blur, something you could picture but all of the distinct features were smeared into something you couldn’t recognize and you were frustrated.
Two and a half years. You had two and a half years and then you’d finally be able to get some answers out of him.
You stared at your forearm, waiting to see if his word would change, wondering if he had dreamt about you too.
Dottore was livid. He bit back a string of vile curses as he paced around his bedroom. He had dreamt of her. He knew it. He could remember it—he could remember her fear, he could remember her anger, he could remember her desperation. He could still picture the vague memory of her smile, and the way she felt as everything came crashing down around her, but he couldn’t remember anything of importance.
He knew he had figured out where she was. He knew it. But every time he tried to think back on it and remember, he was met with a frustratingly blank slate, an answer that was on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t figure out.
The gods were fucking with him—again—and he was sick and tired of it. He could picture them laughing at him, mocking his situation, jeering at his failure.
He tried to take steady breaths. He tried to calm himself down. None of it worked. He felt like he was in his late twenties again, unable to control his wild emotions and bouts of anger after being cast out from the Akademiya.
He braced his hands on the edge of his desk, leaning over it as he shut his eyes and tried to settle down, counting slowly—an old tactic he had used back when he had first been brought into the Fatui. It worked, albeit slowly, but it cleared his head enough so that he could think.
What could he remember?
A winter storm. A warm summer. A large estate. He could remember what had happened in the dream—memory? He could remember her getting lost in the storm, an unwelcome return to a past he tried to forget, and he could remember the argument with her mother, the slap.
She had to hide her mark, he remembered, eyes widening a bit. A winter storm. A warm summer. A large estate. Having to hide her mark. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, again, but again it dissolved before he could capture it.
He let out a heavy, shaky breath—running a hand through his hair as he returned to his pacing.
There was something else. He had figured something out beyond just where she was located—something important—but he couldn’t remember what.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he inhaled, turning his mind to a different subject, something else to focus on before he destroyed half of his room in a fit of rage.
Her. She must have dreamt too, and if her dreams were anything like his, it must’ve been of his childhood.
Dottore suddenly felt uncomfortable, gaze drifting down to his forearm. No one knew of his past—no one besides him and his segments—and he liked to keep it that way. It was a history he had left behind, a name and a face that had died centuries before that he did not want unearthed.
He only hesitated a second before he rolled up his sleeve, intent on trying to get an idea of what she might have dreamed about his past through whatever word passed to him through the bond.
And he stared—cold, empty, the rage returning but this time it did not burn, it froze. It froze everything, all of the emotions that had been rattling his body, any desire he might have felt to try to locate her, and most importantly, whatever attachment that might have grown in the past thirteen years as he was faced with the word that had haunted him his entire life, branded on his forearm as a searing accusation from the one person that was meant to be his.
His body moved on autopilot as he shuffled through his desk to find the notebook he had kept of all of the words passed onto him. Once it was in his hand, he took two long strides to the opposite side of the room before flinging it right into the fireplace, watching the flames engulf it before leaving his room and making his way down to his labs.
Cursed.
rbs appreciated!
Smile For The Camera Masterlist
Pairing: Camboy!Jake X Camgirl!Reader
Genre: Smut, Strangers to Lovers
Synopsis: HybeStreams' top ranked (and your favorite) streamer j_streams takes an interest in your quaint account and comes to you with a proposal for a collab. Do you accept?
Please leave an ask to be added to the taglist
Main Masterlist
Chapters:
Teaser
Part 1 (2.1k)
Part 2 (Coming Soon)
Part 3 (Writing in Progress)
Part 4 (Writing in Progress)
𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 ⚝︎ 痛み 𝗈𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 ♱ 𝟤𝟢 どのよ うに 痛い 🪽 ꒪ 𝅄
𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 ✿ 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 (愛してます ) ⊹ 𓂋
𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌, 다시 사랑 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. — 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉. ⠀⠀𓇼⠀⠀
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𓇼
Helpful Massage
Ennoshita Chikara x Female Reader
Words: 1647
Warnings: Incest, Breast Massage, Boob sucking
A/N: I blame @tsukkis-crybaby for Enno-nii and the topic of getting boobies massaged by him so that’s what lead to this.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
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ain’t shit | lee taeyong
wc| 3k genre| mfia au, fluff, crack synopis| your husband is getting arested. you two were aranged marriage, so you don’t really care about him, or he doesn’t care about you. but money he made was gone, he took everything, when you need them. his friend come home with request from his boss aka. your husband. who knew trip to monks in japan made you realize how much your husband cared for you? warnings| cursing part of popping out casket fresh, looking like a fashion show.
“are you for real kun?” you dropped all things you have been in your hands. “did he leave me some money or?”
“no sorry.” kun bowed. “boss sent me here to take you to prison when he actualy is. he says something about money for you that you will have to get. i don’t think it’s just going to someone to get money, but rather travel a little, knowing our boss.”
you could only stare at your husband’s friend. it must be a joke. you didn’t care at all if your husband was arrested but not having money is what makes you care. known boss of mafia got arrested few days ago. it was funny to you, because you didn’t like him at all, and now you could be free. also, taeyong could only brag about how danegrous he is, and how rich he is. you gueesed it was trauma for his actions.
“i will kill him. as god as my witness, i’ll rip his head out.” you get your things. “take me to this dickhead”
Keep reading
could we get yandere poly hero bakugo x villain deku x childhood friend??? but make them both kinda off the deep end :) like that sounds so spicy o-o
poly yandere ! BAKUDEKU x childhood friend
goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, gangbang, double-d, slut-shaming, guilt-tripping, degradation, condescension, patronisation
TIP-JAR
REUNION
"You? A hero?!"
Ash blonde locks shook with the snide laughter of whom they belonged to. His snickering going well with the crackling in his palms.
Izuku was on the ground again. Dirt the least of his worries with the burns running up his forearm.
"Don't kid yourself! You'll never be more than useless wimp, Deku!" The red-eyed boy jeered. Looking down into the pitiful blank puddles of terrified green at his feet.
Grinning like a maniac. Before something came to block the view.
He stood like a demon menace in front of her, where she'd once again placed herself between the two. As quirkless as the boy on the ground, but not as willing to give in to bullies. Despite said bully technically being a friend.
Her face twisted. Eyes hardening as she stared up at the boy who'd only recently gained some height on her.
"You want to shit all over our dreams?!" She yelled. Her pointer finger pushed into the skull on his black T-shirt. Making his expression drop before altering into one of surprise of her sudden bravery.
Until once again shifting to one of offence.
"Hah?"
He rose a brow. Ready to shove another pathetic weakling who was out to play hero to the ground. On their knees where they belonged.
"What about you?! Huh?!" She yelled before he had the chance. "A hero?!"
If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was making fun of him.
But that simply couldn't be.
"Next Allmight?!" She posed sarcastically.
And although he'd never heard anyone speak to him like it ever before, he was positive he didn't like her tone.
He opened his mouth to put her in her place, but she beat him to it once again.
"Are you delusional?!"
Her voice just kept rising. Kept going above whatever comment he was trying to push between her insults.
"People are better off left with villains than with you coming to the rescue!"
Katsuki went quiet at that. Drawn back as though pushed.
His eyes round as he looked down at the girl who seemed to hold more fire in her eyes than him. Yelling at him. Still with that annoying squealing girly voice she had. Though now sharpened like a dagger and thrown at him as though she actually had no fear of him.
"I'd take a villain over a monster any day!"
Deku had remained quiet. Though reached out a hurt arm to pull on her skirt now.
"Hey... stop-" His voice was weak.
Weak and pathetic.
Just like the rest of him. No mind to him being quirkless.
"No! Shut up! You always defend him!"
She snapped around. Her finger now pointed at the freckle-faced crybaby still in the spot Kachan had pushed him to.
He hadn't even dared get up or say anything. Always leaving her to do his dirty work. Never defending himself. Just allowing Kachan to push them around like he was some King and they were his servants.
His jesters.
A spoiled brat's toys he could break whenever he felt like.
"He's right. You are useless." She spit.
A look of disgust on her face as she pulled her skirt to herself. Ripping it loose from his weak grip.
Letting him drop palms first in the sand.
"Well, I'm done protecting you."
Whipping around, she faced the other boy.
His ash-blond main blowing in the wind as he stood still and stunned.
"And I'm done forgiving you!"
She wouldn't allow the tears to fall. She wouldn't allow herself to be weak anymore.
She was done.
"I'm done!"
She stepped off.
Leaving the two.
Hoping she wouldn't trip in the sandlot dust of the playground as she stomped off. Thinking it would be too embarrassing if she were to make such a statement only to fall on her face.
But she held her head high. Refraining from looking back at the two who she hoped stared after her.
Hoping this would be a lesson for them. Hoping they'd grow up for a change.
Despite the three of them being just ten.
"I'm done with both of you!"
~~~
Turns out... growing up wasn't all it was cracked up to be...
She drunk way too much last night.
She knew she should have told Rebecca to go clubbing on her own. But, the rent was just around the corner and that promoter check she gets for simply looking pretty and laughing at rich guys bad jokes was way too tempting to decline.
At least no guy had groped her this time. Or at least she'd gotten too drunk to remember it if it did.
Besides, with the way Rebecca dresses she couldn't allow her to go alone.
While she'd be left safely at home in her fuzzy socks. Her friend's silly judgment and short dress would allow her to fall prey to some rich sleaze who vouched for the pull-out method.
She’s a good friend for looking out for her, she thought and smiled as she drooled into her pillow and giggled just a bit before the pins and needles tugged at her scalp.
She's in the least allowed to pat herself on the back by sleeping in.
And by sleeping in, she means sleeping all day until midnight the day after.
She'd probably sleep even longer until the next morning. Headache and all still lingering like a slight frizz around her crown.
So much so she winced once she heard the noise she guessed must have come from one of her neighbour flat-mates or from up above her.
A sound just loud enough to wake her up.
Groaning while peeling her eyes open. Her hand slapped about the bedside table to try and find her phone, though coming at a loss at the same time feeling something cold poke her back where she twisted in the sheets.
Bending her arm, she awkwardly dragged the phone she'd been sleeping on from beneath her. Eyes squinting in a grimace as the screen lit up in her face. Way too bright white numbers reading double-o-something.
"Half a day of sleep don't do me justice..." She whined groggily as she slipped out from bed with a groan.
Club-dress still on from last night. Short and black, loose-fit but revealing, now sticking to her dried-sweaty skin.
She placed her phone on the dresser and pushed her finger-pads into her temples. Grimacing at the sting while she sighed out a pained little whimper.
"Fuck- Last time I'm doin' this... Too old for this bullshit."
Head only buzzing more with each step she took on the cold faux-wood floor as she slowly made her way to the kitchen.
Passing the full-length mirror she'd placed in the hallway. She stopped with a dead look in her eyes at the sight of herself.
Smeared mascara and rubbed smokey-eye looking like the mask of a raccoon. Nose red and lips dry and pale with their paint-coat long gone. Her hair a tangled birds-nest of regrets she'd already forgotten in her heavy hangover.
"Look like trash, smell like trash, feel like trash..."
She swallowed. Rubbing her sore neck with eyes closed.
"Last time, Becky, I swear... this is getting too tragic."
She dismissed her reflection with raking her fingers through her hair. Moving forward towards the cupboards.
"Oh yeah? What other jobs can a quirkless nobody pursue, buttercup?"
It seemed she wasn't done talking to herself. Though her voice was altered to mimic what one could only guess was supposed to replicate Rebecca.
"I don't know... like- a waitress or something..." She argued against herself.
Choosing her favourite out of the mismatched glasses from the shelf. Before flipping the sink and turning the handle towards cold.
"A waitress? That's practically the same job you have now, Bottle-girl. Just with less than half the pay." She rebutted again. Her voice harsh and pitchy, nagging at herself.
Slipping the spaghetti-straps to her dress off. She let it slink to the floor while waiting for the splashing water to run cold.
Stepping out of the black article she stood freely with no bra and no underwear while filling up her glass.
"You should use your pretty face for what's it's worth while you still can."
She chugged it hastily. Droplets running down her nude chest in the dim moonlight coming in through her open naked windows, in an apartment she assumed was occupied by her and her alone.
"You should shut the fuck up and cry about it in the shower." She dismissed the conversation and wiped her mouth with her forearm.
Placing her glass on the counter with a passive-aggressive clank. She left her dress on the floor and made her way over to her tiny but doable bathroom.
The vent had broken down a while back, and she hadn't the fifty bucks to waste on repairing it or buying a new one when she could simply shower with the door open instead.
It didn't matter much when she lived alone anyway. She just needed to make sure she didn't get a mold crisis on her hands as she really couldn't afford anything but the rent on her shaky salary.
Rebecca had told her to do more private deals in pent-house suites instead of booths at the club. But last time she'd agreed to something like that she'd been roofied and guided to a gold-frame bed with Egyptian-cotton sheets.
All of which wasn't even the worse part as when she'd woken up, thankfully with her dress still on, she'd found the guy she'd been with burnt to a near unrecognisable pulp in the bathroom.
The cops had told her he was part of a drug-ring and that his death was most probably due to those shady activities. Though, not without mentioning that the method he'd been killed with seemed highly strange and cruel for an unimportant no-name thug.
She never failed to think about it each time she entered her own bathroom. Even though the tiles were shoddy and the lights were flickering like fireflies. Miles away from the modern architecture she'd witnessed stain with red on that day.
She shook her head as the water came pouring down upon her head.
Cold like always. Colder the longer she showered.
The hot-water bill another thing she couldn't be fucked to pay.
But she'd grown rather used to it now. Taking her time as she rubbed shampoo into her scalp. Rather thinking it was for the best as hot water would only fog on the walls and give her that rot problem she'd been fearing now that the bathroom fan had kicked the can.
But used to it or not, she didn't bother showering too long.
Getting out once her skin started going purple.
Padding herself dry with a rather scratchy cheap towel. She contemplated investing in something better than dollar-store laundry detergent and maybe some fabric softener. Before ridding herself of the ridiculous thought.
Better save the money.
Drying her hair. She looked down at her nipples and how they strutted like hardened little peaks searching for warmth. Thinking of how rich guys really liked sucking on them when they were like that. How they say they can tell she's going to be a good girl for them for being so sensitive under their hands.
Her eyes stung just a bit. But she stopped herself by digging her nails into her palms.
It would be too silly to cry about it.
The buzzard ringing through the apartment had her dropping the thought completely.
Confusion taking its place instead. Then the slight split-second burn in her chest at the thought of it being the landlord.
Though ridding herself of the notion once reminded what time of day it was.
"It's like- the middle of the night- Who the fuck-" She mumbled.
Leaving the bathroom and padding over to the door-phone. Picking it up.
"Hello?"
She had a fair idea of whom to expect.
Only people who knew where she lived where the girls. And she knew all too well how they weren't shy of dropping by late at night for a place to crash if their sleeping arrangements had failed to fall through.
"Hey... it's me."
But that wasn't a girl.
Her brows scrunched. Ears flexing upon the familiar boyish voice hiding in the pitch of the man he must have grown into.
Kachan?
"Bakugou?" She questioned. Her own voice barely reaching above a whisper.
"You' seen the news?" He asked shortly. Dismissing her question in favour of cutting right to the chase, though answering it all the same.
Her head buzzing from a number of things as she tried shaking herself out of the surprise of having him at her door. Before answering.
"Uhm- nah- I- uhm- just woke up-" She spoke into the phone before biting her lip in an effort to stop the words from further humiliating her.
She took a breath. Eyes squished closed while telling herself that there were plenty of reasons to sleep all day and wake up at the witching hour other than being a tragic loser who goes nightclubbing on weekdays.
She didn't need this in the midst of a hangover. She thought with an internal groan as she pinched her brow. Continuing to speak after a beat as he didn’t offer her miserable utterance any reply.
"So- uhm- why are you- what do you want?" She posed. Listening to him breathing.
Before gruff breath turned into words.
"Deku's out of prison."
The mention of his name had her wake up.
"He escaped Tartarus..."
She tensed. Gripping the phone a bit tighter. Eyes wide as she waited.
"I just-" The man paused for a moment. "I need to know you're safe."
Her brows scrunched and her eyes narrowed. A dull frown on her lips as she sobered up some more at the bitter taste his words left in her mouth.
Of course.
Good ol' Kachan and his superiority-complex and his inferiority-complex and his hero-complex and all the other bullshit cooped up in his entitled mind that makes him feel he has the right to be at her door in the middle of the night instead of following the proper protocol and alerting the right authority that she might be in potential danger because their shared childhood friend is a murderous maniac and he's just managed a prison-break.
"I know you don't want to see me, but-" He tried again upon the complete silence she offered.
"Ugh-" She sighed with a rust.
Rolling her eyes while pushing the other button beneath the speaker. Beeping him in.
"It's open. Third floor, apartment thirty-five. The elevator's broken. Try not to wake anyone on the way up."
Bakugou listened to her groggy voice feed him the information through the shitty intercom. Before grabbing and pulling the door open.
Finding the stairs. He began climbing each step as silently as his heavy combat boots would allow. Knocking once he reached her number.
She opened on the first meeting of his knuckles on the wood.
Still only wrapped in a towel. She peeked through the gap in the door the metal chain-lock separating them allowed. A chain they both knew he could easily blow through.
"Hey..." He spoke first.
"What makes you think he's coming here?" She jumped straight to it.
"A hunch." He answered. Frustrated with the conversation being held while he was still outside. Though not enough to invite himself in.
"A hunch?" She questioned. Obvious signs of irritation in her tone.
"You went to see him?" He asked. Once again ignoring her in favour of posing his own questions.
Interrogating her like usual.
And despite wanting to tell him that he had nothing to do with her life. Quite like she'd done the past years when he'd only been brazen enough to send text messages.
She paused instead. Looking away with pursed lips.
"He requested. I excepted." She put it simply, but couldn't refrain from biting her lip upon the memory of seeing him on the news.
His once look of childlike-wonder twisted into something crazed and maniacal alongside disturbing bloodied mangled mockeries of the human form.
"I- uhm...” She took another pause. “Needed to see..."
"Did you?" Bakugou asked without much hesitation.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and met his gaze again.
"I did..."
There was a pause.
"You think it's my fault, don't you?" The blonde on the other side of the door suddenly accused.
Though, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to the girl.
She just scoffed. Sighing as she rolled her eyes.
Typical Kachan to make it all about himself.
Throwing her head back. She took a moment before unlocking the door with another sigh. Leaving it open for the ash-blonde to enter.
Taking only a small moment to regret it once noticing the size of him.
He wasn't a meter tall brat on the playground anymore.
She left the door open for him. Turning around after one last glance at how much bigger he was in real life than what he looked on TV.
"I was the one that abandoned him..." She muttered. Surprising the blonde male.
Walking to another room out of his sight as he ducked to fit in through the doorframe.
He heard her opening a drawer then closing it. Before she came back out again in a large white tee nearly reaching farther down her thighs than the short pyjama bottoms she'd slipped on too.
It made him uncomfortable when the thought of it belonging to some guy crossed his mind. Before he got distracted by the notice of her not wearing any bra.
Probably no underwear either. Just a pair of pink bunny-slippers.
"Truth is, Bakugou, he's neither of our responsibility..." She told him absentmindedly. The same thing she'd been telling herself over the several weeks that had passed since she visited him at the prison.
Her hands busy rubbing her hair with the towel she'd thrown over her head.
"There was always something wrong with him-"
"Bakugou, huh?" He interrupted.
"Hm?" She tipped her head at him in askance after having thrown her towel over her bathroom door.
"I don't think I've ever heard you use that name." He said as he stepped out of his large black boots.
Indicating he planned on staying a little while before leaving again.
"We haven't spoken properly in... what?" She calculated. "Like- fifteen years, is it now?"
She seemed to be counting fingers.
"That time outweighs the time we were..." She hesitated. Looking at the tall blonde.
The word friend only barely came to mind. Along with the word bully and jerk and bastard and all other synonyms.
"Whatever..." She decided was a good a word as any.
"Stone cold, as always, aren't yah?" He observed.
"Mh." She murmured. Not offering more of a response. "Water?"
She picked up her glass from earlier. Turning the tap and filling it up.
"Sure." He took her offer and watched her brush passed him to open a shoddy drawer where several pill-tables were stored.
She grabbed one that looked close to empty and pushed two from their pockets. Throwing them in her mouth before following with chugging her glass.
Bakugou watched as she blew her cheeks full with mouthful after mouthful of her drink while swallowing. A quirk playing at the edge of his lips as he watched her fish for another cup for him in the cabinet. His yes glued to the droplet that trickled down her chin and chest and disappeared somewhere in her cleavage. Verifying his thought from before. That she was indeed not wearing any bra.
She didn't notice his stares however. Where she was much too busy trying to calm the slight burn of embarrassment she felt over her mismatched crockery. Handing him one of few glasses that weren't chipped or flaked.
Wanting to curse herself as she couldn't find the courage to even look up at him as he took the cup from her hand.
Feeling his large coarse fingers brush over hers briefly. Almost making her drop it to a shattered mess on the floor.
His smirk grew. Even though he tried suppressing it.
He couldn't help it.
She just looked so cute.
Just like she did back when they were kids.
Despite having some remnants of mascara around her eyes, and a swell of breasts and hips now.
She was still small in those areas he was big.
Small manicured hands and feet with pedicured toes wearing those cute fluffy pink slippers.
Those large doe-eyes and that cute little button-nose.
She looked much smaller up close he noted. When she was standing right next to him. Tiny and so very defenceless.
She really shouldn't be living alone.
She looked up at him after feeling him stare holes into her neck for a while. Feeling observed and suddenly a bit too naked to be standing so casually with a person that was now practically a mere stranger.
But Bakugou didn't seem too catch much of the discomfort she was putting across. Or he did, and was doing an excellent job at ignoring it.
Otherwise distracted with the shiny black slip discarded on the floor.
He lowered himself in a squat and picked the little black party dress up. Inspecting it and it's length. Or rather it’s lack of.
His eyebrows raised in judgement as he gave a flash of that sun-swallowing grin he used to toss at her when he'd find a new bug in the forest before chasing her around with it, barking out how he’d put it in her ear where it could lay its eggs and turn her brain to mush.
It was strange seeing it without the missing teeth, she thought.
"Late night?" He questioned. Teasing her before she managed snatching the article form his grip.
Balling it up between her fists and giving a small pout before deciding to joke a bit too.
"Nah, it's just a tea-towel." She blinked innocently. Before giggling and giving a tiny smile of her own. Her eyes sparkling at him.
And he was suddenly aware of his heart.
"You look good." He let slip.
Couldn't help himself when seeing her dimples pop.
"Yeah?" She smiled. Arching a brow at him in suspicion. Thinking he was having another jab at her. "Well, I feel like shit." She admitted.
Leaning against the sink while messaging her temples. Her eyes closed and brows slightly furrowed.
"You should take better care of yourself." He stated.
But apparently it was the wrong thing to say.
Her eyes opened and looked at him unamusingly. Smile gone.
"Charming as ever, I see." She bit out.
"I'm just saying..." He started defending.
His voice set in that strict condescension so many guys feel as though they have the right to talk down to her with.
"Out all night drinking, smoking pot and fuck knows what else, sleeping all day, kitchen close to barren, not to mention your wardrobe-"
"Right." She stopped him. Visibly offended with the flicker of that old fire he'd been burned by so many years ago present like glowing embers in her eyes. "Quit acting like you can decipher my entire lifestyle from one skimpy club-dress on the floor, Sherlock." She snipped.
And he side-eyed the bong she'd left on the couch.
She followed his eyes and felt another pang of embarrassment at the sight of her equipment freshly splayed out from the night before.
"What?" She questioned sharply. Meeting his judgemental stare with a glare of her own.
Red-eyes once so childish and entitled, now so strangely mature.
"You gonna arrest me?"
Whereas she, evidently, still acted like a child.
"You'd be safer." He stated and she sharpened her eyes even harder at him while folding her arms. "But I wasn't planning on it."
"Cool. So how long before you leave?" Her voice had gone sour.
But he only chuckled at her behaviour. Loving the many trips down memory-lane all her little mannerisms where sending him on.
"You runnin' late for somethin'?"
His smirk was back.
And she felt something creep about her stomach that had her guts folding in all those nostalgic ways that told her he was up to no good.
"I thought we were catching up?" He asked. Putting his cup down before resting his palms against the counter as he leaned back on them.
Making no indication he was about to excuse himself.
"Quit acting like we're pals." She finally spit out. Feeling as though he'd long overstayed his welcome. "We were never even chummy to begin with-"
She halted in her building anger. Her brows furrowing.
"How did you even get my address-"
There was a crash to their side and she flinched like a spooked hare.
Her head snapping to the sound of whatever'd been knocked over in the living room.
But more importantly, what exactly had caused it.
Something stood in the shadowed corner of the room. Just behind her bedroom door.
A vase laid shattered on the floor. And a hand, a large hand, drummed strong, seemingly heavy, fingers on the countertop where it had previously stood.
"Oops..."
Another male voice had her gut wrench.
It'd been better if it were a stranger.
But she'd recognise that voice anywhere.
"Sorry to interrupt your reunion." He continued. "But I was feeling left out..."
Mites crawled across her back and she instantly felt her eyes pang with tears. Her throat tight and getting tighter. Leaving room for just one tiny trembling ask to slip her lips in hopes of being wrong.
"Izu?" Her voice bristled.
Frozen solid where she stood. She couldn't look away from those distinct green-glowing eyes floating in the dark.
"Sweetheart." It answered.
He took a step forward and her breath hitched as she shook with big eyes peeled like round saucers ahead at the dark shadow that seemed to triple for every step out of the darkness he took until the moonlight finally met him.
Not a poor snivelling quirkless twerp pushed around in the dirty sandlot anymore.
"Look at you..." He cheered. "So cute. In your little jammies."
She seemed to forget how to breathe the more she looked at him. Instinctively leaning towards the only source of safety.
"Bakugou-" She whispered. The name only barely audible, as far away and nearly lost in all her quivering as it was.
"Need help?" He asked nonchalantly. As though their homicidal childhood-friend hadn't just showed up for a surprise visit. "Thought you'd take a villain over a monster any day?"
Her brows furrowed.
"What-" Her attention turned to him briefly but was distracted by the bigger threat.
Drawn back to the green-haired male once he spoke up again.
"I believe those were the words." He affirmed. But she couldn't quite make her feelings settle enough to form thoughts about it.
Their build had grown threateningly similar, but Deku's voice still contrasted Kachan's. Sweet against gruff. Chilling and eerie against harsh and loud.
"Don't you remember, sweetie?" He continued. "Last time we were all together? When you went on and ruined everything?" Something in his voice altered and snapped accusingly and she flinched with it.
"You said you were done with us." The blond next to her clued in.
But she just couldn't spare the attention to focus on the malice in his voice.
"It made me hate you for so long." The male in front spoke again. "I had to get my hands dirty with other people just to get my mind off you."
He took another step forward.
More of him exposed in the pale moonlight.
Red stains splattered like a map on his white asylum-clothing. Some droplets going along the freckles on his face.
She stirred. Sick climbing up her pipes at the smell of sweet metal tainting the stale apartment air.
The scent of blood belonging to someone who was surely dead.
Green wild fluffy locks bounced as the man tilted his head to the side.
"I was afraid that if I stopped I wouldn't be able to help myself and I'd go hunt you down and rip you limb from limb just like how you tore my heart out."
A tear slipped down her cheek. Hot against her cold skin as she stood there frozen in place.
Breaths erratic. Shattering on intake and pushed out to make space again.
"But don't worry... your little visit had me feeling nostalgic."
She whimpered as another step was taken in her direction.
"Your pretty face on the opposite side of my window... that cute crinkle of worry between your brows... the little tear running down your cheek... your small palm on the glass wall... clutching the phone as you said such sweet little things right at my ear."
She'd been mourning the death of the boy she once knew and how his memory would haunt her for the rest of her life. How she'd abandoned a friend in need. How she'd aided in the creation of this mass-murderous monster who now stood in front of her.
"I was reminded of why I stayed away from you- Why I let myself get caught- Why I needed to protect you from myself and myself from you for a bit until I could forgive you for what you did to me."
"What you did to us." The other male cut in again.
But she wasn't given the time to address it, before another step was taken towards her.
"And my chat with Kachan cleared everything right up again." He said and her brows furrowed once again.
She trembled. Never having felt more unsafe than what she did at that moment. Standing in her own apartment with two lifelong childhood-friends.
"I don't want to kill you-" The intruder laughed.
His eyes wild as they looked down at her where she stared up at him quite like how'd she'd done when she'd gone and visited him on his behest.
Large eyes so wide in prayer at the complete mercy of the stone-cold world her unfortunate brittle quirkless soul was placed in.
"I love you." He stated.
His hands drowned with red as he laid them out flat in front of him, palms facing up.
"I want to love you."
She flinched.
Whole body stirred. Taken by instinct at the alarmingly manic adoration lacing his lovesick speech.
She tried once again latching to the only source of protection she had. Knowing she hadn't a chance of reaching the door in time without Deku reaching her first.
"Bakugou- do something-" She tried again. Thinking that perhaps with the hero tackling the villain, she might have a tiny shot at making it.
"You said you were better off with the villain." The blond replied bitterly. Still leaning with much too much rest and calm against her kitchen counter. Showing not a shred of worry. Almost as though ignoring the threat.
"Are you really picking right now to teach me a lesson!?" She tried scolding, but was unable to shed that sweet whimper caught in her voice.
"I want an apology." He said coldly. As though they had all the time in the world.
"Fine, I'm sorry." She bit out hastily. Her heart hammering to the point she almost couldn't feel anything else but the bleeding pumping pounding in her ears. Drumming in her fingertips. Strumming the ribs in her chest.
"That's not very convincing." He replied. Still seemingly completely detached from the trepidation she felt.
And she thought that it might have been because he, in all his cocky rights, had the situation under control enough to tease her a bit before saving the day like always.
But then Deku took yet another step and she lost it.
"Bakugou, please! I'm sorry! I was wrong, you are the next Almight!" She screeched. Turning to him with her misty eyes, despite her knees feeling like jelly.
"So you do remember?" He answered. Raising an eyebrow as he beheld her without much haste. "Not a complete braindead bimbo yet, huh?"
Mocking phrases repelled off her with ease after so many years living as a lesser human in others eyes.
She'd grown quite accustomed to begging when she had to.
Bowing her head, she laid her hands flat against the muscle of his crossed arms. Also because she was sure her knees would soon fail her completely.
"Yes! I'm sorry! You're better than Almight!" She started crying. "So please, help me!"
"Tch- that's a good enough apology to me." He grumbled.
A silent and toothless smirk crept up his face from where it'd laid playing in the corner of his mouth as he watched her cling to him for help and safety.
His hand groped the back of her head. Petting her locks for a moment. Before stopping with his next utterance.
"Now, Deku's turn."
She looked up front burying her face against his chest.
Tears on his shirt and spread on her cheeks. A puzzled crinkle between her brows, set above a pair of two dopey eyes misunderstanding what was happening around her.
"What?" She voiced weakly. "What's-"
"Aw, Quirkless, you never were too bright." Bakugou laughed. Scraping her cheek with his worn thumb as she still looked up at him with such pitifully confused eyes.
He took a second and looked to the other man. His smirk growing wider, to a sick point she could hardly even recognise him anymore.
"Who do you think helped him escape?"
A stillness befell her. As though everything took a moment to hold their breath. Before releasing a deeply unsettling shudder down her spine.
Suddenly she was struck with the dreadful feeling of being entirely alone.
"N- no-"
She shook her head as though glitching. Stumbling back.
But there was already someone there.
"How cute..." He commented.
His disturbing voice blowing right at her ear. Making her whip around to face him.
His bloodied hand wafting delicately over her cheek before she could push herself away from between the two of them.
Staggering away. With her heart in her mouth and her eyes round like a deer in headlights as she stared at the duo before her.
Equally tall, they stood like toppling towers.
"You're so small now..." Deku spoke with his head tilted at her. "Isn't she, Kachan?"
"Very." The blonde agreed. "Soft too, I bet."
Their eyes impossibly dark. Full of something... something that she just couldn't understand.
"Mmh, and warm..." Deku added. His emerald eyes jaded and drunken.
His hand reached out.
But her hand reached out too. Quick and desperate as she pulled a knife out of the knife-block standing on the kitchen-counter, slicing a minor cut on the fingers protruding towards her.
"Stay the fuck away!" She screeched. Putting both hands together to point the knife at the pair in front.
Deku watched his blood drip to the floor. Cracking a smile that was anything but sane.
"Still feisty though-" Bakugou commented. Watching her stand on knees so shaky she was only barely able to support the bloodied blade kept in her grip. "That's good."
Deku looked to her again. Pupils blown black with only a rim left of luminescent green.
Raising his hand towards his lips, he put his finger in his mouth. Sucking the cut along with whomever else's blood he had staining his hands.
"I wouldn't want it any other way.”
She grimaced.
"But, I do want my apology before we get started on the reunion." He added. Though, paused for another moment. "But... even before that-"
He looked down at himself. His hands smearing the still wet blots of blood further across his chest.
Clicking his tongue.
"I ought to do something with all this blood. It wouldn't feel right to stain you."
He gave her a quick look before turning to Bakugou.
"I'm going to go wash up. Grab her for me, Kachan?"
The man gave a grin back.
"Sure thing, Deku." He replied.
Already taking steps towards her while Deku disappeared into the bathroom.
"Fuck off! Don't fucking touch me!" She yelled.
Conjoined hands swishing the knife around in front of her. Not aiming at anything particular but the empty space of air separating her and the approaching ash-blonde.
Desperately trying to keep the distance.
"Careful." He commented while raising his hands and lowering himself with bent knees as he slowly stalked forward. "You might hurt yourself on that."
She sniffled and shivered.
"Why are you doing this?"
More hot tears streamed down her pitiful cheeks while her breathing just turned more and more erratic.
"Why?" He posed in return with a scoff. As though the question itself was stupid. "I miss you, Quirkless."
She swallowed. That same look of that eerie something growing in his eyes. The same look she'd spotted in Deku when she'd gone to visit him.
A spark of some sorts. Powder and fuse teased by friction. Just waiting to blow.
"You don't call." He criticised. "You don't write."
His voice rose. Eyes never once leaving her as he backed her up into the narrow space of the kitchen nook.
"You don't reach out at all!"
She flinched when he put his balled-up fist down hard on the counter. The punch making the drying utensils by the sink clatter as though they as well jumped with fear and huddled closer for comfort.
"You still haven't unblocked me and yet you go selling yourself to dickweeds on the street." He snarled and she almost lost hold of the knife with how much his menacing glare made her tremble.
There was a pause and another step, and his features softened to something else.
"If it's money you want, I have it." He offered. A somewhat hopeful look on his face. "I would've given you the world, if you'd just-"
He stopped himself again. Looking to Deku's blood on the floor and on the knife pointed at him.
"It's kinda fucked to admit but..." He started a new, the prior thought discarded.
Finding her eyes again.
"I dream of you- I see you everywhere I go- and I hear you-" He rambled. "Our last conversation..."
She gasped once her back hit the wall behind her. Leaning against it like it was the only thing able to hold her up as her knees grew more and more unsteady while the man in front drew closer.
"I want you to yell at me like that again." He confessed in a heated whisper. "It's my inspiration."
His eyes turned glossy as he spoke.
"I've been looking forward to this, you know?" He continued. "When I would finally confront you and show you how wrong you were."
He growled and she whimpered.
"You're insane." She cried weakly. Never having seen him like it.
"Oh yeah?" He smiled. His head cocking to the side as he beheld her with crazed eyes. "Who made me this way?"
She was about to lounge at him and take her only chances, but by that time Deku had finished up in the bathroom.
Standing just to the side in only the plush white sweatpants he'd arrived in. Bloodied asylum jumper discarded. Shirtless, now just intimidating scars on a ripped torso.
"Oh dear, we wouldn't want her hurting herself on that." He commented. Eyeing the knife still held in her hand. "Maybe it's better I take care of this, Kachan."
He didn't wait for a reply. Sending out unstable static tentacles of what looked like black tar as it leaped towards her with a speed she couldn't hope to match before it had tightly secured in a snug grip. Lifting her up off the floor and carrying her back to their master.
"No- Let go-" She protested as the knife was pulled from her grip and left her unarmed and tied with no chance of even throwing a measly little punch anymore.
"Don't fuss, little one... I want to hear my apology now." Deku lulled as he sat himself down in the couch, throwing his legs up on the seat.
Other vines not busy holding her steady making to lift the junk placed on the cushions away for Bakugou to follow and sit down next to him. Pulling her little bound shape onto his own lap to sit between his thighs and lie against his chest.
"Fuck you-" She cried. Desperately wiggling in attempt to free herself.
His hand ascending to hold your face to force her to look back at him as she tried twisting away.
"Don't be greedy..." He scolded. "We'll get to that... but my apology first."
A shudder ran down her spine upon his words. Brows trembling as she looked deep into his black pools ringed by green. Trying to spot any answers outside the one she knew already with the weight of his other hand squeezing her ass as he held her on his lap.
"I already got mine." Bakugou chimed in. His red eyes drowsy where he stood looking down her body. "So I'mma go on and start-"
He climbed up on the seat next to them. His knees sinking into the couch-cushion.
Then his rough and tough hands rubbing up the flesh of her thighs. He grabbed onto the cotton band of her short-shorts started to pull.
She yelped. Kicking at him. Struggling where she lied tight against Izuku's chest where he had his arms wrapped snug around her waist, resting his chin in the nook of her neck. His eyes endeared and amused while looking down at where Bakugou got kicked in the face by her flailing foot.
The blond groaned and rubbed his nose before grabbing her ankles with a growl.
"She's a fighter just like back in the day-" He commented with a sharp grin. Eyes wild.
"Aw... up against the number one hero and number one villain and you'll still try your chances?" Deku crooned. "You're so adorable."
An overwhelming wave of cries struck her with his words whispered against her ear. Stuck in his embrace with Kachan's face prying her thighs apart. His mouth puffing out warm breaths onto her naked unprotected sex.
"Oh sweetie, don't cry..." Deku murmured with a kiss on her cheek.
But his coos only made her cry harder.
And soon his tongue swiped up her cheek. Thick and warm and wet. Licking the salt up from her tear-soaked skin.
Katsuki's lips on her inner thigh. His scruff on her delicate skin, riding up to reach her cunt.
And suddenly there was too many tongues.
"No- stop-" She whined.
"Where's my apology?" Deku interrupted with yet another kiss against her cheek. Pulling her focus back to him.
She whimpered and shook in his brawny arms. So far away from their twig-like state back when they were kids. When she'd have to pull him along and help him catch up.
When she'd have to save him from Katsuki.
The man who currently sat on his knees with his head bowed between her thighs.
Deku kissed the corner of her mouth and Bakugou kissed her cunt and she shook her head with eyes pried shut until she burst.
"I'm sorry! Make him stop! Make him stop-"
"Sorry for what?" Deku ignored with a soft voice.
"For leaving!" She wailed.
Desperately trying to shuffle away from the wet attack the blond in front was waging between her legs.
"I shouldn't have-" She sobbed. "That was wrong of me- I'm sorry! Please make him stop!"
"Good. Forgiven." He said and smiled.
And Bakugou stopped.
"No need to dwell on the past when we have the present." Deku continued, simpering at Bakugou. "Right?"
Bakugou gave a wicked grin in return.
"You've never been wrong, Deku."
The man holding her down started moving at that. His arms lifting from their state of squeezing her waist to grabbing the hem of her loose T-shirt. Beginning to pull it off her.
She tried taking the opportunity to throw herself off the couch. But, didn't have a chance against the two men that quickly had her under reigns. Keeping her down, now fully nude.
"Mmh..." Deku took a tit in his warm palm and rubbed a nipple as she whined out another overwhelmed sob. "Now let's get started, shall we?"
Bakugou pulled back a hand from keeping her thighs apart. Producing his middle finger.
He tickled her opening and she jolted with another whimper.
"N-no-"
The blond ignored her. Forcing his finger inside.
She tensed and Deku sighed out a relaxed and comfortable murmur.
"It's been such a long time since we cuddled on a sleepover." He hummed with a soft smile. "But I won't give you any false hope." He began warning. "There won't be much time left for sleeping."
Bakugou jeered with a knifelike smirk carving his face. His red eyes set on her cute cunt squeezing around his knuckles.
"No- stop, please-" She stuttered. Trying to twist her way out of Deku's hug and away from the hand burying itself between her legs.
"Oh, come on..." Bakugou drawled cruelly.
His other hand having found her face. Squishing it with fingers digging into the plush of her bloated cheeks.
"Don't act like this isn't just another Tuesday for you."
Her lips quivered in his grasp. His face an inch away from hers. His breaths hot then cold on her teary skin.
"I've seen yah... in the club. Tossing your hair and giggling as you let shitheads grind on you." He whispered darkly.
His harsh eyes boring through her. Quite alike the finger he'd wormed inside her.
"Will you calm down if I stick a tip between you tits?"
His cruelty made her heart clench and she answered by kicking at him again. Her knee jolting and jabbing him in the groin, making him buckle over with a groan.
"Get off-" She growled.
But the uproar was swiftly stopped.
Bakugou's grip on her jaw tightened and she squeaked.
"Kick me again and I'll break your leg." He sneered in warning. Wild eyes looking manic with rage.
"Oh, Kachan, don't be so rough with her." The other male interjected. "You're scaring the poor thing." He mocked.
His tongue gliding up her throat as he gave a low chuckle.
"She's all goose-fleshed because of you." He accused. Kissing at her neck while she whined in disgust.
"What goes around comes back around." He stated. Stark red eyes glaring down at her and her tear-stained little face as he pumped his spit in and out of her cunt with his thick finger. Before squeezing another digit in along the first one.
Further stretching her out with a pained whine escaping her lips.
"This punishment is long overdue..."
His cruel words and cruel eyes and cruel touches all making her sniffle. Chest quaking.
"Don't listen to him." Deku cooed.
Nuzzling into her from behind. Squeezing her little body closer to his chest. His large hands fully cupping her breasts whilst rubbing his cheek against hers and whispering at the gloss of her teary lips.
"I'm sure if you relax for us, this'll feel more like us expressing gratitude over your gracious hospitality than any long grudge we're finally avenging."
Bakugou curled his digits and sent her further jolting once pushing his thumb down on her budding clit.
"Tch-" He scoffed out a cruelly amused laugh. "Afraid or nah..."
He rubbed the pad of his thumb across the bead beneath it and she couldn't stop the impulsive buck of her hips as she mewled beneath the man.
"She's dripping ready to take cock."
Swivel-eyes. Her heart skipped a beat before she could shake her head dramatically. Trying to wind her thighs shut.
Where in the new flurry of panic she begged the green-haired villain who she swore had the kindest of hearts only a few years ago.
"No- please, Izu- stop him, please- don't do this to me-" She sobbed.
But he didn't answer.
"What're you begging him for? Huh?" Bakugou growled.
Her chin kept between his coarse fingertips.
"He's just waiting his turn."
He glanced to Deku before his harsh gaze once again zeroed in on her and her hopeless glossy doe-eyes.
"Beg me instead." He demanded. "It's been so long since I've seen this little squishy face beg."
His eyes kept flickering to her lips and how they blubbered with tears. Looking so plush and plump and biteable. Licking his own lips, tasting her from before. Until he finally, with such surging intensity, locked onto her.
She squealed out a mumbled whine into him. Bakugou's stiff lips forcing themselves onto hers harshly. His tongue in her mouth.
"Please, Bakugou-" She tried once allowed air again, as the man moved to kiss her neck on the opposite side of where Deku was marking her up with love-bites.
"Nah, that's not what you call me." He answered. His voice gruff and lustful.
His fingers finally removing themselves from her hole. Beginning to pull loose his belt-buckle. Fighting with the button to his slacks and the zipper.
"Where's my pet-name, huh?" He requested. His other hand messaging the fat of her thigh as the other kept working to free himself.
His face buried in her neck. His hot breaths smeared on her skin along with small nibbling bites and suction.
His cock-head warm as she felt it bob upon her wet pussy.
"Please- Kachan- please don't..."
Bakugou was never one to listen to begging. She thought before blanking.
Coming to her senses with the rough bark of his voice again.
"Look at yah-" He laughed. "In the lap of a villain, getting fucked dumb by a monster!" He sneered into her tear-slicked face blinking softly up at him.
Showing her no ounce of mercy as he snapped his hips against her harsh and fast. Cock hard and seeking, blood-pumping and twitching for attention inside her.
His red eyes bloody and wide like a savage as he keenly watched out for her pained expressions and that pretty little choked moan that followed forced from her when he thrusted against her poor cervix again and again and again.
"Like a scene straight out’a hentai!" He snickered. "Guess that really does make you nothing but a dumb little bitch."
His face leaving no space between them. Pushed against hers. Forehead to forehead. Nose rubbing nose. Lips ghosting each other every time he rocked forward. Had himself sucking up all her sounds and her eating all his fucked-up and cruel words.
"Our little fuck-toy we finally learned how to share." He laughed again.
"Play nice, Kachan." Deku scolded and she was reminded of his presence again where he sat, still cradling her from behind.
Holding her close as though for support and comfort as the brute on top took and did what he wanted.
"She's too cute to be called such vile things..." He disagreed with another sickening kiss to her cheek. "If we're bad guys, wouldn't that make her our sweet little victim?"
Bakugou scoffed.
"She ain't no victim." He said and fucked harder. Enjoying how her eyes where soft as they continued to droop and blink and cross as though he'd fucked her into a state of complete submission. "She's getting what she deserves. What she fucking needs."
Deku made a noise as though thinking.
"Instead of fuck-toy, how about pet instead?"
Bakugou scoffed again, though this time with a laugh.
"Heh, yeah-" He agreed. "She does sound like a little kitten, moaning for me like that..."
Her hands had gone numb from their position of being bent behind her back. Still wrapped in Deku’s black whips.
The fight seemed to have drained from her. Her thoughts of escape diminished as though blanketed the more she was squeezed and sandwiched between the two muscled males.
Only the thought of holding out until they finished with her was left in her numbing head.
Along with the disgusting feeling of pleasure that tickled her lower stomach and seemed to fizzle with excitement in her thighs beneath where Bakugou’s strong hands had her spread wide for him.
"We should get her a pretty leash and collar." One of them said. But, their voices had more or less molded together. "Give her treats when she's been good and punish her when she's been bad."
"She's been bad a'right." The other replied and soon turned out was Bakugou.
His hand having dropped the fat of her thigh and gripped her face again. His fingers digging deep into the fat of her tear-soaked and stinging cheeks.
"Say it, pet. Say you're a bad girl." He spit and she hadn’t the will to spit back.
"I'm a bad girl."
It came out sweetly and softly, like it was someone completely different and not her.
But it was her all the same. Whilst she clenched tightly around the thing taking up space inside her.
"Mh fuck- say you're sorry." He groaned out. His head resting in the nook of her neck. His breath blowing on the wetness of her throat where her tears where beginning to dry.
"I'm sorry..."
Bakugou blew his load and his kisses turned sloppy against her neck and chest.
Panting with his entire body. Collapsed on her.
His sweat mingling with hers. Droplets dripping and running down their limbs as though chasing each other.
He pulled off her after a while. Still panting as he threw himself back against the other side of the sofa.
She heard Deku give a curt chuckle against her ear. And then the feeling of something stiff poking her back.
She was then easily lifted and sent into the other man's chest.
Now on her knees. With her face resting atop Bakugou's warm beating heart.
Feeling the man behind her shuffle forward. Not seeing him pull down his sweats, until the tops of his thighs hit the back of hers. And then the feeling of something large drag itself up between her already pummelled and prickly pussy-lips.
Bakugou's hot cum running down her thigh, as Deku's cock-head kissed her opening. Bathing in the slick.
And he didn't waste much time. Seeing she was already prepped and all. Hands held on her hips. He just started pushing.
"Ah- fuck-" She hissed. Her small hands grabbing and bawling up the fabric of Bakugou's shirt. "Please stop- please- break-"
"Aww, you wanna a break?" The man beneath simpered.
His chest fluttering at how she was clutching onto him. Her head pressed and hugging his pecks as she was rocked forward by Deku making himself comfortable with her from the back.
"Hah- can't handle nothing but rich pricks with their twig dicks?" He snickered, but the spite from before had disappeared. Now only sweetly condescending and strangely soothing.
A hand ascending from resting on the couch cushion to stroking the slick tresses of hair sticking to her cheek out away from her face, before continuing to pet smoothly over her head.
"Not used to being fucked by real men?" He continued.
And it was strange how he could talk down to her with such stone-cold callous words in that soft tone and treat her so gently while still doing something so ugly.
"Better get used to it.” The blonde continued in a murmur. Whispering to her as he caressed her to his chest. “You ain't ever fuckin' anyone else ever again."
The male behind gave a short chuckle as he bottomed-out deep inside what felt like having reached through to her throat.
"You make it sound like we're gonna kill her, Kachan." Deku chastised.
His hands gliding up her torso softly. Large hands holding her so steadily, squeezing her reassuringly.
"Don't worry, sweetie.” He purred. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore. We're here to keep you safe."
She twitched against Bakugou’s chest. The cock inside feeling as though pushed through her ribs as it pumped its load deep inside her womb.
Hot in her stomach before slumping out of her with a spew of mixed cum squelching from her hole as Deku pulled out.
Her small hands detaching from the shirt she’d been balling in her fists and she made to relax in a collapsed mess between the two. Feeling Deku rest his heavy chest down on her back.
All their heads in a cluster against the coach cushion.
Knocked from her senses in the emotional turmoil. She was exhausted and only a slip away form falling asleep.
Before a voice breached the restful peace of cohesive breaths calming down.
"You ready for round three, sweetie?"
Something twisted in her stomach where the words settled.
"It’s not a reunion without a double-d.”
"No-" She gave a sound of protest. Already panicked where weak hands laid down flat on the hard chest they had rested against. Beginning to lift despite being out of energy.
"Sh-sh-sh" Deku fussed. Collecting her brittle little arms into a neat cross behind her back. Keeping her in a bow.
"No- please, Izu. Kachan, please-" She pleaded, though it all stuck in her throat once Deku pushed through her sore walls yet again. The sound turning into a blubbered out wet moan instead, where half a cry laid hidden as she was too spent to produce such a thing as a wail.
"Shh Quirkless, calm down..." Bakugou joined in, halfheartedly cooing her. Whilst pushing in along Deku.
“Ah-” She gasped and hissed as they split her apart. Kept bent over in the perfect position for them to bottom-out together.
"Aw fuck-“ Bakugou moaned and tears spilled from her eyes and soaked his shirt. “This is how you properly apologise."
One was thicker. The other hit deeper.
And she couldn’t stop her cunt from sucking on the both of them each time they dragged through her walls with such overwhelming stimulating friction on their way to kiss her cervix deeply, filling her completely.
"We love you."
TIP-JAR
bios
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𝐅ucking Hell;
(𝗟)-𝗘𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦 legends never 𝗱𝗶𝗲,
When the world is 𝗰𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂.
𝐭ouch me and you'll 𝐛urn"
行 . 下一個 。 ( نار بداخلي )
𝟲𝟲 🎸⠀ | 持联系⠀٫⠀𝗼bscurꪱdade
𝟣𝟫𝟵𝟳 𝒐𝒇 ﹙ꪱmperꪱus﹚ racon𝘁𝗲𝘂𝗿
⾕ ᆞ ─┈· ⾪ ·┈─ ᆞ 離
𝙥𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘦 シ︎
𖦹 𝗺𝚒𝚗𝚎 @/'𝚜
♫︎ 私の愛に恋してさよならを言う!!
♡𝅼 ͡ ׅ ۟ 兼 ָ֢ ֹ 🏹⃝ ֹ ۪ 𝟥
⎯⎯ㅤ𝓛𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗋ᧉ𝗌ㅤ﹙𝒇.﹚ㅤ 𝟣𝟪𝟩𝟨ㅤ
ㅤ
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏✿𝅼 🌨️ [idol] ♡
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏apesar dos efeitos colaterais,
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏o amor ainda é o melhor remédio.
͏ ͏ ͏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
͏ ͏ ⠀ ⠀୨𖹭୧ . . . ꒰ 📖 ꒱
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏soulmates . . . ? i mean
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏[idol] & me. ♡
⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ᰋ⠀ ۫⠀ ִ⠀⠀🪜 ִ ⠀ ♡⠀ 𓈒
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏basta apenas um sorriso teu,
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏para a minha alma florescer.
⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏ [ idol ] 𝄖 🐈 𖹭 🌙
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ quando é puro, apenas o seu
͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ amor poderá me salvar.
⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
— you can change emojis only if you want.
︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵︵
﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍
꒰ ৎ୭ ꒱ . . newjeans ‹𝟹
૮ ♡ ੭ ︵ㅤ. ✿𝗠𝗚 ﹗ ꒱
(☆^ー^☆) ⊹ . 🎧 ໑ ׂ
천사들 : @̲ NWJNS ࡛
﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶
By: @i92-93 !
⠀⠀⠀♡𝅼 ་ ׅ : 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇, 𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗹. ׅ ׄ ᯇ
𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾
𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈, 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀ ✿ 。 ׄ ׅ 𝟶𝟶 ׄ 𓈒 : 𝟶𝟶 ꞌꞋ ۪ ׄ ﹏
𝖾 𝗌𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗂𝗋𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈
𝖾𝗎 𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝖼̼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆 𝗏𝗈𝖼𝖾̂ 𝗆𝖾𝗎 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗋, 𝗶𝗱𝗼𝗹.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀© groolies | fav & follow.
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𝅄 𝆬 𝖻꯭ⲓ𝗈꯭𝗌 ྀྀ࿐
૮꒰ ⑅ ´ ` ⑅ ꒱ა ۟ 𝒱꯭𝑖𝑜𝑙꯭𝑒𝑡
𝒫꯭𝑒𝑟𝑓꯭𝑢꯭𝑚꯭𝑒 ! 𝆬 ♡̲ ୨
ᰍ ㅤ˳ ㅤ゜ @ idol ㅤ⊹ㅤ ㅤ゜ ✿ ׄ ⠀
¡ .... ♡ 🦢 ୨ ɞ !
୨ 예쁜 ୧
۟ 𝅄 얘들아 ♡ : @ idol ⊹ ੭
￮⠀⠀੭ 𓈒 ˙ 👼🏻 ⠀˳ ⊹ ⠀˚ 𝅄⠀⠀
۟ ⊹ 연인들 : @ idol ♡
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