can you do thriller era smut with michael and the reader in a relationship and he’s super sweet but also freaky 🤭
⋆ . ࿔ ˚ thriller! mj x reader hc’s
warnings: occasional smut
- thriller!mj loves you like no other, he knows you like he knows music.. and he actually remembers everything! it could be something as simple as not enjoying tomatoes on your burger and he remembers.
- thriller!mj is always giving you verbal affection. it’s been said a lot but he also loves having his hand somewhere on you at all times.
- thriller!mj is constantly calling your damn phone, anytime he’s free michael is on your line asap
- thriller!mj enjoys when you run your fingers through his curls. when you two are having sleepovers you never pass up the opportunity to braid his beautiful curls or do little ponytails.
- thriller!mj is a fan of smothering your face with kisses, it makes his heart speed up a little faster
- thriller!mj who is constantly sending you flowers anytime he’s away on tour. once a day and if not at the end of the week he’ll send a big ass bouquet 
- thriller!mj is a PERVERT and i stand by it. he’s constantly eyeing you, brushing his bulge against your ass when passing by, slapping your ass, stealing your panties so you have to go out without them, oh the list goes on and on
- thriller!mj is also a eater like 100% he loves seeing your body from below, loves your taste, your smell, the way you twitch and whine. he can go for hours
- thriller!mj tries to do different positions with you but missionary will always be at his heart. he loves being able to kiss and pound into you at the same time. loves being able to be so close to your face and breast. chef’s kiss
- thriller!mj has a thing about phone sex. anytime he can’t be near you and he’s all horny he’ll call you up. pleading to hear your voice while you ask what’s that sloppy smacking in the background
- thriller!mj keeps nude polaroid photos of you in a secret pocket in his little wallet. it makes him feel so sneaky and gets him worked up
- thriller!mj loves dry humping your ass when there was no time for long sex or a quickie.
summary: since building muscle in your arms, steve can get enough
cw: smut, piv, sub(ish)!steve, biting, kissing, pet names
wc: 1.2k
with all the fight against the upside down in the last few years, you'd worked up quite a bit of strength, most notably in your arms.
each time you flexed you noticed a slight bulge in your bicep, highlighted by the light.
since you'd already gained a bit of muscle, once the upside down was gone and the fight over, you started training.
not heavily, just enough to maintain the muscle you already had, define it a bit maybe.
and when steve noticed, well he thought he'd died and gone to heaven. basically, steve was down fucking bad.
especially when you were fucking.
in the past year, the idea of you being strong enough to physically dominate him sent him into a spiral, one he was not complaining about.
which is how you had ended up on top of steve, both in your underwear, your hips bracketing his, hands holding his and pining them down to the mattress above your heads.
the force needed to stop his hands moving caused your biceps to flex uncontrollably, the curves and dips of the muscle revealing themselves to steve.
he groaned underneath you, his own arms relaxing under yours.
"i told you i was stronger than you"
"yeah fine you win whatever, please baby just" he whined, admitting defeat.
"please what?" you leant down to brush your lips against his.
"darlin”
"you get turned on from that- from me being able to hold you down?" you said sweetly, pouting your lips and tilting your head.
"mhmmm yeah" steve whispered.
"need me to take care of you now? make you feel good?" you ground into his hips as you spoke against his lips.
"aah yeah mm please" he whimpered, looking up at you with them desperately gorgeous puppy dog eyes.
you felt his hips buck up into your core for a second before you leant back, sitting your body weight on him to stop him moving and taking your hands from his to his biceps.
"be patient"
"you’re killing me"
"good" you rolled your hips against him, making steve shudder.
"oh fuck"
"you like that"
his hands found your biceps, squeezing the muscle and groaning when he felt you flex.
"i can think of something i'd like more"
"and what's that?"
"your sweet pussy"
"ask nicely"
he let out a needy whine, dropping his head on the pillow.
"please- let me fuck you, i need it so bad need your pretty pussy around me"
"mmm" you rolled your hips again, feeling steve's rock hard cock press up into your clothed core.
"darlin please i know you need it too i can feel it"
and he wasn’t lying, you’d soaked through your panties, creating a wet patch on the fabric of his boxers.
you reached down, steve's cock twitched under his boxers in anticipation as your fingers dipped into them to free him.
he tried to sit, his hands trying to reach out to grab your hips at his new found freedom. you reacted instantly, grabbing his wrist and pinning him back down.
steve watched transfixed, your thumbs pressing into the pulse points on his wrists as he leant his head forward. slowly, he licked a stripe along your bicep causing you to twitch and shiver.
your muscles relaxed slightly as you got distracted in the feel of him but tensed up again when you felt his teeth sink into the skin.
"fuck! steve" a shot of pain soared though you, quickly darkening into lustful desire.
"your so beautiful, so fucking sexy" he groaned into your arm, hips rutting up against you, only on thin layer of fabric between you.
he switched sides, licking across your chest as he did, sucking deep marks into the skin that stretched over your biceps.
you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him off your arm and attacking his lips with yours.
the kiss was heated instantly, tongues fighting, teeth clashing, lips swelling.
absorbed in the kiss, one hand worked on removing your last piece of clothing from your body, leaving you bare against one another.
you were already dripping, steve hard and heavy, both worked up to the limit. his cock slipped between your slick folds, his head catching your achy clit.
bracing your arms around his head, you wiggled your hips so that steve's cock was lined up to your entrance, and slid down slowly.
breaking the kiss, you both moaned into each others mouths as steve couldn't help but thrust up into you, burying himself all the way.
"your so tight- shit-"
"mm feel so full"
your eyes watered slightly as you got used to the stretch, breathing heavily against steve's neck as he tilted his face to latch onto your biceps that bracketed his head.
he suckled lightly, grazing his teeth then soothing the skin with his tongue when you sat back on him, watching as his eyes followed, worshiping your body.
"darlin- move please- need to feel you"
before sliding out all the way, you rolled your hips in a circle, then lifted up and dropped back down, forcing steve's cock deep and hitting the spot that made you feel dizzy.
each drag of his thick cock pushed you closer and closer to the edge, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders and scratching them.
his eyes were locked on your arms, the way the muscles flexed under the shadows of the light.
"fuck baby- you get me so- fucking turned on when your being- all strong and shit" steve rambled through groans and heavy breaths.
"you like when im in control?"
"mm until you start teasing too much"
you purposely squeezed on steve's cock inside you, giving him a little reminder who is currently dominating.
he felt it straight away, moaning deeply and dropping his back again.
"very funny" he groaned.
pulling up all the way again, you slammed back down sending spark's up through your whole body.
"princess- fuck im so close"
"not yet" you slowed down to a shallow bounce, grinding your clit against his base.
"no- aah- cum with me, beautiful- please i wanna feel you soak my cock i need it please"
his begs filled your ears, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core, doubling the size of the fire crackling away in your belly.
you let steve go completely, allowing him to touch you, hold your waist, guide your movements as you sat back and continued to bounce up and down on his length.
"fuck- i'm gonna- steve cum for me- i'm cumming-"
as you collapsed forward and took steve's lips in yours, the dam broke, your orgasm crashing over you in white hot waves.
with a couple lazy bounces, steve finished inside you, painting your throbbing walls with ropes of his spend.
your stomach contracted, legs burning and steve's whole body trembled with overstimulation as you rode out your orgasms.
eventually, you went limp on top of him, unraveling your limbs and slipping steve's softening cock out, but not letting go fully.
steve rolled you off his onto your side, pulling you back against him as he did. wrapping his arms around you, his hands finding your own arms.
as his thumbs circled into your skin he nuzzled into your neck, peppering soft kisses.
"god i love you"
"i love you too" you whispered back, starting to press your own kisses into his biceps that flexed over your chest.
"you're unreal" he murmured.
you turned over in his hold, pushing on his chest. he fell flat on his back, looking up at you with them irresistible dark eyes.
"baby- gotta give me a minute"
but he smiled despite himself as you swung your leg back over his hips once again.
A/N: Somewhere between the ask and the page the breeding kink got lost. Don't worry, fem!reader definitely gets egged, and boy does she unambiguously enjoy it, but it's less of a "making you mine" vibe
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You stepped through the airlock. You’d already stripped your flightsuit down to your underclothes, barely more than a crop top and shorts, even so the climate control had you covered in a thin sheen of sweat in moments. Humid, sticky air, just cool enough that you weren’t in danger of overheating. You knew the owners of this station preferred it hotter, but human physiology is what it is.
Rion is a tropical world of shallow, jewel green oceans bordering jungles so dense the light doesn’t reach the ground. A biosphere not delineated laterally, but vertically. The Rionites evolved in the mid-layers, high enough to see glimpses of the stars through the canopy but still deep enough to foray down and reach the precious minerals in the crust of their world.
Minerals you had been sent to barter for.
UNE command had been thorough in your training. You knew the correct honorifics, the proper gestures of greeting, words to avoid when speaking to other delegates. You’d also been given a stern warning: Rionites are a particularly fecund species, one that sees sexual contact like humanity sees a handshake. Possibly some societal holdover from a time when they weren’t the top of the food chain, so needed to keep a steady influx of new members of society to remain stable. Now though, it was causing them problems. Overcrowding on Rion was threatening their delicate ecosystem.
This station was the first of many. A shining home in orbit around their home planet. The UNE sought to secure extraction rights on the planet below. In return the Rhionites would be granted the knowhow and infrastructure required to make more stations like this one. Artificial worlds to save their mother planet from the same fate Earth-That-Was suffered so many generations ago.
You took a seat at a table in front of you, skin sticking to the cool metal. Everything was printed on polymer paper to try and prevent documents rotting away. Clean energy, nondestructive mining drones, terrain rehabilitation, even plans for floating arcologies. Being thorough was the name of the game, and the UNE were nothing if not sticklers for detail. Exiles from your own homeworld, living for centuries auditing every seed, you had to be.
The door opposite you opened. A waft of hot air flowed inside, filling the room with fog as the humidity spiked. A figure cut through the haze, your counterpart. You’d done your homework, even before the atmospheric controls dispelled the fog you knew mostly what he’d look like. Tall, slender bodied. Two arms and legs, though wiry muscled and longer proportional to his torso. Large eyes set high in his face, angled slightly outwards. He’d have a narrow band of binocular vision, but would turn his head slightly to get a good look at you. Below that would be a distinct absence of a nose, then insect-like mandibles suited to chewing on plant fibres. Slits on either side of his neck performed the vital business of breathing.
You stood. The results of this preliminary talk would shape diplomatic relations for months to come. No room for mistakes.
Running through the routine you had memorised, you gave a formal greeting from rote.
A moment passed.
A trilling voice answered you. Echoing the counter-sign you had been trained to expect. Despite your broken pronunciation, this wasn’t going off script just yet.
Until the climate control finally cleared the air and you realised that of the two of you, only one was wearing anything.
“Why do you come armoured?” The Rhionite turned his head slightly, bringing you into the focus of his compound vision “Is this not diplomacy?”
You paused a moment. Then you realised, they likely don’t differentiate between clothing and armour. On a planet where most natural fibres would simply rot off you, why go through the expense of making textiles if not for protection? “In my culture it is customary to cover one's body with fabric. I meant no disrespect”
That drew a smile. At least you hoped the slightly grotesque contorting of the alien’s face was a smile “Aah, to savour the experience. I understand”
He stepped around the table, pushing into your space. One six-fingered hand held your wrist, flattening your palm against the polished aluminium surface as he bent you over slightly “To remove first, like peeling the delicious fruit”
You tried to protest, but found yourself speechless. Watching his other hand as it tugged your top upwards, exposing more of your midriff, then letting your tits fall out. You co-operated as he dragged the sweat-soaked garment over your head, letting it come to rest on your other arm.
Next he knelt down, caressing you slowly as he went. Despite the heat, the callouses on his fingertips drew goosebumps on your exposed flesh. One hand flat on your belly, keeping you pressed back against the bolted-down furniture, the other tugging at your waistband. Her looked up at you expectantly “This covers the…” He struggled for the word
You nodded. You weren’t sure how much of the hot and bothered feeling in you was coming from the too-hot climate, or your colleague knelt in front of you “That covers the genitals, yes”
Another smile. You’re pretty sure that’s what it was “We have much to learn about one another. I look forward to you teaching me”
You looped your thumbs under the elastic of your shorts. There might be some translation errors if you start talking about topics like consent, but you hoped that actively helping him undress you would be enough of a hint that you weren’t just comfortable where you were, you wanted to go further.
He caught your meaning. Or he was going to do this anyway, right now, you’re not sure if it mattered which. Slowly, he slipped the shorts down your legs, one hand caressing your inner thigh as you sat back onto the table, opening your legs for him. More fabric blocked his view of your bare hole, thin regulation-issue underwear, already soaked with a combination of sweat and slick. He didn’t bother taking these off, pulling the gusset aside and sinking two fingers into you. “Pla-cen-tal ma-mal” He sounded out the words, as though this is the first time he’s said them aloud “This is the primary erogenous zone, correct?” He crooked his fingers up inside you, pushing hard against your g-spot. The noise that came from your throat was all the answer he needed. Strong hands, crafted by millions of years of evolution for traversing creeping vines and branches, curling and probing inside you. Once he’d figured out he could use his other hand too, rubbing and teasing your clit, it was all over for you. All you could do was cling to the edge of the table, trying to resist the urge to wrap your thighs around his head and draw him in for a taste.
Then he decided he’d do that for you. Mandibles working over your folds. Tiny rasping mouthparts making you shake and twitch. You lost the battle with your instincts, the soft meat of your legs holding him close as pressure built inside you. Your legs trembled as a groan escaped you. Toes curling, cunt twitching, you felt yourself squirt into the alien’s face.
He kept going, turning your moan into a scream, then a silent howl as you felt more and more of your juices spraying him. He only stopped when you pushed his face away from you.
He knelt between your trembling legs, fixing you with that tilted-head stare as you caught your ragged, laboured breath.
“Was I unsatisfactory?”
You laughed “You were more than satisfactory. I just need to catch my breath”
He nodded, then stood.
You couldn’t help but stare at it. He’d clearly enjoyed himself, a long, thick organ protruded from between his legs having emerged from a hidden genital slit. Looking between it and his face, you could tell he knew you’d seen it. You licked your lips, pulse still racing. That thing would break you in two.
Sod it. “So, in my culture we have this concept of foreplay…”
You didn’t need to finish that thought. You were already in each other’s arms, your legs open, torso angled to better accommodate the sheer length of the beast knocking at your entrance.
It slid into your already-dripping cunt, aided by the sea of slick and squirt lubricating your hole. In one smooth motion he was already knocking on your cervix. Every motion made you gasp, holding him a little tighter as he ground his tip against the muscle barring entry to your womb.
He kept pushing, kept pressing against the resistance inside you.
Tongue lolling, you just clung onto him, ear pressed to his chest to hear the swish-swish-swish of his circulatory system.
You cried out when it pushed past your cervix, feeling the thick organ press through as he began to tense up. Wordless, rhythmic, he twitched. His whole body convulsing. At the same time, you felt him thicken inside you. Something travelled down his member, stretching you even more. A sob of pain escaped as the first one forced its way past your cervix, before depositing in your womb. Then another followed, and another.
Five in total. Five hard lumps nestled inside you before he withdrew, finally letting your body relax. You could feel them, each one the size of a ping pong ball, still keeping your belly full. Subconsciously, you cradled your belly, the mass inside you bringing you a strange sense of comfort despite the lingering ache of being over-full.
“Now” he straightened up, still covered in your juices, ovipositor throbbing as it receded back into his abdomen “Diplomacy.”
The smell of rain on pavement always made you feel safe.
It reminded you of childhood warm lights, tea kettles whistling, your brother calling your name with tired affection.
But this storm didn’t feel safe. It was quiet. Too quiet. You stood at the window of your apartment, watching water drip from the overhang, phone in hand, thumb hovering over Minjae’s name. Five calls. No answer. Not even a read receipt.
That wasn’t like him. Not when he was the one who usually flooded your phone with updates and late night “grab eggs on your way home” messages. Not when he was the one who always said, “We only have each other. Stay close.” You should have known something was wrong. The apartment was modest but clean furnished with secondhand furniture, tastefully decorated with soft neutral tones and a few framed photos. One of them sat on the entryway table. You and Minjae. Both laughing. Back when things were simple. Back when you still believed he could protect you from anything.
10:34 PM The sound of keys jiggling in the front lock made you exhale in relief.“Finally,” you muttered, padding to the door. But it didn’t open. The metal scraped. Then again. Then Your breath caught in your throat. Not keys. Not him. The lock was being picked. “Hello?” your voice trembled, barely above a whisper.
Then a second of stillness before the door burst open with a slam, and three men in black stormed inside. You didn’t even have time to scream before one grabbed your arm, another yanked your phone from your hand and slammed it to the floor, and the third cuffed your wrists behind your back like you were a criminal. “LET GO OF ME!” You kicked. Fought. Bit one in the shoulder hard enough to draw blood. “GET OFF ME, I’M—!” A fist connected with your stomach. You dropped to your knees, gasping.
“Shut her up,” one muttered. A black cloth was tied over your mouth. The hallway lights spun as your body was lifted dragged out of the home you fought to build, down the stairwell, into the pouring rain. No one stopped them. No one helped. The last thing you saw before the trunk door slammed shut… was the cracked photo of you and Minjae on the ground. Shattered.
𝒪𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓈𝒾𝒹ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒸𝒾𝓉𝓎
“She’s on her way,” a man said, adjusting the cuff of his suit. Across from him, Park Seonghwa sipped from a glass of red wine, his expression unreadable. “Was there trouble?” “She fought like hell.” The man in front of him said Seonghwa’s lips curved just slightly. “Good.” He set the glass down. Turned toward the hallway that led to the grand staircase. “I hate quiet women”
𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝓋𝒶𝓁
The mansion was cold. Not cold like winter, but cold like death like silence that never left. Your boots one of which had been ripped halfway off dragged uselessly across the marble floor as two men hauled you through the gilded foyer.
Your face was bloodied, Lip split, Knee raw from when you slammed into the pavement trying to run. Wrists swollen from the cuffs. Your hair stuck to your face from the rain and the fight. But your eyes they still burned. You didn’t cry. You wouldn’t.Not until you found your brother.
They dragged you up a staircase lined with oil paintings and security cameras, then down a velvet runner to double doors with black handles. One of the guards knocked once. Someone inside said, “Let her in.” The door creaked open.
And there he was. Park Seonghwa. Leaning against a sleek black desk. Dressed in black, from his collared shirt to his gloves. Clean. Unbothered. Cold. His eyes met yours like you were dirt tracked into his house. His gaze dropped to the blood on your chin, the bruising on your wrists.
“Tch,” he said. “I told them to bring you in one piece. They always overdo it. You ripped your arms out of the guards’ hold and staggered into the room. Your breathing was ragged, but your voice was steady. “Where’s Minjae?” Seonghwa tilted his head. “Hm?”seongwha questions “My brother. Where. Is. He.” You ask
He slowly walked toward you, his gloved hands in his pockets, lips twitching into something that might’ve been a smirk or a warning.“You mean the man who sold you?” You flinched. “Shut up.”“He did,” Seonghwa said, stopping a few feet from you. His tone was light. Amused.
“He offered you up like a business deal. Told me you’d be quiet. Obedient. Well-trained.” He chuckled lowly. “Clearly, he oversold.” Your nails dug into your palms. Your voice cracked.“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” he said softly, leaning in close enough for you to smell the leather and wine on his breath. “Then why aren’t you in your home right now, sweetheart?” “Why hasn’t he come for you?” “Why did he disappear the moment his debt was wiped clean?”
You stared at him, heart pounding. “He would never do that to me.” Seonghwa smiled. Not kind. Not gentle. It was the kind of smile people saw before a gunshot. “Then I have some bad news.”
“Your brother…” He walked slowly around you like a predator circling a wounded animal. “Is the reason you’re here.” “He’s the reason you’re standing in my house.” “On my time. On your knees, if I tell you to be.” You turned and shoved him hard. “GO TO HELL!”Seonghwa didn’t even stumble. He just laughed.
“You think this is hell?” he asked cruelly. “You haven’t even worn the dress yet.” Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “He’s going to come for me,” you said. Seonghwa’s eyes sharpened like a blade. “No, he’s not.” “He—” just as you were about to deny it “He thinks you’re dead.” Seongwha says. You froze.
“And if he ever tries to prove otherwise…” He leaned in. Voice low. Deadly. “I’ll make him wish he never crawled out of his mother’s womb.” You fell silent. Everything inside you cracked, then went quiet. And for the first time since they’d dragged you out of your home You felt truly alone.
The bed was too soft. The sheets too clean. You lay still in the dark, surrounded by velvet, silk, and the scent of roses that somehow made your stomach turn. The bruises on your ribs pulsed with every breath. Your wrists still burned. Every time you blinked, you saw Seonghwa’s smile that cold, beautiful smirk right before he said your brother wasn’t coming.
You didn’t cry. Tears meant defeat. You just stared at the ceiling and waited for morning like it might bring a knife or a miracle. Neither came.
soft knock stirred you awake.“Miss YN?” a quiet voice called. “It’s morning. We’ve brought you clothes.” You didn’t move.
Seconds later, the door creaked open. Two women stepped inside, dressed in sleek black uniforms, heads slightly bowed. Their hands moved quickly—pulling open curtains, laying out folded clothes in pale linen, a basin of warm water. You sat up slowly, muscles aching. “I don’t want your clothes,” you said. One of them spoke softly. “Mr. Seonghwa asked for you to join him for breakfast.”
“I don’t care.” Still, they helped clean your wounds gentle hands, but no warmth behind them. Like trained staff changing a display doll. You didn’t fight. Not because you gave in. But because you were watching. Learning. Waiting. They dressed you in a soft, cream blouse and a long skirt that hugged your waist. Barefoot. Hair fixed to be perfect. Lip still cracked.
The Dining Room. You were escorted through a hall of mirrors and marble to a wide, sun-drenched room. The table was long enough to seat twenty. At the end sat Seonghwa, dressed in a pressed gray shirt, sipping black coffee like he hadn’t destroyed your entire life twelve hours ago.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kang,” he said calmly, not looking up from the newspaper. “Or shall I say, soon-to-be.” You didn’t respond. You sat at the farthest end of the table, untouched food in front of you fruit, toast, eggs, tea. Your stomach turned. “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, finally meeting your eyes.
“I’d rather starve.” He leaned back in his chair, his tone smooth. “Go ahead. I’ll feed you myself if I have to.”You said nothing. He smirked. “Fine. Starve. But don’t faint during the fitting. That would be dramatic even for you.” Your head snapped up.“What fitting?” You asked “Your wedding dress, of course,” he said simply. “Unless you’d prefer a coffin. You’d look stunning in either.”
The Fitting Room
The room looked like it belonged in a bridal magazine. Ivory walls, full-length mirrors, gowns in every shade of white hanging from delicate racks. You stood in the center, arms crossed, refusing to speak as a designer shaky and nervous presented one dress after another.
“This one is Paris silk. Or this, in hand-beaded lace—” “I’m not wearing any of them,” you snapped. Seonghwa sat in the corner, legs crossed, sipping wine like it was water, watching you like a man amused by a storm behind glass.
“You’ll have to wear something, darling,” he said lazily. “Unless you want to be married naked. I’m not opposed.” You turned to him, eyes blazing. “Why are you doing this?” He didn’t answer immediately. He just stood slowly and walked toward you hands in pockets, posture relaxed, like he wasn’t the villain in the room.
“You want a reason?” “Fine.” “Because your brother begged for his life and gave yours instead.” “Because I can.” “Because I wanted to see if you’d look this angry in white.” He tilted his head. “And you do. It suits you.” You tried to slap him. He caught your wrist. “There it is,” he whispered, smirk gone. “The fire.” You yanked your hand away, trembling.
“You can force me into a dress. But I will never belong to you.” He smiled softly now, something far more chilling than mockery. “You already do.” Then he turned to the designer. “Let her choose whatever she wants. But make sure it fits her neck just tight enough to remind her it’s still a noose.”
Dinner was quiet. Too quiet. You sat at the end of the massive dining table in a soft ivory dress. Your wounds were mostly healed, though a faint bruise still lingered on your cheek, hidden beneath powder. Seonghwa sat at the head of the table like a king cutting his steak calmly, sipping wine like the world was perfectly in place.
He barely spoke to you. Just the occasional glance. You fixed your face to smirk when your fork scraped the plate too hard. He knew you hated this. That you were performing. But tonight, you didn’t fight. You played along. Because tonight, you were going to run.
After Dinner A warm bath had already been drawn for you. Lavender. Rose oil. All too gentle for a prisoner.
Two maids helped you in silence, washing your arms and legs like you were royalty instead of a woman stolen from her own life. You didn’t argue. You let them dress you in a pale silk robe, fixed your hair up for what’s appropriate for bed, place slippers at your feet.
You smiled. Thanked them. And when they left the room, you counted down from sixty…And moved.
You crept down the hall like you’d done in your mind a dozen times.The guards rotated out every thirty minutes. You’d timed it. The side door near the garden was always unlocked between dusk and nightfall. The window at the end of the corridor? Slightly faulty. You tested it once when no one was looking. You moved fast and quieter than you’d ever been.
You turned the corner. Pressed your fingers to the window latch Lifted A voice stopped you cold. “I was wondering when you’d try this.” You froze. No, No, no, no He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Seonghwa stood at the end of the hall, his sleeves rolled up, expression unreadable. No guards. No violence. Just him. “You bathed. You smiled at dinner.”His voice dropped. “That was your first mistake.” You turned and bolted down the hall “oh fuck, fuck” you say but you didn’t make it far.
His arm came around your waist, spinning you into him. You fought like hell kicking, elbowing, screaming into his chest but he didn’t flinch.
“Let me GO!” “You had your chance,” he growled.
He threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him, locking it with a loud click. You backed away, eyes wild, chest heaving. “You’re a fucking psycho!” You screamed “You’re a terrible liar,” he said. “You don’t smile when you eat with people you hate.”
“You think this is about dinner?” “No,” he said coldly, taking off his watch and setting it on the table. “It’s about you not learning.” You lunged for the door. He caught you, this time pinning your wrists to the wall. But he didn’t strike. He didn’t curse. He just stared at you.
“Are you going to sleep now,” he murmured, “or do I need to tie you to the bed?” You spit at him. He laughed. Low and dangerous. “You’re lucky I like fire.” He didn’t tie you down.But he did something way fucking worse.
He slid into your bed that night. Fully dressed, one arm around your waist, holding you like an anchor. Like a threat. His breath hit the back of your neck. His body heat wrapped around you like chains. “Sleep,” he murmured. “If you try to run again, I’ll cut the air out of this room.” You hated him. But still… you slept.Because for one fucked up moment You felt warm.
Wedding Morning
You woke alone, in silks and sunlight. A note sat on the edge of the bed in his handwriting: “Don’t bother running. The whole estate is locked. See you at the altar, Mrs. Park.” You tore it in half. But part of you… knew he was right.
The Ceremony The air was thick with incense and expectation.
The hanbok was heavy on your shoulders, red and gold silk trailing across the floor like blood. You stood at the edge of the ceremonial platform, staring at the courtyard full of strangers and snakes every one of them dressed in power, silence, and secrets.
Then Seonghwa entered. His robes matched yours. Traditional, regal, perfect. His expression was unreadable. Cold like always. His father nodded. His mother didn’t blink. His sister whispered something to a woman beside her and smirked.
You didn’t want to bow. You did anyway.You went through the motions.The rituals. The slow, careful sips of tea. The hand-holding. The gazes locked as petals fell from above. It looked beautiful. But it felt like a funeral. You couldn’t help but wonder which version of yourself had died. The free one? Or the foolish one who thought she could ever escape?
The Wedding Night
The room was dimly lit, the bed adorned in red. You sat on the edge in silence, still wearing the hanbok. You refused to change. You refused to make this more real than it already was. When Seonghwa entered, he looked amused.“Still dressed?”“Still waiting to fight.” He poured himself a drink. Didn’t come near you. “You think I’m here to sleep with you,” he said, sipping slowly. You stayed silent.
“Oh please,” he scoffed, turning to face you. “I’m not that evil. I don’t fuck people without consent.”You looked at him then. Calm. Sharp. “You’ve done everything else without consent.” He didn’t flinch. But the tension shifted just slightly. “Touché,” he said softly. “I’ll give you that.”
He walked toward you, slowly. Stopped in front of you, his hand reaching out But only to undo the ribbon holding your hanbok together. You flinched.“Relax,” he muttered. “Just take it off. You’ll sleep better.” “Not if you’re in the room.” “Then I’ll sleep on the balcony.” “I don’t want you near me.”
“You’re not getting what you want,” he whispered, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “But you are getting what you need.” You slapped his hand away. He only smiled. Then walked out onto the balcony and shut the door behind him.
The Next Morning You woke up alone. Again. You sat up, sore in places that had nothing to do with the body and everything to do with the soul. You got dressed in silence, ignored the breakfast tray someone had left, and paced the room like a caged animal. Then the knock came. And before you could answer, the door flung open. “OHMYGOD you’re so pretty! You’re even prettier up close. hi! HI! You must be YN right? The wife? Oh my god, I’m so nervous—”
A girl barreled into the room like a caffeinated storm. Probably around your age, but her energy felt like it belonged to someone half that. She was short, bubbly, wearing a bright yellow dress that absolutely did not belong in this house of marble and menace.
“Who—” “Oh! Sorry! I’m Jiwoo. Seonghwa said I’m your gift!” You blinked.“My what?” “Your gift. Companion. Friend. Emotional support prisoner okay, I made that last one up but seriously! He thought you might be lonely and since I never shut up and he’s y’know, him he said maybe we’d balance each other out.” You stared at her.
She smiled. Big, Bright, Unapologetically chaotic. Then Seonghwa appeared in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching the chaos unfold with deadpan amusement. “She talks too much,” he said flatly. “I’ve thought about killing her at least a dozen times.” “Hey!” Jiwoo pouted.
“But…” he continued, eyes on you. “I didn’t. I thought you might want someone… different.” You said nothing. “Don’t thank me,” he added coolly.
“It wasn’t kindness. I just don’t want you going mad and slicing your wrists before the reception.” “Wow,” Jiwoo whispered beside you.
“He’s so romantic.” As she says that you look at her like she just bitch slapped you in the most offending way “what?, am I wrong”
You weren’t told about the reception until an hour before it began. You had just finished dealing with Jiwoo who was now humming and twirling in the corner of your room like this was a princess movie and not your private hell when another knock came.
Two women entered with a new hanbok, this one sapphire blue with gold embroidery. “Mr. Seonghwa is expecting you downstairs. His family and inner circle are waiting.” You didn’t move. “Inner circle?” “The rest of The Gild,” one said quietly. “His brothers.”
The Reception ballroom was opulent, candlelit, laced in gold, white peonies, and shadow. Music drifted through the air, traditional instruments mixed with low modern undertones. Guests stood in clusters, sipping champagne and smiling like none of them had killed a man in their lives. And then you saw them. They weren’t wearing name tags. But you knew they were different. Eight of them. A unit. A force. Seonghwa’s Gilded Circle.
“Don’t look so stiff,” a voice murmured beside you. It was him. Seonghwa, appearing at your side, dressed in jet-black hanbok lined with silver. “Smile, Mrs. Park. You’re about to meet the people who can ruin countries with one phone call.” He took your hand. You didn’t smile.
The Introductions were…..kinda weird but some comforting and some not. First came Hongjoong. Sharp eyes, short stature, commanding presence. He gave you a polite nod, but his gaze was calculating. “So you’re the fireball,” he said. “Didn’t think Seonghwa had it in him.” “Had what?” You questioned “A conscience. Or a wife.” Seonghwa just sipped his drink beside you, unimpressed.
Then San stepped forward, grinning. More casual, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You punch people when you’re mad or break their stuff?” “Both.”you say “Nice,” he smirked. “You’ll fit in.”
Then came Wooyoung, who looked you up and down shamelessly before letting out a low whistle. “Damn. We thought you’d be boring.” “I am,” you deadpanned. “Feisty I see” he winked, nodding toward Seonghwa. Seonghwa didn’t even blink.
Yeosang came next elegant, quiet, and unreadable. He didn’t speak to you. He just bowed his head slightly and moved on. But his eyes lingered long enough to say he was watching.
Then Mingi towering, warm smile, but his knuckles looked like they’d never fully healed.“I don’t like what he did to you,” he said, completely unprompted. “But if he didn’t, someone worse would have.” You blinked. He gave you a small, sad smile.
Jongho was last younger, observant, and with a presence that felt like stone beneath silk. “You’re stronger than you look,” he said quietly. “Don’t let him break you.” You didn’t answer. Because if you spoke, the truth might come spilling out. I’m already cracked.
The reception was winding down fewer strangers, more silence, and far more eyes on you. You stood near a row of white camellias, clutching a glass of untouched wine, barely breathing. Then he appeared beside you. “It’s time,” Seonghwa said, quiet enough that only you heard. “My family wants to speak with you.” You didn’t answer. He didn’t wait for one.
His Mother. Lady Park was standing beneath a paper lantern tree, dressed in a soft jade hanbok that shimmered like water. Her features were refined but not cold, and when she saw you, her entire expression changed. Warm, Gentle, and Surprisingly maternal. “So… you’re our girl,” she said softly, stepping forward.
You were braced for something sharp. Instead, she took your hands in hers. “You must’ve been so scared,” she murmured. “I can only imagine how strange all of this must feel to you.” You blinked. “I—yes. It’s… a lot.” She gave a small, knowing smile. “My son is many things. He’s not good at slow beginnings.”You almost laughed. Almost.
“But he’s loyal,” she added. “And dangerous. And sometimes kind in ways no one sees.” “You’re stronger than I expected. That’s good. He needs someone who doesn’t flinch.” Then she did something no one else had done since you were taken. She hugged you. No theatrics. Just soft arms around your tense frame, and a mother’s calm voice in your ear. “You’re not alone here. Not entirely.” You didn’t know what to say.
His Father. Lord Park stood to the side, swirling a glass of dark liquor, eyes unreadable. He looked at you once. Nodded. “Strong jaw,” he said. You blinked. “Excuse me?” You say confused by the words he chose to use “Your face. You’re not weak. That’ll serve you well here.” He says. You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or a warning. Maybe both. He didn’t speak again.
His Sister. You didn’t notice her until she popped up beside you with a full plate of snacks and the world’s most mischievous grin. “I saved you the only good food they served,” she whispered. You blinked. She shoved a piece of tteok into your hand. “Eat. You look like you haven’t had a real meal since they kidnapped you.”You choked a little.
“I’m Yeona,” she said, linking your arm with hers. “Seonghwa’s sister. Technically. Emotionally? Way cooler.” You didn’t know how to react. She winked. “If you ever wanna run, I know five exits, six secret doors, and which guards take bribes.” “You’re joking… right?”you ask She just smiled. “I’ll let you decide.”
Later That Evening You sat on the balcony alone, hair undone, shoes off, wine glass half-full. For the first time since you arrived here, your body wasn’t clenched in fear.
You didn’t feel safe. But you felt seen. Maybe… maybe that was something. Seonghwa appeared in the doorway. “They liked you,” he said. “Even your father?” You say “That was his version of affection.” You glanced up.
“Your mother… she hugged me.” You say softly “She doesn’t do that for just anyone.” he answered “And your sister?” You asked “If she gave you food, you’re part of the family now. Permanently.” You paused. “That’s not comforting.” Seonghwa smiled just a little. Then turned to leave. “Get some rest. Tomorrow I’m giving you a gift.” “A gift?” You asked “You’ll see.” He says
“Why the hell are we going to a mall?”you say confused “Because I said so,” Seonghwa replied. That was your only warning. Jiwoo squealed with excitement as soon as she heard, spinning in her socks down the hallway. “OHMYGOD YES. I haven’t touched real lip gloss in months. I’m going to buy fifteen.”
“I’m not going,” you muttered. “Yes, you are,” Seonghwa said without looking up from his watch. “You need clothes. You’re not wearing funeral gowns for the rest of your life.” “I like black.”you say “And I like seeing you in things you didn’t fight someone to wear.”
In the car You sat in the back of the black SUV. Seonghwa beside you. Jiwoo in the front seat, feet on the dash, singing along to a girl group like this was a road trip instead of a power play. The windows were tinted. The guards followed in a separate vehicle. Two more were stationed in the mall already. You weren’t escaping.
You knew it. He knew it. But you still glanced at every exit like a plan might suddenly fall into your lap. “Don’t,” Seonghwa said without looking at you. “They’ll shoot you before you hit the street.” “You’re charming,” you muttered. “You’re married. Get used to me.”
The Mall he took you too was packed. You hadn’t seen so many people in weeks. The lights were bright. The air smelled like cinnamon pretzels and perfume samples. Teenagers laughed. A couple held hands by the escalators. Two kids were playing in the fountain and got scolded by their mom. The normalcy was dizzying. You didn’t realize how empty you’d felt until now.
Jiwoo dragged you into a clothing store within seconds. “Okay, okay, hear me out,” she said, holding up a sparkly crop top. “This and the red heels. Boom. Hot girl vengeance.” “I’m not trying to be hot.” You say coldly“You already are,” she said.“Now let’s dress like it.”
You let her shove clothes into your arms, not fighting this time. Not yet. Not here. You tried on a few outfits. Picked some jeans, tops, soft sweaters. Things that didn’t feel like chains.
You stepped out of the dressing room in a simple beige dress, short and sleeveless. Seonghwa, seated casually by the wall, looked up from his phone. Paused. And stared. “Is it too much?” you asked Jiwoo. But he answered.“No,” Seonghwa said. “It’s perfect.”
The Food Court was filled with many people and You didn’t want to eat with him. So Jiwoo filled a tray with bubble tea and spicy tteokbokki and sat with you in the corner booth. Seonghwa sat across from you both, sipping iced Americano like he wasn’t a mafia husband watching his wife eat fish cakes. “Why are you really here?” you asked him, low. “To spend time with you.” “So now you care?” You asked
“No,” he said, lips curling. “I just like keeping you close. Watching you squirm.” “You’re sick.” You say glaring “And you’re still here.” He says Jiwoo made a dramatic choking sound between bites. “Can you two NOT flirt like villains at a high school lunch table? I’m trying to digest.” You glared. Seonghwa smirked.
“Okay this is it,” Jiwoo grinned.She dragged you to the glowing beauty counter like it was a holy altar. “Today, I turn you into a hottie in mascara.”
“I don’t need makeup to be a hottie” you smirked. “Fair. But imagine being hot and bad as hell. That’s unstoppable.” She started dabbing highlighter on your cheekbones while you scowled in the mirror. Seonghwa stood across the store, arms crossed, watching like a hawk as two guards lingered nearby. But for the first time… you didn’t care.
You were laughing. With Jiwoo. With someone who didn’t want to own you or control you. Someone who might actually be your friend. “Hey,” Jiwoo whispered while brushing powder on your jaw. “You know why he brought me to you, right?” “Because I was lonely?” You say confused “Because he trusts me to kill anyone who gets too close.” You blinked surprised. she smiles like nothing. “I may be loud, but I’m trained. Your little bodyguard. And You? You’re the only person he’s ever looked at like you matter.”
Your stomach flipped. “He doesn’t care.” You say determined that he doesn’t “He would’ve killed me a long time ago if he didn’t care about you.”
You were exiting the store when something happened. You caught a glimpse of a man in a cap too still, eyes too alert. You turned, just in time to see the blade glint in the air “SEONGHWA—!” You yelled But Seonghwa had already seen it. He pushed you back, took the hit with a grunt. A silver dagger buried deep in his side. Blood soaked through his white shirt instantly.
The guards tackled the attacker. A another attacker coming towards you this time. Jiwoo without hesitation kicked the attacker back knocking him to the ground and swiftly kicking him in the face knocking him unconscious.
You dropped to Seonghwa’s side, shaking. “Stupid girl,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Why are you shaking? I’m not dying.” “Shut up,” you whispered “Stop talking like it’s just a scratch—”you scold him “It is.” He inputs
But it wasn’t. Blood poured from the wound, hot and terrifying. And yet all he said wasAre you hurt?” ”What?” You say caught off guard by the question “Are. You. Hurt?” He repeats “No—god, no, but you—” you say “Good.” Then he passed out in your arms.
Later That Night He survived. Of course he did. Three doctors. Private surgery. And a scar that would haunt you forever. You sat beside him in his private room, still in your dress, blood dried on your sleeves. He hadn’t woken yet. Jiwoo brought you tea. She didn’t talk much after that. “He told me once,” she said, quiet, “that there are only two reasons he wouldn’t kill someone who got close.”“Why?” You ask “One because they were useful. Two because they made him feel something he couldn’t understand.” She looked down at her cup. “He doesn’t understand you.”
He woke at midnight. Groggy, Pale, But alive. And the first thing he did? “Check her,” he rasped. “Did anyone touch her?” The guards shook their heads. You were stunned silent. Later that night, after the chaos cooled and the bleeding stopped, he called for you. A black velvet box sat beside him. “What is it?” You questioned “Our rings.” He says “What?” You say confused “Marriage rings. Real ones.” He says.
You stared. Inside were two delicate silver bands, thin and simple. One for him. One for you. Etched with some sort of symbol you didn’t recognize.“You’ll wear it,” he said. “Always.” He says “What if I take it off?” You ask. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t.”
You slid it on your finger. Something cold pricked your skin for a brief second like a needle under the surface. You gasped. “What the hell—?” “Security,” he said. “So you’re never unmarked again.” You stared at him. He wore his too.
Gentleman Zanka, Loves you to the moon and back. Whenever he sees you he can’t stop looking at you like a moth to a flame. He has been so excited under his nonchalant persona. He can’t understand why you would lie a regular Joe like him? HE thinks there is so many better people you could choose. It you chose him.
You chose him for a reason and he’s glad
Gentleman Zanka, Treats you like you are the best thing the ground has ever seen. A beautiful rose in all the trash. And to him you are so he only gives the best for you. Overthinking everything for you because yet again you’re the best so you deserve the best.
Gentleman Zanka, always I mean ALWAYS hold the door for you. It’s gotten to the point that you’re so spoiled with it even when he is not there ( which is like 1 % of the time) . You end up standing at the door waiting for him to hold the door for you. It takes you a second to realize he is not coming and you will have to open the door for yourself
Gentleman Zanka, never ( only sometimes ) lets you go to mission by yourself. He knows your strong and thats one of the reason why he adores you. He just can’t stand that you might get hurt and not wake up. So when you guys do have missions together he always has your back and always takes your hits. If anyone gets hurt it’s gonna be him. The last time you got hurt he was by your bed sleeping in that uncomfortable chair for you. He would never repeat that. So how ever many more hits he will take just to make sure . He doesn’t have to see you like that again.
Gentleman Zanka, when during your period is always by your bedside. During your first period ( whenever you came ) he was freaked out so much he couldn’t hide it one bit. That man was scared he was freaking out. Zanka was very skeptical to say the least. He would not leave you that entire day.
Even till this day every time he gets the alert that your period would be coming soon. He buys everything even thought you guys have more than enough stuff.
“ Just to be sure” he says for the 100th time.
Gentleman Zanka , every time he sees you cry or when your about to cry he try’s everything to make you feel better.
More ice cream
Check
Get that beast of a rudo out of here
Check
Favorite show on
But if it’s one of those cries it will just be you two in silence. No matter what he will always be there for you. He will not ever let you be by yourself in those hard times. After what he went through he doesn’t want the person he loves the most to feel like that.
Gentleman Zanka, will sometimes give you his food when he sees your eyes staring at him . Even though the has set his boundaries they go out the window when he sees you. He just cant’t say no to that face.
Gentleman Zanka, will get very worried when you don’t come down for food or if you’re sick. He will stay there until you tell him whats going on and will give/force you medicine or food.
Gentleman Zanka, always pays for your things and when shopping will tell you what you should get. He can’t decide they all look to good on you . Most of the time he just buys all of them.
“Zanka! You’re such a lovesick gentleman fool!”
“ tsk tsk.. No i ain’t “
“ Yes You aree! Do you want me to list the things that make me think that way?”
“ NOO0-hmm hmm no enjin is watching”
“ That’s really what you care about?”
Notes: I really love this, im getting lots of request and feel free to send more - @hannii-space
I can’t wait to see @peachs-fics version of this i just know it’s gonna be hella better than mine. Im just a newbie while she is one of the GOATS, so yeah can’t wait for that
Can you do Legoshi from Beastars with an extremely pessimistic, cynical, introverted, and antisocial fem! black cat reader of very few words who he meets when she's scouted as the new head writer since the President of the Drama was extremely impressed by her near-perfect grades?
Shadows and Stars
Characters:
1. Legoshi: A shy, introspective gray wolf in the drama club, empathetic but socially awkward.
2. Black Cat (Head Writer): A reserved, sharp-tongued new member with a guarded yet intense demeanor.
3. Louis: The confident, demanding red deer president of the drama club.
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Trigger Warnings:
1. Social Anxiety: Depictions of awkward and tense interactions.
2. Loneliness: Themes of isolation and guarded behavior.
3. Stress: Characters under creative and interpersonal pressure.
4. Emotional Tension: Subtle, intense dynamics between characters.
Masterlist
Words: 1535
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The morning light trickled through the half-open windows of the drama clubroom. Legoshi shifted uncomfortably as he adjusted a prop tree, his mind preoccupied with a myriad of thoughts. The sudden announcement from Louis the previous week had taken everyone by surprise—a new head writer had been chosen.
She had arrived earlier that day, slipping into the room with all the presence of a shadow. Legoshi watched her from the corner of his eye as she sat, barely speaking, her sharp gaze fixed on the scattered scripts before her. A black cat with an air of indifference, she radiated a quiet intensity that made even the most confident club members uneasy.
“Her grades are unmatched,” Louis had explained with his usual brisk tone. “She’s exactly what we need to elevate this production.”
Legoshi’s tail flicked nervously as he approached her.
“Uh... hi. I’m Legoshi,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.
The cat glanced up briefly, her green eyes narrowing slightly before she returned to her work. “Okay.”
It wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t warm either. It was… curt, like she had decided he wasn’t worth more than a single syllable. He shifted awkwardly.
“So… um, you’re the new writer?” he tried again, his ears twitching as the silence stretched uncomfortably.
“Yes.”
Another sharp, clipped answer. Legoshi’s tail drooped. He wasn’t good at conversations on the best of days, but this was like trying to talk to a brick wall. Still, there was something about her that intrigued him—something about the way she seemed to carry a world of thoughts behind those short answers.
“Is there… anything you need help with?” he asked, trying to be helpful.
The cat finally put down her pen and looked at him fully. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was calm and measured. “No. I’m used to doing things myself.”
Legoshi nodded, unsure if that was a dismissal. “Okay… I’ll just, uh, be over here then.”
She didn’t reply, her attention already back on the papers in front of her. He slunk back to his corner, silently berating himself for his awkwardness. But as the hours passed, he couldn’t help but watch her work.
Her movements were precise, her focus unyielding. She scribbled notes in the margins of the script, her handwriting neat and deliberate. Occasionally, she would pause to glance around the room, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
It was Louis who finally broke the ice—if only unintentionally.
“Legoshi, stop lurking and make yourself useful!” the deer snapped, gesturing toward the new head writer. “She needs the last script drafts from the archives. Take her.”
Legoshi’s ears flattened, but he obeyed. He shuffled over to her, mumbling, “Uh, we need to get the drafts. I can show you where they are.”
She stood without a word, gathering her things before following him.
The walk to the archives was silent. Legoshi felt like he should say something, but every time he glanced at her, she seemed lost in thought, her expression unreadable.
When they reached the dusty shelves of the archives, she finally broke the silence.
“This must be exhausting for you,” she said, her voice low but unexpectedly soft.
Legoshi blinked. “What do you mean?”
“All this social interaction,” she replied, glancing at him sideways. “It seems... draining.”
He hesitated. “It can be,” he admitted, “but I like helping people.”
She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, as though she understood. They worked in silence for a while, sorting through the papers.
“You’re... different,” she said suddenly, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it.
“Different how?”
She didn’t answer right away, her eyes focused on the script in her hands. Finally, she murmured, “Most people talk too much.”
Legoshi chuckled softly, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “I guess I’m not most people then.”
For the first time, her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. It was brief, but it was there.
Maybe, Legoshi thought, as they continued to work together, she wasn’t as unreachable as she seemed.
---
The warm glow of the afternoon sun cast soft streaks across the dusty floorboards of the drama club’s archive room. Legoshi’s ears twitched nervously as he glanced at the black cat beside him. She was leaning against one of the towering shelves, her sleek frame almost melding into the shadows, her sharp green eyes scanning the scripts she had pulled from the stacks.
The air felt heavy. Legoshi shuffled his feet, his large claws scraping lightly against the floor. He wanted to speak, to break the suffocating silence, but her rigid posture and piercing gaze kept him rooted in place.
“Legoshi,” she said suddenly, her voice low and deliberate.
He flinched, startled. “Y-Yes?”
“You’re breathing too loud.” She didn’t look up, her tail swishing once before curling tightly around her.
“Oh. S-Sorry.” He ducked his head, his ears flattening as he tried to stifle the deep, instinctive breaths his body demanded.
For a moment, she said nothing, her expression blank as her eyes flicked between the pages of the script. Then, with a sigh, she set the stack down and turned to him fully, her hands resting loosely in her pockets.
“You’re... not what I expected,” she murmured, her tone unreadable.
Legoshi blinked, his tail curling awkwardly behind him. “What do you mean?”
“Most people are loud. Obnoxious.” She tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing as she studied him. “You’re... quiet. And you don’t stare.”
Legoshi rubbed the back of his neck, his claws grazing the fur there. “I-I mean, it’s rude to stare. And I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable…” His voice trailed off, his body hunching slightly under her scrutiny.
Her lips twitched—a movement so subtle it might have been missed entirely. “Not bad,” she muttered, almost to herself.
“Uh… thanks?” Legoshi offered hesitantly, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
She turned back to the scripts, her movements fluid and deliberate. The air between them settled into a tense quiet, though it felt less sharp than before.
---
Later, back in the drama clubroom, Louis was barking orders at the cast, his voice sharp and commanding as he directed a rehearsal. Legoshi lingered near the edge of the room, holding a box of props. His eyes darted to the black cat, who had returned to her corner with the same detached grace, her pen scratching lightly against the pages of her notebook.
Legoshi couldn’t help but watch her, his large, gray ears twitching slightly. There was something captivating about her—how still she was, like a predator lying in wait. She wrote with an intensity that made the rest of the bustling room feel irrelevant.
A loud clatter jolted him from his thoughts.
“Legoshi!” Louis barked, his sharp amber eyes boring into him. “Stop staring and do something useful.”
“S-Sorry!” Legoshi stammered, his claws fumbling with the box as he scrambled to set it down. His tail curled tightly around his leg as he ducked his head, trying to make himself smaller.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black cat glance up, her green eyes briefly flicking to Louis before returning to her work.
---
Later that day, as the club emptied out, Legoshi found himself walking beside her again. She didn’t speak, her footsteps soft and deliberate against the pavement.
“I, uh, hope today wasn’t too stressful,” Legoshi offered, his voice barely above a murmur.
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Why do you care?”
Legoshi hesitated, his shoulders hunching as he struggled to find the right words. “I… I just want to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”
Her ears flicked back, and she looked away. “I’m used to stress. It’s not a big deal.”
He nodded slowly, his claws tapping lightly against his thighs as they walked. “I guess… but you don’t have to handle everything alone. Sometimes it’s okay to let people help.”
She stopped suddenly, turning to face him. Her gaze was sharp, her tail flicking behind her. “Why? Why does it matter to you?”
Legoshi froze, his ears flattening as he struggled under her intense stare. “B-Because…” He swallowed, his large hands fidgeting nervously. “I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit in. And… I think it’s nice to have someone who understands.”
Her eyes widened slightly, the smallest crack in her composed demeanor. But just as quickly, she looked away, her shoulders tensing.
“I don’t need anyone to understand,” she said flatly, though her voice was quieter than before.
Legoshi tilted his head, his tail swishing gently behind him. “Maybe not,” he said softly, “but it’s okay if you do.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The fading light of the evening painted the campus in warm hues, and the air between them felt heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “You’re strange, Legoshi.”
He blinked. “I-I am?”
“Yes,” she said simply, her lips twitching again in that almost-smile. “But it’s not the worst thing.”
Legoshi couldn’t stop the small wag of his tail as he followed her back to the dorms, the faintest hint of hope blooming in his chest.
Maybe, he thought, some connections didn’t need words—they just needed time.
