#(just thought it was cool that there's one for each year)
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If we're creating a list of underrated 90's/2000's western animated greatness I second replacing Sinbad with Quest For Camelot. (Or keep both of them!)
And I'll add Anastasia, Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron, and Ferngully while I'm here.
The world was so ungrateful to you...
#Also I just need to do this: Cats Don't Dance (1997); Quest for Camelot (1998); Iron Giant (1999); Road to El Dorado (2000); Atlantis (2001)#and Treasure Planet (2002)#(just thought it was cool that there's one for each year)#(and Sinbad is 2003!)#Spirit is also '02; Anastasia also '97 and Ferngully is 1992#WE WERE ON SUCH A GOOD PATH -- WHAT HAPPENED?!?!?#other great animated movies to me include The Last Unicorn and even The Secret of NIMH (no matter how much it freaked me out as a kid)#but those are older#Prince of Egypt should probably be here too based on how people talk about it#I only saw it once a long time ago and it also freaked me out; I need to watch it again#It's not like Sinbad's ''bad'' btw; it's just very much a ''little boy's movie'' -- with a lot of action scenes for the sake of action#that don't actually have anything to do with the plot and are just there to fill up time#Non*Disney#multi#faves#my contributions#real talk these movies and the other ones I mentioned in my tags (among a few others) really defined my childhood and therefore me
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POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!
ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags
warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):
SESSION 1
whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan
ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass
only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit
my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs
hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????
omg a jedi and an evil jediii
omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately
i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight
WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO
i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful
I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown
i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve
everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???
my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen
huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine
ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK
ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits
googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip
SESSION 2
i paid ÂŁ1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point
all these sith n i still cant find one revanâŚ.. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like uâŚ.
why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword
maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE
was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted
why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia
why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???
carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not
a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project
mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school
SESH 3
tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games
ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won
REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!
why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????
lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident
"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER
BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??
CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber
if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho
whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate
SESH IV: A NEW HOPE
'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo
LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU
thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary
UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE
someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes
all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch
YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but
cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council
why can everyone smell my force juju so strong
THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA
why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor
bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow
malak is like evil aang
revan is so much shorter than malak omg
are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan
poor mission ):
WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???
im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me
kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong
IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!
does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's
damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident
A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started
master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil
even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID ÂŁ1.19 TO MEET REVAN
'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??
omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3
HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??
i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever
they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin
he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila
OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!
omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi
maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia
seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA
also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me
im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now
FSESH FIVE:
big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line
oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues
well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening
yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians
oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho
wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them
i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc
ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????
cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????
I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS
if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid
anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to
"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord
bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart
THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???
omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year
OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA
ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh⌠say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia
also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was
master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda
LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL
omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!
I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO
omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw⌠a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have
im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin
omg hyperspace from star wars
THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???
am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout
maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow
[kiwi accent] six
carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me
also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out
i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out
THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????
lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes
there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now
bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades
this isnt a combat system this is a missing system
I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL
nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties
why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission
this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl
i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon
MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????
but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE
so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie
great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills
bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY
ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there⌠thru the force i guess⌠bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever
omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem
#how long to beat says it's abt 29 hours so this is roughly a third (??) of the game???#talk is cheap#kotor#swkotor#knights of the old republic
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One way ticket: part 1
Itzy Yeji x m reader This is the first part of a mini-series I'm trying out to get me back into writing by myself. This part is all fluff, no smut here yet. Later parts will have smut, so stick around for that? Word count: 2,344
The faint mumblings of the stationâs announcement system were humming in the background. The air was cool and carried the metallic tang of distant rain. The kind of atmosphere that makes you think about the bittersweet moments in life. You tightened your grip on the handle of your suitcase, plastic handle digging into your palm as you checked the train schedule for the third time that evening. Despite what your anxiety was telling you, you weren't running late. In fact, you had arrived an hour earlier than you needed toâanxious, restless, and uncertain about the journey ahead. The train would be here any minute now.
The one-way ticket in your pocket felt heavier than its weight in paper should have allowed. The destination printed on it was one you had hoped never to return to: the town where everything had startedâand where you had left everything behind. But here you were, standing on this station platform, waiting for the train that would take you back.
The overhead speakers crackled to life, announcing the imminent arrival of your train.You adjusted the strap of your backpack, your heart beating faster with every passing second. The platform wasnât crowded, but there were enough people milling about to make you feel uneasy. Couples whispered to each other, families struggled with their luggage, and a few solo travelers stared blankly at their phones.
Thatâs when you saw her.
At first, it was just a fleeting sense of familiarity, a trick of the mind in a sea of strangers. This wasnât your hometown, she wouldnât be here. But then she turned her head, and your chest tightened as recognition hit you like a freight train. Yeji.
She was leaning against one of the stationâs old iron pillars. Her hair was loose, flowing down her shoulders in soft waves, and she wore a grey sweater over a simple white shirt and black jeans. She looked⌠as pretty as when you left. Like a memory brought to life, sharper and more vivid than you could ever remember.
For a moment, you thought about turning away, pretending this couldnât be real. But then her eyes met yours, and there was no escaping it anymore. Her expression froze, her lips parting slightly as if she couldnât quite believe what she was seeing. You felt the same.
She recovered faster than you did, her posture straightening as she began walking toward you. Your feet, however, seemed rooted to the spot.
She only voices a single word, but it's the way she says your name that cuts through any illusions you had of avoiding your past. It was a sound you hadnât heard in years, yet it struck a chord deep within you.
You cleared your throat, trying to mask the chaos inside. "Yeji. Hi."
Her pace slowed as she came to a stop a few feet away. Up close, you could see the subtle changes time had made to her face. She looked⌠more mature, more assured. The playful energy she used to radiate was still hiding in there, but it was controlled now, grounded in a way that made her seem even more beautiful.
"I canât believe itâs you," she said, her tone equal parts surprise and apprehension.
You managed a forced smile. "Yeah. Me neither."
The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and memories that neither of you seemed ready to confront. Yeji was the first to break the tension.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as she studied you. Her voice was softer now, almost hesitant.
You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. How much you had the right to reveal. "I⌠Iâm heading back to town. For a while."
Her brows knitted together in a faint frown, shock ever present on her face. as if those were the last words she expected you to say. "Back to town? Why?"
"My aunt," you said, the words feeling heavy in your mouth. "She passed away. Iâm handling the arrangements and everything."
Her expression softened, and she looked down briefly before meeting your gaze again. "Iâm sorry. She was always so kind to me."
"Yeah," you said, your throat tightening. "She was."
Another silence stretched between you, and you couldnât tell if it was more awkward or painful. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, glancing toward the train that had come to a stop behind you.
"Are you taking this one?" she asked, nodding toward the train.
"Yeah," you replied, confirming your destination. "Last one heading that way tonight."
"Same.â
You werenât supposed to be surprised at this. For all you knew, she still lived where you left her. You couldnât help but be shocked nonetheless. You were about to spend the next several hours on the same train. Together. Your stomach churned at the thought. This wasnât how youâd imagined seeing her again, if you ever saw her again at all.
She glanced down at her ticket, then back at you. "Well⌠I guess weâd better get on."
You nodded, though your feet felt like they were moving on autopilot as you followed her toward the train.Â
The compartment you entered was relatively empty, its rows of seats illuminated by the harsh overhead lights. Yeji walked down the aisle and chose a seat by the window, setting her bag on the floor beside her. You hesitated, not sure if it was alright, before sitting down in the seat across from hers. It felt like the most natural thing to do, and yet, your heart was pounding as if youâd just committed a crime.
The train gave a low groan as it began to pull out of the station, the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks quickly settling into a steady cadence. It was the one thing keeping you calm. You stared out the window, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts you couldnât untangle.
Yeji broke the silence again. "So⌠how have you been?"
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh⌠Iâve been okay. Busy, I guess. Work, life. You know how it is."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"
Ouch. She had all the right to call you out. You winced at her response. "Right. Sorry. That wasâŚ"
"Generic?" she interrupted, her lips curving into a smile that didnât reach her eyes. It was performative. She wasnât going to take any of your standoffish bullshit.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair halfheartedly. "Yeah. Generic."
She nodded, her gaze drifting toward the window, clearly disappointed. For a while, we sat in silence, the sound of the trainâs wheels filling the void again. You couldnât help but glance at her, noticing the way her fingers tapped lightly against her knee, a habit you remembered all too well. She was nervous, too. Uneasy, even.
"I⌠I didnât expect to see you," you admitted, taking your responsibility to break the silence this time.
She turned back to you, her expression distant. Her guard was up. "Neither did I."
The weight of her gaze made it hard to breathe, and for a moment, you couldnât help but think about all the things you wanted to say. But the words wouldnât come. You wouldnât allow them to come. You had no right. Instead, you looked away, focusing on the blur of the dark countryside outside the window.
She sat across from you, leaning slightly against the window, her chin resting on her hand as her gaze followed the passing darkness outside. The faint glow from the overhead light illuminated her featuresâthe soft curve of her cheek, the sharp line of her jaw. She was both familiar and unfamiliar, a memory brought vividly back to life.
âSo,â she continued, not letting another silence fill the void between you. âHow long are you staying?â
You hesitated. You didnât have the answer to that question. âIâm not sure. However long it takes to handle everything with my auntâs estate.â
She nodded but didnât look at you. Her fingers played idly with the strap of her bag, another one of her habits you remembered all too well. It struck you how surreal this wasâsharing a train compartment with her after all these years. You were two people carrying the weight of a shared past, both of you struggling with how to unpack it.
âAnd after that?â she asked. âAre you planning to stay?â
You shook your head with uncertainty. âNo. I⌠I donât think so.â
Her eyes drifted downwards slowly as her tensed shoulders slumped ever so slightly. She turned to face you, her brows furrowing slightly. âSo itâs temporary.â
âYeah.â
Yeji studied you for a moment, her dark cat-like eyes sharp and assessing. It was unnerving how easily she could see through you, even now. She didnât say anything, just nodded and went back to looking out the window. You could feel the distance between you two grow, as real and unyielding as the space separating your seats.
After a while she spoke up again. Her tone was casual, almost offhanded. âYouâve changed.â
You raised an eyebrow. âHave I?â
âYeah. Youâre quieter.â
You let out a dry laugh. âMaybe Iâve just run out of things to say.â
She gave you a lookâhalf amused, half skeptical. âThatâs hard to imagine. You used to talk my ear off.â
âThings are different now,â you said, shame undermining your volume.
Her expression shifted, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something. But she stayed silent, staring out the window again. The train slowed down as we approached a station, and the sound of the brakes screeching filled the air.
You wanted to ask her about her life, about what sheâd been doing all this time, but the questions felt intrusive, like prying open a door to a room you no longer had the right to enter. Still, the curiosity gnawed at you. She was here, sitting across from you, and you couldnât ignore the pull she had on you.
âWhat about you?â You asked finally. âHow have you been?â
She shrugged at your question, her fingers still toying with the strap of her bag. âIâve been fine. Busy. Work keeps me on my toes.â
You nodded, unsure how to respond. The conversation felt stilted, like you were two strangers making polite small talk. But you werenât strangersânever were. There was too much history between you.
âAnd what aboutâŚâ you hesitated, unsure if you should even go there. âWhat about everything else? Family, friends?â
Yeji glanced at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Like a sense of reassurance that you still remembered everyone you left. âEveryoneâs good. Life goes on, you know?â
âYeah, it does,â you said, though the words felt hollow. Life did go on, but it had a way of leaving certain things behindâpeople, memories, opportunities.
The train picked up speed again, the lights outside streaking into a blur. The silence between you stretched out, not quite comfortable but not unbearable either anymore. You could feel her presence like a magnet, drawing you in despite the invisible wall sheâd built around herself. You wanted to break through it, to reach her, but you didnât know how.
âSo, youâre back for your aunt,â she said, her voice cutting through your thoughts. âThat must be hard.â
âIt is,â you admitted. âShe was⌠she was always there for me. One of the few people I could count on.â
Yejiâs expression softened, and she nodded. âShe was a good woman. She always made me feel welcome, even whenâŚâ She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her hands. âEven when things werenât so great between us.â
You swallowed hard, the guilt washing over you. Your aunt had adored Yeji, treated her like family. She was devastated when you left, upset youâd leave this life behind for stupid reasons, but she never stopped sending letters for birthdays. Trying to maintain contact.
âYeah,â you said, your voice crumbling. âShe had a way of making people feel that way. She cared, you know? A lot."
Yeji didnât respond, but you could see the emotions playing across her faceânostalgia, sadness, maybe even a hint of anger. You wanted to say something to make it better, to bridge the gap between the two of you, but you didnât know where to start.
The train entered another tunnel, and the lights in the compartment flickered slightly. In the brief darkness, you could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. You wanted to reach out, but you held back. You didnât think you had the rightânot after everything youâd done.
When the lights stabilized again, Yeji was looking at you, her expression wavering. Her voice grew quiet, almost pleading. âDo you ever think about it?â
âAbout what?â
âAbout what could have been. If things had gone differently. If you hadnât left.â
The elephant in the room. You never gave her any explanation before, and you struggled to find the right response now. Did you think about it? Every damn day. But saying that out loud felt too raw, too vulnerable.Â
âYeah,â you said finally. Maybe it was time to be vulnerable. After removing yourself from her life without being able to forget her, that was the least you owed her. âI think about it.â
She nodded , her gaze dropping to her lap in understanding. âMe too.â
The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. For a moment, it felt like the years of distance and silence had melted away, leaving only the two of you and the fragile connection youâd once shared. But the moment passed, and the wall between you was back. There was nothing you could say.
The train rumbled on, carrying you closer to a destination you weren't sure you were ready to face. But for the first time in years, you felt a flicker of hopeâfragile and tentative, but real. And you knew that no matter what happened, you couldnât let this chance slip away. Not again.
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8k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist Summary: Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you Warnings: 18+ mdni. ex lovers reunited, angst, mostly Joel pov, Joel can act cold out of defence mechanism, he has trouble accepting his own feelings, pining, slow burn, pet names (sweetheart, baby), semi public sex, just the tip, soft!joel, oral (f), piv, creampie. Pic for mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.Â
a/n:  this is written for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge (prompt here) thank you for this challenge Jo, and it was such a cool prompt đđđ Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing and for reading this one soooo many times đĽšđđ @/saradika-graphics for the dividers đ
I sent you a script, tell me what you think tell me more just read it, trust me
The informal messages between Joel and his agent, Will, were usual. They had known each other for a long time, they were friends, and Will had always found him perfect roles.Â
So as always, Joel trusted him- even though the first page of the script, delivered to him by a courier, was not completely filled, making him wonder why.Â
In the evening he put his cup on the coffee table, and lay down on the sofa, a soft light lamp behind his head. With his back leaning against the cushions, shirt, jeans, bare feet. Always the same ritual, always the same setup, when he was about to read a new script.
He started reading it, taking a sip of coffee from time to time, until his heart leapt in his chest as he got to a particular scene.Â
He closed it and took a moment before rereading the first page, with the name left blank.Â
It could only be you.Â
That was the only explanation for getting a script without the name of the author on it. And there was no way the scene he had just read, so familiar, so intimate, could be coincidental. Or could be written by anyone else. He grabbed his phone and sent a message to his agent, unable to contain his annoyance.
thatâs fucked up, Will
*Will calling*
âYeah,â he grumbled as he picked up, without even trying to hide his feelings, then he got up to pace the room.
âLook, I know what youâre thinking, Joel. But sheâs a great writer and actress, you know it. Weâve been looking for a good drama movie for a long time. This oneâs perfect.â
âItâs⌠damn, Will, itâs our story, ok? Or a part of it, I don't know. Anyway I canât play this. Canât play me.â
âJoel, listen to me and think about it. No one would know. And it can be therapeutic.â
âThera⌠jesus, you gotta be fucking kidding me.â
Joel sighed as he hung up and threw his phone on the couch.Â
Why the fuck would Will do something so stupid and inconsiderate, giving him a script from you?Â
At the beginning of his career, his agent sent him one project for a movie in which you were expected to play too. Joel confessed that you two had been together, and added âyou donât bring her up. Ever,â to end the conversation. So Will never did.Â
Until today.
He sat back down on the sofa, resting his forehead on his fist, resisting the urge to throw the cup of coffee across the room. He was surprised by his own reaction, his nervousness. His anger. Barely able to control his emotions, he felt so weak, like his heart was about to tear in two again, swallowing him whole. He was affected, years later, as if it happened yesterday.
So, sure, a long time ago he asked Will not to talk about you anymore. But they might have been friends, his agent might have known about you, but he didnât know the details. Didnât know how profoundly the break up had hurt Joel, how much you had gotten under his skin, back then.
And in Will's defense, it wasn't like you never saw each other again, at parties or ceremonies, under Willâs gaze who thought that it wasn't that bad, after all. It was years after your separation, now having the job that both of you dreamed about, talked about, sweaty young adults in a messy bed where he had just made you come.
Will wasn't aware that it was actually that bad.Â
Because he didnât know the way Joel looked at you, when you were together. He didn't know how sweet and caring Joel was with you. He didnât know how much he loved wrapping his arms around you, and having you curl up against him.Â
He didnât know how Joel used to hold you firmly against the mattress, hands on your hips, lapping at your cunt to make you come again. Because he always wanted more, always wanted to give you more.
He didnât know that pushing his cock in you was the sweetest, most intense sensation heâd ever felt. Even now, years later, he never felt something like that again.
Will didn't know any of that, had no idea how intense it had been. Because the only thing Joel told him was âyou donât bring her up. Ever.â
The first time you saw each other again, was in a place full of actors, agents, writers and directors.
You couldn't believe he was here, a few steps away from you. Of course, you knew you'd cross paths one day, but suddenly he was closer to you than he had been in years and you felt your heart racing. He was even more handsome than he was back then, if it was even possible. You knew what he looked like, you watched all his movies. In need of his voice, his smile, his gestures, his laugh. In need of him.Â
But seeing him for real- not through a screen but in the same room, not some character but Joel, the man you loved more than anyone else, the man you would still call âthe love of your lifeâ in your thoughts -, was breathtaking, almost surreal.Â
So you approached him, without overthinking it, but as soon as he saw you he gave you a subtle but firm shake of his head. The message was crystal clear - he didnât want to talk to you, didnât even want you around.Â
It stopped your hesitant steps in their tracks, and the shy smile you had the courage to build instantly disappeared, and your gaze fell to the floor. Trying to control your breathing, to fight back the tears you felt welling up.Â
If you had looked up right away, you would have seen guilt sweep through his eyes. But when you finally raised your head, seconds later, he was on the other side of the room. The only thing you could see was his back, which he undoubtedly presented to you deliberately, as if his glare hadnât been enough to make a point.
All evening, you struggled to keep conversations going, to concentrate, to think of anything other than his dark stare, furrowed brows, and the way he shook his head at you without any hesitation. For years, you had been wondering what he had thought of you, after those years. You just got the most brutal answer to that question.Â
The second time, a journalist had done some research and discovered that you attended the same university, graduated the same year. He took the opportunity to bring the subject as Joel was walking by. He probably hadn't seen you amongst all those people, because you were sure he would have gone the other way, otherwise. You didnât have much choice than to kiss, feigning a friendly closeness that had never existed between you. You had been lovers, then strangers. No in-between.Â
His scent, so familiar, invaded your nostrils. He always wore the same perfume, the one you had given him for a birthday. It surprised you but you didn't have much time to think about it, as he ended the hug quickly.
Joel's eyes were shifty when you looked at him, a fake smile plastered on his lips. Which could probably seem real for people who didn't know him, but not for you. Not even years later. You answered the journalist's questions as best as you could, until Joel leaned towards to give you a hug that was as neutral as his eyes on you, cutting off the questions. Then he walked away, leaving you facing the journalist who was delighted with the exclusive material and oblivious to the unspoken scene that had happened in front of him.
Joel thought back to those two evenings, after heâd hung up on Will and before heâd put the script away in a drawer. He needed to regain control of his emotions, and to do that he couldn't continue reading your words, at least for now.
He went to the kitchen for a fresh cup of coffee, and despite him trying, his mind wandered to lazy mornings where he would get up to make two coffees and then come back to the bedroom. Heâd put them on the nightstand, before cuddling up to your warm body under the sheets, hearing you moan gently. Sometimes you would fall asleep in one of his shirts, and he loved smelling his scent on you, as if you were marked by him, somehow. It always made him feral, possessive. He didnât know he had that side in him, until you.
You'd always grab his hand to kiss the tip of his fingers, before sliding them along your folds, feeling his cock harden against your ass and your pussy starting to drool. He would make you come with his digits, his lips against your ear, caged in his arms, then he'd slide his cock between your thighs and your soaked folds, just in time for your last spasms to squeeze his tip. Sometimes he would keep fucking you like that, lying behind you, and sometimes he would roll you on your back, taking his place between your thighs. Until heâd come, grunting, growling, his hair disheveled, and you often fall back asleep, his cock softening inside you, the cups of coffee cold on the nightstand.
He shook his head to think about something else and to resist the urge to take the script out of the drawer. Instead, he took a sleeping pill and went to bed.
The next morning he woke up groggy. He put on a t-shirt and sweatpants, poured himself a cup of coffee, and put aside his good resolutions. He didnât need the script to think about you, anyway. Time never healed his wounds, he never forgot you or the pain he had felt when youâd left. His thoughts were always hurtful, possessive and raw.
Even years after the break up he couldnât help but think about you when his wrist fucked his shaft. Even sometimes when he was in a relationship. He hated himself for that but couldnât help it. He missed your cunt, your hands, everything. But he couldnât accept the idea that he was simply missing you.Â
He always thought that your bodies were made for each other, and you always breathed the same words. He knew you meant it, his cock buried in you, his eyes fixed on yours rolling to the back of your head and his ears filled with your moans, barely able to tell his name. Â
Until it was over.Â
He knew it could happen, you always told him that you'd have to leave for California one day in hope to live your dream, that you couldnât do it in Texas. But he brushed it off, not wanting to believe it, not wanting to think about it. He hid it in a corner of his mind, until he had no other choice but to face reality. Until it hit him. That day, he realized that he wouldnât get to wrap his arms around you for the rest of his life.
He lay down on the couch and started to read. And the more he read the script, the more he realized that you wrote only the moments that had really happened.Â
The story, background, was slightly different, probably so that no one could ever make a connection to the two of you. But the moments were real, and it made him dizzy.
You wrote that dance in your small apartment, first for the both of you, that you rented after graduation. You worked as a waitress and Joel was a barista, and you two went to as many castings in Austin as you could, dreaming every day about being actors.
That night you put on some music and danced. He kissed your hand and looked at you. He felt warm. He loved you so much that his heart was aching. He made you spin and you laughed, and it was like a spring breeze in the apartment, filling his lungs with fresh air. When you stopped twirling you brushed his hair and then kissed him.Â
The writing was pure and vivid and as he was reading your point of view he felt like his ribcage was suddenly too small to contain his heartbeats.
Over the next two days, he took the script out of the drawer regularly. Slowly touching the paper that already bore the marks of repeated handling, him lying on his couch, taking his time before opening it.Â
He read it all, and the sweetness, the sensitivity with which you described your moments moved him profoundly. The person he had loved, cherished, cradled in his arms, wrote that.Â
All the intimacy, the love and care you both felt for each other were there. For several years he made everything to forget the good moments, to focus only on the ending to feed his bitterness, but the fact was that there had been so many beautiful moments. And he could read them, feel them again. Couldnât deny them anymore.
Your words were so familiar, so true to your love story, that his anger slowly gave some place to something else: nostalgia. Finally allowing himself to miss you and what you two had. He was still wondering why you had written the script and sent it to him, but now he was ready to learn the answer. And he wanted to look you in the eye when heâd ask you this question. But he wasn't sure how heâd behave, when you met. Didn't know if bitterness or nostalgia would fill his heart.
So after two days of silence, Joel picked up his phone and sent Will a message.
Ok, set up a meeting
Because of your busy schedules you could meet only in two weeks. The delay was driving him crazy.Â
He made a copy of the script, his copy, which he filled with annotations, dates. Underlining moments or words erased from his mind, out of grief, anger or self-protection.
He got hard several times, while reading some scenes. And sometimes anger would come back to creep into his thoughts, whispering to him that you never should have sent it to him, when your separation had been so painful for him.Â
And Will was not the only one Joel said âyou donâtâŚ. ever.â
To you, itâd been âIf you leave⌠you don't call me. Ever.â
That morning, as he got used to doing several times a day, he grabbed his copy of the script. He had handled it so much that the sheets were already damaged, some pages peppered with annotations.Â
As he was reading, he remembered how you had loved to run your fingers over his jeans when you were watching a movie on your little couch. Playing with him, your hand going higher and higher, just to hear his breathing slow down, just to hear him murmur a needy and low âsweetheart, what are you doing?â, making you smile widely. Knowing that he would manhandle you two seconds later to be under him, pulling your panties to the side and pushing his thick length into you. He remembered the feeling of your breasts against his chest, how you whimpered in his neck while he was fucking you hard and deep.Â
He was nervous the morning of the meeting. He took a shower, hoping to get rid of the fatigue and headache from the lack of sleep the night before. He put on a shirt and jeans and grabbed his car keys, put on some music when he started to drive, trying to change his mind, but it didnât work, he was still anxious. He parked near the building. Once inside he found the meeting room and knocked on the door. He heard you say âcome inâ and took a deep breath before twisting the handle.
You were alone, sitting in a chair, and he quickly pushed aside the thought of how pretty you were. Joel immediately noticed your hands, pressed together nervously, before you stood up to greet him. He stopped when you walked towards him and your smile faded like that time.
âWait,â he said, his hand raised in front of him, as he was trying to control his emotions. âI just⌠Why did you send it to me?â he added without any preamble, his tone harsher than he intended.Â
âOh⌠ok. Straight to the point, huh?â you said, sitting back down, and removing an imaginary crease on your sleeve, eyes lowered to the desk.
âI neverâŚâ you started to say, before stopping and taking a breath. âI think I needed to write our story down.âÂ
Joelâs sigh stopped you. You tried to keep a low and calm tone, not to show your anxiety. You knew that facing him wouldn't be easy. He had given you a glimpse of his coldness after the situation with that journalist.
âJoel, please, listen to me.âÂ
You looked at him, and yet you had no idea how his name, escaping your lips, tore his heart apart. He never thought heâd hear it again, and the familiar intonation made him shiver.
âI honestly think it would make a great movie,â you said. âAnd you must think so too, since youâre here.â
âI donât know why Iâm here, honestly. Except that I want to know why.â
âWould you have preferred to discover it once the movie was out, your role played by someone else?â
His gaze on you, dark and possessive, made you freeze.
âNo, I really wouldnât have appreciated our story, my life, played by someone else, Jesus,â he growled.
He put his hands on his hips, a stance youâd seen him do dozens of times before, searching for words, and then he sat in a chair, pinching the place just above his nose with two fingers. Trying to stop the headache that was threatening to come again. It had started off badly, and he knew it was his fault. He was too stubborn, too cold.
âWho do you have in mind for the female lead?â he asked finally.
âWell⌠me,â you answered, without lowering your gaze that time.
âYou?âÂ
A part of him, that he thought was gone the day you had left, woke up with a groan. He couldn't imagine the movie being made, you playing... well, you, and him being played by another man. It was unthinkable and made his jealousy and possessiveness stir painfully in his chest.
Unlike you, he hadn't watched your movies. He tried though, when he saw your face on a movie poster for the first time. He went to the cinema, but he walked out of the theater the moment that actor leaned toward you to kiss you. He couldn't stand to see someone kiss you, when he couldn't do it anymore.
âIâm the best person to play this character, arenât I?â you said softly, interrupting his thoughts. âJust like youâre the best one to play the male lead. Look, I know youâve been rumored for a role like this for years. I know youâre not opposed to it. So why not?â
âBecause itâs not about playing a role here,â he sighed. âItâs playing in front of a camera, things we said, did, years ago. Intimate things that belong to us.â
âI changed some things, no one has to know itâs autobiographical,â you started to say, before he quickly cut you off.Â
âI know it is. And so do you.â He walked over to the window to stare at the buildings in front of him. âWhen you leave someone, you donât do that. Itâs unhealthy,â he said, almost softly. Resigned. He turned to you before adding, âWhy stir up something that died years ago?â
He didn't expect to face the sadness that clouded your face, and once again guilt seized him. You were sad, upset, and despite the bitterness heâd been feeling for years, he didnât want to hurt you.
âJoel⌠I didnât leave because I didnât love you anymore,â you answered, standing up and walking towards him. You stopped a few steps away to respect his boundaries, before you'd see his body stiff. âI left because I had to follow my dream, and it wasnât working in Texas. And you wanted to stay in Austin, to take care of Tommy. We ended it because a long-distance relationship would have been too painful, because I didnât want us to be unhappy, barely seeing each other, not being able to feel each other often enough. So I left. And I told you all that. You knew it, you knew why.â
You took a breath, after formulating what was oppressing your heart, waiting for him to answer.
âPlaying with feelings is dangerous,â he said in a low voice.
âThis isnât a game, Joel. I'm not playing. Iâm sure it would make a great movie. And maybe we need to express all that, even years later.â
âDo you remember what I told you that day? The last day?â
âOf course, I do. You told me not to call you. You told me that if we had to meet again⌠then it would happen. Well, it's happening, Joel.â
He looked at you, confused, and headed towards the door, brushing past you lightly as he passed.Â
Just before leaving, without looking at you, he said in a low voice, âmy agent will give you my answer in a few days.âÂ
Once the door closed behind Joel, you remembered the day you left.Â
In tears in your car, your boxes in the back, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror where Joelâs silhouette was getting smaller and smaller. Until you could no longer discern his clenched fists, his stone face. Until he was only a small dot, until he wasn't in your life anymore.
At that moment you were wondering if you had made a mistake. You kept wondering for years. To be honest, you still werenât sure you made the right choice that day. You followed your dream and succeeded, but it cost you the love of your life.
You didn't know what to think about the meeting. It could have been worse, he could have left after two minutes of being there, you knew it. You could have said more, too, but you didn't want Joel to withdraw more into himself. And for sure, you couldn't have told him that you always thought of him when you were in someoneâs elseâs arms. That you tried not to let jealousy invade you when you thought of his personal life, knowing that you had no right to be. You gave up on that when you had left.
You knew what he thought, how he reacted. Now he needed time to process everything, and you just had to wait for his agent to contact you. You couldn't do more.
Joel got to his car in a blur. He realized where he was only sitting behind the wheel, too many emotions swirling in his head. Years without seeing you and it had gone by at the speed of light. He blamed himself for being cold, blamed himself for not being cold enough, and he was even more lost than before he saw you. He started to drive, the feeling of having mishandled things weighing more and more on his shoulders.
He took another shower when he got home, as if it could wash off his remorse and regrets, the words exchanged playing over and over in his mind.
âJoel⌠I didnât leave because I didnât love you anymore.â
âI had to follow my dream. You wanted to stay in Austin. To take care of Tommy.â
âYou knew it, you knew why.â
Did he really start to believe that the events had happened differently, after you left? Had he really done it, to the point of omitting certain things, because he needed someone to blame, to keep moving forward?Â
Had he really been that guy? Blaming you when there was no one to blame, just life and the choices that go with it, that we all have to do?
Had he really denied for years that you had left with a broken heart, too? That he had told you to never call him, after those wonderful years together? He felt like he was waking up with a monstrous hangover, and guilt gripped him. Truth is he let you down, and reality was hitting him hard.
Because you were right, you didnât leave just like that. He didnât want to acknowledge it for years, kept sweeping it under the rug, but deep down he didnât forget it.Â
And you were right, he hadnât been able to prioritize your relationship. Couldnât prioritize himself either. He had always been protective of his brother, but it reached another level when he came back to Texas after being dismissed. Tommy wasn't the same, and Joel knew that he would have constantly wondered if his brother was okay if he had left for California with you. Worried that he could be in jail after a fight, with no one to bail him out. Or that he could be drunk in an alley, alone, spending the night there. Or worse.
âI canât leave Tommy here alone, with all his drinking and partying,â he told you, expression determined.
âBut you need to think about your future, our future too, Joel,â you replied desperately.
Joel had probably hoped that you wouldnât have left, that youâd have chosen him, until the end. And you probably hoped the same thing, too.Â
Right person, wrong time. Fucking sad, but so banal.
So to forget that he was as responsible for the breakup as much as you were, he let his pain turn into anger, and he never let nostalgia set in, or his feelings show up.Â
And everything blew up when you sent him that script and he started reading it. It was impossible to continue to deny the obvious, to keep thinking that his feelings were stronger than yours and thatâs why you had left. It was impossible to forget that he had told you, âIf you leave⌠you don't call me. Ever.â That he was the one who had cut everything off, once and for all. To protect himself, of course. But still.
So once you were gone, he did what he had to do, he took care of Tommy. Except that he started going to bars with him, at night. Drinking less than him, but still way too much. He took sleeping pills when he was obsessed with your absence, tired of squeezing your pillow way too tight in his fist, his jaw clenched with anger. He moved to a new neighborhood because he couldn't stand living in that apartment anymore where everything reminded him of you.Â
When they were children and then teenagers, Joel and Tommyâs father taught them to work with their hands, and it helped them to find jobs on construction sites. And that he finally pulled himself together and helped Tommy the way he had to. It took him months, but he did it, and his parents would be proud of him, of them, if they saw their sons.
He worked hard, kept doing castings when his work allowed it, and eventually it paid off, even if it took time.
He thought about it all, and realized he needed to see you again before deciding on the movie. Needed to behave normally, to let go of his mask. So he asked his agent your number, then texted you:
itâs Joel. Are you still in LA? I have some questions about the script can we meet again? I am. When do you wanna meet? tomorrow night, my place? Iâll cook Sure!
He took a deep breath as he sent you his address. He let his emotions take over on purpose, to dispel the bitter taste in his mouth since you saw each other. Now he had to trust them.
The next day he started to cook during the afternoon, the dish that he hoped was still one of your favorite. He knowingly chose to invite you over to his place, to keep his mind occupied at least while he was busy in the kitchen.Â
Once the dish was in the oven, he did a running session on his treadmill and showered.Â
Anything to keep his mind busy.
You arrived right on time, a bottle of wine in hand.
âYou still like the white?â you asked.
He did. Some things never changed.
As you approached the kitchen it smelled so good that you stopped there.
âStill one of your favorite meals?â he asked.
It was.Â
You tried not to show that you were moved. Acts of service had always been his way of showing that he cared, and you werenât expecting that when you showed up.
You sat down on a high stool in the kitchen and he opened the bottle of wine. You had a few sips, silently. Neither of you really knew what to say, at first. Then everything set into place, naturally, instinctively. A little shyly at first, bringing up things from your respective pasts, or present. You asked him how Tommy was doing, and he told you he was fine, that he was engaged to a woman named Maria and that they were going to be parents soon. You were happy for Tommy, sincerely. You had always liked him.
Joel was trying to act normally, to not pay too much attention to the ease with which you were chatting. How easily he opened up to you, telling you about his years in Austin, then his first ones in LA. His first roles, his doubts.
He was glancing at your hands when you werenât looking at him. At your hair.Â
He loved to see your eyes shine when you were talking about something that was important to you.
But above all, he loved to see them sparkle the first time he made you smile, that evening. It hit him, how much he missed it. Making you smile.Â
His emotions were so familiar that his heart was beating a little too fast, like a horse freed from its reins.
And suddenly he wondered how he had been able to spend so many years without you by his side, when you had always been his sunshine, liberating his grumpy, reserved nature.Â
A part of his brain told him that he was smiling a little too much, but he felt more alive during those moments with you than he hadnât been in so long.Â
Whether in a relationship or not.
And then he felt the atmosphere change, felt that you got nervous, an impression confirmed when you began to scratch your thumb. A habit that dated back years ago, and he'd always take you in his arms, kiss your thumb and tell you that he was there and that everything would be okay. Today, for the first time he couldnât do all that.
âAre you ok?â he nevertheless allowed himself to ask.
âYeah, itâs just⌠listen, I know you wanted to ask me about the script, but ehm... thereâs something you need to know.â You took a deep breath before adding âthere wonât be any movie if you donât want to do it. If youâre not comfortable with it. Iâm not saying this to put pressure on you, it's just⌠I just want you to know that your choice is completely free. I donât want you to feel like you have to do it, for whatever bad reason.â
âI appreciate that youâre telling me this, thank you,â he said, in a tone you couldnât quite define, half defeated, half tender. âListen, I wanted to apologize.â
âFor what, Joel?â you asked questioningly.
âYesterday. I didnât really know how to handle all of it. Honestly, Iâve been overwhelmed by a lot of emotions since I read the script. Including anger.â He didn't expect to tell you that, but the need was too much to bear. He needed to make things right.
âI know. I expected it to be complicated, after our two previous meetings,â you said, without animosity or bitterness. Just being factual.
He raised his eyebrows, as if to apologize, before continuing. âI wanted to apologize for that too. My attitude.â
âThatâs your way of handling things, it always has been, I should have known. But I appreciate it too, thanks Joel.â
He nodded, then added âdo you think weâll be able to do it?â
âTo do what?â
âWork together. To be coworkers on a movie?â
He saw your eyebrows furrow slightly, as you took the time to think before answering.
âWell⌠the eveningâs going pretty well, right? You haven't shook your head at me yet, to show me the door.â
âOuch!â he replied exaggeratedly.
âToo soon?â you asked, lips curled into a smile.
âA little,â he laughed.
He enjoyed it, that little moment. Youâd had so many of them before.Â
âArenât you afraid of what might happen?â he wanted to ask.Â
âArenât you afraid of reliving things, that Iâll fall madly in love with you again and that the scenes weâll shoot, my acting, will just express the reality of my feelings?âÂ
But he couldnât ask you that.
He wanted to ask you if you had sent him the script because you still had feelings for him, but he couldnât say that either.
âItâll be a low budget movie. I mean, if we do it,â you said. Thereâll be some outdoor scenes but not that many. Not many other actors either. It wonât be a long shoot.â
He nodded and said, âcan I give you my answer in a couple of days?â
âOf course,â you smiled. âThanks for the meal, it was delicious,â you said as you stood up. âYou can text me if you have any questions.â
He thanked you and you complimented him on his house as you put your coat back on. His taste hadnât changed. The rooms were simply decorated. As you walked toward the front door you glanced inside one of the rooms, and saw a table with a wooden sculpture on it.
âOh my god, Joel? You still do the carving?â
âOh⌠well⌠yeah. I never stopped.â
âCan I?â you asked.
âSure,â he opened the door and you slipped through the gap, brushing past him lightly as you passed and you had goosebumps at the familiar scent. Still the perfume you had gifted him once. Reassuring. After all these years, instantly, it was there. Enveloping you.Â
You approached the table and leaned over a piece he was working on, admiring the figurine that was being carved. A rodeo cowboy on a bucking horse.
âWow, Joel⌠you were already very good at this back then, but now itâs incredible. The level of detail is mind-blowing.â
You looked at the shelves, covered with other sculptures. You approached them: bears, deer, wolves, rabbits.
âThis is really amazing, youâre so talented. And⌠Do you still play guitar?â
âSure,â he answered, nodding at a guitar case. âI usually play in the dining room. My guitars are over there. This one needed a little TLC. I just got it back. Itâs⌠well itâs the one you gave me.â
You looked at him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.
âYou kept it?â you asked, trying to hold back your emotions.
â â course I did.â
You nodded, your throat tight.
âI should go, itâs getting late,â you said. âTell me about the movie, ok?â You looked at him hesitantly, but when he leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around your torso, your eyes closed at the feeling, so familiar, before you pulled away, told him good night and left.
Driving your car, you replayed the images of the evening in your mind. Of course, you had felt his gaze on you several times during the evening. And sometimes you could see Joel again. Your Joel.
Did he think about you as much as you thought about him? Did he suspect that you had sent him this script in the hope of getting back in touch with him? Did he know how much you missed him, all those years?
You had wondered so many times if he had been thinking about you. You thought about the hug, as comforting as before. You missed him so much.
Two days later, he texted you
âIâm inâ
He kept looking at his phone after sending the message. The read indicator appeared quickly, then the writing bubble.
âGreat, I'm so glad! Iâm sure itâs gonna be amazing!!â
He hoped it would be. Hoped it wasnât a mistake.Â
He had to leave LA for several weeks for a shooting, and the organization of the film was put in place.
You sent each other a few messages in the next few days. Then the messages became more and more regular, while remaining purely friendly.
Several months later, the day before the shooting started, he knocked on your trailer to say hello.
You had rehearsed some scenes with the crew, and everything was ready.
The less emotional scenes were shot in the first few days. He didnât ask for it, but he was glad. Every night he came back to his trailer, played the guitar, and thought about you.Â
Seeing you every day was a very strange thing that he had trouble to define. He was happy to see you every day, to see the person you had become. And sad that you were no longer his. Filming these moments with you was like constantly reopening a wound that had never really healed.
That night, he took out the script, and reread the scene planned the next day.
EXT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He parks downstairs at their apartment, itâs dark. He knows sheâs back from a week at her parentsâ. Heâs eager to get home and see her again, heâs missed her. He quickly climbs the outside stairs and unlocks the door. INT. THEIR APARTMENT -- EVENING He puts his keys on the hall cabinet, takes off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack. We follow him as he walks in the apartment, until he sees her in the doorway of the dining room. He smiles, we see love in their eyes as look at other. HER Hey baby He goes to her, they kiss, he takes her in his arms. She closes her eyes. HIM I missed you, baby. He brushes her cheek with his thumb. HER I missed you too. She takes his hand and leads him to their bedroom.
He stopped reading there, before the next scene, that was the most intimate, the one that made him anxious just to think about.
âI missed you, baby,â he said the line. He brushed your cheek with his thumb, like he had done so many times before. His eyes were fixed in yours. He wondered if he was imagining what he was reading in them.
âI missed you too.â
You took his hand and you headed out of the frame.
âCut, it was perfect, guys! Go get ready for the next scene.â
He picked up his water bottle and took a sip. He felt dizzy.
You were both wearing underwear and bathrobes. Waiting to shoot the scene.
âOk guys, youâre ready? Great, letâs go.â
The scene was a close-up of both of your faces during a sex scene, at night. You lay down on the bed first, after taking off your robe. He took off his too and lay down between your thighs.
âIs this ok?â he asked.
âYeah, itâs ok,â you smiled.
âAction!â
You started to kiss, tongues quickly brushing against each other. His hands cupped your cheeks as he rolled his hips towards you slowly, careful that your crotches wouldnât touch.Â
It was overwhelming to feel you against him, your breasts against his chest, with only your bra between the two of you. It was a whirling moment, to kiss you in such an intimate scene, playing something that you had lived for real before. He groaned and slid his hand to the back of your neck to hold you as close as possible against him.
He felt you shift slightly, turning your hips to face his. He wanted to ask you what you were doing but he couldnât. He was half hard from the moment he laid against you but now his cock was hard as steel. You pushed your pelvis forward and the tip of his cock nestled at your entrance, pointing against his boxers.
He could feel your wet panties through the fabrics.
âDonât stop, baby,â you recited your line, and he growled.
He couldnât believe you would act like that while shooting a scene, couldn't believe you were using him.
He pulled away to look at you and you murmured an unscripted âplease.â Eyebrows furrowed, he nodded slightly. His fat head found its way, and his tip pushed your panties in.
It was hot, filthy, forbidden. So unprofessional, but he couldnât stop. He recognized your moans, and the small team around you probably thought it was perfectly faked, when it was music in his ears. The music he thought he would never hear again.Â
Your hands tightened on his biceps as you came. So quickly. He felt your walls squeezing his tip and he almost forgot to move, forgot the script, forgot you were shooting a scene. He pulled out, afraid he would come too, and faked his orgasm, neck tense and veins bulging, your hands caressing his hair at the back of his neck.
You said the next line âI love you, baby. I missed you so much.â
âI love you too,â was his.
âCut!! That was amazing, great job!!â
There was a pounding on your trailer door as you got out of the shower. You quickly threw on a bathrobe and went to open it.
âWhat the fuck were you thinking?â he growled.
âKeep your voice low Joel, damn⌠Come in.â
You closed the door behind him, searching for the right words, pressing your hands together.Â
âI, huhâŚâ you stammered.
âNo! No, talk to me. Tell me. You canât⌠you canât do that and stay silent.â
âIâm sorry.â
âYouâre sorry?â he chuckled.
âHaving you so close to me, against me⌠I couldnât help myself. Iâm sorry. It was overwhelming.â
âEveryone could have seen, what were you thinking?â
âI wasnât thinking, thatâs the point, Joel! And they didnât see, anyway.â
âJesus christ you can't do that. You canât just use me like that.â
âI know, Joel. I know, Iâm sorry. Itâs justâŚâ
âWhat?â
You sighed, and that time he didn't try to rush you. You felt him soften, giving you time to find your words.
âI miss you, Joel.â
âNo, don'tâŚÂ Please, donât say that.â
âI missed you the second I left and it never stopped.â
Hearing the tone of your voice and reading your eyes, this time he had no doubt that you really meant it. And he felt all the tensions in his body relax, as if he were freed from everything that had been oppressing him for years. You approached him slowly, eyes raised to his, and you slid your hand into his, and his large palm gently closed over it. You caressed his cheek with the other, and for a moment he shut his eyes, pressing his face against your hand.
âI miss you,â you said again and he rested his forehead against yours. He gently rubbed his nose against yours, before kissing your lips softly. He heard your breathing hitch for a moment, then you moaned slightly as you pulled away, just to look at him, Joel, not the actor, for the first time in years. He pulled you closer to him and brushed his tongue over your lips, as if asking for permission to push inside. Greedily, you slid yours to his, licking his tongue and lips, until he crashed his mouth against yours. His hands rested on your waist while yours moved up his back, pressing your bodies together. You whined when you felt his hard cock pressed to you.
You pulled away from him again, just to look at his face, and he wanted to pinch himself, just to be sure you were not some dream that would leave him disillusioned and alone when he woke up.
You took his hand and led him to your room.
âUndress me,â you said.
He pulled on the knot of your bathrobe slowly, making the two sides of the garment part, revealing the curve of your breasts that he caressed with his fingertips.
Your chest rose quickly as your eyes were plunged into each other, until he lowered them to your pussy. His heart was beating so fast that for a moment he was afraid it would explode.
He raised his gaze to yours, silently asking if you were okay.
âYes,â you said. As if you knew he would want to hear it, that a nod wouldn't be enough.
He slipped his hands under the fabric of the robe and slid it down your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you naked. So vulnerable, and yet you were the strongest woman he ever knew, following your dream by leaving for a city where you didn't know anyone. And made your dream come true.
But now you were here, in front of him. So pretty, so sure of yourself, of your desires.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he said in a low voice.
He pulled you back, guiding you with his hands on your hips as he kissed you, until the back of your knees touched the bed.
âLie down, sweetheart,â he said. The nickname was so familiar in his mouth, so normal. You did as he asked, moving back until your head rested on the pillow as he watched you, still standing at the end of the bed. Then he took off his t-shirt, unbuttoned his jeans and got rid of them and his boxers.
âAre you ok?â he asked.
âYes,â you replied. âHaven't felt better in a long time, actually.â
âMe too,â he added, laying on the bed, his hand caressing your inner thighs that he kissed, then he spread them with his hands.
He ran his thumb over your folds, covering it in your wetness until he reached your clit and gently rolled it under his finger. You moaned, spreading your thighs wider.Â
He leaned down, his shoulders taking possession of the space between your thighs, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. He licked a long stripe from your drooling hole to your clit, then placed his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing your knees against the sheets, and you willingly let him do it, your hands sliding into his hair. He pushed his tongue into your cunt, growling against your folds. He never thought he would taste you again and an overwhelming feeling was running through his whole body. You were leaking into his mouth, down his throat and he pressed you against him, greedy for what you were giving him as your hips rolled towards him. His nose brushed perfectly against your clit, like it always did before. You clung to his hair as your moans were getting louder and louder.
"I'm so close, Joel," you murmured, hands lost in his curls. "Please, baby, please."Â
âTake what you need, use me, sweetheart.â
âOh my god, Joel⌠Iâm gonna⌠Iâm coming, fuck!â
He didn't let go of you, leaving his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose against your clit, gripping your waist with his hands, as if they were in their natural place, your flesh welcoming them.
âJoelâŚâ you whimpered.
âAnother one, please, baby. Let me give you another one, ok?â
âIâm not sure if I can⌠I donât know if I can,â you panted.
âLemme try, ok?â
âOk,â you whispered.
His tongue left your pussy, licking your puffy folds before teasing your swollen clit. His middle finger slid along your folds before he pushed it in you gently, immediately adding a second digit. His fingers pumped into you, making your wetness flow down to the sheets. He kept you pressed against the mattress, as he had done so many times, drunk on your taste and smell. His cock ached but he resisted the urge to grind himself against the bed, afraid of not being able to hold back and come on them.
âI can feel you clench on my fingers, youâre gonna be a good girl and come again for me?â he asked, before swirling his tongue over your clit again. âThought about it so often,â he added, still pumping your drooling cunt with his thick fingers, then licking and sucking your clit.
âYes, fuck yes,â you whined, just before you came on his diggits, clit pulsing against his tongue.
He crawled over to you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and smashed his lips against yours, your wimpers now disappearing between them.
âI wanna suck your cock, Joel,â you breathed against his lips, but he shook his head.Â
âSweetheart⌠I'd love it too but Iâm gonna come the second youâll take me in your mouth,â he said. âAnd I really need to feel you around my cock. All the way this time, not just the tip. Youâre ok with that, baby?â
âOf course, need to feel you too.â
âDamn youâre so pretty,â he said, and kissed you.
He grabbed his cock in his hand, the tip leaking, swollen and red, and nestled it at your entrance, pausing there for a moment before thrusting in.Â
âOh fuckâŚâ you whined, making him stop.
âNo, no no, donât stop, Iâm ok. Need all of you, please,â you whimpered.
Like years ago, he would give you everything you needed from him. So he didn't stop until he bottomed out.Â
âShit,â he groaned, feeling his balls tightening, ready to explode. He was struggling so hard not to come, but his breath was hitching with every thrust since he felt your pussy around him.Â
You kissed, hips rolling towards each other softly and slowly. He loved to feel you around him again, and again he thought that your bodies were made for each other. He was sure of it more than ever. He slid his arms under your shoulders and you licked his neck, right at his pulsating point, then kissed the thin and delicate skin crossed by its veins.
âI wonât last, baby, Iâm sorryâŚâ he panted.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, taking him deeper.
âIt doesnât matter, fill me, Joel, please, just like before,â you begged, making him grawl, and he placed his thumb against your clit. It was enough to give you soon another climax and you pulsed around his shaft, digging your fingers into his skin as you came once again. He thrusted in a few times before burying himself, balls deep in your cunt, and shot his cum into your core, filling it to the last drop, his forehead against yours.
âFuck, sweetheartâŚ.â
âI know,â you breathed. âJust like before.âÂ
For a few minutes both of you were panting loudly, waiting to catch your breath.
Then you caressed his cheek and he kissed you until he pulled away and lay down facing you.
âCome here, baby,â he said, welcoming you against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, the way he always liked it so much. You stayed like that for a few minutes without talking. He just wanted to feel you against him, to hear you breathe slowly, to feel your skin against his.Â
âI should have left with you,â he said suddenly.
You straightened up to look at him then said softly, âhey, no, donât⌠Donât hurt yourself by thinking that. You did what you had to do, and so did I. And we met again, like you said back then,â you added, and kissed him, then curled up in his arms again.
âWe did,â he agreed, brushing your hair delicately. âSo, that script?â he asked. âWas it to⌠like⌠get me back?â
âOf course it was,â you smiled against his torso, and he kissed the top of your head.Â
âIâm happy you sent it to me, sweetheart.â
Thank you for reading đ
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I work in a library and I get to see a lot of people at their best and at their worst, but one interaction I witnessed that will always stick with me is this one.
We keep stickers at the desk for kids and while the understanding is one sticker per kid, we won't yell at anyone who takes more than one (there's plenty to go around) as long as they're not greedy about it. On this particular day we had some super cool Squishmallows stickers that were a BIG hit with the kids. Kids would spend ages sorting through each sticker to find their favorite animal, or to find one that looked like an actual Squishmallow they owned.
So I was at the desk and this little girl, about 3 years old, came up and got a sticker and then ran into the children's room to play. I didn't think anything of it, she was just one of dozens of kids who do that exact thing every day.
Then about half an hour later, I saw her come back to the desk, approach the sticker basket, and rummage carefully through it until she found the largest, nicest Squishmallow sticker we had.
"Huh," I thought to myself. "I'm pretty sure that kid already got a sticker. Maybe I should say something to her?" I ruminated on it for about half a second and then decided "Nah, it's a slow day, we have other stickers, and if she really wants the nicest sticker for herself she can have it."
Then I watched as she took the sticker, ran back into the children's area, marched right up to another little girl who was crying because it was time to leave, and gave her the sticker.
Again, this kid was 3 years old, nobody prompted her to do this, and she didn't know the other kid at all. She just saw her crying and decided to cheer her up with the nicest sticker she could find.
It worked, too. The other kid cheered right up, the two of them hugged, and I tried not to cry at my desk as a tiny little bit of my faith in humanity was restored.
âPeople are inherently terribleâ no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesnât suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know itâs hard to see sometimes, I know thereâs pain everywhere. But look, thereâs a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, thereâs someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, thereâs someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, thereâs good, thereâs good, thereâs good. Look!!!!
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what do you think the third years would be like 10 years from now?
What comes after Ever After?
Youâre looking at the new buff baker that helps man the Clover Patisserie. Heâs beloved by the local housewives and school girlsâ His parents are getting up there in age, so Trey has taken up a bulk of the responsibilities: ordering supplies, prepping ingredients, baking, stocking, and customer service.
After hours, Trey experiments with new recipes and leftover ingredients. Sometimes he comes up with some truly awful inventions, but other times they end up working out really well. Who knew that adding oyster sauce would enhance the flavor of this bread? He calls these the âClover Specials, Piping Hot and Fresh Off the Treyâ (yes, that was a pun).
He tries to make the bakery more whimsical for the customers. Little seasonal decorations, cute little doodles on the placards that indicate what each item is, a sign that reminds folks to brush well after eating sweets, etc. (Trey claims he doesn't really care for little flourishes like this; it might just be the nostalgia of the unbirthday party days getting to him.)
If there are things that havenât sold at the end of the day, heâll offer them for a discount in a blind box style. Youâll never know what youâll pull, but itâs always delicious, if not a little stale or slightly lumpy looking. Waste not, what not!
Every so often, he has nights out with his childhood friends Chenya and Riddle. Trey's responsible for bringing the snacks (he uses his friends as a test audience for his experiments), and the three spend that time drinking, sharing stories, and catching up on each others' lives.
Caterâs a social media manager and agent for various influencers. His career allows him to basically work from anywhere (which is convenient because he travels to various promotional events) and to be on his phone 24/7, monitoring stats, attending strategy meetings, and coordinating with PR teams.
Keeps up with the latest trends! He's not one of those "how do you do, fellow kids?" types though. Cater is genuinely on top of what's cool--so much so that he's sometimes contacted as a style consultant. It feels like he's got his hands in many facets of the entertainment industry.
He regularly sees a therapist (although he doesn't let any of his friends or family know) to talk through his insecurities and other darker thoughts. It's really been helping him sort out these complex emotions he's been sitting and stewing in for the longest time. He's hoping that, someday, he can reach the point where he can open up to everyone about this other side of himself.
Every now and again, the thought to text an old NRC classmate strikes him--but something keeps Cater back. Doubt, apprehension. The worst that can happen is being left on read, but to Cater the consequences feel so much worse than that. It's a huge relief to him when he gets a text out of the blue from Trey one day--an excuse to text back, to make that connection. Though it's still difficult for Cater to gather the courage to initiate another conversation, this is still a foot in the door for him, the potential start of something new.
Cater still has the Magicam accounts of his school mates. He'll sort of like... cyberstalk their pages just to keep up with their lives, to feel a sense of closeness with the people he failed to reach out to during his NRC days. When he stops to reflect on it, he really regrets his inaction--and, on some nights, he scrolls and scrolls until the dread and the loneliness lulls him into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.
It took a lot of resistance and arguing, but--much to the delight of Kifaji and his family members--Leona has (begrudgingly) taken on the role of a royal advisor to support Sunset Savanna. There were of course some growing pains, especially with Leona's callous and arrogant attitude clashing with those of the other (older, much more conservative) advisors--but for the most part, it's been a net positive.
His focus is on improving infrastructure while also conserving as much of the environment as they can. The knowledge and experience he has gained from his 4th year internship comes in handy here, and thankfully they've been able to take small but steady steps to modernize the country.
In addition to improving infrastructure, Leona has made efforts to strengthen the Sunset Savanna's soft power. He has established new schools and food banks, particularly in impoverished areas, and started magift/spelldrive teams. This has made him popular with certain groups, such as the hyena beastmen and children.
Leona loathes putting on airs, but it's a necessity when facing the public so he manages. Unfortunately, he's still in the habit of skipping meetings and ceremonies he deems unnecessary or a waste of his time, which earns him pockets of ire. He usually just shoots back with, "Yeah? So what? I'm still gettin' results, ain't I?"
Political demands? Not a problem for him. But family? That's the real pain in his tail. Cheka, now an energetic 15-year old, has not let up on bothering him one bit. Then there's also the affectionate Falena, who is trying to desperately reconnect with his estranged brother. Leona just tosses out the excuse of "being busy" to dodge the both of them.
Vil continues to be an A-list celebrity and triple threat--actor, model, and influencer. He has racked up several more leading roles since his school days, including non-traditional bad guys. Vil has been an anti-villain and sympathetic villain.
Having aged like fine wine, he was able to play the character of a father too, just like how he dreamed of as a third-year student. When Vil got the call about the role, he excitedly told his own dad about it, who was so ecstatic and joked that Vil "takes after his old man". They went out for a little father-son bonding time to celebrate, dining at a high-class establishment and having a toast to Vil's future.
It was a Big Deal when Vil was offered his first-ever hero role. Social media and news outlets were popping off about it, and Vil himself was so excited he actually squealed. To this day he still considers it a turning point in his career and one of the most fun characters he ever played. Since then, he's been getting much more diverse roles, which has really opened up the door for him to expand his skills.
Vil is also a business owner now, having several brands under him. A skincare brand, a clothing brand, a makeup brand⌠Despite them being celebrity owned, the products are actually high quality (Vil wonât sign his name off on subpar products) and very popular, particularly whenever his face is plastered on the marketing campaigns.
These days, he allows himself to be a little less guarded with his front-facing persona. Vil still comes off as cool and regal, but notably laughs more, smiles more, even giggles more. He has a bit of a youthful sparkle to him and talks openly about his own struggles, fears, hopes, and dreams. Fans praise him for being so much more "relatable" and honest.
Rook claims that he is a globe-trotting archeologist now, but you get the feeling that heâs not telling the full truth. What kind of archeologist carries around a belt of weirdly invasive tools on it? Are those teeny-tiny listening devices? And why is his camera (which he says is strictly for his photography hobby) loaded with shots of suspicious characters taken from a distance?
He shares all kinds of crazy stories, like about the time he swung from a vine with a family of gorillas or how he discovered a lever that revealed a roller coaster to a secret underground laboratory. âUm, are those the kinds of things an archaeologist doesâŚ?â you ask him. Rook just smiles and laughs, but doesnât provide a clear answer.
His stealth and marksman skills have developed to a scary degree. You sometimes forget that Rook is even standing beside you, and you've witnessed him kill bugs with frightening precision with nothing more than his gloved fingers. He brushes it off as abilities he sharpened "on the job".
... In any case, whatever Rook's actual occupation is, it requires a lot of travel. He lavishes his friends with souvenirs and post cards of the loveliest sights, then babbles on and on about local attractions, culture, art, and charming hole-in-the-wall destinations. It seems like he has accumulated a lot of knowledge about Twisted Wonderland in the 10 years since you've last seen him, and he's all too eager to blab about it all.
He's become an artist, although he operates under a pen name. You'll find paintings, sculptures, or collages he has assembled in various small exhibitions, and poetry he has penned where you least expect it. Rook puts his talent out in hopes of beautifying the world.
Idia has succeeded his father as the Director of S.T.Y.X. Thereâs a lot riding on his shoulders, but the pressure surprisingly never really gets to him. Heâs cooler, more methodical nowâalmost as though he were a machine himself, set so clearly on his task that he wonât budge until it is completed first. (He worries that he has become just like his downer dad đ)
Sometimes he spirals and his nerves get the best of him. In those cases, he has to resort to the text to speech device he invented back at NRC to get through his meetings. The staff at S.T.Y.X. get used to it and are largely alright with it.
He has the habit of snacking on the job. There's chip crumbs and gummy worms scattered on his desk, which is already messy enough with important documents. (He complains that this should all be digitalized anyway!) Idia keeps even more snacks in his pockets, munching on them whenever heâs annoyed or needs to give himself something to do.
The dark circles under his eyes get way worse. With work eating up so much of his day, Idia has less free time to games and other hobbies. That just means he ends up staying up super late into the night to catch up on his dailies and to grind out events, read manga, watch anime, etc. (âSleep is for the weak!â he insists.) Itâs a miracle he can still get up in the mornings to clock in for his next shift!
Shockingly, Idia takes breaks to go outside and touch grass soak up some (artificial) sunshine. He has learned from past experience that being locked up indoors all the time isn't exactly healthy. That, and his Chief of Cybersecurity (Ortho) pesters him to put himself out there more! Sometimes Idia even awkwardly tries to converse with his coworkers around the water cooler, though that's never quite as relaxing as him just chilling by himself in some quiet corner of the Island of Woe.
Make way for the reigning king of Briar Valley! Maleficia has finally retired, passing on her title to her grandson Malleus. There was a coronation ceremony (now recognized as the holiday or Ascension in Briar Valley), which you were of course invited to as a guest. You had a seat up front and were one of the first to congratulate him right after he was officially crowned.
As a relatively young king, Malleus isnât the perfect ruler right away. Learning about ruling is nothing close to actually ruling. He stumbles and has to adjust to the role and, most of all, he has to balance the conservative values of his country and his people with the ever-changing lands beyond his home. Not an easy task, especially when he has only just gotten used to the concept of change himselfâbut with the support of his like-minded retainers, Malleus knows he isnât alone in his endeavors for a brighter tomorrow.
His power also poses another challenge. Malleus is so used to solving his issues by casting a spell or terrifying his opposition into backing down. Heâs no longer in a position to do such things or to let his emotions run wild, lest he risk tearing apart his own court and driving a wedge between the valley and other countries. A leash on his temper, a regal demeanorâthis is how a mature adult presents himself. The anger only truly comes out when his people are in danger or he is deeply insulted.
His top priority once he is in power is restoring the bonds that were put in jeopardy on account of his⌠âoopsieâ in his third year at NRC. Thereâs still lingering distrust between him and other nations due to that incident, so Malleus makes it clear that heâs apologetic and willing to come to the table for discussion, should other countries wish. His schedule is jam-packed with meetings with foreign dignitaries.
Massive and sweeping reform is not happeningânot anytime soon. No opening of the borders, no sudden introduction of new technology. There would be massive outcry and resistance from the public + senators, not to mention that Malleus himself isnât entirely comfortable yet with the concept. However, he has put together incremental proposals and tries convince others of the benefits, implanting the seeds in the minds of the people. Heâs also supportive of initiatives which promote learning and cultural exchange, such as the import of reading materials from overseas (Sebekâs idea) and has even appointed Silver as Briar Valleyâs very first human ambassador.
Lilia has comfortably retired to the Land of Crimson Long. He lives in a little hut far removed from civilization, but he ventures out into the town to pick up the essentials and to play board games with the local retirees. For the most part, itâs just Lilia and the wilderness! ... Which has led to rumors of a monster haunting the forest. This, Lilia entertains in by dropping down from the trees and frightening any hooligans who come close to his territory.
Though his magical abilities have been in decline, he does his best to stay active and in shape! Lilia once snuck into a nearby military camp, disguising himself as one of the new recruits, and partook in their training with them! He even stopped to lend extra help to the recruits who seemed to be struggling the most--though he still came first place in all of their exercises and holds the record time for climbing to the top of a pole to retrieve the arrow there.
He delights in partaking in the local customs and cuisine. Lilia loves to travel to shrines and admire the temples built to honor ancestors. He lights up some incense and joins others in prayer, knowing that he, too, will one day be among the dead. Best to pay respects now! Lilia has also taken to several cups of tea (as recommended by his doctor) with his meals, and has rice porridge with sunnyside egg eyes and bacon smiles whenever he needs something comforting.
Lilia of course keeps in touch with his loved ones! He's still gaming with his online companion Gloomurai and texts his Diasomnia boys all the time. Lilia also sends cards for special occasions, putting much love and care into his notes and the pictures + souvenirs he attaches to them.
His whole face lights up when his friends are able to make the time to pay him a visit. Lilia makes a big show of it, insisting to arrange a big feast or to play a tune for themâoh, and how about a fireworks show?! But his guests just tell him to sit down and take it easy while they take care of everything for him. Itâs his turn to be doted on!
#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst#twisted wonderland#Malleus Draconia#Leona Kingscholar#Lilia Vanrouge#Trey Clover#Cater Diamond#Rook Hunt#Vil Schoenheit#Reader#self insert#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland headcanons#after ever after#curiouser and curiouser#book 7 spoilers
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Octatrio! With a shorter crush that can pick them up easily and does so in a bout of excitement, princess style!
Azul Ashengrotto
He wants you to think highly of him. Like, really wants to. A lot of the time, when you two are talking, thatâs whatâs in his mind. But much to his dismay â and no matter how clear you make that you find it endearing â he actually gets flustered very easily. Heâll try everything in his power to play it cool, but thereâs only so much one can do to try to hide a blushing face.
And he thinks about you a lot, much more than he wants to let on. This includes coming up with ideas of how to bring out that enthusiastic side you have that he likes so much. Azul will remember each and every interest of yours that you mention, then plan out a way to casually bring it up some other time, maybe even get you a gift thatâs related to it. Thereâs always a tailored justification on why you donât need to pay him back for it too, âkindâ enough for you to feel special, but not so much that it feels unbelievable.
The princess carry is a popular trope, and youâre small enough the thought has crossed his mind. Azul might not be the strongest guy around, but heâs definitely not weak, though heâs not really confident enough in his skills to really try, and thereâs also things like timing to keep in mind, what even would be the right moment to do something like thatâ Thereâs a non zero chance that very thought would be on his mind right when you lift him up, even.
Actually yelps when you do it, drops whatever heâs holding, itâs a whole situation. He doesnât know how to respond, both because he didnât expect you to be strong and because youâre carrying him, he wonât even register whatever words you say. Floyd cheers you on if heâs nearby. When you put him down, Azul apologizes for his "unflattering" reaction in a voice that sounds like heâs trying really hard not to faint.
Jade Leech
He did have a feeling you were stronger than you looked, pretty much since you two met. It wasnât something he guessed right off the bat, and he even doubted it a little bit sometimes, but he watched you close enough to be able to tell. Itâs not that hard to notice, if you just look at the way you handle heavier objects and such⌠or at least thatâs what he would tell you.
But of course, thinking youâd be able to lift him was far from what he had guessed. Heâs very tall, clearly taller than you, and even though Floyd exercises more, Jade does still have a pretty decent amount of muscle. Heâs not light at all! Even a lot of people around his height would have trouble lifting him up, and you just did it like that? So effortlessly? Definitely a way to get a very rare, very wide eyed look from him, that maybe no one has even seen in years.
âOya, since when are you this strong?â He asks with a chuckle. Heâs pretty good at getting it together and putting on a composed look, even when youâre carrying him around in your arms like that, but youâd have to be really oblivious to not notice the underlying shock. Jade will laugh along with you about whatever had you so excited in the first place, but the main thing thatâs really in his mind is a reminder to watch you even more closely now. Where does that strength come from, after all? Youâre really full of surprises, arenât youâŚ
Sort of wants you to do it again, but mostly starts to want to be the one to do it to you instead. Maybe it's something like payback. He has good self restraint, heâs not just going to scoop you up into his arms unprompted and carry you off wherever⌠But if the opportunity comes up, like if he takes you hiking and you comment about your legs being tired, heâs not ignoring it. Smiles slyly at you in a way that makes you wonder if thatâs the reason he invited you in the first place.
Floyd Leech
Like Jade, he can tell youâre not weak, but it works completely different with him. Heâs not really watching you per se and itâs much more of an instinctive feel. And on top of everything, youâre just so cute and tiny? He didnât have to think to pick your nickname at all, you couldnât be anything other than Shrimpy. He wouldâve given it to you even if it meant taking it from someone else.
Floyd himself will pick you up a lot when he gets excited, laughing and twirling you around. It doesnât actually matter how heavy you are, youâre light as a feather to him, his cute little Shrimpy that he could toss around if he wantedâ He says that to you, straight up, with a huge cheerful smile on his face. Heâll never be quiet about how cute he thinks you are, doesnât matter if you only met a few days ago.
If youâre excited about something while talking to him, chances are that he is too. Youâll be happily talking back and forth, sharing whatever comments first come to mind, and it was really just a coincidence you happened to get the urge to pick him up first this time. If you had been even just one second late, he would already have you lifted off the ground.
Heâs surprised when it happens, obviously, but honestly a lot less shocked than most people would be? Maybe he just had a feeling all along, Floyd is just like that sometimes. Heâs still laughing and joking with you about whatever the topic was before, with a side of "Woah, Shrimpy is so strong!", he doesnât care how many things he ends up knocking over from getting twirled around by you. Will return the gesture when you put him down, lifting you higher than he ever had before. It genuinely makes him happy that you can do the same. Doesnât mean heâs ever going to stop fawning over you being smaller than him though, youâre his little Shrimpy no matter whatâ Maybe even more than before now.
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#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderlad x reader#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#twst imagines#twst headcanons#lis writing
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This game has been out since Halloween.
In that time, there have been numerous Veilguard positive posts in which patient, loving, wonderful, insightful and intelligent individuals attempt to impart lore onto a fanbase which doesn't deserve their time and attention.
I can't believe I'm running across posts made within the past five days which express disgust and frustration towards the devs over things which have been explained in great detail multiple times on this site, BUT IN THE DAMN GAME.
AND Y'ALL KEEP COMPLAINING THE GAME TELLS BUT DOESN'T SHOW. AND YOU DON'T EVEN LISTEN OR WATCH.
"the crows are presented as wholesome" - they are not. this site has a crow fanbase which has run off and lionized Viago as Daddy, conveniently ignored all the in-game details which either hint or baldly state things Definitely Aren't Cool, and generally fetishized what it means to be a Crow because of Zevran and Lucanis. Then the same people, or others who weren't paying proper attention, whined when the headcanon crowded out the actual in-game material, and they said "Antiva is whitewashed." There have been multiple posts about this.
"slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter and we don't see that" - we aren't everywhere, we're specifically in Docktown which is poor and people generally can't afford slaves there, but we do see evidence of slavery, and we run around with abolitionists and help save people from fascist slavers and free people who will either be slaves or victims of blood magic so IDK what to tell you, there have been multiple posts explaining this too, maybe leave your slave or savior fetish somewhere else.
"Racism is supposed to be rampant" - fuck off. I actually will not be explaining this because for once it was nice not to be called a slur. If you need this to feel "immersed" or to feel there are actual problems, I need you to check yourself fucking hard. If you want to masquerade what it feels like to experience bigotry, go play one of the prior games. This has also been discussed in multiple posts.
"Handling pure lyrium is fine now" no handling the dagger is fine Solas cleansed it, the dagger woke something up in Harding specifically she talks about how some dwarves are connected to the stone, she previously had not been one of them and maybe the dagger woke something up in her, or did you need a pop up explaining this? Were you paying attention during cut scenes and dialogue?
"Adult Dalish without vallaslin" - in the 10 years since Inquisition/Trespasser, doubtless some dalish have come to adulthood and found out what assholes their gods were and made the decision not to go through that specific cultural rites. Or maybe city elves joined the Dalish. Who knows who made up the elf population at that ritual site. Elves are not a monolith. We've made multiple, multiple posts about elves not being monoliths.
"Solas' opinion on blood magic went from neutral to negative" SOLAS FUCKING LIES. We've made multiple posts about Solas lying, if you need this explained further I suggest you play the game all over again, he lies to you throughout the entire game.
"Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction" it's recontextualized because now we know who and what they were to each other. Learning new information does that. This is literally what happens all the time in science and history. You recontextualize what you thought you knew with new information. You're supposed to change your position, not whine about how the new information makes everything different.
These are just some of the things I pulled from a list on a post in which someone was really just upset about everything. Everything. Varric, Morrigan, Solas, everything. But I can't take their criticisms seriously, because they're upset that "too much was told" and "not enough shown" and yet didn't even pay attention to DA lore or in-game dialogue or context clues around the world of Northern Thedas to answer their own questions.
Everything in this game makes complete sense if you use lore from prior games and a single iota of imagination to see how it fits. We've had many delightful posts discussing this, seeing how things could be explained, when approaching the game from a place of curiosity rather than being upset because personal headcanons weren't satisfied or long-held expectations weren't met.
#antivan crows#tevinter#minrathous#dock town#harding#stop treating elves like they're all the same#solas#he's a lying liar#he lies directly I'm sorry to inform you#veilguard positive#fandom critical#veil jumpers#dalish#datv#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age veilguard
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01 : Whoâs the New Guy?
hamzah has a summer gig as the pool boy for one of his friends and y/n canât help it if sheâs just so intrigued by this friend of her brotherâs.
01. 02. 03.
crushes came to you quite often.
you remember playground crushes; the boys you liked to stare at from afar as you played in the sand as a child. or the boys who frequented your prestigious ballet studio who were pretty and rambunctious which aided your curiosity. there was presley in high school who you found undeniably cool with his tattoos and effortless guitar playing skills; things ended with your heart torn at the fact that he admitted to enjoying your admiration and desire for him more than you and your entirety. he mustâve thought you were some ditz with the way he spoke to you that night : âiâm sorry, but iâm no liar, i never said i loved you, let alone liked you. in what world would we ever be together, y/n?â
your older sister, mina, has always told you boys are nothing but compliant lap dogs to the other boys around them; she warned you that youâll never find one that would hold you because just because you asked (or even better if you didnât have to ask), that he would make sure his buddy is wrapping his arms around a girl before he found it okay to do so. give and take, a fight for validation. a constant look around to ensure theyâre accepted among themselves, âtheyâll never learn to care if you except the bare minimum from them and itâs only worse that youâre so quick to accept any âloveâ without them having to at least try, y/n.â
she told you not to get caught up in the drama that came with boys (their breaking hearts and such) â or the other catty girls who were in competition to hold a guyâs attention for longer than a night in bed or date night out.
your older brother (who's also mila's twin) always claimed that your sister was spitting out a mouthful of bullshit whenever sheâd start her hate-speech against men. this would typically lead the two to begin their own brawl, leaving you to solemnly look the other way, to find a safe piece of eye-candy that would surely turn your pupils into tiny black hearts.
while you tend to get a little fantastical about your intense desire for devotion and affection, your first, grounded love came in the form of ballet.
at age four you found yourself captivated by a small ballet theater production of sleeping beauty, you still fondly remember your great aunt accompanying you and the way she cried the entire time. you havenât known a time where you werenât amazed by the way you could move your body. you remember stretching yourself obsessively and eventually by age six you were watching late night shows with your family while maintaining a full split in front of the tv.
yet now, at nineteen that childhood dream youâve worked towards your entire life feels like an overwhelming, burnt-out nightmare with clouded vision and harshly barked orders of âhigher!â ânow tighter!â âfollow through!â âbe consistent!â from your roster of highly established instructors, all fighting around in your head.
those first two years of school gave you a glimpse of what youâve always thought you wanted â early mornings, strict diets, long days of structured dancing, endless nights of studying, eye bags covered in concealer, headaches from tight ponytails or buns, icing your knee caps on weekends, losing your mind and your poise demeanor without a doubt by the end of each semester. and above all you missed your parents, so bad.
so, after much pouting (and a few phone calls that consisted of you crying and blubbering about how broken down youâd become), your parents allowed for you to spend your summer break at home with them (rather than your usual confinement to an acclaimed, private ballet institution for the entire break), under the guise that youâd be training with your old high school instructor to ensure you maintain your pristine skill level. you were sure that obligation was easy enough, as youâd already been through the hell of it in the spring.
now the sun beats on your glowy skin as you lie on a cream lounge chair. the bikini you wear is a soft kiss of pink, decorated in tiny black polka dots, that leaves little to imagine. your long legs are crossed at the ankle, bare feet exposed with your toes painted an elegant matching shade of pink. your book is now abandoned at your hip as you gaze, with squinted eyes, at the boy stood across the lawnâs wide stretch of concrete. his focus is on cleaning your family pool â rarely stopping unless he finds it completely necessary to wipe away a growing layer of sweat from his forehead.
heâs hasnât given you any attention, barely a glance over, nothing close to an introduction. yet heâs somehow become your new person of interest with such little effort or time. youâve covered yourself in sunscreen (in a slow fashion just in case he wanted a teasing show mid-shift), flipped onto your stomach to show off the curve of your ass as you read a few chapters of a memoir (trying to focus on the words written in times new roman to avoid getting distracted by the tall man), youâve gone inside to grab a pair of sunglasses (to have a reason to walk by him and gain a shield that allows you to stare without your eyes on display), after ten minutes you decided sunglasses made the world far too dark and you would rather he know youâre staring at him than stare and get a poor view.
there was something about his warm, beautifully tanned skin and toned arms working against his white wife-beater that hugged him well. and his face was so inviting â you liked it when he had a question about a certain pipe and went to ask your dad about it, as he listened he cracked a smile and gave a nod of his head in understanding. itâs unbearable that you donât know his name, but you can imagine itâs something cute that youâd like the sound of when hearing your voice deliver it.
after a much needed bathroom break, you make your way back outside with a deep red, raspberry popsicle in your hand. you lick over the cold dessert a few times as you move closer to where the boy sits, obviously exhausted, with his head tilted down towards his knees.
âhi,â you speak, standing in front of him.
he seems to be caught off guard by your presence, flinching slightly before looking up (attempting to refrain from scanning over your exposed body), âuh, hey?â
âare you finished?â you question with a slight head tilt.
âoh, not really, i just have tâpressure check the jets in the hot tub. thatâs my bad, ill get back to it.â he goes to stand but you place your hand gently on his shoulder so that he stays.
you both look at your handâs placement then into each otherâs eyes. you smile awkwardly, taking your hand off of him and begin pretending to dust something off of his shoulder, â⌠just some sorta feather or âŚâ you clear your throat and retract your hand again, âsorry, um, i just thought iâd introduce myself. because- well, i live here and i guess i ⌠just wanted to know your name,â you speak softly and bring the popsicle to your mouth to suckle a little more.
your eyes look at him with a sense and emotion heâs not sure anyone has in his entire life. youâre like a viper or siren, some sort of creature thatâs hypnotizing him with beauty and desire. as he speaks you continue lapping the popsicle in your mouth, he clears his throat, âhamzah.â
âhamzah? i like it.â you love it.
âyeah?â he looks down at the popsicle thatâs now slick from your mouthâs warmth, then heâs looking back in your eyes, âthanks.â
âhowâd my parentâs find such a cutie to come pour chlorine in the pool?â you flirt.
âi mean i do more than pour chlorine in a pool, yâknow i check the piping, change the tank âŚâ your stare is so captivating itâs hard for him to not feel like blushing, âiâll, uh, tell you all about it later. tâanswer your question, iâm friends with leo and needed a summer gig before goinâ back to school.â
you canât believe itâs true â your brother doesnât have nice friends. your brother even doesnât have friends with real jobs let alone any that plan to complete college. you laugh softly, âno, youâre not? i know all of my brotherâs friends.â
hamzah shrugs his shoulders, âi mean, i guess we werenât the closest in high school,â he pinches his eyes slightly, âyou are the younger sister, right? the one whoâs got all that dance business goinâ on?â
you shake your head in slight embarrassment at your description, âyes, thatâs me with the âdance businessââ you smile, âiâm y/n.â
âcool. sânice to meet you,â he reaches his hand out and you place yours in his hold as you two shake hands.
ââ .âŚ
you were pouring a glass of water when the idea came to you; you knew hamzah was bound to be leaving soon but you craved to hear more from him. all it took was a slight (but very intentional) tumble of the words, âi wanna invite that new pool boy to stay dinner,â for your father to immediately agree.
he continues to stir at the sizzling vegetables in his pan, âoh! thatâs a wonderful idea, sweetheart, open that for for me?â he nods towards the sliding glass door.
you try not to display your excitement too blatantly, but canât help that your socked feet glide over to the door.
your fatherâs immediately calling out, âhey hamzah! câmere a minute wouldâya?â
hamzah immediately bolts over, heâs out of breath and surprised to see you leaning against the open door, âhey,â he directs to you but itâs sounds more like a gasp for air than a word.
âno running by the pool,â you whisper back, watching as his face of confusion turns into another smile.
âfair,â hamzah shrugs.
âhamzah, we were hopinâ youâd stay for dinner tonight?âyou father speaks loudly, and the way he says it makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.
his face lights up, âsur-â
âsay yes,â you warn through your teeth, knowing your fatherâs irritation with any use of a word as dismissive as âsureâ.
âyes, um, yes that sounds great. thank you, sir.â he can see you giggling beside him, and when your father turns away he playfully nudges your side with his elbow.
ââ .âŚ
dinner was full of undying conversation and many overlaps in dialogue. never a dull moment.
ây/n, pass the mashed potatoes,â your brother calls out.
you whine, âleo, i just said my entire body hurts from training, iâve passed it back and forth like four times already.â
âoh my god, and somehow your complaining just ruined my appetite, anyway. i can always count on you, y/n.â he laughs under his breath.
âthatâs enough, now.â your mother speaks up, âbut y/n, iâm getting worried, do you think you need some extra sessions dedicated to stretching?â
âiâm fi-â
âshoot, hamzah could give you some tips on stretchinâ.â your brother jokes, âwerenât you in ballet?â
hamzah is completely flushed, âlike, barely, my parents forced me when i was, like, seven-â
heâs cut off as soon as you register what this could mean for you, âwait, youâd really help me?â you ask with a sense of genuine curiosity, and a big, encouraging smile of course.
âhamzah i never knew you were so, multitalented.â your mother comments.
leo laughs, âheâs n-â
hamzah clears his throat and wipes his mouth with a small napkin, âwell, yeah, iâll help out wherever i can.â
âreally?!â youâre relieved that he actually agreed.
âoh good fucking luck,â your brother sighs under his breath and claps a hand against hamzahâs shoulder.
ââ .âŚ
âdonât forget you need to meet me at the studio at 6 to beat the rush, wear something flexible, and remember to bring your smart brain and lots of patience â i can be kinda bitchy that early in the morning!â
hamzah sighs, returning to standing a few inches above you now that heâs done tying his shoes in your foyer, âas opposed to bringing my dumb brain and all of my impatience ââ he smiles at you and but your face is plain and straight, âright. yeah, i got it all. you also wrote it down for me on my hand, remember?â he shows his hand with purple, glittery ink covering the palm.
your arms are crossed as you explain, âyes but thatâs just unreliable- itâll be gone by morningâŚâ you shrug and watch as he pulls a sweatshirt in over his head, âand i need to tell you these things in case you forget about me and donât set an alarm.â
he laughs as adjusts the sleeves of the mossy green sweatshirt, âi wonât.â
âcool.â
âso iâm wakinâ up at 10 and goinâ for breakfast then meeting up with you?â he jokes and immediately catches your hand in his own before you get the chance to push his shoulder. he laughs as he brings you close, keeping your hand in his as he offers a warm side hug. âiâll be at the studio before 6, how about that?â
you nod as you pull away, âyou better.â
âuh huh,â he opens your front door and finally calls out âgood night!â to your family, who all echo the sentiment back to him. before he fully walks out he turns to you, with your hold on the tall wooden door, âbye, iâll see you in, like, nine hours or somethinâ.â
âbye, thank you,â you smile and watch him rush over to his car parked on the street, âdonât forget, hamzah!â you holler and watch his figure throw a thumbs up into the air before he climbs into his slightly janky car.
ââ .âŚ
you both were a couple of yawning, baby fawns with the amount of slow blinks and constant, accidental bumps into each other as you walked into the quiet studio and found your way into a private practice room.
the colors of the walls and equipment were various muted browns and light grays. you set your duffle bag on the ground and stretched your arms above you, âso, what exactly are we doing?â
hamzah rubs at his eyes, heâs clad in basic grey sweatpants and another white wife-beater, his hair is its usual curly with slight frizz from sleep, âumm, youâre the professional here?â
âhamzahhhh, you said you would help!â you drag while adjusting yourself onto the floor, stretching out your legs on either side of you.
âyeah! but i wasnât expectinâ to have any stretches made! im not a yoga instructor, i was just gonna be your little assistant.â he moves to the ground with you.
âmâkay, here,â you flutter your fingers to encourage him to mimic your position and hold onto your forearms, âand now flatten your back and lean forward,â you both complete the action then return to sitting up.
âwhat do they always say? come on, deep breaths, in!â you both hold âand out,â you both release.
you smile at him,âyouâre a natural, look at you!â you compliment.
the two of you complete your entire yoga flow that youâd do almost every day at university, before progressing into the most random yoga poses youâd heard of under the guise of âletâs just try it!â
there were a few fails due to lack of balance or the need to burst into laughter but generally you two worked well together.
just before you two left you asked hamzah to help you stretch deeper, as you lie flat on a mat, lifting your leg up boldly. âi just need you to kneel down and push my leg all the way into my chest for me âŚâ you bite at your bottom lip to suppress a smile.
hamzah finishes his sip of water, watching you lie there in that tight yoga piece, dangling a foot in the air and inviting him to be so close to you. âyeah? âkay, guide me.â he sets the bottle down and kneels in front of you as you asked.
âmhm, yeah here iâll just,â you move your leg onto his shoulder and bring his hand to your lower thigh, just above your knee, âright ⌠there.â you let your hand linger on his before looking back at him. heâs already focused on your face and your next command, âjust lean forward and bring my leg with you,â you accidentally let out the tiniest, whiniest little groan.
âmâsorry,â he whispers with wide eyes.
âno, donât. itâs good, i needed this,â you remind.
âyeah, just breathe, youâre doinâ good.â he coaches while pushing your leg further.
ââ .âŚ
âmmm! if the girls in my class knew i was eating this iâd be skinned and shunned from the program!â you shake your head, raspberry jelly dribbling from the side of your lips. youâre more than grateful hamzah suggested you both stop by a small shop, only a block away, for some post-yoga sweetness.
hamzah continues to walk back towards the studio with you next to him, crinkling wax paper wrapping into his pocket, âthatâs gnarly as fuck, you couldnât even have like a single plain donut? just one?â
âno, and half of âem have heart palpitations at the thought of honey nut cheerios. i think donuts would end them, unfortunately.â you wipe your face.
âwell, damn maybe ballet-inâ kinda sucks?â
âmaybe.â you sigh and bring the large jelly donut up to his mouth as he bites, âwhatâd you think it was like?â
he shrugs, chews a little, then answers, âi dunno- fun?â
you let out a soft laugh and take another bite. youâre just a little annoyed that hamzah makes it far too easy to crush on him â how dare he be so pretty and kind and actually interestedâŚ?
ââ .âŚ
a/n: hiii first part of my short series for hamzah! yaaayyy!! hope u all liked this, i did not proof read too in depth so im kinda just prayin it makes sense. love ya! <3
#hamzahthefantastic#hamzah x y/n#hamzahthefantastic fanfic#hamzahthefantastic x reader#hamzah#hamzah x reader#hamzah imagines#martin and hamzah#hamzah fic#hamzahthefantastic x you#hamzahthefantasticxreader#slushynoobz#slushy noobz#slushy virus#slushy noobz virus#thatmartinkid#mandysiphone
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Family Beach Day
Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Mila x BarcaGirls
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Engen-Leon household, signaling the start of an exciting day. The aroma of fresh coffee drifted from the kitchen where Ingrid was already pouring a cup for herself and her wife. At the same time, five-year-old Mila bounced around the living room, her energy boundless even so early in the day.
âMami! Mama! Donât forget to pack my bucket and Bagheera!â Mila called out, clutching her favorite toy in one hand and trailing their sleek black cat, Bagheera, with the other.
Mapi, wearing her usual confident smile, peeked her head out of the bedroom where she was finishing her checklist. âMila, your bucketâs already in the car. But Bagheeraâs staying home today, cariĂąo. The beach is too hot for her.â
Mila frowned, kneeling down to pet the cat. âBut she loves the sun. She naps in it all the time!â
Ingrid joined them, crouching to Milaâs level with a patient smile. âI know, sweetheart, but the beach is different. Thereâs no cool shade like at home, and itâs not safe for her. Sheâll be much happier staying here where itâs nice and cool.â
Mila hesitated, glancing between her mothers and Bagheera, before finally sighing dramatically. âOkay. But Iâll tell her all about the beach later.â She gave the cat a big kiss on the head and whispered, âStay cool, Bagheera.â
---
With the car packed to the brim, they set off toward the coast. Mapi had prepared everything they might need for their beach day: umbrellas, towels, coolers, snacks, sunscreen, toys, even a little portable fan, just in case. Ingrid glanced back at their loaded car, a mix of awe and amusement in her expression. âYou really thought of everything, didnât you?â
Mapi shrugged, grinning. âWhat can I say? Iâm a professional.â
---
When they arrived at the beach, Milaâs eyes lit up. She clambered out of the car as soon as Ingrid unbuckled her seatbelt, running ahead toward the sparkling ocean. âMila! Wait for us!â Mapi called, hurrying to unload their gear.
It took some time, but Mapi managed to set up a perfect little spot on the sand. She planted a large umbrella into the ground, spread out their blanket, and arranged their chairs and cooler. Ingrid watched her with an appreciative smile. âYou really are amazing,â she murmured, earning a proud grin from her wife.
Meanwhile, Mila was practically vibrating with excitement. âMama, can we go to the water now? Please?â
Ingrid gently guided her back under the umbrella. âSoon, but first, sunscreen.â Mila groaned, but Ingrid sat her down and started applying sunscreen to her arms, legs, and face. Mila squirmed the entire time. âItâs cold!â she whined.
âI know, but you donât want a sunburn, do you?â Ingrid said patiently, finishing up and helping her into a sun-protection shirt. A wide-brimmed hat and tiny sunglasses completed the look. Mila pouted but couldnât hide how cute she looked.
With Mila protected, Mapi took her down to the water. Hand in hand, they waded along the shore, searching for seashells. Mila squealed every time she found one, her tiny hands clutching her growing collection. They returned to Ingrid, who was lying on the blanket soaking up the sun, and Mila proudly displayed her treasures.
âThese are beautiful,â Ingrid said, examining each shell with exaggerated awe, making Mila giggle.
---
For the next hour, Mapi and Mila built a sandcastle together. Mila was intensely focused, patting and shaping the sand with determination. Mapi couldnât help but admire her daughterâs dedication, even when the wind knocked part of their castle down, prompting Mila to start over with a defiant huff. Ingrid watched from her spot under the umbrella, smiling softly at the scene before her.
The tranquility of the moment was broken by Milaâs sudden excited shout. âEsmee! Kika! Frido!â She jumped up, running toward the trio of Barcelona players approaching their spot. Frido scooped her up in a big hug.
âMila, youâre so grown up!â Frido teased, spinning her around.
Mila giggled, looking around. âWhereâs Lexi?â
âSheâs coming later,â Ingrid said as she joined them to greet the girls. Mila nodded, her disappointment short-lived as she grabbed Kikaâs hand. âLetâs go in the water!â
After getting Ingridâs approval, Kika lifted Mila into her arms and ran toward the waves, Mapi and Esmee close behind. âWait for us!â Mapi yelled, laughing as she chased them.
The group splashed and played in the water, Mila shrieking with laughter as Esmee lifted her onto her shoulders. Mapi took her chance to dunk Kika under the waves, earning loud protests and more laughter. Kika splashed water at everyone, and soon all four were soaked and breathless from laughter.
---
Back on the beach, Ingrid and Frido sat under the umbrella, watching the chaos unfold. âSheâs having the time of her life,â Frido said with a grin.
âShe is,â Ingrid agreed, her smile full of warmth.
When Alexia finally arrived, Mila spotted her immediately. âLexi!â she cried, holding her arms out as the group in the water turned to see Alexia waving from the shore.
Mila practically leapt out of Esmeeâs arms, running across the sand into Alexiaâs embrace. âYouâre here!â she said, burying her face in Alexiaâs shoulder.
âI wouldnât miss it,â Alexia said, kissing her head. âDid you have fun in the water?â
Mila nodded enthusiastically. âNow weâre playing football!â She grabbed the small ball Mapi had brought, pulling Alexia along with her.
---
The impromptu beach football match was a mix of skill and hilarity. Milaâs team, with Frido and Esmee, took an early lead, while Alexia, Kika, and Mapi struggled to keep up. At one point, Esmee and Kika collided and fell into the sand, sending Mila into fits of giggles. âYouâre supposed to run to the goal, not fall!â she said, climbing onto Esmee to emphasize her point.
In the end, Milaâs team won, and she ran back to her mother, her face glowing with pride. âWe beat Lexi and Kika!â she announced triumphantly.
Alexia crossed her arms with a mock pout. âThey cheated.â
Mila climbed into her lap, patting her cheek. âItâs okay, Lexi. Youâre still the best player in the world.â
Alexia grinned, hugging her tightly. âYouâre too sweet, Mila.â
As the sun began to set, the group gathered together, sharing snacks and laughter. Mila curled up in Ingridâs lap, her energy finally waning. âThis was the best day ever,â she murmured sleepily.
Mapi and Ingrid exchanged a tender look, their hands intertwining as they watched their little family. No matter where life took them, moments like this were what truly mattered.
#woso fics#woso community#ingrid engen#mapi leon#ingrid engen and mapi leon#alexia putellas#esmee brugts#fridolina rolfĂś#kika nazareth#woso#barca femeni#woso fanfics
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lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 08
pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader
content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.
summary ; rafe cameron is everything you canât stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brotherâs best friend, heâs always been a constant presence, one youâve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. youâve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, youâre forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isnât so easy to hate after all.
status ; ongoing .á
âş navigation ; 007. 008. 009.
EIGHT, hidden heat.
YOU HADN'T SEEN RAFE IN A DAY.
you'd walked home alone after the kiss, your head spinning with questions and confusion. everything felt tangled, like a thread you couldn't quite unravel.
rafe had treated you like shit for two years, relentless teasing, cutting remarks, and a coldness you couldn't make sense of. you couldn't even pinpoint when exactly it had started, just that it had blindsided you, leaving you annoyed and secretly hurt. you used to lie awake, wondering what you'd done to deserve it. now, after what he'd said, it all made sense.
but that didn't make it okay.
he'd been horrible to you because he liked you? because he couldn't handle his feelings? the whole thing made your blood boil. how selfish could he be?
you sat on the back porch, earbuds in, music playing low as you painted your toenails. the summer heat pressed down on you, thick and heavy, matching the weight of your thoughts. you focused on the brush in your hand, trying to keep cool, trying not to let your anger take over completely.
"hey," carter's voice cut through your music as he stepped outside.
you pulled out one earbud and glanced up. "yeah?"
"topper, kelce, and ruthie are coming over in a bit. you should get cora to come too," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "we're just gonna hang out, drink a little. it's gonna be hot as hell today."
you nodded, forcing a small smile. "sure, sounds good." you pulled out your phone and sent cora a quick text.
carter was already halfway back inside when you called after him, "is rafe still around?"
he glanced over his shoulder with a shrug. "yeah, somewhere." then he disappeared into the house.
you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest. of course he was still here. you'd been dreading the moment you'd have to face each other again, and now it seemed inevitable.
you stared down at your half-painted toes, exhaling slowly. "great," you muttered to yourself, the word dripping with sarcasm. the impossible confrontation was just around the corner, whether you were ready for it or not.
you exhaled sharply, setting the tiny brush back into the bottle of polish with a deliberate slowness, your mind churning. confronting rafe felt like trying to unravel a storm- messy, unpredictable, and exhausting. you weren't ready to see him yet, but it seemed the universe had other plans. you glanced out at the yard, the heat shimmering over the lawn, wishing it would all melt away, including your feelings.
cora replied to your text almost immediately, promising to head over soon. you forced a smile at your phone and stood up, inspecting your freshly painted toes. you couldn't sit here and stew in your thoughts forever.
the sound of carter laughing inside carried through the open door, and you caught snippets of his voice mingled with another- deeper, unmistakable. rafe. your stomach twisted.
you grabbed the half-empty polish bottle and made your way inside, hoping to slip past unnoticed. the kitchen was alive with the faint clinking of glasses and carter rummaging through the fridge. rafe leaned against the counter, his broad frame backlit by the sunlight streaming through the window. he wasn't wearing a shirt - again - just gym shorts slung low on his hips. you faltered for a moment, your heart betraying you with its sudden, uneven rhythm.
he noticed you immediately. his gaze flickering to you as you crossed the room, and you tried not to notice how his expression softened just slightly. "hey," he said, his voice low and hesitant.
you didn't meet his eyes. "hi," you murmured, opening a cupboard and pretending to look for something.
carter, oblivious, turned around holding a case of beers. "tossing these in the cooler. topper should be here in twenty." he breezed past them, the screen door slamming shut behind him.
the silence left in his wake was deafening. you could feel rafe watching you, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.
"are we just... not gonna talk about it?" his voice broke through the quiet.
you turned around slowly, your arms crossed. "what's there to talk about, rafe?"
he straightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "don't do that. don't act like nothing happened."
"fine," you said, leaning back against the counter, your voice sharper than you intended. "what do you want me to say? that i'm not angry? that i don't feel completely blindsided by the fact you've spent years treating me like shit because you have a thing for me? because, honestly, rafe, i don't even know where to start with that."
he winced but didn't back down. "i know i fucked up, okay? i know i don't deserve... any of this." he gestured vaguely toward you, his voice tight. "but i told you because i couldn't keep pretending i didn't feel the way i do."
your chest tightened. you wanted to yell at him, to tell him how unfair it was, but the words stuck in your throat. "you could've handled it differently," you said quietly, your anger ebbing into something softer, more painful. "you didn't have to be so cruel."
rafe stepped closer, his hand brushing the edge of the counter. "i know." he paused, his voice faltering.
you glanced at him then, really looked at him. his blue eyes were clouded with guilt, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact. he looked so unsure, so unlike the cocky, self-assured rafe you were used to. it threw you off balance.
before you could respond, the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway broke the moment. voices carried through the open window; topper, kelce, and ruthie, loud and boisterous as ever.
you pushed off the counter and walked toward the back door, needing air, needing space. "we're not done with this," you said over your shoulder, your voice steadier than you felt.
rafe didn't follow you. he just stood there, watching you go, the weight of everything unsaid lingering between them.
you darted upstairs, your heart pounding with a strange mix of nerves and defiance. you rummaged through your drawers, pulling out a bikini. if you were going to spend the day dealing with ruthie's little comments and rafe's confusing intensity, you'd do it on your terms. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out quickly before slicking on a layer of sunscreen and then lip balm.
your phone buzzed. cora was two minutes away. thank god. you let out a small sigh of relief, grabbed your sunglasses, and headed downstairs to meet the chaos.
the kitchen was a flurry of voices and movement when you walked in. topper and kelce greeted you enthusiastically, topper pulling you into a quick hug while kelce gave you a fist bump. ruthie hovered nearby, offering a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach your eyes before trailing after topper like a shadow. you bit back an eye roll.
the group made their way down to the pool, arms full of coolers, towels, and cups. the sun blazed overhead, casting sharp, golden light over everything. you were halfway to setting up your spot when rafe came strolling down behind carter, carrying two cases of beer on each arm like it was nothing. his swim trunks hung low on his hipsâtoo lowâand he wore a grin that was equal parts cocky and carefree. your breath hitched for half a second, though you quickly busied yourself with unpacking your things.
cora arrived moments later, saving you from spiralling into your own head. "finally," you said, pulling your best friend into a hug.
"always here," cora replied with a grin, holding up a tote bag filled with sunscreen, snacks, and what looked like an entire bottle of tequila.
you claimed a couple of loungers near the pool's edge, chatting as you set your stuff down. you slipped off your cover-up, feeling the sun warm your skin instantly. you slid your legs into the water, the coolness a welcome contrast to the heat, and leaned back on your hands as you let yourself relax, at least a little.
your gaze flicked toward rafe before you could stop it. he was across the pool, standing near the cooler, and his eyes were already on you. but this time, he didn't look away. he didn't even try to hide it. his gaze was piercing, unwavering, and undeniably bold, the hint of a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. your stomach did a strange flip, but you quickly forced your focus back to cora, who was already cracking jokes about ruthie's extravagant poolside outfit.
soon, everyone settled into the rhythm of the afternoon. the speaker pumped out upbeat music, beers were cracked open, and laughter echoed around the pool. topper and kelce started an overly competitive game of pool volleyball, and ruthie made a show of lounging on a float, her perfectly manicured hand trailing lazily through the water.
you stayed on the edge with cora, chatting and occasionally letting your feet splash in the pool. but every now and then, you could feel it, rafe's gaze on you like a magnet. it wasn't just the usual glance or fleeting look; it was charged, intentional, like he was daring you to acknowledge it.
you refused to give him the satisfaction, at least not yet. instead, you turned to cora, a grin playing on your lips. "so, tequila shots by the pool later?"
"is that even a question?" cora shot back, raising her sunglasses with a smirk.
you laughed, the sound light and unbothered, even as you felt the weight of rafe's attention lingering like the heat in the air.
the afternoon unfolded lazily, the sun beating down as the group alternated between the pool and the loungers. topper and kelce's volleyball game turned into a chaotic mess of rules no one followed, ruthie kept taking dramatic selfies with the pool in the background, and cora made sure your drink was never empty.
you did your best to relax, to let yourself melt into the carefree energy around you. but it was hard, especially when rafe kept finding ways to pull your attention. a joke tossed too loudly, his laughter cutting through the music, the way he casually leaned against the pool's edge when he wasn't in the water, his sharp gaze finding you through the crowd. it was infuriating.
cora noticed too, leaning close to murmur, "why does rafe keep staring at you?"
you rolled her eyes, pretending not to care. "he's just... being rafe."
cora snorted. "rafe doesn't just look at people like that. he's trying to get your attention."
"well, it's working," you muttered, taking a long sip of your drink.
not long after, rafe made his move. the volleyball game had dissolved completely, and most of the group was lounging in or around the pool. you were sitting on the edge, your feet still dangling in the water, when he swam up to you.
"you're awfully quiet," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.
you glanced down at him, your expression neutral. "maybe i just don't have anything to say."
he rested his arms on the edge of the pool, looking up at you with that maddening, unreadable expression. "you always have something to say."
your lips pressed into a thin line. "not to you."
his smirk faltered, but only for a second. "still mad, huh?"
"mm, you think?" you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.
rafe sighed, leaning his forehead against his arm for a moment before looking back up at you. "whatever. i'm trying to be better."
"trying?" you scoffed, pulling your legs out of the water and standing. "trying would've been not treating me like shit for two years. trying would've been telling me the truth before-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head. "forget it."
then cora called out from the pool, "tequila shot time!"
you tore your gaze away from rafe, your pulse racing. "coming!" you called back.
rafe's eyes stayed on you as you walked away.
you sauntered over to where cora stood, your best friend holding out a shot glass with a mischievous grin. your own smile widened as your fingers brushed in the exchange. "cheers," cora said, her voice light and teasing, and you nodded before you both tipped their heads back in unison. the burn of the liquor was sharp and immediate, but you barely flinched, laughing as you set the empty glasses on the table.
the evening had taken on a golden glow, the fairy lights strung above the pool casting soft halos over everything. the music was louder now, bass thumping in time with the pulse in your temples. laughter echoed through the backyard, a mix of drunken banter and the occasional off-key singing. you had lost count of how many drinks you'd had, the edges of your world blurring pleasantly as you sank into one of the lounge chairs, tilting your head back to let the breeze cool your flushed skin.
cora was off giggling with kelce and carter, their voices floating across the yard, while topper and ruthie bickered yet again, their argument punctuated by topper's exaggerated sighs and ruthie's pointed glares. you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at their endless drama.
after a moment, you stood, the ground beneath your feet feeling just a little unsteady. the thought of water tugged at you like a lifeline, and you nodded to yourself, mumbling something incoherent as you made your way back toward the house. the warmth of the night followed you inside, the air cooler in the kitchen but still heavy with the scent of sunscreen and spilled beer.
you poured yourself a glass of water, the cold liquid a welcome relief against your palm. lifting it to your lips, you turned, only to feel an unmistakable presence close behind you.
rafe.
you froze for half a second before meeting his eyes, his grin lazy and self-assured. he looked impossibly relaxed, leaning against the counter like he hadn't a care in the world. but there was something about the way he was watching you, intense, piercing, that made your pulse quicken.
"thirsty?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.
"clearly," you replied, taking a sip to steady yourself. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, though you refused to let it show.
his hands found your arms, fingertips grazing lightly over your skin as he stepped closer. his touch sent a shiver racing down your spine despite the heat.
"you're trouble," you said softly, unable to stop the small giggle that escaped your lips. you hated how easily he got to you, how effortlessly he unraveled the walls you tried so hard to keep up.
"maybe," he said, his breath warm and tinged with the strong scent of alcohol.Â
you tried to summon some kind of retort, something to wipe that smug grin off his face, but your thoughts scattered the moment his eyes dropped to your lips. suddenly, the glass in your hand felt too heavy, the space between them too small.
and yet, you didn't move away.
you leaned back against the counter, clutching the cool glass of water in your hand as rafe stepped closer, his presence almost magnetic. his grin was lopsided, a mix of mischief and something softer, more vulnerable, that made your stomach flip.
"you're avoiding me," he said, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes searched yours like he was looking for something you weren't sure you could give.
"maybe i am," you said lightly, your lips curling into a small smirk. the alcohol in your system giving you the courage to challenge him, even as your heart thudded against your ribs.
his hands slid up your arms, slow and deliberate, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. "you're not very good at it," he murmured.
you laughed softly, shaking your head. "you're annoying."
he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his voice dropping even lower. "yeah, but you like it."
your breath hitched, and you took a step back, needing the space to think clearly, though the counter at her back kept you trapped. "you're drunk," you said, though your voice lacked conviction.
he tilted his head, studying you. "so are you."
you bit your lip, trying to find the right words, but they felt tangled in your chest. "what do you want, rafe?"
his grin faltered, replaced by something deeper, something raw. "you," he said simply, the word heavy with meaning.Â
the room felt impossibly small, the air thick between them. your pulse thundered in your ears, and you couldn't look away from him, couldn't ignore the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
"you make it sound so simple," you whispered.
he laughed softly, the sound almost bitter.
your fingers tightened around the glass, your resolve wavering. you wanted to let yourself believe him, to believe that he could be better, that you could be something. but the weight of the past still lingered, tugging at the edges of your mind.
"rafe..." your voice cracked, and you hated how uncertain you sounded.
he stepped even closer, his hands settling on the counter on either side of you, boxing you in without touching you. "tell me to back off, and i will. i swear. but if you want me to stop, you have to mean it."
you stared at him, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. every part of you screamed at you to push him away, to protect yourself from the storm that was rafe cameron. but you couldn't. you didn't want to.
instead, you set the glass down on the counter, your movements deliberate. your gaze locked with his, and you leaned up just enough to press your lips to his, slow and certain.
the kiss was nothing like the first. it wasn't hurried or impulsive. it was deliberate, a choice. your hands slid up his chest, and he groaned softly against your mouth, his hands finding your waist like they belonged there.
for a moment, the world melted away. there was no past, no pain, no anger, just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet chaos of your emotions.
you kept waiting for him to pull away, or you to, but you didn't. the kisses were getting more intense, more hungry. you couldn't help how your arms clung around his neck, how his hands fit so perfectly at the small of your back.Â
soon you were turning around, walking side ways up the stairs as you grasped onto each other, as if you'd let go, you'd never touch again. you suddenly had nothing else in your head, only rafe. rafe. rafe.Â
you pulled away as you both fell back onto something, your bed, you were in your room. you were kissing rafe cameron, in your bedroom, on your bed. you kicked the door closed and pressed your lips against his again.Â
his weight steady but not overwhelming. the room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the warm glow of the fairy lights strung up around your window and the salt lamp on your bedside. your heart was racing, your breath catching in your throat as his lips moved against your, deliberate yet full of hunger. his hand slid up your side, fingers brushing the bottom of your bikini top as if asking for silent permission.
your hands tangled in his hair as he pressed closer, your body responding instinctively to his. it was a strange thing, this mix of familiarity and newness; years of knowing each other, clashing and caring, culminating in this uncharted territory.
when his hands slipped under your bikini top, you arched into him. his skin was warm, the faint scent of salt and summer clinging to him. he let out a soft groan as your hands ran down his chest, your touch light but full of purpose.
"you drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your neck, his lips grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
your bikini top flew to the floor, and he paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over you like you were something sacred. it made your heart ache in the best way, the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
things escalated naturally, their movements full of a delicate, shared urgency. your bottoms joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
"don't worry, i'm on birth control" you interrupted gently, your voice steady. your lips brushed his, and your words came out in a tense whisper.Â
something about those words made him lose any remaining control. his kisses deepened, his hands roamed with a newfound confidence, and together, you fell into the moment, letting everything else fade away.
"you're fuckin' killing me right now." he groaned, taking one of your tits in his hand again. you arched into him, reaching to palm him through his pants. resting his head in the curve of your neck, rafe licked over your nipple, his tongue running over the sensitive spot of your flesh. you moaned, the sound making his cock stir.Â
you continued stroking him through his pants, his lips finding yours before he slipped his freehand down her body. you whimpered before you felt his middle and ring fingers dip between your folds. "fuckk, you're soaked.." he grazed her clit, your body jolting in pure pleasure.
rafe slid his fingers down to your entrance, before gliding his them back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, your lips wet with his spit.
despite his fingers working on you mercilessly, you felt so bare, wanting nothing more than to feel the stretch of his cock. "rafe. i want you inside of me." you looked deeply at him, "please fuck me." grunting at your words, rafe gave you a nod.
rafe moved them backward, sat up against your headboard before pulling you back down on his lap. you kissed him, grinding on his cock. rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you reached down and lined him up with your entrance. making sure you were looking at his face, rafe lowered you slowly, both of you moaning as you sunk down on his length.
you felt so warm and tight wrapped around him, both of you shuddering once he filled you completely. "fuck, rafe you're so big" you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.Â
"look at me," he suddenly said, you breathed deeply but locked your gaze on his. "you're mine now, okay? you're mine." his possessive tone made you shudder, you nearly doubled over from the pleasure.Â
"look, i need you to know that i'm sorry about the way i treated you before. because the way i'm gonna fuck you? you just might forget." she was about to question what he meant when he wrapped his arms around you tightly and started thrusting into you from below, your lips parting as a yell ripped itself from your throat.Â
"oh my, fuck!" you cried, rafe smirked to himself. "the dick that good?" you buried your face in his chest, biting down on your bottom lip as his pelvis smacked the bottoms of your ass.
rafe was brutal, his tip kissing your cervix every so often as he moved his hips. "ugh fuck, your dick is so good" you cried, holding onto him tightly. he groaned and gazed up at you. he continued like this, leaving open mouth kisses along your shoulder.
he then laid you down, throwing each leg over his shoulder before slamming back into you again. with rafe pounding into you like nothing could stop him, and his fingers now rubbing your clit, it wasn't long before you were a whining mess, both you and rafe kissing as your orgasm hit you, stealing your breath away. rafe came twice, then doubling over.
when it was over, you lay tangled together, heaving.Â
rafe chuckled, pulling you closer without a word.Â
your heart was still racing, trying to steady your breathing and your thoughts. you couldn't believe what had just happened, and where. the faint thump of music from the pool below felt like a distant echo of reality, pulling you back to the present. your cheeks burned as the realisation hit: carter could never know. ever.
you glanced over at rafe, who was now sitting on the edge of your bed, his tousled hair falling over his forehead, his trademark smirk firmly in place. he was entirely too pleased with himself.
"he'll murder both of us," you whispered, covering her mouth as if that would somehow muffle the guilt clawing at your chest. you quickly grabbed your bikini top and started putting it back on.Â
rafe rolled his eyes, leaning back lazily like this was all some big joke. "please. i could take carter in a fight."
you shot him a glare, standing up and hastily adjusting your bikini straps. "this isn't about who can fight who, rafe. this is about me not wanting to live through the fallout of carter finding out his best friend and sister-" you gestured vaguely between them, "-did... whatever this is."
his smirk only widened, his eyes darkening as he looked you up and down. "whatever this is?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mischief. "sounds like you're already trying to forget it."
you groaned, grabbing a scrunchie from your nightstand to tie your hair back. "i don't have time for your ego right now. i need to pee, and you need to act like you were doing something that wasn't me."
rafe chuckled, standing and stretching leisurely as if the weight of their secret hadn't hit him yet. "fine. but for the record, i'm going to miss the view." he threw you one last mischievous grin before heading into the guest room across the hall, muttering something about packing his things.
you rolled your eyes and pulled your bikini bottoms up, muttering curses under your breath as you headed into the bathroom. you turned the lock, stared at your reflection for a long moment, and exhaled. "what the fuck just happened?" you whispered to yourself, splashing cold water on your face.
when you emerged a few minutes later, freshly composed, cora's voice drifted up from the hallway. you froze for a second, quickly throwing on your most nonchalant expression.
cora and carter appeared outside your room, the latter looking mildly suspicious. "hey," cora chirped, stepping inside. "where've you been? we were looking for you."
"oh, just needed water and the bathroom," you lied smoothly, shrugging as you stumbled over a little, really selling the drunk pee lie. you were grateful cora was terrible at detecting lies because carter's eyes lingered on you for just a beat too long.
the sound of the toilet flushing across the hall made all three of them glance over. a moment later, rafe stepped out, his face annoyingly calm, like he hadn't just been breaking every bro code in existence.
"oh hey," cora said, her tone neutral but slightly puzzled.
"what were you doing?" carter asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at rafe.
"packing," rafe said easily, motioning toward the guest room. "gotta head back to tanneyhill soon, remember?"
carter didn't look entirely convinced, but his suspicion seemed to fade when he said, "well, there are s'mores out back. let's go before topper eats all the chocolate."
you forced a grin, and cora clapped her hands excitedly as they all made their way downstairs. rafe's arm brushed yours on the way, and you felt a rush of heat crawl up your neck, which you desperately tried to hide by falling into step with cora.
as you stepped back out into the warm evening, the fairy lights twinkling overhead and laughter ringing out from the poolside, you glanced over at rafe. he caught her eye for the briefest moment, his smirk subdued but still present, a secret written plainly across his face.
you looked away quickly, swallowing hard. you didn't know what you'd gotten yourself into, but one thing was clear. this was only the beginning.
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Nocturne: The Collapse
Warning: (SMUT - mildly descriptive)(Violence)(non-con touching)(mentions of death) (non-cannon violence & lore)
Pairing: Frontman x fem!reader
Word Count: +15k
Summary: none, cause I didnât feel like writing one out
A/N: Okay so here's part 2 of nocturne and I'm gonna be so honest this turned into a WHOLE ass thing with lore and heavy heavy plot. To avoid an extremely long read, a third part will be written. idek what happened that led up to this point of needing a third part but here we are (sorrows, prayers). happy reading !
Masterlist <-
Part One <-
_______________________________________________
2 Years Later:
Staring into the gilded mirror, you couldnât help but admire the way the gown sculpted your frame. The rich maroon fabric clung to every curve, the shimmer of its silk catching the soft light and giving you an air of effortless elegance. It reminded you of the dress youâd worn the night you first met In-hoâa memory that sent a ripple of warmth through your chest. The neckline plunged just enough to command attention without screaming for it, while the delicate slit along the side offered a glimpse of your leg, teasing but tasteful.
Your hair had been styled to perfection, pinned loosely back with a cascade of soft curls framing your face. Each strand looked as if it had been meticulously placed, yet still carried an air of natural allure. You applied a few swipes of deep crimson lipstick, the bold color tying your look together and accentuating the soft glow of your complexion. The faint scent of your perfumeâa seductive blend of jasmine and amberâlingered in the air, leaving a trace of you wherever you passed.
This wasnât your first time at a lavish party, but tonight felt different. The room buzzed with energy, a blend of laughter and whispered conversations mixing with the clink of crystal glasses. The event marked the 20th anniversary of the Squid Gamesâa macabre milestone commemorated by only the most elite and influential. The space was grand, with towering ceilings adorned in gold leaf and intricate chandeliers spilling warm light across the opulent ballroom. Legends of the gamesâformer creators, VIPs, and those who had helped shape its legacyâmoved through the crowd like phantoms of the past, their age barely dimming their commanding presence.
Youâd been glued to In-hoâs side most of the night, your arm lightly draped through his as you navigated the throngs of the powerful and the wealthy. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you at times, the quiet pride he seemed to take in having you at his side. But the endless small talk, the veiled barbs of rival VIPs, and the oppressive grandeur of it all began to wear on you. The need for airâor at least a moment aloneâbecame too much to ignore.
Slipping through the sea of extravagantly dressed guests, you had made your way to the bathroom to where you stood now, finally breaking away from the suffocating intensity of the crowd. The heavy oak door was closed behind you, muffling the noise and leaving you in a blissful pocket of silence. The cool, polished marble of the sink greeted your fingertips as you had set your clutch down, exhaling softly.
You glanced at your reflection again, this time allowing a small, private smile to cross your lips. The faint hum of the music beyond the door barely reached you as you pulled your lipstick from the clutch. Holding the tube, you applied one last swipe of the rich shade with careful precision, ensuring every line was flawless.
And then your thoughts driftedâinevitablyâto him. In-ho. You couldnât help it. Even in the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom, his presence lingered in your mind. The way he moved through the crowd with calm authority, his sharp suit a perfect complement to his commanding demeanor. The way guests bowed and crumbled under his authority. He was magnetic, and you found yourself drawn to him like gravity itself. He wasnât just the Front Man tonight; he was yours.
You capped the lipstick and tucked it back into your clutch, your fingers brushing the smooth leather as you let out a breathy laugh at yourself. Admiration? Maybe that was putting it lightly. He consumed your thoughts, even when he wasnât near. Even your dreams hadnât been safe from him lately, his face haunting the edges of your mind like a phantom you welcomed with open arms.
You took one last glance at your reflection, the faint glint of determination in your eyes, and smoothed the fabric of your gown. For all the chaos outside this room, you would meet it head-on, poised and unshaken. After all, tonight wasnât just any party.
It was your world now, and you intended to own it.
Clicking the bathroom door shut behind you, you let out a soft sigh, the hum of the party no longer muffled by the thick walls. But before you could fully collect yourself, a deep, velvet voice cut through the racket, rich and teasing.
"If it isnât the queen herself."
You turned sharply, your gaze falling on a tall, striking man leaning casually against the wall just a few feet away. His presence was impossible to ignore. The soft glow of the chandelier overhead caught his fawn-colored hair, perfectly styled to look effortless, and his piercing blue eyes sparkled with mischief as they locked onto yours. He was dressed in a crisp white suit that seemed tailored to perfection, the snowy fabric contrasting beautifully with the warm undertones of his skin.
Your brows knitted together in confusion, your expression guarded as he pushed off the wall with an easy, confident stride. His lips curled into a dashing smile, the kind that hinted he was used to getting his way, and his voice carried the faintest hint of amusement as he spoke again.
âApologies,â he said, his tone low and smooth, like a slow pour of fine whiskey. âIâm just a fan of your work.â
You straightened your posture instinctively, your shoulders rolling back as you appraised him. âIs that so?â
He nodded, his smile widening just enough to reveal a flash of perfect teeth. There was something about himâhis demeanor, the way he carried himselfâthat made you feel both intrigued and wary.
âVery much so,â he replied, holding out a hand with the kind of charm that felt practiced but still disarmingly genuine. âHiram.â
You hesitated, your eyes scanning his outstretched palm before finally offering your hand to him. His touch was warm, his grip firm but not overbearing, and when he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, it sent a faint shiver up your spine. His lips lingered just a second too long, and when he straightened, his eyes held yours as if daring you to look away.
âY/N,â you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest. You withdrew your hand slowly, letting your fingers slip from his grasp, and tilted your head slightly. âDonât think me rude, but I donât believe Iâve seen you before.â
He shrugged, the movement graceful, almost feline, as he tucked one hand into his pocket. âThatâs not surprising,â he said with a soft chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. âIâm new blood, as they say. My family never jumped at the opportunity to let me out of my room.â
A surprised laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, the unexpected humor catching you off guard. âWhereâs the fun in that?â you asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.
âExactly,â he said, his own laugh following yours, low and rich. There was something magnetic about him, the way his presence seemed to fill the space, drawing you in like gravity itself.
His gaze flickered over you briefly, taking in the deep maroon gown and the confident way you carried yourself. âI must admit,â he said, his tone dropping slightly, softer now, as if the words were meant just for you. âSeeing you in person is... quite the experience. Pictures donât do you justice.â
The compliment hung in the air between you, and though it was bold, there was no arrogance in his deliveryâjust pure, unfiltered charm. You couldnât help but feel the faint heat of a blush creeping up your neck, though you masked it quickly with a small, polite smile.
âWell,â you said, lifting your chin slightly, âitâs good to know I can make such an impression.â
His grin widened, and he leaned in ever so slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. âOh, you do more than that, Y/N.â
For a moment, the air between you felt thick, the weight of his words lingering as he straightened again, his expression still lighthearted but with an edge of something deeper. âI wonât keep you,â he said smoothly, taking a step back, though his eyes lingered on yours a beat longer than necessary. âBut I do hope weâll cross paths again before the night is through.â
He gave you a small nod, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in that same dashing smile, before turning to leave. As he disappeared into the crowd, you found yourself momentarily frozen, the faint scent of his cologneâwoodsy and warmâstill lingering in the air around you.
You slipped back into the crowd, weaving through clusters of opulent guests whose laughter and conversation rose like smoke, thick and suffocating. The golden chandeliers cast warm, glittering light over the ballroom, illuminating every polished surface and shimmering gown. But your attention wasnât on the decadence surrounding youâit was locked on the figure at the far end of the room, near the bar.
There he was, standing tall and composed, his presence commanding despite the sea of wealth and power surrounding him. In-hoâs hair was slicked back with precision, each strand gleaming under the light. His face was unreadable, that familiar stoic expression giving away nothing, though you could sense the weight he carried in his posture.
Breathtakingly handsome and untouchable, he seemed carved from stoneâa monument to control and authority.
Your gaze flicked to the man standing across from him, and your chest tightened. Even in a room filled with the most powerful and dangerous individuals alive, this man stood out. The original Game Maker. His presence was understated, yet it radiated an aura that set him apartâa blend of quiet confidence and palpable danger.
His hair was streaked with silver, but his sharp features and piercing eyes betrayed a mind still razor-sharp. He looked remarkably young for someone whose legacy was steeped in brutality, and that realization unsettled you. It meant that when he had first orchestrated the games, he must have been terrifyingly youngâjust a man, barely more than a boy, with the intelligence and ruthlessness to reshape human desperation into a blood-soaked spectacle.
The sight of him brought back the stories In-ho had told you late at night, his voice low and careful, as though uttering the words aloud might summon ghosts. But one story had always stuck with youâthe two-day games.
You swallowed hard at the memory, your footsteps faltering for just a moment as the weight of it crept over you. In those games, 456 players had been wiped out in just two rounds. No victor. No home for the prize money. You could hardly fathom it: the sheer scale of the slaughter, the precision required to make it happen, the lack of regard for even the illusion of fairness.
The remaining four games had been rendered pointlessâthere weren't any survivors to justify continuing. That level of efficiency, of calculated cruelty, had never been replicated. It was as if the man standing before In-ho had reached the zenith of brutality and left an unshakable legacy in his wake.
A chill crawled up your spine as you moved closer, your eyes darting between In-hoâs impassive face and the Game Makerâs calm, almost casual demeanor. In-ho once told you that those games had left an indelible mark on the system's history. Theyâd been both a triumph and a warning, a standard so high in its carnage that no one dared attempt to replicate it. The Game Maker had been both feared and revered, his name spoken in hushed tones even now, decades later. In simpler terms, he' done his job a little too well.
You couldnât help but wonder what the man was saying to In-ho. From the subtle tension in In-hoâs shoulders and the way his jaw tightened, it was clear this wasnât a casual conversation. The Game Makerâs lips moved with measured precision, and though you couldnât hear his words over the din of the ballroom, you could feel the weight of them in the air.
What would a man like that say to In-ho? Was it praise, criticism, or something darker? Did he see In-ho as a worthy successor or a pale imitation of the ruthlessness that had made him legendary?
Your heartbeat quickened as you approached the bar, the stories swirling in your mind like smoke. The memory of those gamesâthe brilliance, the carnage, the terrorâfelt alive in this moment, standing there between them like an unspoken shadow.
The Game Maker turned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking toward you for a brief moment, and a faint, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. The kind of smile made your blood run cold, like heâd already sized you up, dissected you, and found your weaknesses.
You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze for that fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to In-ho. The stories had given you chills before, but now, standing in the presence of the man who had written them, the weight of historyâand the danger it carriedâfelt all too real.
And as In-ho glanced your way, his stoic mask momentarily cracking to reveal a flicker of somethingâwas it reassurance? Warning?âyou realized just how high the stakes were tonight. Whatever this conversation was, it wasnât just small talk. And if you werenât careful, you might find yourself caught in the crossfire of two men who had shaped the games with blood, brilliance, and cruelty.
"This must be your partner, if I'm not mistaken," the man said, his voice smooth and measured, each word laced with subtle curiosity. His piercing green eyes studied you with unnerving precision, as though he was already peeling back your layers, exposing every secret.
You nodded politely, but before you could speak, In-ho's hand slid firmly to the small of your back. The weight of his touch was both grounding and possessive, and his voice, calm and authoritative, carried over the din of the ballroom. "Yes," he replied, his answer as much a confirmation as it was a claim.
In-ho nudged you forward slightly, his gentle but insistent push urging you to engage. You bowed your head respectfully, your voice soft but steady as you spoke. "Itâs an honor, sir."
The Game Makerâs lips curled into a faint smile, one that didnât quite reach his eyes. Those sharp green eyes gleamed like polished glass, reflecting the flickering lights of the chandelier above. The man radiated powerânot the loud, boisterous kind, but the quiet, suffocating weight of someone who didnât need to prove himself.
As the frenetic pace of the music slowed, the brassy tones melting into a smooth, languid melody, he placed his drink down with deliberate precision, his attention turning fully to In-ho.
âMay I?â he asked, his meaning clear as his eyes flicked toward you, a sly glint in their depths.
For a moment, silence hung between the three of you. In-hoâs hand on your back stiffened, his fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your gown. You could feel the tension radiating off him, subtle but unmistakable, as though the request had struck a nerve.
Then, with a faint nod, In-hoâs hand fell away. âPlease,â he said evenly, his tone betraying none of the hesitation you knew he must feel. The word was polite, but the weight behind it made it feel more like permission than encouragement.
The Game Maker extended his hand toward you, his smile widening just enough to reveal a flash of teeth. His presence was magnetic, his movements fluid as though every step he took was choreographed. You hesitated, glancing back at In-ho, whose expression remained stoic, his dark eyes meeting yours with an unreadable intensity.
Taking a steadying breath, you placed your hand in the Game Makerâs. His grip was firm, his skin cool against yours as he led you onto the dance floor. The soft melody filled the air, and the crowd seemed to blur around you as he guided you into a slow, measured waltz.
âI must admit,â he began, his voice low and velvety as he steered you effortlessly, his steps smooth and deliberate, âIâve been curious about the woman who caught In-hoâs eye.â
You arched a brow, keeping your tone neutral. âCurious, sir?â
He chuckled, a rich, quiet sound that sent a shiver up your spine. âItâs not every day my Front Man shows such⌠attachment.â His eyes bore into yours, sharp and probing. âItâs intriguing.â
You resisted the urge to stiffen under his scrutiny, forcing a polite smile. âI would hope to be more than just intriguing.â
His smile widened, and the grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly. âOh, you are,â he said, his words carrying a weight that felt almost dangerous. âYouâre a fascinating piece on this chessboard. But tell meâŚâ His voice dropped, barely audible over the music. âHow much do you truly know about the man youâre dancing around this world with?â
Your breath caught, and for a moment, your carefully constructed composure faltered. His words werenât idle curiosityâthey were a calculated strike, designed to unsettle you.
âI know enough,â you replied evenly, regaining your footing, though the slight edge in your voice betrayed you.
âHmm,â he mused, his expression unreadable as he twirled you effortlessly, the lights of the chandelier spinning above. âEnough to trust him?â
You hesitated, just long enough for his smile to sharpen. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. âTrust is a fragile thing, my dear. I would tread carefully if I were you.â
The music swelled, the melody stretching out like a thread about to snap, and as he pulled you closer, "you seem... unfazed by this world," he moved on, his voice soft but layered with meaning. There was a gleam of something more in his eyes. "Many would be rattled by the games, by what they demand from people. But you... you seem like you understand."
You tilted your head slightly, sensing the direction of his conversation. His words werenât just casual chatterâthere was something deeper, something he was about to reveal. Something he wanted you to hear.
"Iâve seen things that would break most," he continued, his tone lowering, the dance now a distant memory between you both as you only swayed. "Iâve lived through things that have reshaped me in ways that canât be undone."
Your pulse quickened, curiosity gnawing at you. The night had already been full of tension, but now the Game Maker was pulling you into his pastâa place few, if any, had access to.
He took a step back abandoning the dance, glancing over his shoulder at the shadows of the ballroom as if weighing whether to speak. Finally, he sighed, a sound that seemed to carry decades of experience with it.
"The two-day games..." he started, and the words seemed to hang in the air between you like a curse. "Thereâs nothing quite like them in the history of the games. Nothing that compares to what happened during those two days."
You felt a chill run down your spine as he spoke. The stories you had heardâwhispers of what had occurred during that brutal eventâwere always fragmented, vague. But now, you had the chance to hear it from the mouth of the man who had made it happen. The man who had orchestrated it all.
His gaze locked with yours, intense and unyielding. "I was younger then, perhaps too young, but the potential for control⌠the power to shape chaosâit called to me." His voice lowered, growing colder with each word. "The games were never meant to be easy. They were meant to expose the worst of people. Push them to the edge and watch them either rise or fall."
You shifted slightly, instinctively pulling away, but he seemed to read the motion as curiosity, not discomfort. He continued, almost as though speaking to himself.
"I gave them two days. Just two. 456 players entered the arena. 456 livesâeach one filled with desperation, greed, fear. By the end of the second day, 456 of them were dead." His voice was smooth, but beneath the calm was a trace of something darker.
"The thing is," he added, almost as an afterthought, his expression hardening, "it didnât take much to break them. It wasnât about weapons or traps. It was about fear. The fear of what they were becoming. And when the first 50 fell, the rest of themâevery last oneâknew their time was numbered. That fear, that panicâit spread like wildfire."
You couldnât tear your gaze away, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to his words. The Game Makerâs voice was chilling, detached, as if recounting a story of someone elseâs nightmare. But the deeper you listened, the more you realized how deeply he was tied to that moment. How much it had shaped him into the man he was today.
"In the end," he said, his eyes darkening, "the other four games were pointless. The players had already given up. There were barely enough survivors left to keep going. The horror of it, the inevitability of their deathsâit was already in the air. The remaining games were just a formality."
You shuddered, the horror of his words sinking in like a weight in your chest. The sheer scale of the violenceâthe cruelty of the decision to make it last three daysâleft you speechless for a moment. You hadnât imagined the extent of what had transpired.
"But..." You started, voice barely above a whisper, "Why did it stop after that? Why didnât you keep going? Why not make it a standard?"
"Because thereâs only so much humanity can take," he said softly, the words carrying a weight you could almost taste. "After that, I realized something. You can break people, destroy themâbut if you push them too far, you lose control. And then the game becomes something else. A rebellion perhaps."
His eyes flicked to In-ho, who had watched the conversation from the sidelines, his gaze unreadable.
"You lose the control. And control, my dear," the Game Maker whispered, his voice a thread of a warning, "is most precious in our line of work."
For a long moment, the air between you both was thick with tension. The soft music continued to play in the background, but in your mind, it was drowned out by the image of what the Game Maker had describedâthe bloodshed, the terror, the total breakdown of human decency in a span of just two days.
Finally, the silence was broken by the soft clink of glass. The Game Maker picked up a drink from a server, as if snapping back to reality, the weight of his story fading from his expression. "But thatâs all behind me now," he added with a thin smile, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. "The games have evolved. And I, too, have evolved with them."
You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, the sheer gravity of what he had just shared leaving you momentarily speechless.
And as he turned to leave, his hand brushing against yours once more, you couldnât help but feel the weight of his past pressing down on you, like a shadow that would never truly lift.
"Youâll understand," he said softly, looking back over his shoulder with that same glint in his eyes, "one day, when youâre forced to see the games from the inside. Itâs the only way to truly know."
And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing amidst the glittering crowd, the echo of his words lingering in the air like a dark omen.
________
The ride back to the island stretched on, the distant hum of the yacht's engines muffled by the heavy silence between you and In-ho. The sea stretched endlessly outside the cabin windows, dark and vast, mirroring the weight pressing down on the both of you. In-ho sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his mind clearly elsewhere, swirling with thoughts he would never voice. His third glass of whiskey sat half-empty in his hand, the liquid catching the dim light.
Your eyes softened as you turned to him, noting the faint lines of tension at the corners of his mouth and the way his shoulders carried the invisible burden of leadership. Reaching out, you placed a hand on his thigh, your touch gentle but grounding.
âYou donât have to do this alone, In-ho,â you said softly, your voice cutting through the oppressive quiet like a breeze.
He looked at you then, his dark eyes meeting yours. For a fleeting moment, his guarded expression melted, replaced by something warmer, softer. A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didnât erase the shadows in his gaze.
âI know,â he murmured, though the way he said it felt more like an attempt to reassure you than himself.
The thought of tomorrow hung between you both. The games would begin at dawn, and everything was ready, every gruesome detail in place. The guards had their orders, the players were already in their quarters, and all that remained were the final preparations for the VIPs.
You leaned back against the leather seat, your mind wandering as you stared out at the endless black horizon. News had reached you earlier in the eveningâthere would be a new VIP attending this round of games. The announcement hadnât surprised you, but it had stirred something in you.
For a brief moment, your mind slipped back to when that title belonged to you. The memory of your first arrival as a VIP, dressed in extravagant finery and wrapped in the naivety of someone who thought they understood the games, drifted through your thoughts. How wrong you had been then.
But those thoughts were quickly overtaken by a new unease, one that gnawed at you from the edges of your mind.
"How much do you truly know about the man youâre dancing around this world with?"
The Game Makerâs words echoed in your head, their weight heavier now than when heâd first spoken them. The way his sharp green eyes had lingered on you, the knowing smile that had curled at his lipsâit was as though he had planted a seed of doubt that was only now beginning to take root.
You glanced at In-ho again, studying the sharp line of his jaw, the faint glint of his mask resting on the table beside him, and the way his fingers idly swirled the whiskey in his glass. He seemed calm, composed, but you couldnât shake the feeling that he was keeping something from you.
The silence stretched between you, thick with the unspoken, until In-hoâs voice broke through it.
âWhatâs bothering you?â he asked, his tone gentle but firm, his gaze sharp as it flicked to your face.
You hesitated, your brows knitting together as you forced a small smile and shook your head. âNothing,â you lied, though your voice lacked conviction.
He didnât press further, but his eyes searched yours, as if trying to read the thoughts you were so carefully keeping hidden. The weight of his scrutiny made your chest tighten, and you acted on instinct, leaning in and pressing your lips to his.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, and it carried with it the unspoken words you couldnât bring yourself to say. His fingers, warm and strong, wrapped around yours, holding you steady as the world seemed to fall away for just a moment.
When you finally pulled back, his expression softened further, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. âYouâd tell me if something was wrong, wouldnât you?â
Your heart sank at the question, guilt prickling at the edges of your mind. âOf course,â you said, forcing another smile, though the Game Makerâs words lingered like a shadow in the back of your thoughts.
In-ho smiled faintly and raised his glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, but his hand never left yours. The silence returned, though this time it felt heavier, as though the weight of your thoughts was tangible in the air between you.
You turned your gaze back to the window, the dark sea stretching endlessly ahead. Somewhere out there, on the island you were quickly approaching, the games waited to begin. But it wasnât just the games that loomedâit was the feeling of a growing divide between you and the man sitting beside you.
And as the Game Makerâs haunting words replayed in your mind, you couldnât help but wonder: how much did you really know about In-ho? And when the truth finally surfaced, would you still be able to call him yours?
_______
The quarters you shared with In-ho were cold when you returned, the chill of the air pressing against your skin as the soft hum of the elevator faded behind you. Your heels clicked sharply against the polished floors of the hallway, each step echoing faintly in the silence. In-ho followed close behind, his presence a steady weight at your back. Yet, while your body moved forward, your mind still remained trapped in the lingering echoes of the Game Makerâs words.
His question gnawed at you, digging deeper than you cared to admit. It looped in your thoughts like a broken record, each repetition leaving you more unsettled than the last. You didnât want to believe there was truth to it, but the doubt had rooted itself, and no amount of rationalizing could make it go away.
Your steps faltered, the weight of your thoughts pulling you down like lead. It must have shown, because before you could recover, In-hoâs hand shot out, gripping your arm firmly and pulling you to him.
âTell me. Now,â he demanded, his tone low but sharp as his dark eyes bore into yours. His face was mere inches from yours, the weight of his presence nearly suffocating as his chest brushed against yours.
For a moment, you stared up at him, startled by the intensity in his voice, the way his grip anchored you. Then, despite the knot tightening in your chest, a faint smile tugged at your lips.
âWell, this is familiar,â you said lightly, your voice carrying a teasing edge as you referred back to the night you metâwhen his grip on your wrist had been accompanied by a gun to your head instead of concern.
His expression didnât soften. If anything, the lines of tension in his jaw deepened, and his hand fell away from your arm, letting it drop back to your side. There was no hint of amusement in his face, no trace of the man who often found quiet joy in your quips.
You sighed, the playfulness draining from your tone as you tilted your head back slightly, meeting his unrelenting gaze. âItâs the Game Maker,â you admitted finally. âHe said something...â
âWhat did he say?â In-ho cut in, his voice sharper now, the words almost snapping out of him.
You hesitated, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as you debated how much to reveal. But there was no use in hiding it; In-ho would press until you gave him the truth.
âHe asked how much I truly knew about you,â you said carefully, the words coming slower now, each one measured. âHe questioned my trust in you.â
The air between you shifted instantly. In-ho straightened, his posture rigid, and his jaw clenched so tightly you could see the flicker of movement beneath his skin. His dark eyes darkened further, and for a moment, he was utterly stillâtoo still.
You threw your arms up in frustration, breaking the silence before it could grow heavier. âItâs stupid, I know,â you said quickly, your voice tinged with exasperation. âI shouldnât let it get to me, but... it did.â
In-hoâs gaze never left yours, his silence unnerving as the seconds stretched on. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. âWhy didnât you tell me this sooner?â
âI didnât think it was worth mentioning,â you admitted, your voice softening. âI thought... I donât know, I thought it was just a game.â
âAnd now?â he pressed, his tone still firm but laced with something elseâsomething you couldnât quite place.
You hesitated, unsure how to put your swirling thoughts into words. âAnd now, I donât know,â you admitted, your shoulders slumping slightly. âHe got into my head.â
In-ho took a step back, his hand raking through his slicked-back hair as he exhaled sharply. The tension radiating off him was palpable, the weight of it filling the space between you.
âHeâs trying to divide us,â In-ho said finally, his voice steady but cold.
âThatâs what he does. He finds cracks and widens them. He knows exactly where to push. Its entertainment for him.â
You nodded slowly, understanding the truth in his words but unable to completely shake the lingering doubt. âI know,â you said softly. âBut that question...â
âForget it,â he said firmly, his voice cutting through your thoughts. âYou know everything you need to know about me.â
âDo I?â you asked before you could stop yourself, the words slipping out like a whisper.
He froze, his eyes narrowing slightly as they locked onto yours. The silence stretched between you again, and you immediately regretted asking.
âYou do,â he said finally, his voice quieter now but no less firm.
You searched his face, looking for cracks in the mask he always wore, but there were none. Whatever secrets In-ho carried, he had buried them deep, and he wasnât about to let you dig them up.
With a sigh, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, his hands finding your waist instinctively as he kissed you back. The tension between you eased, if only slightly, and for a moment, the world outside the quarters faded away.
When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, your voice barely above a whisper. âI trust you, In-ho. Donât let him make me doubt that.â
His grip on your waist tightened slightly, his gaze steady as he nodded. âI wonât,â he promised.
____
The VIP room you knew all too well was cloaked in dim, golden light, the shadows pooling in the corners like secrets waiting to be uncovered. The faint scent of polished wood and aged leather hung in the air, mingling with the warmth of the velvet couches arranged strategically around the room. It was quiet, the stillness almost oppressive, but it wouldnât be for long. In less than ten minutes, the masked menâthe VIPsâwould arrive, and the space would come alive with laughter, conversation, and veiled threats disguised as casual remarks.
You and In-ho had worked yourselves to the bone ensuring every detail was flawless. The perfection demanded by the VIPs wasnât just expectedâit was required. Smoothing a gloved hand over the rich burgundy velvet of one of the couches, you allowed yourself a small, private smile. A memory flickered to life, unbiddenâthe image of your father reclining comfortably in that very spot, a drink in hand, his mask gleaming under the chandelier light. The memory warmed you, though only for a moment. You made a mental note to check on him later, to ensure he was still enjoying himself in his travels.
The sound of the door opening snapped you back to the present, and you turned to see the masked servants filing in. Their uniforms were pristine, their movements perfectly coordinated, and their masksâa blend of gold and blackâreflected the roomâs soft light. They waited silently for your direction, and you moved into action, gesturing toward the tables and stations.
âEnsure every glass is filled to the brim, not a drop less,â you instructed, your voice calm but firm. âAnd check your uniforms againâthereâs no room for error tonight.â
The servants moved with precision, adjusting glasses, smoothing tablecloths, and arranging decanters of fine liquor in neat, symmetrical rows. You moved among them, inspecting every detail, every corner, ensuring nothing was out of place. Each glass glinted like crystal fire under the soft glow of the chandelier, and every surface gleamed as though it had been polished a thousand times over.
You were so engrossed in the process, so focused on achieving perfection, that you didnât hear the faint creak of footsteps descending the grand staircase just outside the room. Nor did you register the growing presence behind you until a voiceâa voice you recognized all too wellâcut through the quiet like a blade.
âIf it isnât the queen herself,â the voice drawled, smooth and laced with a dangerous edge.
Your heart jolted, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and freezing you in place for half a beat. The blood in your veins turned cold, yet heat rushed to your face at the same time. Slowly, you turned, your gaze landing on the source of the voice.
Hiram.
He stood at the base of the staircase, dressed in an immaculate suit that seemed to glow under the dim light. The white fabric hugged his tall, built frame perfectly, and his familiar, disarming smile stretched across his face. His fawn-colored hair gleamed, every strand meticulously styled, but it was his piercing blue eyes that held your attention from beneath the mask. They sparkled with a dangerous kind of amusement, as though he already knew every thought running through your mind.
Behind him, the remaining VIPs entered the room, their masks gleaming in the light as they took in the space with quiet approval. Each of them exuded an aura of power and wealth, their silence more imposing than any words they might speak. And there, at the edge of the group, stood In-ho, his familiar mask hiding any hint of emotion. His hands were clasped behind his back, his posture rigid, but you knew him well enough to sense the tension in the way he held himself.
âAh, there you are,â Hiram said, stepping closer, his polished shoes barely making a sound against the floor. âYouâve outdone yourself, truly. This room is a masterpiece.â His voice was honeyed, charming, but there was a sharpness beneath it that made you uneasy.
âThank you,â you replied evenly, forcing your voice to remain steady. You kept your expression composed, your hands clasped in front of you as he approached. âWe aim to please.â
Hiramâs smile widened, his gaze flicking briefly to In-ho before returning to you. âAnd please, you certainly do.â
You resisted the urge to bristle under his stare, the weight of it lingering on you longer than it should have. Behind Hiram, one of the other VIPs chuckled quietly, their masked face tilted slightly toward you as though sharing in some unspoken joke.
In-ho stepped forward then, his imposing presence cutting through the tension like a knife. âGentlemen,â he said, his voice cold and commanding. âPlease, make yourselves comfortable. The evening will begin shortly.â
The VIPs nodded, moving toward the velvet couches, their conversation low and indistinct as they settled into their seats. Hiram, however, lingered, his sharp blue eyes studying you as if he were trying to unravel a mystery.
âRelax,â he said softly, his voice dropping just enough so only you could hear. âYou look like youâre carrying the weight of the world on those lovely shoulders.â
You met his gaze, your own eyes narrowing slightly as you replied, âSomeone has to ensure things run smoothly.â
Hiram chuckled, the sound rich and deep, as he took a deliberate step back. âOf course. But donât forget to enjoy the fruits of your labor."
The words dripped with something you couldnât quite placeâmockery, admiration, or perhaps a mix of both. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, joining the others on the couches.
In-ho was beside you in an instant, his hand brushing yours briefly before falling to his side. âAre you alright?â he asked quietly, his voice low enough that the others wouldnât hear.
You nodded, though the tightness in your chest hadnât eased. âIâm fine,â you lied, forcing a small smile.
In-hoâs gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he straightened, his attention shifting back to the VIPs. The room was filling with quiet chatter and the faint clink of glasses, but your mind was elsewhere, stuck on the unnerving familiarity of Hiramâs words.
"You look like youâre carrying the weight of the world."
Perhaps, in some ways, he wasnât wrong.
_________________
The first two games had gone off without a hitch, leaving the VIPs exceptionally entertained. Their laughter, applause, and murmurs of satisfaction still echoed faintly in your mind as you lay in bed. It had been a long, grueling day of keeping up appearancesâavoiding Hiramâs pointed stares, catering to the demands of the VIPs, and maintaining your composure as the deadly spectacle unfolded before their masked faces.
Now, in the quiet sanctuary of your quarters, the exhaustion weighed heavily on you. Your freshly showered skin was cool against the soft sheets, and the faint scent of In-hoâs cologne lingered in the oversized shirt of his youâd slipped into. The fabric draped loosely over your body, the hem brushing against your thighs as you lay on your side, your back to the door.
The faint click of the door opening startled you, making your heart leap. You sat up quickly, the sheets pooling at your waist, only to relax when your eyes met In-hoâs. His dark eyes held a tired warmth, his posture slightly slouched as he closed the door behind him.
âHowâd today go?â you asked softly, watching as he moved toward the bed. His black mask was gone now, leaving his sharp, handsome features fully exposed. He didnât answer right away, instead sitting at the edge of the bed beside you.
His fingers reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear before his palm rested gently against your cheek. The touch was grounding, comforting, and his thumb brushed your skin in a slow, deliberate motion.
âI should be asking you the same thing,â he said, his voice low, tinged with concern.
You angled your head, your brows knitting slightly. âWhat do you mean?â
âI mean,â he murmured, his tone dropping further as his gaze fixed on you, âis Hiram going to be a problem?â
The question caught you off guard, though it shouldnât have. You knew In-ho had noticed Hiramâs lingering glances and overly familiar tone earlier in the day. His attention to detail rarely missed anything.
You shook your head quickly, offering a small, reassuring smile. âHeâs just a flirt, nothing more,â you said lightly, though the faint tension in your voice didnât go unnoticed.
In-ho didnât look convinced. He sighed deeply, leaning into your shoulder and pressing his forehead against it. The weight of him was grounding, though you could feel the tension radiating from his body.
âFlirt or not,â he said, his voice muffled against your shoulder, âIf he says anything to you, anything at all, you tell me," he said, his voice low but filled with unmistakable authority. âI donât care if it seems harmless. I need to know.â
You snorted softly, your lips curving into a small smile as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair. âYou worry too much,â you teased, though your heart fluttered at the protective edge in his voice.
He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours as a faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. âTake a shower with me,â he said suddenly, his tone lighter now but still carrying that low, intimate warmth that always seemed to pull you in.
You laughed softly, leaning back slightly and giving him a playful look. âYouâre about 15 minutes too late, baby,â you said, that name rarely used by either of you, gesturing to your damp hair as proof.
His grin widened, the weariness in his expression giving way to something more mischievous. âTake another one,â he countered, his tone smooth, laced with that teasing charm he rarely let others see.
You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips as he leaned closer, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. His fingers curled gently against your skin as his forehead brushed yours, the warmth of him filling the small space between you.
âYouâre insatiable,â you murmured, your voice soft but tinged with affection as your lips hovered just shy of his.
âFor you?â he replied, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his breath warm against your skin. âAlways.â
Before you could respond, he pressed his lips to yours in a slow kiss. It deepened quickly, his hand tightening against the nape of your neck as he pulled you closer. The stress of the day melted away in his touch, replaced by the warmth and safety you always felt in his presence.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. âSo? Another shower?â
You let out a breathy laugh, playfully nudging him. âFine, but only if you carry me there,â you teased, though the sparkle in your eyes betrayed how much you loved the idea of spending just a little more time wrapped up in him.
He grinned fully now, the rare sight lighting up his face as he stood, scooping you effortlessly into his arms. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you toward the bathroom, the sound of your laughter filling the once-quiet room.
âAnything for you,â he murmured, his tone softer now, as though the words were meant only for you.
Making it through the door, In-ho carries you in the shower, slamming you against the marble wall of the shower. You moan from the pain radiating in your back and fumble for the nozzle, turning on the water. As it pours down, In-ho holds you to him.
Pulling his soaked black shirt off, you blindly throw it. "God I've missed these," In-ho says with need, cupping your breasts and squeezing. You arch into the sensation as he kisses every square inch of you.
Your breaths are cut short, "this..is this our stress relief?" You moan the question. It was pathetic, but you didn't care as the warm water dripped down your bare body. His tongue slips into your mouth, dominating with control. You break from him, "God, fuck me," you pleaded, as you removed his belt, pushing his jeans to the wet floor.
Lost in the embrace, in the all-consuming passion that bound you together, the world outside ceased to exist. Every kiss was a firebrand against your skin, every touch igniting nerves you didnât know could spark. Time seemed to slow, the rhythm of your movements the only measure of its passing, as if the universe itself had paused to witness your union.
The warmth of his breath fanned against your neck, mingling with the heat between your bodies. His hands gripped you with a reverence that bordered on desperation, fingers pressing into your skin as though he were afraid to let go, afraid you might slip away. The steady, powerful rhythm of each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your senses heightening until every sound, every sensation, became sharper, more vivid.
The soft gasps and murmurs escaping your lips seemed to echo in the room, blending with the faint trickle of water from the showerhead above. Droplets clung to your skin, sliding slowly over the curve of your back, over the ridges of his muscles, before pooling in the space between your entwined bodies. Each droplet caught the faint golden light of the room, glistening like tiny stars before being lost in the heat of your connection.
Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him closer, and he obliged, his lips trailing along your jaw before capturing yours again in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. The taste of him, the heat of his body against yours, was intoxicating. You couldnât get enough.
But beyond the veil of your bliss, the door to your quarters eased open, silent and deliberate, the faintest shift of air the only sign of intrusion. Footsteps, so soft they barely disturbed the stillness, crept closer, slow and calculated, each one measured to avoid detection.
In the shadows, just beyond the faint pool of golden light spilling from the bedside lamp, he stood.
Hiramâs figure was a ghost against the darkness, his white suit blending almost unnaturally into the muted glow. His sharp blue eyes gleamed, watching you with a cold, predatory focus that made the air seem heavier. His expression wasnât one of embarrassment or even intrigueâit was something far more sinister. His lips curled into a faint smirk, his head tilting slightly as he took in the scene before him with unnerving calm, as if committing every detail to memory.
Your laughter, your whispered name on In-hoâs lips, the vulnerable intimacy you thought was privateâit all played out before Hiram like a stage performance crafted solely for his amusement.
But this wasnât idle curiosity.
As his piercing gaze flicked between you and In-ho, something darker flickered in his eyesâdisorder, malice, and the unmistakable spark of opportunity. He stood motionless, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, as though savoring the power of his invisible presence, feeding off the unknowing vulnerability of the two of you.
He leaned slightly against the doorframe, his smirk widening as his thoughts grew darker. Plans began to unfurl in his mindâdelicate threads of manipulation, sabotage, and ruin. He could already see the cracks he could exploit, the fault lines he could widen until everything youâd built together came crashing down.
This wasnât just about jealousy or lust. It was about power. Hiram wasnât simply watchingâhe was plotting. He would take this moment, this private, unguarded act, and twist it into a weapon. A scandal. A weakness. A game.
The soft rustle of fabric, the faint creak of a floorboardâit all went unnoticed by you as you clung to In-ho, lost in the safety and warmth of each other.
Hiramâs gaze lingered for a moment longer, his smirk hardening into something far more chilling. His blue eyes burned with quiet intent as he silently turned and slipped back into the darkness of the hallway, the door closing behind him with the faintest click.
You didnât notice.
And that was the most unsettling part. You didnât feel the weight of his presence, the cold void left in his wake. You didnât hear the quiet whisper of a plan already forming.
But you would. Soon enough.
__________
The third game was well underway, the tension in the air palpable as you stood near the edge of the VIP room, surveying the space with sharp eyes. Each masked guest lounged on the velvet couches, their low murmurs punctuated by bursts of laughter or clinks of crystal glasses. On the wide screen across the room, the game unfolded with brutal precision, but your focus wasnât on the chaos playing out thereâit was on the subtle undercurrents within this room.
In-ho had left an hour ago, his presence a void you felt acutely. Before he went, heâd reminded you, in no uncertain terms, to tell him if Hiram stepped out of line. Youâd nodded, trying to ignore the growing knot in your chest. Now, as you scanned the room, your eyes occasionally drifted to where he had been, wishing you could reach out and touch his mask for reassurance, to feel connected to him, even from afar.
But Hiramâs gaze was a far more suffocating presence. You could feel it, sharp and invasive, like a cold knife against your skin. It followed you relentlessly, even when you werenât looking. His attention wasnât subtle or casualâit was deliberate, calculated, and infuriating.
You swallowed the anger threatening to bubble over. By now, the thought of him made your blood boil, and if you were being honest with yourself, the idea of sinking a blade into his throat was becoming alarmingly tempting.
The need to escape the room became overwhelming. Grabbing an empty decanter from a nearby table, you excused yourself, slipping through the side door toward the supply closet.
The closet was dimly lit, shelves lined with bottles of every expensive liquor imaginable. The faint scent of aged whiskey and cleaning supplies hung in the air, and for a fleeting moment, you wished you werenât working. A shotâor twoâmight have eased the tension twisting in your chest.
You reached for a bottle of vodka, the smooth glass cool against your gloved fingers, when a voice broke the silence.
âThinking of taking a break?â
The words came from behind you, startling you so badly you slammed into the shelf behind you, bottles rattling ominously at the impact.
You spun around to find Hiram standing in the doorway, his white suit glowing faintly under the dim light. He let out a deep, belly laugh, his voice rich with amusement at your discomfort.
âDidnât mean to scare you,â he said, though the gleam in his sharp blue eyes suggested otherwise.
Your pulse quickened, and you fought to keep your composure as you smoothed out your uniform. âYou should get back to the game,â you said curtly, your voice steady despite the tension curling in your stomach.
Hiram shrugged nonchalantly, stepping further into the cramped space. âIâve grown bored,â he said, his tone casual but laced with something darker. âIâd much rather spend my time with you.â
He moved closer, and instinctively, you straightened your spine, forcing yourself to stand tall. You wouldnât give him the satisfaction of seeing you flinch.
âI have a proposition for you,â he said, his voice lowering as he loomed over you.
You stiffened as your back pressed against the cold metal of the shelf. The tight quarters made it impossible to step away. âWhatever it is, I canât accept,â you said quickly, turning to grab the bottle of vodka and making to leave.
Before you could take a step, his hand clamped down on your shoulder, his grip rough and unyielding as he spun you back around to face him.
Pain shot through your shoulder, and your heart jumped to your throat as you fought to keep the yelp threatening to escape locked behind your lips. âPlease let go of me,â you said, your voice measured but trembling slightly at the edges.
Instead of releasing you, his other hand shot out, gripping your jaw tightly. His fingers dug into your skin, and in one swift motion, he ripped your mask off, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clatter.
Your breath hitched, your wide, eyes now fully exposed to him. The faint sheen of fear in them must have pleased him because he scoffed, his lips curling into a twisted smirk.
âDonât be so afraid,â he said mockingly, his voice dripping with condescension. His thumb brushed along your cheek, a touch that was slow and deliberate, as if savoring your discomfort.
You flinched, your body stiffening under his touch, but he didnât pull back. If anything, he leaned closer, his warm breath ghosting over your face as his sharp blue eyes bore into yours.
âYouâre even more beautiful up close,â he murmured, his tone soft but laced with something predatory. His finger traced the line of your jaw, trailing down to your chin as though he were studying a prize. âA shame someone like you is wasted on someone like him.â
The implication in his words made your stomach churn, and you clenched your fists at your sides, fighting the urge to lash out.
âHiram,â you said sharply, your voice stronger now despite the fear gripping your chest. âLet. Me. Go.â
You clenched your jaw, your hand curling into a fist at your side, trying to retain any shred of composure. âThis isnât professional,â you barked, the words coming out sharper than you intended, the slight tremor in your voice betraying your rising unease.
Hiramâs grin widened, his expression darkening as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm against your face, almost too close. âYou know what isnât professional, Y/N?â His voice dropped lower, laced with venom.
âFucking your boss in front of a VIP. You donât think I saw that little show? How wet you were, how you couldnât keep your hands off each other.â
Your heart skipped a beat, your blood running cold as the reality of what he was saying sank in. The realization hit you like a slap across the face, and you swallowed, the bile in your throat rising. âWhat are you implying?â you asked, though you already knew.
His grin flashed wider, sharper now, like a predator toying with its prey. âOh, I think you already know, sweetheart.â He leaned back, taking in your reaction with the kind of satisfaction that made your stomach turn. âSo, hereâs my proposition.â
You blinked, frozen in place as he reached for a bottle of whiskey on the shelf beside him, his movements slow and deliberate as he took a long swig. The harsh liquid seemed to ignite something in his eyes, the edges of his grin curling with malice.
âThe Original Game Maker isnât happy,â Hiram continued, his voice dripping with sweet, poisonous calm. âHe thinks the games have gotten too soft. Too... predictable. He thinks loyalties are getting a little too murky. And we canât have that, can we?â He stepped closer again, his eyes locked onto yours with a predatory intensity. âNo, no, no. We need to shake things up.â
Your breath caught in your chest, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. You could feel the air thickening, suffocating you as his words began to sink deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like a vice.
He took another swig from the bottle, wiping his mouth casually with the back of his hand before setting it down on the shelf with a soft clink. âIn my opinion, In-hoâs loyalties have drifted,â he said, his voice carrying an unsettling edge. âTo you, Y/N. And while thatâs... charming, I think itâs time heâs reminded of the consequences of that kind of weakness.â
Your heart hammered against your ribs, the realization of what he was suggesting sending a chill through your entire body. âWhat are you talking about?â you whispered, but even as the words left your mouth, you already knew the answer.
Hiramâs eyes gleamed as he straightened, the playful malice in his expression growing more serious, more calculating. âSo hereâs whats going to happen. On behalf of the original game maker's wish,â he said, the weight of his words pressing against you like a physical force. âYou will enter the games as a player. And In-ho will finally show his true colors. If he interferes with the game for you? His life will come to a tragic end. But if you allow fate to decideâŚâ His voice trailed off, but the dark promise hung in the air, suffocating, undeniable.
The words were poison, each syllable crawling under your skin like an infection, burning through your chest. Your mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying, what he was offeringâand you hated yourself for feeling a flicker of hesitation, as if the very idea of it wasnât completely out of reach.
Hiramâs grin deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement as he read the shock and fear in your face. âYou both come out alive, or... you know the rest. Think of it as a test for In-ho. Will he be loyal to the games, or loyal to you?â His voice was thick with implication, like a contract being signed in blood.
The room felt smaller now. The air, once thick with the hum of tension, now felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in around you. You could feel the weight of Hiramâs gaze on you, each word landing like a hammer to your chest, each suggestion a chain tightening around your throat.
Hiram took a final sip from the bottle, his eyes never leaving yours as he tilted his head. âThink hard in your remaining time with himâ he said softly, his voice almost a purr. âLetâs see how far youâre willing to go for him and him...for you.â
Your mind reeled. The idea of willingly stepping into the gameâbecoming a part of it, in itâwas a nightmare, but the alternative... The alternative was more terrifying than you could bear. The question was no longer just about survival, it was about loyalty, power, betrayal. And worst of all, the deadly twist of fate that Hiram was dangling in front of you.
______
The conference room was cloaked in an overbearing darkness, the only sound the relentless ticking of the clock mounted on the wall behind you. The air was thick, weighted by a silence that felt intentional, like a predator stalking its prey. You sat at the head of the long, polished table, your gloved fingers drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the arm of the chair. The day was crawling toward its end, but every second felt like an eternity. All you could think about was herây/nâwaiting for you. The ache to return to her side burned like a brand, her presence the only thing that kept you grounded amidst the chaos.
But you couldnât leave. Not yet. The Original Game Maker had summoned you here without warning, his message sparse and cryptic. No explanation. No agenda. Just an orderâa command you couldnât refuse. Not from him. The mere fact that he had decided to step out of his self-imposed obscurity and into the shadows of the games again was unsettling enough. Heâd spent years distancing himself from this bloodstained spectacle, content to let others pull the strings. But now, his sudden interest in this season felt like a storm gathering on the horizonâquiet but ominous.
You shifted in your chair, stifling the urge to scoff aloud. The memory of his past actions clawed at the edges of your mind: the slaughter of 456 lives. Brutal. Senseless. A massacre that spat in the face of the gamesâ twisted purpose. You could still sense the blood-soaked floors, feel the echoes of screams that lingered long after the last body fell. No one had dared to replicate his methods sinceâhow could they? It was chaos for the sake of chaos, devoid of strategy or control.
Youâd told y/n that story once, not to frighten her but to warn her. To keep her as far from him as possible. The man was a powder keg, volatile and devoid of humanity. He lacked empathy. He lacked reason. And yet, here he was, demanding your presence like some dark god who had finally grown bored of his own indifference.
Your jaw tightened beneath the mask as you glanced at the door. He was lateâof course, he was lateâbut the weight of his impending arrival pressed down on you like an iron shroud. You couldnât ignore the unease simmering beneath your skin, a faint prickle of suspicion that refused to be silenced. Still, you reminded yourself: I am in control. I am in charge.
But it wasnât just about you. It never was. Y/n was your equal, your partner in your blood-drenched kingdom. You trusted her implicitly, would bow to her without hesitation if she asked. She gave you purpose, kept you tethered. The thought of herâher strength, her clarityâgave you the resolve to face whatever bombardment was about to walk through that door.
And yet, as the ticking clock marked each passing second, the unease lingered.
The Original Game Maker had returned, and whatever he wanted, you knew it wasnât good.
The door clicked shut behind his towering figure, the sound reverberating through the room like a judgeâs gavel. He stood there for a moment, letting the oppressive silence weigh heavier, his presence filling the darkened space. A slow, chilling grin crept across his face, a predatory curve that set your nerves on edge. In his hands, he clutched a thick binder, pressed against his chest like a weapon he was ready to unsheathe. Without a word, he flung it onto the table with a loud thud, the pages splaying slightly from the force.
He moved toward the chair beside you, the leather groaning as he sank into it, every motion deliberate and oozing authority. âLose the mask, In-ho,â he said, his voice a low, rasping command that carried an edge of disdain. âWeâre far beyond formalities.â
You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, reaching up to remove the mask that had become a part of you, placing it carefully on the tableâs cold surface. The air felt sharper against your face, the weight of his gaze cutting deeper now that your shield was gone.
âIâm not happy, In-ho.â His words were clipped, each syllable sharp enough to draw blood. He jabbed a finger toward the binder, his meaning clear.
You flipped open the cover, the faint warmth of freshly printed pages brushing against your fingertips. One by one, you turned the sheets, each page a detailed report of the previous games you had overseen. Numbers, outcomes, summaries of lives lost in your carefully constructed arenas. The data stared back at you like an accusation, but you refused to flinch.
Finally, you looked up at him, unshaken but curious. âSir?â
He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as if you had already failed some unspoken test. âYour games are too feeble,â he spat, his lips curling into a sneer. âToo slow. The players⌠they arenât drowning in fear. They arenât desperate enough, In-ho. They arenât pushed to the brink, clawing at each other like animals, fighting for their very existence.â
You folded your gloved hands atop the table, your voice calm but laced with steel. âI oversee and operate games with order, games that have purpose. Every death is calculated. Every sacrifice has meaning.â
He scoffed, the sound cutting through the room like a blade. âAnd that, In-ho, is precisely the problem.â He leaned forward now, his elbows resting on the table as his dark, piercing eyes bore into yours. âI created these games to strip humanity down to its raw, ugly core. To show the world what we truly are when the veneer of civility is ripped away. People will kill, not because they need to, but because they want to. For the thrill. For dominance. For the sake of blood itself.â
His words hung in the air, a festering poison that seeped into the room. You felt the tension coil tighter in your chest, but your expression remained unreadable.
âThese arenât just games to you,â you said slowly, the weight of realization settling like a stone in your stomach. âTheyâre a mirror. A reflection of your own madness.â
His grin widened, a twisted caricature of delight. âPerhaps, In-ho. But madness, after all, is the truest form of humanity.â
The room felt smaller now, the walls pressing in as his words lingered, daring you to challenge him further. But this was a game of its own, and you couldnât afford to lose.
"Anyway," he said, his voice dripping with mock casualness, "thatâs not my only problem. Flip to page 457."
Your fingers moved instinctively, even as dread clawed at the edges of your mind. The crisp sound of pages turning echoed in the silent room, the numbers blurring until you stopped at the specified page. Your breath caught, the blood in your veins turning cold as you stared at the glossy photographs staring back at you.
It was you. With her. Y/n. Captured in the most vulnerable, intimate moments of your life, taken just nights ago. Her smile, your hand tangled in her hair, the undeniable tenderness etched into both your facesâit was all there, exposed. Your pulse thundered in your ears, but outwardly, you forced your body to remain still, to not give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
The Game Maker leaned back, a predator savoring his prey. âYour loyalties are slipping,â he said, his tone eerily calm. âAlthough, deep down, in different circumstances, I wouldnât blame you. She truly is lovely.â His gaze flicked to the photographs as if admiring a piece of art. âI had no issue with her presence here. Not at first. But then I saw itâthis... softness. That flickering humanity in your eyes. The same brutality I once admired in you, the kind that reminded me of myself when I was youngerâitâs fading.â
You leaned back in your chair, fingers curling into fists beneath the table. âGet to the point,â you said, your voice even but cold.
The Game Maker chuckled, a low, sinister sound that filled the room like smoke. âAh, yes, the point.â He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his grin widening. âSheâs your purpose, isnât she? The reason youâre clawing your way back to humanity. The key to unlocking the man you used to be before your wife passed.â
Your jaw clenched at the mention of her, a sharp, invisible blade twisting deep in your chest. But you didnât speak. You wouldnât give him the joy of seeing how deeply his words cut.
âAnd you can see how that is... problematic for me, canât you?â he continued, his voice softening, almost feigning sympathy. âBecause while y/n may be important to you, these games are important to me. More so, Iâd argue.â He tilted his head, studying you like a specimen under glass. âI need you to prove where your loyalty truly lies. With her? Or with the games I built you to lead.â
Your voice was steady, though each word felt like pushing against a rising tide. âHow?â
The grin that spread across his face was sharp and wicked, a hunter reveling in its kill. âYouâll craft your own two day games,â he said, his tone deceptively light. âSimilar to mine. You will design them yourself, and you will not interfere. No leniency. No hesitation. No mercy. Only barbarity. If you succeedâif you prove to me that the In-ho I molded hasnât been lostâIâll bite my tongue. Iâll let you and her continue this... whatever this is.â
He paused, his grin darkening. âBut if you fail?â He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. âThen you can kiss everything you know and love goodbye. Including her.â
Your silence was the only response, though your teeth clenched so hard you thought they might crack.
The Game Maker stood, his movements languid, confident. He adjusted his coat as he moved toward the door, his boots thudding against the floor with an almost mocking rhythm. With one hand on the door, he turned back, his shadow stretching across the room.
âAnd, In-ho?â His voice carried a sharp edge of finality. âIf you think this doesnât hurt me, youâre wrong. I made you what you are, molded you into something extraordinary. Watching you falter now is like watching a masterpiece crack and crumble.â His eyes narrowed. âSo I suggest you take my words with caution and do exactly what youâre told.â
The door closed behind him with a deafening noise, leaving you alone with the photos, the order hanging over your head like a guillotine, and the faint echo of his parting words sinking into your chest like a weight you could hardly bear.
_____________
Youâd intended to march straight to In-hoâs office, fury blazing in your chest like an inferno. Hiram had crossed the line, and you were done letting his smarmy arrogance slide. You were going to tell In-ho everything, let him deal with the fool, and watch Hiramâs smirk turn to panic when he realized he wouldnât see sunrise.
But the third game had ended, leaving the viewing room steeped in gloaming and silence, the air thick with the weight of death. The tension followed you as you ascended the winding staircase, each step bringing you closer to your quartersâand to In-ho.
Then, hands gripped your waist from behind, yanking you backward into a broad chest. The move was quick, practiced. Adrenaline surged, and before you could even think, your hand shot to your blade. With a fluid motion, you drove the weapon into your attackerâs hip, twisting it for good measure.
A sharp grunt of pain followed as the hands released you, and you spun on your heel, ready to strike again. The dim hallway lights revealed Hiram staggering back, clutching his side where blood was already staining his suit. Behind him, three of his VIP cronies loomed, their expensive outfits hiding bulky frames and concealed weapons.
You gripped the blade tighter, your other hand slipping behind your back to retrieve your second knife. âReally, Hiram?â you spat, your voice low and venomous. âYou need your little gang to take down one woman? Thatâs just pathetic.â
Hiram straightened, his breath coming in short, pained bursts as he yanked the knife from his hip with a hiss. He tossed it to the floor with a metallic clang, his lip curling into a humorless smile. âDoes In-ho not trust you enough to give you a gun? Or does he like to keep his little pet on a leash?â
The insult barely registered. You were already stepping into a defensive stance, rolling your shoulders to loosen the tension building in your muscles. The blade in your hand glinted as you twirled it with ease, keeping your focus sharp. âWhatever it is you think youâre trying to do,â you said, your tone laced with poison, âwhy donât you stop wasting my time and get on with it?â
Hiramâs grin twisted into something darker as he took a step forward. The other VIPs followed his lead, spreading out to form a circle around you, their movements slow and deliberate. They were armed, you could see the outlines of holsters under their tailored suits, but none of them drew yet. No, they wanted to play with their prey first.
You pivoted slowly, keeping your head on a swivel, your eyes darting between each man as they tightened the circle. Your heart hammered in your chest, but your grip remained steady. If they thought cornering you would make you crumble, they were in for a rude awakening.
âYouâre feisty,â Hiram said, his tone dripping with condescension as he gestured to his men. âBut thatâs going to be a problem, y/n. You see, In-ho might tolerate your little antics, but I donât. And after tonight, youâll wish you had kept that knife to yourself.â
âYou talk too much,â you shot back, your lips curling into a defiant smirk. Your pulse roared in your ears, but outwardly, you stayed calm, shifting your weight subtly to prepare for the first strike. âAll this bluster, and yet here you are, bleeding like a stuck pig. So, which one of you is going to make the first move? Or do you need to huddle and decide?â
The taunt worked. One of the VIPs lunged, his hand reaching for your arm. You ducked low, sidestepping with practiced ease and slicing at his side as you went. Blood splattered on your face, in your hair and on your suit. He let out a guttural cry, stumbling to the floor, dead, and the circle tightened as the others moved in.
The fight had begun, and you knew this wasnât going to be clean. But you werenât about to go down without a fight.
One down, you thought as another stepped forward to grab you. A small doubt in your mind clanged through you. It made you wonder why they hadn't used their guns to subdue you at this point, until you remembered Hiram's proposition. They weren't trying to kill you. They were trying to capture you and you'd be damned if they were to succeed.
A rough hand shot out, tangling in your hair and yanking you backward with brutal force. Pain radiated from your scalp as your body arched against the pull, and another set of hands clamped down on your arms like iron shackles, trying to restrain you.
You werenât about to fail.
Not here.
Not now.
With a feral growl, you twisted against the grip, sinking your teeth into the thick forearm of the larger man restraining you. His flesh tore under the pressure, and the sharp, metallic tang of blood flooded your mouth. He roared in pain, his grip faltering as he stumbled back, clutching his arm. You spit the torn skin and blood back in his face, your eyes blazing as you drove a powerful kick to the side of his head. The blow landed with a sickening crack, sending him sprawling to the floor in a heap.
But there was no time to celebrate. The second man still had your arms, his grip relentless. You twisted violently, your muscles screaming with the effort, but he held firm. Desperation flared, and you did the only thing you couldâthrew your head back with everything you had.
Your skull connected with his nose in a sickening crunch, and his grip loosened just enough. A guttural curse escaped him as he staggered, blood pouring from his shattered nose. You turned sharply, your fist already swinging toward him, but you didnât get the chance to finish.
A sudden, blinding pain exploded across your cheek, cutting through your focus like a blade. The force of the impact sent you crumpling to your knees, the world tilting as you gasped for breath. A searing, numbing ache spread from your face to your jaw, and you tasted blood pooling in your mouth. Spitting it onto the cold floor, you tried to steady yourself, blinking to clear the haze of pain.
When your vision sharpened, your gaze locked onto Hiram standing over you, his chest heaving with exertion, a pair of brass knuckles glinting in the dim light. Blood from his earlier wound had soaked through his suit, but it didnât seem to slow him. He tilted his head, a breathless, wicked laugh spilling from his lips as he took in your state.
"Look at you," he sneered, flexing his fingers in the brass knuckles. "All that fire... and yet here you are. On your knees. Just where you belong."
Your jaw clenched, the copper tang of your own blood still thick in your mouth. Pain radiated from your cheek, but you refused to look defeated. Instead, you raised your head, locking eyes with him, your fury burning brighter than ever.
With that, you took a hit to the head from the bottom of his shoe, no doubt filled with steel and slipped into darkness. The final thing you heard...
Shes under. Â
Bringing her to you now.
______
The pain hit like a lightning strike the moment you tried to rub your eyes, a sharp, blinding agony that tore a raw scream from your throat. Your eyelids snapped open, and the world around you blurred in streaks of dim light and shadow.
"Try not to move," a worn, weathered voice suggested, calm but firm.
Your gaze darted to the side, your breath hitching as you took in the figure beside you. An elderly woman sat hunched over, her face lined with the etchings of time and hardship. In her gnarled hands, she held a water bottle and strips of frayed fabric, soaked in blood and grime. Her touch was careful but insistent as she dabbed at the stinging wound above your brow, the metallic scent of blood mixing with the sour tang of sweat.
You pushed her hand away abruptly, the surge of adrenaline drowning out the pain. Ignoring the dull, throbbing ache in your muscles, you forced yourself upright, the threadbare blanket sliding from your shoulders to the cold, unforgiving floor.
Fragments of memory surged forward, crashing over you like a tidal wave.
Hiram.
The proposition.
In-ho.
Your chest tightened as reality snapped into focus. The events blurred, but one thing was certainâyou were in danger, and so was he.
Your eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar room. The space was cavernous, yet suffocating, the air damp and heavy with despair. Rows of narrow, metal bunk beds stretched into the shadows, their frames rusted and creaking. The dim lighting overhead cast flickering pools of orange light that barely pierced the darkness. This wasn't the player's quarters you knewâthis was something else. Something worse.
The uniforms confirmed it. You looked down at yourself, the tight black fabric clinging to your legs, a stark contrast to the garish jumpsuits the players usually wore. A sleek, fitted black jacket covered your upper body, the material sturdy yet restrictive. It felt like a shroud, as if someone had stripped you of your identity and replaced it with this ominous second skin.
The cold metal of the platform under your feet sent a shiver up your spine, but rage burned hotter. Without hesitation, you leapt from the upper level, landing with a thud on the grated floor below. Your knees buckled slightly at the impact, but you straightened, the fury in your veins propelling you forward.
Your target was clear: the iron door at the far end of the dormitory. It loomed like a fortress wall, a cold, unyielding barrier between you and freedom. You surged toward it, your fists slamming against the surface with all the force you could muster.
"Hiram!" you bellowed, your voice raw and echoing through the empty dormitory. "You motherfucker, let me out!"
Your knuckles burned as you pounded the door, the metal refusing to give even the faintest hint of weakness. Desperation clawed at your throat as you turned your gaze upward, scanning the shadows until your eyes locked onto the cold, unfeeling lens of a surveillance camera.
"You hear me, Hiram? Let me out!" you roared, your voice cracking under the weight of your panic. The silence that followed was deafening, a void that only heightened your racing thoughts.
Where was In-ho? Was he all right? Did he even know what had happened? Or was heâ
No. You couldn't finish the thought. Your fists fell to your sides, trembling as rage and fear churned in your chest.
The camera blinked once, its small red light a cruel reminder that someone, somewhere, was watchingâand enjoyingâyour descent into chaos.
If Hiram and the Game Maker wanted you to play, then fine. Game on.
Your fists dropped from the iron door, bloodied and raw, but you didn't care. The sting in your knuckles, the ache in your musclesânone of it mattered now. The fear that had momentarily threatened to consume you hardened into something sharper, deadlier. It wasn't panic anymore. It was resolve.
Your chest rose and fell with measured breaths as you locked eyes with the blinking red light of the surveillance camera. You knew they were watching. You wanted them to watch. Let them see what they'd done.
The corners of your lips curled into a dangerous smirk, blood staining your teeth. "You want a player?" you growled, your voice low and venomous, dripping with challenge. "You've got one."
__________
You cursed her name under your breath, the syllables bitter as they scraped against your tongue. On the screen, she pounded on the iron door, relentless, her voice cutting through the static with raw determination. She wouldn't back down. You knew her better than that. The sound of his name spilling from her lips was a dagger in your chest. It was enough.
With a flick of your wrist, the glass of liquor left your hand, shattering against the sink with a piercing crash. You barely registered the shards as they scattered across the counter, your focus already shifting. Your movements were sharp, deliberate, as you descended the staircase, each step a promise of retribution.
He didn't hear you coming. Hiram was sprawled across his lavish couch, a smug picture of decadence. You didn't bother with pleasantries. Your gloved hand clenched his fawn-colored hair, yanking him off the cushions with a violent pull. The startled yelp he let out was satisfying, but it wasn't enough. You flung him to the floor like garbage, the thud of his body echoing through the room.
Hiram laughedâlow, guttural, unhinged. The sound coiled around your nerves, igniting your fury. You drew your pistol, the weight of it steady in your grasp, and aimed it directly at his smirking face.
"Ah, ah," he rasped, blood already pooling at his split lip. "You pull that trigger, and the game maker will have her head on a silver platter." His smile widened, grotesque and mocking, and it churned your stomach.
Your boot connected with his nose before he could say another word. The sickening crunch was music to your ears. Hiram's howl was guttural, primal, as he clutched his face, blood streaming between his fingers. You crouched down beside him, your shadow engulfing his trembling frame.
The pistol pressed hard beneath his chin, the cold metal biting into his skin. His ragged breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts as his gaze darted between your eyes and the barrel.
"You fucking touch her?" Your voice was low, venomous, a deadly promise wrapped in steel.
Hiram gasped, his chest heaving. Despite the blood and pain contorting his features, he managed to smirk. "Oh, come on, In-ho. You think so little of me?"
The pistol dug deeper, forcing his head back against the floor.
"Maybe," Hiram hissed, his teeth bared. "Maybe I had my way with her before I put her under."
White-hot rage exploded in your veins. Your fist crashed into his face again, another brutal blow to his already mangled nose. His scream ripped through the room as his head snapped back, blood splattering the floor like a grotesque painting.
"Enough."
The voice thundered from above, cutting through the room like a blade. Your head snapped up, the adrenaline in your veins freezing for a moment as you caught sight of the Game Maker. He stood at the top of the staircase, his silhouette sharp against the dim light behind him, one hand lazily resting on the railing. His expression was unreadable, but his commanding presence demanded obedience.
"Get off him, In-ho," he ordered, his tone icy, yet calm. "He only obeyed orders."
Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding as you glanced down at Hiram's bloodied, quivering form. His chest rose and fell in erratic gasps, his face a grotesque mess of swelling and crimson streaks. You tightened your grip on the pistol for a fraction of a second before exhaling sharply through your nose. Slowly, you pulled the barrel away from his clammy forehead, the imprint of the muzzle leaving a faint, circular mark on his skin.
Straightening, you forced the anger to settle, though your voice betrayed the simmering fury within. "This wasn't part of the deal."
The Game Maker shrugged nonchalantly, his expression impassive as he began descending the staircase. Each step was deliberate, the sound of his polished shoes echoing through the room. "No," he admitted, tilting his head slightly. "But doesn't it make for a far more... interesting show?"
Your stomach twisted at his words, the casual sadism in his tone igniting a spark of panic deep within you. You shoved it down, burying it beneath a veneer of cold resolve. Now wasn't the time to crack.
Behind you, Hiram struggled to his knees, his blood-slick hands slipping against the floor. He barely managed to stagger upright before his legs gave out, sending him stumbling back down. A low, wicked chuckle escaped your lips as you watched him flounder, your satisfaction bubbling just beneath the surface. Serves him right.
The Game Maker reached the bottom of the staircase, his gaze sharp and assessing as he approached. His eyes flicked to Hiram briefly before landing on you, calculating and piercing.
"The question now," he said, his voice low and cutting, "is whether you did what you were told."
A heavy sigh escaped your lips as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. Without a word, you reached into your jacket, fingers brushing against the edges of the file you had kept close since last night. Pulling it free, you held it out.
The Game Maker didn't hesitate. He snatched it from your hand with a brisk motion, his eyes already scanning the contents as he flipped through the pages. The sharp rustle of paper filled the silence.
A nasty grin curled at the edges of his mouth, predatory and pleased. "Ah," he murmured, the amusement thick in his voice. "You've certainly outdone yourself, haven't you?"
His voice was fuzzy as you only thought about one thing.
You wondered how she'd survive, praying your training was enough to protect her from the gruesome scenes to come. You looked at the large men that stood in the room with her, watched her size them up as she stalked back to her bunk.
She's smart, quick, agile.
She will fight her way out.
You repeated it like an omen, unable to even consider the other probability. You couldn't interfere, couldn't help her or reach out to comfort her. She was on her own and your hands squeezed into fists as the group of you watched the guards lead parties of players into the game hall, into the first match you had created.
His voice was a distant murmur, muffled and indistinct, drowned out by the storm raging in your mind. You couldnât focus on his words, not when your thoughts were consumed by a singular, agonizing concern.
Her.
You couldnât tear your eyes away from the screen, from the way she moved through the room with a deliberate grace, sizing up the towering men who surrounded her. The tension was palpable, her sharp, assessing gaze flicking from one to the next as if she were cataloging their weaknesses. She didnât falter, didnât shrink away. Instead, she stalked back to her bunk with a quiet confidence, her chin high, her steps measured.
She was smart. Quick. Agile.
She would fight her way out.
You repeated it to yourself like a prayer, clinging to the words as if they could ward off the darker possibilities clawing at the edges of your mind. She had to survive. She had to endure. Anything else was unthinkable, unbearable.
But the truth gnawed at you, an unrelenting beast. You couldnât interfere. You couldnât reach out, couldnât warn her, couldnât offer even the smallest comfort. She was alone now, completely at the mercy of the gameâand of the monsters you had helped create.
Your hands curled into fists, the leather of your gloves creaking under the strain. Frustration and helplessness coiled tightly in your chest, threatening to choke you.
Around you, the others watched in grim silence as the guards began herding players into lines. The sound of heavy boots echoed through the game hall as they were marched toward their fates, toward the first deadly match. Your match.
Your gaze darted back to the screen, locking on her once more. She stood at the edge of the group now, her jaw tight, her body taut like a coiled spring. You could see it in her postureâthe readiness, the determination.
Still, doubt whispered in the back of your mind, cruel and persistent. The first match was murderous, designed to break spirits and shatter bodies. It had been crafted with precision, every gruesome detail meant to test their limits. You had crafted it.
And now, as you stood there watching, you prayedâsilently, desperatelyâthat your training would be enough to see her through.
to be continued...
#hwang in ho#hwang in ho x reader#front man x reader#front man#in ho squid game#fanfic#squid game season 2#the frontman#squid game fanfic#fan fiction#the front man x reader
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cherished birthday
ewa pajor x reader
the best birthday of your life, and you are happy that she is here with you for it
in honor of my twentieth birthday being yesterday <3
growing up, birthdays werenât much of a thing in your house.Â
there were never any balloons tied to the dining chairs, no cake adorned with bright candles, no presents stacked in colorful wrapping paper. maybe thereâd be a hurried "happy birthday" tossed your way in passing, but even that was rare.Â
most years, it was just another day, and youâd long since learned not to expect anything different.Â
so, you grew up pretending it didnât matter. Â
when you met ewa, sheâd asked you about your birthday once, early in your relationship. Â
"what do you usually like to do for it?" sheâd asked casually, her hands busy tying her shoelaces before practice. Â
you stood over her, remembering when ewa still played in your old city of wolfsburg..
youâd shrugged at her question.Â
"nothing special."Â Â
"nothing at all?" her eyebrows furrowed slightly. for a moment, you thought she might press further. Â
"yeah, itâs not a big deal," youâd said, brushing it off with a nonchalance you had perfected over the years. ewa left it at that, maybe sensing the wall youâd put up around the topic. Â
the truth was, it did matter. it mattered in ways you hated admitting, even to yourself. every year, like clockwork, a small, hollow ache would settle in your chest as the date crept closer. youâd see pictures of other peopleâs birthdays onlineâŚfriends being showered with love, cakes topped with sparklers, laughter, and parties that seemed endless everytime you sat in the corner at one of them.Â
every year, youâd tell yourself it didnât bother you. youâd remind yourself you werenât the kind of person who needed that kind of attention. Â
ewa didnât know any of this. not about the way your heart twisted a little when someone casually mentioned their birthday plans, or the fleeting envy you felt when her teammates threw each other surprise parties in the locker room.Â
you were good at hiding it, at playing it cool. Â
thatâs how you ended up here, sitting on the bleachers after one of barcelonaâs training sessions, sipping water and idly scrolling through your phone while ewa and her teammates cooled down back in the locker rooms.Â
it wasnât until keira plopped down next to you that you realized you werenât alone. Â
"hey," keira said, wiping sweat off her forehead with the edge of her jersey. Â
"hey," you replied, glancing up briefly with a small smile. Â
she stretched her legs out in front of her, letting out a content sigh.Â
"so, ewa says your birthdayâs coming up."Â Â
your stomach clenched.Â
"oh, uh, yeah. itâs nothing big."Â Â
"she said that too," keira said, giving you a curious look.Â
"but she seemed a little confused about why you didnât want to do anything for it."Â Â
you shrugged, avoiding her gaze.Â
"itâs just another day."Â Â
"you sure about that?" keira asked, her tone gentle but probing. Â
"yeah," you said quickly, too quickly. you could feel her watching you, and it made you fidget with the cap of your water bottle. Â
"y/n," keira started after a moment, leaning back on her elbows,Â
"i donât know whatâs going on, but everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. even you."Â Â
the english womanâs words made your throat tighten.Â
you stared at the pitch, watching an assistant coach place a few balls back into a large bag. Â
"iâve just⌠never really celebrated it," you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself with the confession. Â
keira turned her head to look at you, her expression softening.Â
"never?"Â Â
"not really," you muttered, twisting the bottle cap in your hands.Â
"my parents⌠they werenât the kind of people who made a big deal out of stuff like that. so, i just got used to it." Â
keira didnât say anything right away, letting the weight of your words settle between you. finally, she said, "does ewa know?"Â Â
you shook your head.Â
"iâve never told her. itâs not like it matters anyway."Â Â
keira let out a small huff of disbelief.Â
"of course, it matters. youâre with her now, yeah? sheâd want to know."Â Â
"maybe," you said softly, your voice barely audible. Â
keira nudged your shoulder lightly.Â
"just think about it, okay? you deserve to be celebrated. even if itâs something small. let her do that for you."Â Â
five days before your birthday, you were at work, buried in the usual chaos. the sound of the phone ringing, the hum of conversations around you, and the clicking of keyboards filled the air.Â
you moved through your day, keeping busy to distract yourself from the fact that your 29th birthday was right around the corner. birthdays had never been much to you, just a day that came and went like any other.Â
you convinced yourself it didnât matter. Â
this year, something will be different. unbeknownst to you, ewa was planning something. Â
it started after practice.. after you left from talking to keira. you told ewa that you will see her at home and went back to work.. keira approached ewa in the locker room. leaning casually against her locker, keira tilted her head and crossed her arms. Â
"ewa, can i talk to you for a second?" Â
ewa, in the middle of untying her laces, looked up.Â
"sure, whatâs up?"Â Â
keiraâs tone softened.Â
"itâs about y/nâs birthday. have you thought about doing something for her?"Â Â
ewa frowned, straightening up.Â
"iâve asked her about it before. she always says itâs not a big deal."Â Â
"yeah, i know she says that," keira said,Â
"but do you really believe her?"Â Â
ewa hesitated.Â
"i donât not. at the same time, i donât want to push her or her boundaries if sheâs not comfortable."Â Â
keira sighed, sitting down next to ewa.Â
"look, i had a conversation with her earlier, and she admitted sheâs never really celebrated her birthday. like, ever. i think she downplays it because sheâs used to it being ignored. the way she said it though⌠i also think, deep down, she wants to feel special. she deserves to feel special." Â
ewaâs brows knit together, concern flickering in her eyes.Â
"are you sure?"Â Â
"trust me," keira said firmly.Â
"a small celebration with people who care about her? itâll mean the world to her, even if she pretends it doesnât."Â Â
ewa nodded slowly, her mind already spinning with ideas.Â
"okay. iâll do it. iâll make it special for her."Â Â
that evening, while you were still busy at work, ewa began planning. the first thing she did was call your mutual friends back in wolfsburg. Â
"you want us to come to barcelona?" alex popp asked, her voice light through the phone. Â
"yes," ewa said.Â
"itâs y/nâs birthday soon, and i want to surprise her."Â Â
"of course, iâm in!" alex said enthusiastically. Â
"me too," lynn chimed in when ewa called her.Â
"you know iâd never miss it." Â
with the guest list set, ewa turned her attention to the details. she ordered an ice cream cakeâŚyour absolute favoriteâŚand spent hours picking out decorations that were simple yet elegant for an upcoming 29 year old.Â
she also started shopping for presents, determined to spoil you despite knowing your friends would bring gifts as well. Â
throughout the week, ewa coordinated everything while keeping it a secret from you. she hid her phone conversations and made sure you didnât catch on to her plans.Â
you, on the other hand, were completely oblivious. youâd convinced yourself that your birthday would be just another ordinary day. but keiraâs words lingered in the back of your mind:Â
everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday.Â
so, you decided to do something small for yourself this year. just a little treat. Â
finally, your birthday arrived.Â
you woke up to the soft warmth of ewaâs arms around you, her voice a gentle murmur in your ear. Â
"wszystkiego najlepszego, kochanie," she whispered, pressing light kisses to your temple, your cheek, and finally your lips. Â
your heart fluttered at the sound of her voice, and you smiled sleepily.Â
"thank you."Â Â
ewa watched as you stretched and sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. the womanâs eyes trailed down your naked back..
when you started to get out of bed, she frowned. Â
"where are you going?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow. Â
"i have a few appointments," you said casually, pulling on a pair of slippers. Â
ewa blinked, confused.Â
"appointments? on your birthday?"Â Â
"yeah," you said, avoiding her gaze.Â
"not for work⌠just a pedicure, manicure, and a massage for myself. nothing big." Â
ewaâs confusion melted into a warm smile.
"youâre treating yourself?"Â Â
you nodded, feeling a little shy.
"i guess iâm just trying to be nicer to myself this year."Â Â
ewa reached for your hand, squeezing it gently.Â
"iâm proud of you, love."Â Â
you smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead.Â
"thanks. iâll be back around five, okay?"Â Â
"perfect," ewa said, her heart racing as she realized how perfectly your schedule lined up with her plans. almost afraid that your plans would have jeopardized the surprise party.Â
as soon as you left, ewa started putting things together. by the time five oâclock rolled around, the house was completely transformed. balloons in your favorite colors floated around the dining room, and a banner reading "happy birthday" hung across the wall.Â
the beautiful ice cream cake sat in the fridge, ready for its big reveal. Â
your friends from wolfsburg had arrived earlier in the day, along with some of ewaâs barcelona teammates. keira, kika, esmee, caroline, ingrid, lynn, and alex were all there, mingling and laughing as they waited for your return. Â
some of your non-footballer friends were here as well, waiting to see their special friend.Â
when you finally walked through the door, you noticed the lights were off, but a few stray balloons caught your attention.Â
you frowned, stepping further inside. Â
"ewa?" you called out, your voice hesitant. Â
suddenly, the lights flickered on, and a chorus of voices shouted, "surprise!"Â Â
you froze, your eyes widening as you took in the scene. the dining room was filled with peopleâŚyour friends from wolfsburg, ewaâs barcelona teammates, and even caroline and ingrid, who you've known forever since they played with ewa at both of her clubs. Â
"happy birthday!" alex said, pulling you into a tight hug. Â
"you didnât think weâd let you have a boring birthday, did you?" lynn teased, the dutch grinning ear to ear. Â
"what⌠howâŚ?" you stammered, overwhelmed by the sight of so many familiar faces. Â
ewa appeared by your side, wrapping an arm around your waist.Â
"i wanted to do something special for you. you deserve it."Â Â
tears pricked your eyes as you looked around the room, the warmth and love radiating from everyone filling your chest. Â
the evening was nothing short of magical. you laughed until your sides hurt, danced with ewa and your friends, and even got competitive during an intense round of uno. when it was time for the cake, you closed your eyes and made a wish, the warmth in your chest spreading as everyone sang "happy birthday" to you. Â
by the end of the night, after everyone had left around 2 a.m., you sat on the couch with ewa, tears streaming down your face. Â
"thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. Â
ewa cupped your face in her hands, her eyes soft and full of love.Â
"you deserve to be celebrated, kochanie. i hope this year brings you nothing but happiness."Â Â
she leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.Â
"happy 29th, my love."Â Â
you smiled through your tears, your heart fuller than it had ever been.Â
masterlist
#ewa pajor#woso fanfics#woso community#woso x reader#barcelona femeni#fc barcelona#vfl wolfsburg women#poland wnt#uwcl#caroline graham hansen#ingrid engen#keira walsh#keira walsh x reader#ewa pajor x reader
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Does anyone else ever just wish you could draw/paint?
Like, draw/paint something specific.
Obviously the most obvious one will be characters for alot of people. Who doesn't want to draw the characters in their heads??
But I mean...
Specific stuff
Like, I'd love to draw animals.
And fashion.
Also landscapes and environments.
I'd love to be able to draw something like this, with blurbs of information for the animals and monsters of KaE:
And fashion!
I just love seeing how fashion evolves throughout history and how the rich are dumb as fuck in trying to out do each other in how clumsy/annoying it is to put on cause "you can afford to spend so much time on such dumb shit"
But it's cool.
I have Infinity Nikki to help cure me of that craving of seeing/experimenting with outfits (it's like, a really chill game)
But normal day to day environment stuff
That's something I can't really fulfill as a craving, beside finding artwork of what i mean.
Found an awesome artist who scratched that itch of mine recently, and its helped me describe some scenes in KaE
Jean-Claude Golvin, French archaeologist and architect!
Look at all the cool stuff he's drawn!
Because of the above, I've taken to drawing myself.
Im no good at it, but it helps me. To anyone else, it'd look horrendous, but I can see beyond what's in the paper. Cause its in my head, i just have to place it on the paper so i can like... lock it in my head, compartmentalize writing/drawing/imagination into separate boxes, and keep the flow state going as an author.
Mehhh, i'm just in one of those moods.
Introspective of myself. Which then got me thinking about something I usually think about.
Sometimes, I think about how many great writers and artists there are with no opportunity to vent that creative urge. To flex their imagination muscles. They must be like horses or birds, born to run in the plains and fly in the sky; yet caged by their economic or living situation.
And by the time they're in a position to actually do what calls to them, they're older. With more responsibilities. A career. A family. A whole set of skills and lessons already gained and experienced.
How difficult is it to overcome that initial "but im so bad right now, it'll take me too long to develop into something good" thought?
Is it not daunting to have to "start over" in a skill?
Then there's younger people than you who are by far more skilled at the "thing" than you. Isn't that crushing?
I think it's alot like exercise. It sucks at first. Sometimes you can't even do more than 30 min a day. You think, "What's the point??"
But even if you do 30 min a day for a week, that's a total of 210 minutes for that week. Three hours and a half. That's far more than the absolute zero you would have if you did nothing.
I think you can write, draw, paint, do whatever calls to you for 30 min a day in the least. Because if you keep that up for a whole year; you'll end up with 10,920 minutes, or 182 hours, worth of experience under your belt.
Oh.
Oh shit.
I went on a rant lmao
Any hopeful creatives out there, I hope you guys take some measure of solace in my words. You're not alone. It's never too late to start. The only person you're racing with is yourself, not that other person you compare yourself to. Take your time. Just don't deny yourself!
#writing#writers on tumblr#interactive fiction#choice of games#interactive novel#hosted games#choicescript#dashingdon#kingdomsandempires
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HI!! I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH!!
Could you do a fem reader with TFP ratchet whoâs in high school (sophomore year or freshman) and goes to a school where thereâs a nursing class??
Obviously no romance, more like a friendship! Iâd love to know how Ratchet would act if there was another human on the team but who was studying to be a nurse, Also if you can Iâd love if you could add June in too since sheâs a nurse too!
Tysm!!
YOU ARE TOO KIND OH MY GOODNESSS!! HIII!! Iâm so sorry i couldnât get to you sooner, I hope you are having a great day because this one is so much funnn!! I love platonic :3
[ RATCHET ] & [ FEMME!READER ]
[ ratchet & human!femme!freshmen!reader ] + [ platonic ]
READER INTRO
You were a timid and cheerful freshmen that starred in the medical and scientific subjects. Curious about the newest things and willing to try new experiences knowing it could either be deathly or a cake-walk.
HEADCANONS
- The way you met Ratchet was somewhat strange. You were walking home from school and you saw an empty and vacant ambulance. This never happens and you knew this so you went to investigate. Once you hopped into the passenger seat, you looked around in curiosity, unaware of the consequences. Ratchet was having a bad day and did not want you to play with his buttons today. He drove off immediately to the base and dropped you off outside of it.
- Introducing himself as a Cybertronian was pretty hard. You were extremely afraid of him and he did not have the patience. Eventually you both got along and realised that youâll be dealing with Transformer adventures and Medical school at once, great. Luckily you were assigned to partner up with Ratchet so at-least you guys somewhat knew each-other
- When you met everybody, Raph and June stood out.
- You and Raph were both really smart and related to one another because of both of your schedule problems. You both struggled balancing good grades and transformer duties due to them both being extremely important. You enjoyed how smart Raph was in Sciences and you both would share some new info to one another, it kinda scared Miko and she started calling it âNerd Talkâ.
- June was a nurse for your town and you knew her beforehand. Before you have met the crew, you went to June oftenly to ask for tips and information about the medical field. Your questions were definitely creative and it always had June thinking, this made you stand out to June so she remembered you too. Now that you two were gonna see each other more often, you can ask more questions!
- Ratchet isnât the type to praise or compliment others directly but he knew that you knew that he was proud of you. He would listen to you cheer in happiness because you passed a class with flying colours. If he could during alt-mode, heâd just smile.
- Just like how Ratchet taught Raph, he will teach you. He has seen you exceed in the medical subjects for humans but he wanted you to push further into Cybertronian. He thought it would be pretty simple since he is a Cybertronian himself but he underestimated how annoying it would be. Learning about a whole new subject that related to engineering and Cybertronians was a bust. You had no motivation to try and it was merely too much for you to handle. Ratchet was disappointed but it was fair.
- You walked home often but every once-in-a-while Ratchet is willing to drop you off instead. This is pretty out of character for him but he thought that it would be best to get along with you and to talk to you as much as possible. Because of this, you guys got pretty close as friends. Your friends thought it was pretty cool but strange that you were being driven by an emergency vehicle and your parents always questioned themselves about Ratchet.
- You were extremely committed to your role as the doctor, always cheering the kids on when they leave for an adventure and checking on them after adventures. When June isnât here (which is often due to her busy schedule) you replace her spot. You're still learning but this was an amazing way to get experience.
#transformers#tfp#transformers prime#transformers: prime#ratchet#fanfic#transformers & reader#platonic#ratchet x reader#transformers x reader#Quirekey replies
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Pjo au
Who is each of the turtles (and usagi) godly parent?
Are the turtles still brothers?
Were they still created (either by draxum or a god who wants to start a war?)
hihi!! thanks so much for the ask! i wanted to do a couple doodles to go along with it, and ended up yapping a LOT more than i meant to.... my bad....
the godly parents aren't totally finalized for all of them but i'll tell you what i have for now.
Leo - he's unironically the one i've had the most trouble with, but i think i'm gonna go with Poseidon; it matches what with the blue and all, and i think it would be cool for him to have water powers. i still need all their mystic weapons to work, but i'm thinking of having the weapons' power sources be from something other than their godly parents.
Donnie - Hephaestus of course; he's been building things since he was a kid. i honestly think he'd be the one to resist the knowledge that their parents are gods the most. he doesn't want his talent to be because of some dad who doesn't even care about him.
Mikey - he was the easiest- Apollo. has to be, with all of his art, skill at cooking, charm, etc. he also possesses the gift of prophecy, but no ability to control it (like rachel dare). it manifests in the form of drawings; when he's drawing the future, he is in a trance and cannot move, speak or look out for himself. this has led to his brothers never letting him go anywhere alone, something he's annoyed about.
Raph - it had to be Ares; however i like to think he doesn't fit in very well because of how much of a softie he is despite being strong, etc. he likes hitting things; preferably punching bags or bad guys. he doesn't like war.
have a doodle of him when the turtles first met Usagi. (the rest of the turtles are hiding behind him btw. they just got their asses beat by said bunny.)
speaking of Usagi, his godly parent is Hermes! this AU is not meant to exchange specific PJO characters with rottmnt/Samurai rabbit, but, similarly to Luke, Usagi does end up possessed by Kronos. However, it is not willing.
Someone does willingly join Kronos, however. I won't tell you who.
as for whether they'll still brothers- not biologically! however, they met as toddlers and ended up sticking together. it was necessary to survive, with all the monsters after them. point is, they're basically adopted brothers- which brings us to your next question!
essentially, they started off as human demigods. however, they were kidnapped when they were babies and mutated into turtles (i always thought it would be interesting if the turtles were humans originally); but as they were still demigods, they were still pursued by monsters. they were with draxum for a few years before escaping when his lab was attacked. god knows how they survived. i headcanon (whats this? a hc of my own AU? yes) that they had another sibling originally but she was killed early on. trauma for the boys.
there are loads of other mutants created by draxum, by the way. Usagi's actually one of them! he too escaped during the attack; however unlike the turtles, he was found by the Camp Half-Blood demigods and taken in. when he and the turtles first met, they both thought the others were monsters.
anyway that's the end of my yap! lmk if you have any other questions and sorry for being so longwinded lmao
-karma
#karma yaps#karma asks#karma art#rottmnt#rottmnt PJO au#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt raph#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt yuichi usagi#rottmnt fanart#leonardo hamato#donatello hamato#raphael hamato#michelangelo hamato#yuichi usagi#rottmnt leosagi#leosagi#leosagi fanart#leosagi au#percy jackson
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