#I will say like…. having some time and money for the first time in life

[oracle-of-dream]

Welcome to the Dollhouse

Summary: Y/n is down on their luck making financial ends meet. When a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity forces them into a bargain that can't refuse. Now, they find themselves at a party searching for a partner but the person they get is someone they'd never expect.

Notes: Male Reader, Dubious Contracts, Financial Struggles, Idol Jay, Enhypen exists, Fake names, Kissing

Wordcount: 6.9k

It’s funny to think about how much money can buy. Many people say it can’t buy happiness, love, or fulfillment. But when push comes to shove. Money makes the world go round…

Being in college was all you wanted. A chance to get an education that was enough to get you away from the boring life that awaited you if you decided to miss out. Moving to a big city, far away from your parents wasn’t even the hard part. It was paying for college… You managed to land a decent scholarship, as long as you did your school work and did some volunteering to make the school look good then you’d be safe to coast through without any worries. Or that was the case. In your second semester of freshman year, one picture put you dead in the water.

It was your first party. No parents to worry about what time you’d be back. Friends watch you in case things get too crazy. And a cute guy who invited you. A frat boy.By the end of the night, videos of you drinking online circulated. And being a year under the drinking age wasn’t a good look either. The school tore away your scholarship, you were lucky they didn’t expel you. You didn’t have the heart to tell your parents what happened, so you had to find a way to pay for school alone. You looked for private loans, but most wouldn’t accept you without a guarantor, someone to pay them back if you couldn’t. And working odd jobs wouldn’t earn you enough money before the next semester. That’s where The Dollhouse entered the picture. 

This was the sixth bank you’d visited. You were desperate. Waiting for the subway, you were approached by a man in a long black coat. He was older than you, but not by much, his early thirties max. He wore a black shirt and pants, with black hair to match. He was almost like a shadow… if shadows were handsome men. “Excuse me, you dropped this!” He exclaimed as he rushed over to you. He had your phone in his hand, ready to offer it to you.

You must’ve dropped it at the bank. “Thank you so much! I’d be dead without this.”

“You should be more careful! You never know what kind of people you’ll meet. Stranger Danger and all that.”

You giggled. He sounded like your Dad saying that. “Aren’t you a stranger?”

He tilted his head to the side, pondering your point. “I suppose so. You can call me Seo-jun.”

“I’m y/n. Sorry for making you chase me here, and thanks again for bringing me my phone.”

He shook his head. “It’s no problem. I have to go this way for work anyway.”

“What kind of job do you have?”

“I’m sorta like a manager. I help connect people looking for work with clients looking for workers.” Seo-jun smiled wryly. “But right now, business is down. Some workers quit recently, and our clients want more new faces.”

You felt a pang in your stomach. You’d been cutting out meals to save money and your job was still only paying minimum wage. Considering you had a bit of free time, you took a chance. “I could lend a hand. I could use the money, and you did help me. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”

Seo-jun’s smile faded a bit. “Um… You’re a nice kid. But I don’t think our work is good for you.”

Originally you were offering just to be nice, but now your interest was piqued. “W-Why not?” 

“Don’t be like that. You look like a hard worker, but it’s not ordinary work. The paychecks are nice, but I’d hate to see such a good kid like you work there.”

“How well does it pay?”

“That’s beside the point–”

“How much does it pay!?” You demanded.

“Depending on your client. After fees from management, I’ve seen some workers make over $4,000 in less than a week of work.” Seo-jun sighed.

4k in a week could set you up for the entire semester before the end of the summer, and then some! “Take me to work with you! Please!” Seo-jun tried not to look you in the eye, but you gripped his arm and refused to let go. “Then you’ll have to walk with me there. I’ll just talk to your boss.”

“Woah, woah. I’ll take you there, just don’t make a scene. People are staring,” He whispered, trying to peel you off him.

Thankfully it wasn’t too far of a train ride. You spent it wondering what kind of work they’d had you do. You weren’t well-dressed, having sold off most of your nice clothing. Maybe if there were uniforms, then your clothes wouldn’t be much of a problem. Seo-jun was silent for most of the ride, texting someone. His face was dark, which made his face stand out more. He wasn’t just pretty, he was extremely handsome. His black hair settled on his forehead and dipped slightly past his eyebrow making him even more attractive. The type of look no one could get enough of. And a few of the girls on the train agreed with you, from how they stared.

Seo-jun guided you off the train after another five stops. You walked a few blocks, turned a corner, and approached a black building wedged between two pale ones. Before knocking, Seo-jun looked at you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I think I can handle it.” You were a bit nervous. There weren’t many people on this street, and the building was tall and imposing in the quiet neighborhood.

Seo-jun knocked on the door. It cracked open, and a big man with tattoos peeked through the crack. Once he registered who was at the door, it closed again before opening completely. Seo-jun said nothing as he entered the building, and you closely followed behind him. The large man shut the door behind you. Now you saw him completely, he looked more like an NFL player. He could easily throw you around if he wanted to. Seo-jun didn’t pay the man any mind, walking forward as he passed several doors. Each had a sign on it. Most said open and a few said occupied. The doors were closed and looked pretty heavy. It was so quiet, you could only hear the sounds of your footsteps on the tile. Seo-Jun led you to an office at the end of the hallway, putting in a key from his pocket and unlocking it. He sat down behind the desk, which was covered with papers. 

“Come in and take a seat, y/n.” 

You sat down in the chair in front of the desk. The room had a red velvet wall, and pictures of models. Or at least, they seemed like models. All of them were men in their early twenties, each was different but handsome. You even saw one that looked like Seo-Jun.

“Is that you?” You pointed at the photo.

Seo-Jun didn’t look. “Not anymore. That was a long time ago.” You raised an eyebrow. He looked almost the same in the photo as in front of you. But maybe it wasn’t the best time to push him to spill more. 

“Why are you looking for money?” Seo-Jun questioned.

“College. It’s expensive, ya know?”

He scoffed. “Yeah. I know. Don’t you have parents, or any other family who can help?”

You shook your head. “That’s not an option.” Thinking about your family left a bitter taste in your mouth. They’d be so disappointed if they knew how bad things had gotten.

He pursed his lips like he understood the feeling. “How much money do you need?”

“Ideally, enough for school.”

“Give me a number.”

“It’s about $10k a semester. More if I live on campus.”

“Okay, and when school’s not in session, do you have a place to live? Around here, specifically.” You shook your head. You caught yourself about to talk about your family home, but maybe it was best not to… Seo-Jun typed a few things on a calculator on his phone, opened a laptop, and waited for it to start. “Okay. If you start working with us, it's like this. We’ll give you the money and other necessities you need, and you have to work off that amount.”

“You’ll give me the money?”

“I’ll have you log into your student account, and I’ll pay your semester in advance now. But that’s only if you accept our offer.”

“Of course!”

Seo-Jun sighed. “Please hear me completely before you decide.” He straightened his back as he pulled the laptop closer to him. He typed a few things before turning the computer around, and showing you the screen. It was a camera feed. “This is what we do.”

You watched closely. It looked like a guy your age was in a room with another person. They were talking. You were about to look away, shrugging it off before you saw the boy kneel on the ground. He was doing something to the older man’s pants. You leaned in to see, but the camera wasn’t clear enough.

“What is this?”

“This is the job. Be a partner for your clients, whatever that means for them. Then they’ll pay you for the service.” Seo-Jun’s jaw went slack. “Like I said, this isn’t an ordinary job. But if you take it, we’ll take care of you. You’ll have a home and meals, and we’ll keep our end of the bargain and pay for school.”

You sat back in your chair as the reality of the offer landed on you. Being hired, partner… A fancy way to say, prostitute. Was this really the only way?

“I know that you don’t want to pressure your family with your financial situation. And I’ll be honest, we didn’t bump into each other by mistake.” Seo-Jun pulled your phone out of his pocket.

You didn’t even realize you’d dropped it…

“You didn’t drop it. I stole it. I needed an excuse to talk to you, and for you to trust me. I know you’ve been looking for loans, but can’t get any.” Seo-Jun leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “We need workers, and you need our help. Or… does your sweet mother wanna hear about your scholarship?”

A cold sweat ran down your neck. You’d walked right into a cage and didn’t even realize it. “What scholarship?” You gulped.

“The one you lost. It’s a shame. How one mistake can ruin everything for you, isn’t it?” Seo-Jun put a video on the laptop, the same one that ruined your chances of living a normal college life. “We can make it so the video never sees the light of day again, as a bonus for signing with us. You won’t have to worry about mommy seeing it, or knowing how you lost your scholarship. You’ll have school paid for, and have time to study. All you need to do is be a worker.” Seo-Jun pulled a piece of paper from a stack on his desk, a pre-printed contract, with your name at the top. “You can read through it if you’d like. Everything I promised is in there.”

Seo-Jun placed the paper on the desk, sliding it toward you, with a pen on top.

“How can you do this to people?” You mumbled.

“It’s never easy. I did try to give you a warning, but you insisted.”

“That was before I knew this!” You wanted to throw the paper at him and storm out, but your legs were glued to the seat. This was a once-in-a-lifetime offer.

“I’ll also mention. Any extra “gifts” you get from your clients will be yours to keep. Frequently, we get high-profile clients who love to have specific partners they visit. And they bring them gifts every time they visit; from clothes and jewelry to cars and even buildings.” Seo-Jun stood from his seat, walking around the desk to lean on it close to you. “It’s a good deal. Fair and transparent. If you’re lucky, you’ll be out fast. And your identity is completely concealed within our walls. No one will ever know you worked here unless we want them to know.” He picked up your hand and the pen, placing them together. “So, what’s the call?”

Your jaw was so tight, you struggled to speak, “C-Can I sleep on this?” 

“No. Once you walk out the door, the offer’s gone.” He said flatly.

The pressure was too much. You couldn’t think of anything. There was no real way out, and this was too good of an offer to pass. Even if you refused, how could you afford the new semester? You sighed heavily before moving the pen to the paper, slowly signing your name. The red ink flowed on the paper, drying into a deep crimson like you were using your blood to sign.

“Excellent. As of today, you’re a part of the Dollhouse.” Seo-Jun snatched the paper off the desk, folding it and tucking it into his back pocket. “Here’s this back,” He handed your phone back to you. “One more thing, if you violate our contract or try to run. We’ll drag your ass back here faster than you can blink. If not then your parents will have to pay off the loan.”

Your head hung. Guilt sat on your shoulder as you leaned back in the chair. This was your fate now…

Seo-Jun handed you a card. “You’ll go back to your dorm. When you do, call this number and answer whatever questions they ask. We’ll have to come by in about a week for measurements.”

“What measurements?”

“We need your body measurements to advertise you. And we’ll have to dress you, give you a nice haircut, and dress you up. Which, the Dollhouse will pay for. This will add to your debt, naturally.”

“I-I don’t want it then!”

“If you don’t look nice, no one will ask for you. If not, then you won’t make any money. If you make us no money, you’ll be stuck in our arrangement for a while.” Seo-Jun frowned. “I don’t enjoy this, so let’s make this as easy as possible. There’s an event next week where new clients can meet our workers clandestinely. It’s like a mixer, speed-dating. That’s your best way to get a high-roller on your account to support you.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is so stupid. Why would anyone pick me anyway?”

Seo-Jun glared at you. “Do not talk about yourself like that. If you start looking down on yourself, clients can tell you don’t value yourself. If you can value yourself, how can you value them?”

Seo-Jun sent you back on your way, giving you directions back home. The ride back home felt like hours. All you could do was try not to cry. You tried so hard to come to the city to be someone different than how you could’ve been back home, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. You got back to your dorm. It was dark and quiet, just like that building. You were lucky enough not to have any roommates. No one to hear you cry yourself to sleep…

In the morning, you woke up as your phone rang. You rolled over, ignoring the call. But it rang, again and again. After the fourth phone call in a row, you looked at it. It was an unknown number.

You answered cautiously. “H-Hello?”

“Y/n? Have you lost your mind?” Seo-Jun said, with disappointment in his tone.

“How did you get this number?”

“I stole your phone. I knew I had to get your number too. Just in case you ran off.” He sighed. “I thought you did for a moment. That would’ve been a lot of trouble for the both of us… Why didn’t you call me when you got home?”

You’d completely forgotten about calling the number on the card. “Sorry. It slipped my mind.”

“Let’s get rid of that habit. Being forgetful isn’t cute. Some clients will call you at different times of the day and don’t take kindly to being ignored. You’ve got a job that’s busier than full-time. It’s 24/7.”

“Well, what do you want, Seo-Jun?”

“When we’re talking business, please call me Mr. Seo-Jun.”

You groaned but knew he wasn’t joking. “What do you want, Mr. Seo-Jun?”

“I need you to tell me your school login. I want to see your schedule for classes and pay your bill.” You told him without any fuss. You were too tired to give a damn anymore. “There’s a good boy. Now, you can go back to the rest of your week. I’ll keep in touch.”

Seo-Jun hung up before you could answer him. It was Wednesday, meaning your classes started later in the day. You took your time showering and picking out clothes. It was thirty minutes before class when you went to the bus stop. Like clockwork, your friend, Eun, waited for you to arrive.

Eun was a friend you made during the first semester of college. He was 5’9” and goofy, often laughing at his jokes like a comedy club. He probably heard a laugh track in his head when he told jokes. He usually dressed in bright-colored shirts, denim jeans, and a big smile. He was also there for you when you’d gone through the frat party fiasco. Most of your “friends” had ditched you, throwing you under the bus for drinking to save their necks. But Eun was the only one who stayed by your side.

Eun waved at you as you walked toward him. “Good morning!”

“Morning, Eun.”

He studied your face for a moment. “Yeesh, what happened? You look like you had a rough sleep.”

“Thanks, buddy. You always know just what to say…” You sighed as you looked up at the sky.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Seriously dude, are you okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure… then, you’ll wanna hear about how Enhypen are coming to the area to perform.”

Your eyes bulged. “Enhypen’s coming here!? No fucking way, when!?”

“The news dropped this morning. They’re holding a small concert on campus around next week!” 

Your stomach churned. Next week!? That’s when the mixer was supposed to be. Maybe you could ask Seo-Jun for a day off to attend the concert…

Eun saw your smile drop. “Hey, dude, seriously. What’s going on? Normally you’re super excited about this kind of stuff.”

“I am. I’ve got some stuff happening next week, so I hope they don’t overlap.” You prayed that it would be some swift joke that would pass you by…

The next few days passed, and you kept a close eye on your phone. Not a single call or text from your new boss. Or would your owner be the right word? You checked your school login a few days ago, and your school bill for the next semester was already paid in advance. It was good to know Seo-Jun was a man of his word. But it also meant that everything else he’d said would pass too. It wasn’t until Monday that you got some news. 

The Enhypen concert was on a Friday. Which made sense, students would stay on campus all the time. So why not have a concert that night? However, your morning was disturbed by a call. You answered it immediately.

“Hello?”

“Good job answering the first time. You’re learning.” You could hear the smirk on his face.

“Let’s get to the part where you tell me what you want.”

“To the point it is. The date of the mixer is set to be this Friday night, it’ll be pretty late so get your homework done in time.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like you care about my schoolwork.”

“Of course I do. I’m the one paying for it.”

“What time exactly is the mixer?”

“Why?” Seo-Jun questioned.

“Well, there’s a concert happening on campus and I wanted to go–”

Seo-Jun sucked his teeth. “No. You’re expected to be here before sunset so we can get you ready. Tardiness will only put the whole team behind schedule, and some client’s time is precious.”

“But–”

“Be here. Friday. After class. Bye.” Seo-Jun hung up without another word.

You huffed a heavy sigh as you texted Eun that you wouldn’t attend the concert. Naturally, he was concerned about why and questioned you, but you lied about having a family matter to attend to. He promised to take videos for you at least. It left you feeling like a dog on a leash. Any time Seo-Jun pulled on it, you had no choice but to follow his orders. In the days before the mixer, he asked you more questions about the style of clothes you’d enjoy, strengths, weaknesses, talents, quirks, birthmarks, anything you hated, and even your allergies.

On Friday, after your last class. There was a black SUV waiting outside your dorm. Walking past the suspicious car, the window rolled down. “Just going to ignore me?” Seo-Jun’s voice whistled out. You turned to see him sitting in the back seat. “Get in. Time for fitting.”

“I just got home. Don’t I get to change or something?”

“Does it matter? You’d just be changing just to change again. You’ll have time to relax while waiting for the mixer to start.” You got in the car, tossing your backpack in. The car was nice. You didn’t recognize the driver. 

Seo-Jun handed you a folder. “Does everything in here look right?”

You opened it. It was almost like a resume, all about you. From an approximate height and weight to even an ethnicity check. “How did you guess my ethnicity? I didn’t tell you that.”

He shrugged. “The internet is a scary place. If you’ve put it somewhere online before, it's on the dark web.” They closed the folder and tucked it into a briefcase. “So, let me explain the mixer a bit. Generally, it's an event for our workers to meet new clients. But also for some of our clients to show off to their rich buddies and convince them to invest in our services. Be presentable, flexible, and obedient to earn attention.” Out of the briefcase, Seo-Jun produced pictures of young men pandering to their clients. “Now, we never call our clients “clients” to their face. They’re our partners. And you’ll need a persona. Something that’s already similar to who you are so you don’t need to act too much. Some like them feisty, others like our boys a little more submissive.”

“How do I come up with one?”

“Don’t, just be you and they will. Once you’ve got one, then stick to it. The savior types might be your best bet, so maybe you’ll get them with a sort of damsel persona.”

“Savior types?”

“The ones who get off on the fact they’re helping you. Like they’re the only ones who ever could, so you need them to save you.��

There was so much nuance to this… It made your head hurt just thinking about it. 

Seo-Jun studied your expression. “It’s your first one, so don’t worry about standing out. You’ll be standing with the newbies, like a puppy in an adoption bin. All the newbies are workers without a regular client, so they’re a bit cutthroat when someone gets close.”

“Anything else?” You sighed as you scrolled through your phone.

Seo-Jun leaned forward and snatched it, putting it inside his briefcase.“Also, you can't use phones. You’ll be engaged the whole time, so we can’t risk distractions. And we can’t let you take any photos of anyone.” 

You grumbled as you looked out of the heavily tinted windows. The rest of the car ride was silent, even the car didn’t make much noise. After the car ride, you were escorted into the Dollhouse. Upstairs were the living quarters for all the “Dolls” as Seo-Jun called them. You were now one of the Dolls of his house. Each doll was awarded their room. Some got to move out if their clients bought them a place to stay, but they weren’t allowed to leave the city without permission. And, each doll had a name. Something they’d go by. Your new name, Minsu, means Elegant and Beautiful according to Seo-Jun. 

“Okay. From now on, anytime you’re in the dollhouse or with a client, you’ll be called Minsu. Clients can pay to change their name. But it's how we can identify you without exposing your identity.” Seo-Jun elaborated, “We’ve had issues in the past of clients who get too attached to their dolls and tried to approach someone’s family to ask permission to marry their song. Which, of course, we dealt with before disaster struck.”

Minsu… You’re new name. Nothing was yours anymore. Your body, time, and now name wasn’t even yours.

“Let’s practice.” Seo-Jun cleared his throat. “Minsu, how are you?”

You hesitated for a moment before speaking. “I’m fine… Mr. Seo-Jun.”

“Good job. You even remembered Mr.” He smiled. Seo-Jun put your backpack in your room. It was a simple room, with a bed, desk, and wardrobe. It was bare. “You can decorate it with what you want, it's all yours. But if your client gives you a gift, I’d recommend making a space for it. They notice this kind of stuff.”

You looked around the room. The floor was hardwood, cold, and slightly creaky. You weren’t given much time to settle before Seo-Jun took you to the next floor. “This is the dressing room. We dress the dolls here in outfits when they have to attend events. We also have makeup available, if you don’t know how to use it we can teach you. You are expected to wear makeup, shave, and keep your body healthy while in our care.” There were two older women there. It was the first time you’d seen women in the dollhouse so far.

“This is Jill and Mary. They’re the main doll caretakers and your beauticians. They make you beautiful on the inside and out for our clients. They also help with cooking and cleaning, so please treat them kindly.”

You nodded to them shyly.

Mary cracked a smile. Her caramel brown skin had glitter around her eyes, and her smile was so white even the crayon wouldn’t be able to keep up. Her clothes were simple but chic like she was about to walk a runway. Jill was white, her most notable feature was her colorful hair. Her tattoos, where they could be seen, were amazingly detailed. She had a snake slithering up her throat, ready to bite her chin.

Seo-Jun cleared his throat. “Introduce yourself.”

“O-Oh! I’m y/n.”

Seo-Jun chuckled. “Not that name, remember?”

“I have to use my fake name with other workers too?”

Seo-Jun frowned. “It’s not fake. It’s your name. It’s just a second one to the one you’re born with. And yes, anonymity is our friend here. So use the name that you were given, please.”

You turned to the women, who were smiling expectantly. “Hi… I’m Minsu. I guess.”

Mary spoke first, “You’ll get used to it. It’s a transitory period right now so just take it slow.” Jill nodded in agreement. “Now, you’re here for fitting, right?” You could tell Mary had a slight English accent, but she was suppressing it.

“I’ll leave it to you. Minsu’s a very good boy, he won’t cause any trouble,” Seo-Jun said as he left you with the two women. Mary and Jill were thorough, each taking a side of your body and measuring you. The length of your arms, legs, waist size, and even your bust. 

“So, this will be your first mixer, no?” Mary asked.

You nodded.

“Are we looking for something more cute or sexy with the concept here, Mary?” Jill asked.

“Let’s ask him.” 

Mary looked at you, waiting for you to answer. “Um… I guess cute?”

Jill booed at you. “You’ve got a sexy frame already. We can crop a top, get you loose-fitting shorts, and give you something cozy yet sexy.”

“Jill, let’s respect him here. Minsu doesn’t want that. Plus, he’d look way better in leather and sheer. I already know what you’re thinking. That just won’t work.”

Jill and Mary started holding up pieces over you, arguing about what to give you. Slowly they moved away from the cute vibe you’d asked for… By the end, you had a sheer shirt, black leather pants, with a leather belt around your waist, not your pants, and a gray denim jacket. You were given some silver accessories, rings, and necklaces to try on. 

You’d never worn anything so… revealing. Without your jacket or the design on the front of the shirt, you’d be shirtless. The black sheet was see-through; you could see your stomach in the mirror, and your belt only pulled attention to it. The belt was odd. It was above your pants, so make your waist smaller, so the loops used for belts were altered to move up for the belt to slide through and keep your pants up.

“Minsu, you look great!” Jill exclaimed. 

Mary nodded in agreement. “Jill was right, your body suits a sexier concept anyway. Just keep the jacket on if you’re feeling modest. But if you want to get attention, take it off halfway through the party. Pretend it's warm or something!”

The pair squealed like young girls, rambling about ways to appeal to potential clients. But you were just tired and hungry. “So, when can I eat?”

“Oh, you haven’t eaten?” Jill frowned.

“We’ll get you something light. We don’t want to bloat you too much, since you have the belt on. There’s food at the mixer but remember not to stuff your face.” Mary said as she stepped away.

“Why not?”

“Well, what if a client wants to take you home? You’ll want your body to look its best if you have to perform.” Jill squealed. You hadn’t thought of that. What if someone does show an interest in you? And they want something physical from you… Would you be able to go through with it?

Mary returned with a sliced apple. “This should hold you over for now. The mixer will be soon. We still have to do your hair and makeup. So sit, It’s alright if you doze off, we’ll take good care of you.” You listened, sitting in a studio chair as they started working, one on your hair and the other on your makeup. Like magic, you passed out almost immediately in the chair. When you opened your eyes, they’d just finished their last touches.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty. You look amazing!” You looked into the mirror in front of you. Your eyebrows had been brushed. Your shawling and nose had never been more prominent. And your hair had a shine that you could only really get from a hair salon.

“Thank you… This is great.” You mumbled as you looked over yourself.

The pair smiled triumphantly. “It's all a part of the job! So go knock them out! Seo-Jun will be here any minute to take you to the mixer.” 

They started cleaning as you left the room, going back to your room. There was a mirror on your desk. You used it to study yourself more. Their work was impeccable, with model-quality makeup in such a short time. The alone time you’d found was spoiled quickly with a knock at the door. You answered it to see Seo-Jun waiting.

“Let’s go. Leave your backpack, you can get it later.”

You put the mirror back on your desk and followed Seo-Jun out the door. The venue for the mixer was toward the downtown area in a hotel, one of the large classy ballrooms. There were waitstaff walking with finger food. Many young men, all fashionably dressed, stood around talking to each other. It was intimidating seeing some of them. They could easily be actors and models on the front of magazines… Then there was you, the college kid who wasn’t in the same league as them.

Seo-Jun led you to an empty table. “Okay, you’ll sit here. If anyone comes to you, talk to them respectfully but in a friendly manner. You’re the only doll from our house, all these other ones won’t know you. Remember, Minsu, nothing about your personal life. Or theirs. Keep everything hidden, and tell only what you need to.”

You nodded nervously. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try and point you out to a few people.” Seo-Jun turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm. He was all you’d known for the last week. And now he was leaving you alone at a table at this huge party. “If you want to be a baby, do that to clients. But with me don’t be a baby, I’ll be watching the whole time. Nothing will happen to you.” He pulled his hand away and walked off, talking to a few men in suits.

The mixer began shortly after. Men started slowly filling the room, all dressed in formal clothes, from suits or high-end outfits. Not one paid you any mind. You were relieved that no one was interested in you. You occasionally looked around the room, searching for Seo-Jun with little luck. The first hour was a panic fest, silently hoping no one would sit at your table and talk to you. In the second hour, some clients found who they liked talking to and stuck to certain areas. Some dolls had almost seven men around them at any time. In the third hour, some dolls left with their partners. 

Thankfully, not one person seemed interested in you. You’d been sitting so long that your legs started to fall asleep. You’d tried your best to eat any time the servers walked past you with a plate, but the buffet at the other end of the room was almost calling you. Cautiously, looking over your shoulders, you stood and made your way over. Walking like you knew what to do, or like you belonged. The table was full of interesting foods you’d never tried. Mostly seafood and assorted fruits. You took a plate and started stacking it with whatever seemed the yummiest, which was one of everything!

It wasn’t until you reached the end that you realized how much you’d grabbed. It wouldn’t all fit on your plate. If you tried walking back to your seat, you’d drop something… You turned, slowly toward your table when you bumped into someone, keeping the damage under control. You don’t drop your food! 

The person in front of you let out a heavy sigh. You looked forward, a huge spot on their shirt from where you’d bumped into them.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed.

He shook his head. “It’s alright, you didn’t mean to.”

You put your plate down on a nearby table. You slid the sleeve of your jacket down, making it slide off your shoulder, as you rubbed the spot. It didn’t look like it was going to clean neatly. “I’m really sorry. I can take it and get it washed?” You suggested as you looked at the man’s face.

You realized he was extremely familiar–like celebrity familiar. He had a middle part with long dark hair that draped his eyes. His jawline was sharp, and his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. 

“Do I know you?” You asked.

“Uh, no. We don’t know each other.” The man assured.

The spot wasn’t getting any better and some people were starting to stare. “How about you take my jacket for now?” You slid off your jacket, showing off your top completely to the room.

“Oh, I–That’s not necessary.” The man said, looking away from you. “Just put your jacket back on.”

“I insist! I ruined your shirt!” More people started staring, and whispering. 

“Fine! I’ll take it, just give it!” He snatched the jacket from you, pulling it over himself as he looked down. His long hair covered his face as he looked around. 

“Do you have a table? You can sit with me, and we can talk about getting your shirt cleaned.”

The man nodded again. “Fine, just take me away from here.”

You took him to your table in the corner of the room, where you’d spent the last three hours alone. Many more people were watching you this time than when you’d left. Maybe Jill was right about your shirt… It made you a little self-conscious with so much staring. You pulled out a chair for the man and sat next to him.

“I’m y-Minsu! It’s nice to meet you.” You put your hand out.

“Are things always like this?” 

You shrugged. “This is my first time here, so I don’t really know.”

The man looked around the room, acknowledging the looks. “Well… That’s nice.”

You sat awkwardly as you looked at him. You noticed Seo-Jun behind him, toward the other end of the room, motioning something to you. Talk to him?

“So, Mister? What brings you here?” You asked,

“You don’t need to call me that. My name’s Jay. I… came here for something stupid and I don’t think I should’ve come.”

You smiled at him. “You sound like someone made you come here. I didn’t want to be here either. I was so worried that someone would talk to me, but it turns out that no one would even pay attention to me.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just… don’t think this is my sort of party. And I’m not very good at meeting new people. I’m only here because I have to.”

Jay nodded. “I get that. I really only came because my members teased me about not meeting any new people.”

“Members?”

Jay’s eyes flickered to you. “Y-Yeah. I’m a part of a group. I’m a performer.”

“Whoa! Do you make music? I’d love to listen to it.”

Jay smirked. “It’s not me who makes the music. But I dabble.”

“I don’t have my phone. Tell me your band, and I’ll try to remember it.”

Jay leaned close to you to whisper, “I’m a member of Enhypen.”

You blinked. The words echoed in your brain before you looked at the man again. That’s where you’d seen him! He was Jay from Enhypen, and he was talking to you. “O-Oh, yeah I’ve heard of that group before.”

“Oh? Are you a fan?” Jay smiled. “It’s always nice to meet a fan.”

“I’m not trying to be weird. I am a fan, but if you wanna forget about it or talk to someone else–”

“No. You’re funny. And I think it would be better to spend time with a fan.” Jay slipped your jacket off and placed it over your shoulders. “I think this suits you better than me, by the way.” Your heart was fluttering a mile a minute. Jay said he wanted to spend time with you and even draped a jacket over your shoulders. Eun would be foaming at the mouth at this point.

“Could I ask why you’re at an all-guy mixer?”

“You can, but then I’d ask you the same question.”

“Touche…” You chuckled awkwardly. “Well, I’m here for another hour. So we can chat… or whatever.”

Jay smirked. “Would you wanna talk somewhere else?”

You nodded. “I’m cool with that. It beats talking here, with all the staring.”

“Then let’s roll,” Jay said as he stood. You followed him as he led you out of the room. You spotted Seo-Jun who gave you a thumbs-up as you passed by. Jay took you to a room in the hotel. It had an amazing view since it was on a higher floor.

“Jay, check this out! It’s so high!” You cheered.

“So, uh. I’m kind of awkward at this since I’ve never done it. I don’t have any preferences or anything. I’d be okay to start and see how it goes.” Jay said.

You turned around to see Jay sitting on the bed in the room. “What?”

“Isn’t this the part where we… do stuff?” Jay raised an eyebrow.

Your face went warm. You hadn’t thought about the context of things until now. Jay was at a party to meet a partner to spend the night with… and he’d chosen you. And like an idiot you accepted thinking he just wanted to talk.

“I-I…”

“Is it more of a, I tell you what to do?” Jay stood, walking toward you. “I’m new to this whole thing, so I’d appreciate it if you could help me.”

You couldn’t form the words you wanted. All of the thoughts in your mind couldn’t fit the situation in front of you. “I-I’m new too,” was all that you could muster.

“Well, that works for the both of us then. We can figure it out together…” Jay approached you until the both of you were at the window. Your back against it, he leaned his arm on the glass near your head. “Let’s just go slow.” 

Jay’s tone was calm and empathetic as if he were as worried as you were. He slid his free hand behind your neck and kissed you softly. Your eyes fluttered shut as you placed your hands against his chest, letting him move as he pleased. It was a peck at first. Just a touch, a test. Then Jay leaned in again for a kiss, your lips meeting for longer. His nose brushed yours as he started to move his lips experimentally to find what he liked…

[diremoone]

yakuza! ryomen sukuna | hcs.

overdone trope with this man but here we go again lmao. i’m just writing little drabbles that pop up in my head atp to keep the inspiration going sobs… i need a gallon of coffee

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna, who’s been involved in yakuza bullshit since his last year of middle school, has a soft spot for you. Most people who went to school with you (who are also apart of his gang) two know that, and they know that unless they want to end up like the Zen’in named Naoya, they won’t fuck with you. You’re untouchable, and the second anyone starts rumors about you (everyone knows they were lies regardless because of your character), they’re moving schools within 48 hours.

Fuck ‘em.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna keeps you far away from his gang bullshit as he gets deeper into the darkness and you pull yourself farther away, into the light where he wants you to be. But he knows that even his little sunshine is capable of being mean like him, but it’s tucked away for those that warrant your wrath.

He thinks fondly back to the time you knocked out a couple girls cold with a volleyball for picking on Miwa.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who swears his hands aren’t stained red whenever they’re holding your hands. Whenever he’s with you, he feels nothing like how his gang makes him feel—he feels normal, like that part of him doesn’t exist. And inside the walls of your home, it doesn’t. To you, in those shared moments, he’s just the nice boy you helped get through middle and high school and grew feelings for.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who buys you pretty things with money that isn’t gotten by bloodshed… as much as possible anyway. You aren’t ignorant to where the money comes from, but you’ve done your best to make your wishes clear. And Sukuna abides by them as much as possible.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who has his younger cousin Choso posted as your personal bodyguard whenever you go out, even when it’s just to do some simple grocery shopping. He isn’t taking any chances, this you’ve been made aware of and have accepted. And you’re fine with it, too, considering you grew up with Choso.

But what you don’t know is that there’s already been multiple attempts on your life and your safety. Sukuna isn’t having it.

🖤 Yakuza! Sukuna who gets fed up when you’re on your third date within four months. What pisses him off is that he can’t tell if you’re enjoying the asshole’s time and company or not. But when he sees the man press a kiss to the back of your hand at the end of the date, jealousy rears its head.

The next night, he’s at your front door, dressed in leather and with a spare bike helmet under his left arm.

You answer in a hoodie and black sweatpants, confused and dazed until he says softly, “C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme show you how a man gives a woman a good time.”

Your confusion turns to amusement. “Was wondering when you were going to take me out. It’s about time.”

Sukuna grins and holds out his arm. “C’mon then.”

🖤 Yakuza Husband! Sukuna who ends up putting the ring on your finger two months after that date. You end up signing the papers long before the actual ceremony happens. And to Choso, Yuuji; and all the others that have witnessed your relationship from its first greeting to the ring on your finger, they can only sigh in relief because it’s about fucking time.

… Oh, shit.

Kids.

a/n: the rain and thunder while writing this was a big help lol. it’s been raining for two days now hehe

[bisnes-socks]

talking about ready to go on this fine sunday evening

the very beginning of the song, before the guitars come in, and it's just like a synth sound, some backing vocals and bass, reminds me of kinda like old school hiphop. an opening like that could easily lead into a real rap beat, it's giving like early 90's and early 2000's hiphop. i was kind of expecting it to go the rap route when i first heard the song! but nope, in comes a siiiiick metal inspired guitar riff (jukka i owe you my life???) that's some chugging, i am also ready to go with a riff like this. hell of an opening.

his vocals come in one style, transition into another, then a new style for the chorus, and yet another for the second verse. FOUR vocal styles for one song. that's not so typical for pop music these days. i love how fearless he is with vocals in general, he's not afraid of sounding weird or funny. and even with the funny voices, he himself never becomes a joke, because he commits and puts his whole back into it. that is genuenly a skill, to be able to be so playful and still be for real.

and his singing in the chorus is good, very pleasing. i especially love his voice with the word"haluut" like he hits some soft vibrato in the second chorus right there, that is some good shit.

and guys. the way the chorus is built. it's incredible.

the long pauses in between words is so good and so... cunty lmao. it's like he is leaving room for the listener to jump to conclusions, only to call you and your mother and the whole country and culture out for being negative nellies who wish artists would fail (context for that can be read here)

so the first time hearing the chorus is like:

sä (who me?) haluut (oh? i do?) nähä (see what 🫣) ku mä (when you what 😳) flomaan taas ojaan kuraiseen (ooooh snap he said that part out loud)

and like i said it's so cunty, it's so deliciously arrogant to open the whole entire album this way, because there is so much space in the chorus to expect all sorts of things. because it could go anywhere. like...

1. sä -> oh he's talking to me now

2. haluut -> he is calling out something i want and desire. that's very disarming as a listener, makes you feel on edge because whatever he is going to claim that you want, you either have to come to terms with him being absolutely bang on the money correct, which means he sees right through you and you feel exposed, or he is going to say something you don't want, which will be a whole different journey, could be funny, could be offputting, could be anything!

3. nähä -> oop, what is it that he thinks i want to see, is this going a voyeristic route? is he going to expose everyone for being horny for him? whatever it is he is calling everyone voyers, basically.

4. ku mä -> it's so very deliciously arrogant to just straight up make a chorus that starts by him straight up telling you, that you, yes YOU, want to see me [do anything]. he's like. you're obsessed with me, aren't you. and he is RIGHT. makes the listener a bit red in the face, don't you think?

5. flomaan taas ojaan kuraiseen / mokaan ja maitojunaan meen -> aaand (finnish) people know exactly where this is going now. he is calling out the culture, he is calling out the haters, he is calling out the negativity and the vahingonilo (schadenfreude?) in this country. and we know exactly who he is talking to, we all know these people.

KING SHIT.

THE CUNT ON HIM to make this the opening track because we know it's aimed at, you know, like Pekka from Janakkala or whatever, who spent all of 2023 huffing and puffing because he thinks this Käärijä business is ridiculous and a waste of time and so he told everyone who was excited about CCC and ESC that ultimately Käärijä would fail and embarrass himself and the whole country. So Jere knows Pekka from Janakkala is still mad that "mikä lie Käärepaperi se nyt oli" actually succeeded and continues to succeed, so he calls that shit out in the first fucken song. It's like he's saying hi to all the haters who put the record on with every intention of trashing it and complaining about it. and it is them to whom he is being like "why are you so obsessed with me honey, why are you here to peep at me, hmm?"

the gaps in the chorus are like the audio equivalent of awkward eye contact you can't escape. he's saying i fucken see you.

and then the one time he modifies the chorus, he says "mä haluun ajaa tosi kovaa, vaik pelti kolisee, hei baby i'm ready to go" and that's him informing everyone that he's going to continue to do whatever he wants to do, he doesn't care if he gets a bit banged up or bruised on the way, because he is ready. and then it goes back to like "you want to see me fail, but i'm ready to go". the confidence in all that is genuenly admirable and something that this culture needs.

and i think the rest of the lyrics, in the verses, are about that too. he's going full speed ahead because he does not care if he stumbles. he's doing what he wants, what he always wanted, it's his passion, and he no longer has anything to lose. he's not afraid of failure. he knows there are people who want to see him fail, because it would confirm their own sad world view, but he does not give a flying fuck and he's not going to let that kind of mindset affect him. so he is fucking ready to go.

and musically, this song combines all of the käärijä elements really well! like i said, the opening sounds first like old school rap, then like metal, then going into more of a dance beat, the use of different vocal styles, a strong message, proper attitude sprinkled with a lot of humour and some twinkle in the eye. and the way he switches between pronouncing ready to go the finnish way and a more "proper english" way, is also a fun little international Käärijä detail.

a banger of a song with the cuntiest attitude we've seen in a while. incredible.

[cuubism]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but: After their first meeting, while Hob still thinks it is a joke, he escorts Dream out. It is only when Dream returns to the Dreaming that he realizes his ruby has been stolen by Hob. Thus begins a game of cat and mouse through the ages, and Hob keeps slipping through his Endless fingers.

oh dear, this was from last year. fun though! could be the basis for a much longer fic. i love thief hob

-

Hob knows better than to gloat openly about his winnings, but he can't help tossing the ruby a few times in his hand as he walks, admiring it. Such a stunning gem, he's never seen its like but in paintings of kings, and even those are rare enough. Invaluable. And the strange lord had just had it about his neck, for all to see.

Hob shakes his head, tucking the ruby away in his tunic. Money can't buy common sense, it seems.

He finds his horse in the stable and leads it outside, stepping into the stirrup and swinging up into the saddle. After a find like this, best to disappear. Easy as the ruby had been to snatch, that strange young lord will doubtless come back looking for it, once he notices it's gone.

Night is falling by the time Hob reaches the treeline. He hasn't been followed--the path behind him has been empty for hours, and the trees show nothing but birdsong as he steers his horse into the darkness. Hob knows this route well, and by the time the moon is high above, he's navigated to a familiar clearing, untacked his horse, and sat back against a tree for some rest.

He can't help but look at the strange ruby one more time before going to sleep. It glows unnaturally in the moonlight, a blue-white reflection on a background of venous red. He tilts it back and forth in his palm, studying the cut. Who, exactly, is going to buy this from him, he can't yet say. But it'll pay his way for years once he finds them.

Hob kisses the ruby's cool surface, then tucks it away in his tunic again, chain wrapped around his fingers for safekeeping. He quickly falls asleep.

-

The moon is still high when Hob wakes, startling back to awareness against the trunk of the tree. He scrubs a hand over his eyes, looking around, disoriented. Strange, it's like it's been only moments since he fell asleep--

His horse is gone. So's his pack. And for that matter, the clearing is smaller, closer, darker than he remembers--

Heart pounding, he scrambles in his tunic to find--

"I imagine you are looking for this," says a low voice, and from the darkness emerges the wine-red glint of the ruby. Following it is the dark shape of the lord Hob had robbed in the tavern, only he's-- he's--

He's horrible. His eyes glow white in the dark, his hair waves in a strange wind, and everything about him is sharp and wrong, like an uneasy nightmare Hob might have in the wee hours, consequences coming back for him.

"Look," he says, holding up his hands in self-defense. Shit, his sword's gone from his belt, too. "S'really your fault for swanning about with that thing, innit? 's bandit country, m'lord."

"Is it?" He... doesn't seem angry. He's smiling. Oh, it's a terrible smile, but nevertheless. "How foolish of me, then. To expect to maintain ownership of my belongings."

"Like I said, thieves about," Hob says. "Got to be careful, now." Really, what did he expect Hob to do? Let someone else get the score?

The strange lord sits down on the grass across from Hob, still with those glowing eyes and that terrible smile playing about his lips. "And what, Robert Gadling, ought I to do, having caught one of these thieves?"

And the thing is. Authority doesn't work very well on Hob. One of his 'flaws' most like to get him killed, 'cuz Authority didn't tend to care whether it worked on you or not. Hob's been hauled before the magistrate for theft before and no matter that he knew he'd be lucky to get away with his life he could never quite bite his tongue. Always a smart mouth, his mum used to say.

It's no different with this lord. Hob's hardly about to bow his head and apologize. He remembers the smirk on the other man's face at his challenge in the tavern. Pretty little thing to be talking big words about punishing thieves.

"Dunno," he says, tracking his gaze over the soft lines of the man's dark robe, his fine neck and narrow shoulders. The longer Hob looks, the less frightening he seems, though there is still something of the otherworld about him. God's teeth, if Hob's brought the ire of the fey about him... "What would you like to do?"

And the strange creature laughs. Just a chuckle, but nevertheless. "I could make you spend your next one hundred years paying a thief's price over and over again in the Dreaming, as penance for taking my ruby," he says. "Should I do that, Hob? Cut off your hands, and again and again as you regrow them?"

"If you did you wouldn't get to see what they can do for you," Hob says. Hell, Hob'll do it even without threat of punishment. He's a pretty little lord, for certain, even if he is fey.

The lord chuckles again, and closes his fist around the ruby, stealing its light. Without the reflection, his eyes seem even wilder. "Hm. Perhaps not this time. I am too curious to waste your next century in sleeping punishment." He takes Hob's face in one hand, holding his chin in sharp fingers. "Be wary what your hands touch in the Waking World, Hob Gadling. Not all creatures will find your insolence humorous enough to wish to be merciful."

He lets go, and Hob falls backward through the tree at his back, falls into darkness--

And wakes in sunlight, his pack beside him, his sword at his side, his horse grazing a few feet away.

Heart pounding, he shoves his hand into his tunic, though he already knows what he'll find.

Or what he won't find. The ruby, gone into the darkness, into dreams, with his strange, fey lord.

Hob shivers.

Well. He'll certainly have to meet him again in 1489, now. Not to retake the ruby--that hardly matters in the end.

But answers to all the mysteries it's brought: those Hob would gladly steal.

[rvp32]

Hi I love the possessive Ive headcannon can you please do a possessive otp 8 snsd please

Taeyeon

Taeyeon is not the most jealous one from SNSD. She does get jealous but she knows you belong to her. But if she ever finds a woman who gets too close to you and overly touchy, Be ready because she will be by your side and you will get a kiss, one that isn't innocent but filled with passion and jealousy.

Tiffany

She's beyond possessive, she's obsessed with you and won't leave your side for a single second. Nothing will ever separate her from you and if someone does they are going to be in serious trouble, their career might be finished. If someone tries to get close to you she will spend any amount of money or time to either get rid of her from your life. You will not have a single idea about how possessive she is, in your eyes, she's innocent and perfect

Sunny

A weird hypocrite, she loves the attention that she gets from men but hates it when a woman tries to do to you what she does to other men. But she won't ever mention it publicly or even ever tell you, her way of being possessive is after you get home she is going to ride you and fuck you till you are almost in pain and begging to stop. She will edge you and make you beg and worship her.

Yuri

She's definitely possessive of you and you know that very well. She's very vocal about it. Saying things like "Let that bitch touch you one more time and you will be begging to touch me, understood." Or "If you want to act so dense, maybe I should do the same to you the next time you want to fuck the pussy you love so much." If a girl ever tries to touch you in front of her, expect Yuri to retaliate and probably even slap the woman right then and there. She doesn't care about what others think.

Hyoyeon

She is the least possessive one, though she trusts you enough to know that you only love her and won't even think about trying to ever cheat on her with another woman because she knows you could find someone who will satisfy you as much as she can. If she finds you with a woman too long, expect a simple message like "washroom, now!" And you will drop everything you are doing to follow her to the washroom and there you will eat her pussy out as an apology. If you were too naughty maybe she would step on your cock with her heels.

Sooyoung

Definitely the most possessive one in SNSD. She will make it publicly known that you belong to her. She would have you wear a necklace with her name on it. It won't be a cheap necklace either. Her name would be spelled out in Saphiers on a platinum base. If a woman is stupid enough to not notice the necklace and still tries to flirt with you. Sooyoung will interrupt you by walking in between the both of you and kissing you, the kiss is just a little peck and an excuse for her to get really close to you and whisper "You belong to me, everything about you belongs to me, even these," Sooyoung says before grabbing your balls and giving them a tight squeeze.

Yoona

First of all, any woman trying to compete with Yoona in terms of beauty and seduction is stupid. There is quite literally no way that Yoona will lose and that is even more true in your eyes. Yoona is possessive but not public about it, but don't expect her to sit still and not do anything when some bitch tries to get too close to you. She will make sure that bitch knows who you belong to but she does it so elegantly, "Hi, I am Yoona, y/n's one and only wife. Honey, you should have introduced me to this beautiful older woman." It is such a backhanded compliment, to others it might seem normal but to a woman, it is nothing but an insult and a warning. Once you get home expect to be attacked with kisses, scratches, and hickeys all over your body. What's worse is she won't let you cover them up.

Seohyun

The innocent but dangerous woman, She is very possessive of you, she won't even let you get a chance to talk to another woman. So much so that she wouldn't mind renting out a massive property where you can everything and won't have to leave. Only male workers, not a single female other than Seohyun. She has a leash on you and you don't even care. If by any miracle you end up even talking to another woman, you will be punished, hard. The kind where you will be locked in a room with her and all she does is edge and tease you. No cumming, your hands and legs tied up. She uses everything she has at her disposal, fleshlight, her pussy, tits, ass, even her armpit but just as you are about to cum all contact is lost. She will ensure you are completely soft before starting again.

[istharoth]

In love with a 2-D Character?! Hotarubi Edition!

Blurb: In which you are a character in a popular game the Tokyo debunker boys are coincidentally in love with.

↪ Subaru Kagami

Another one on the list "does not play games".

But he does! This game in particular catches his eye because everyone has been playing it.

He does not have the idea of choosing a character at the beginning, it's too stressful and what if he likes some other characters?

He's going into this knowing it's an otome game (it's not but characters have the power to ignore it. *cough Haku cough*) and poor guy is just worried if he'll lose a route if he chooses a character.

If he's starting the story + if it has routes, he needs to see all the routes.

Chooses you because you're so...he can't put it into words. You're suspicious but you're also very comforting in a way.

Is financially responsible. Does not feel the need to gamble.

"Oh no, I didn't get the character." *2 seconds later* "It's okay, I'll get them on their rerun."

F2P throughout!!!

Apologizes when his character apologizes too, he feels so bad for them but then him and his favourite character are seen together so little, it's kind of sad :(

He wants to see more of you! But the game said no so he turns to the next best thing.

Fanfiction. Writes only for your character alone, has done numerous character studies, directed your personality, even going as far as to find tidbits your voice actors may have left for you

He's a chill player, does not worry much but does very a lot in the story if he's about to die.

No, he's not used to almost dying in every chapter.

↪ Haku Kusanagi

Where do I begin...?

THIS MAN FLIRTS WITH YOU

you're a character on his screen, he's a human who flirts with you after you say your automated line.

Is a bit nsfw but he means well

Commissions? Art commissions?

He's the king of yume.

Has his own fanpage dedicated to you but no one knows it's him because yeah, how will they know?

You know those "Timely Character" accounts? Yeah, he has that.

+ another one to defend you from any haters.

SPEAKING OF SELF-SHIPPING/YUME, he has likely commissioned every artist he knows + likes the art of to draw him (not his OC) and you together.

Will also get into drawing because 1) he wants to make fanart for Subaru's fics. 2) he wants to draw you.

Merch? Babe he's the creator of merch.

You know that one Hatsume Miku deodorant being sold at a Comicon? Yeah, he's going to do that but with you instead.

Jewellery inspired after you? oh absolutely. Body pillow of you? No. Plushie he made after you? Oh hell yes.

He's a keeper, but he pulls on every character. Has insane luck + cracked builds.

Claims he doesn't know how to build anyone except you (but he does)

↪ Zenji Kotodama

Can he hold a phone...? Does it go through him or isahukvas anyways!

First and foremost, he writes bloody good flowery fanfiction.

He chooses not you, but his brother's favourite character! Eventually meets you in Chapter 5?

BAWLS HIS EYES OUT AFTER KNOWING YOUR FATE

you were so young :( how could the clash cut your life short?

Is your biggest fan ever, only pulls on your banners and if he doesn't get you, he's discreetly using Darkwick's money to pull on your banner.

Don't ask me how he got the card details, he's a ghost, he can get places.

You're on his home screen and because he doesn't need sleep, he's constantly hearing your voice lines in game

Eventually, the biwa in Hotarubi was accompanied by the voice of a character.

LIKE, KEYCHAINS!!! Biggest fan of Keychains, will hold them around everywhere displaying them to the world. He's your biggest fan!!

and if someone else claims that title, he's fine with it! More people love you right!! That's all he cares for.

Prev [Sinostra] Next: [Obscuary]

[1313-mocking-bird-lane]

I keep seeing articles about "phone detox" this and "phone addiction" that and I read some of them. The ones I did read have a theme in common. They say that the first 24 hours are the worst, it's like an itch under their skin and they just stare into space or at their turned off cellphone... YOU'RE BORED WHAT THE FUCK, like before cellphones we didn't just stare off into the void, we actually did things, board games, card games, hobbies, handicrafts, writing letters. You're feeling that way about being without your phone because you have nothing to do, pick up a book or something, find another way to alleviate your boredom and see where that takes you.

Ok some people use the phone as an all the time crutch device I'm sure, but, just maybe, if you're tech detoxing don't just stare off into space in situations where you'd usually use your phone, see what happens.

Also, some of the articles do go into how they had to, borrow cash, or arrange an emergency contact, or a place where people could get hold of them and...yeah, that's life pre-cellphone, you told people where you were going, and how to get a hold of you, you had a physical bank or credit card or cash for money, the difference is we had payphones, which are uncommon now, so we could still call people for, like a tow or whatever, but you can still use phones in local businesses if you ask I'm sure.

Human beings, mammals, also need enrichment, they need to do things, and whether that's doom scrolling, Candy Crush, reading fanfiction, knitting or sewing.

[cherryblossombankai]

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: You and Toshinori are matched on a site for "companionship" that touts being able to choose the perfect sugar baby for the client.

Warnings: virginity loss, premature ejaculation, oral sex, creampie, obsession, sex work, sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamics

A/N: Made for a little fic swap between myself and @actuallysaiyan! I hope you love it!

Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet,

Toshinori has never had time for romance. For so long he stayed so busy with hero work he didn’t even notice the empty spot in his life. How can you notice that you don’t have anyone to hold at night when you don’t bother going home until your body is nearly useless from exhaustion? You can’t notice how nobody celebrates your birthday with you if you spend all day working instead. He doesn’t notice it until the empty spot has become a great black hole, and then he spends night after night tossing and turning in bed with empty arms. 

He knows it's his fault. He never made room in his life for anything else besides fighting villains and being a symbol of peace. It feels like the time for flowers and romance has passed him by. Even if he wanted to try to find someone, who would want him: a broken-down hero who has never even been intimate with anyone aside from one late-night makeout session with Dave that took place (what feels like) a lifetime ago? 

The first time he saw the ad, he was watching porn. His cock was in his hand, ready for action. Instead of focusing on the pretty girl sucking a cock, his eyes instantly find an elegantly designed ad that looks quite out of place among the lewd positions that accompanied the rest. 

‘Are you lonely?’ the ad says in its pristine script. Then a smaller font says, ‘We can match you with the perfect companion?’

“Of course I’m lonely,” he rolls his eyes and tries to just ignore the ad. He watches the pretty girl on her knees, trying to imagine he’s the one grabbing her hair and thrusting into her mouth. 

As soon as he cums, thick strings that cover his fist, he thinks about that damn ad again. He tosses his phone to the side and goes to clean himself up. However, when he picks the phone up again the ad is still there. This time he can’t help letting curiosity get the better of him. He clicks the ad and is taken to a surprisingly well-designed website. The information he scrolls through explains that the company would require him to take a few different types of personality quizzes and evaluations all to match him with his ‘perfect companion’. 

The fine print, of course, is that his perfect companion will only accompany him for a fee, a percentage of which goes to the matchmaker. That’s the part that causes him to click off the ad and try to put it completely out of his mind. It would be an absolute scandal if it was ever found out that All Might had paid someone for companionship, and maybe even more if— 

No. He can’t let himself picture it. 

Over the next few days, he tries quite valiantly to forget about the whole idea. Still, he can’t completely put it out of his mind no matter how hard he tries. It would solve many problems for him if he was brave enough to go through with it. He wouldn’t have to worry about going through the whole dating ordeal to find someone, the company would take care of that. 

‘Don’t even think about it,’ he tries over and over to dissuade himself.

A week passed before he signed up. He did it so fast that he didn’t even have time to stop himself. There was no time to second guess. He needed someone badly, and this was the one time he would throw some money at a problem in hopes of fixing it. 

It took a couple more days for the company to respond. It came as an email with the attached profiles of three potential partners for him that he could choose from. There was a file that highlighted the complementary qualities as well as points of interest for Toshinori to keep in mind. 

The moment he saw your photos, he felt his heart race with excitement. You are beyond pretty— you’re a goddess as far as he’s concerned. You included some racy boudoir shots in your photo album, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched in response. He imagined himself in that dim lighting with you, slowly peeling off that nearly sheer robe to reveal the lace bustier underneath. 

He chooses you without even looking at the third profile. 

***

Your first meeting with Toshinori has to go perfectly. Although you’re nervous as can be, you want this to go well. As soon as the two of you started texting, you felt a connection. He was genuine and easy to talk to. You had a lot in common, including a love for indie movies. However, what sticks out to you the most is how kind he is. Most men would’ve already been asking for nudes or videos, but Toshinori hasn’t even initiated a sexting session. The few times he sent you anything flirty, you were sure it was an accident. He’s gentle, and you like that about him. 

When you walk into the coffee shop for the first time, he’s stunned by the sight of you. For a moment you linger by the door, pretty eyes carefully scanning the room for him. He watches the sweet smile rise to your lips, you’re so excited you even bounce a little bit before coming to the table. He stands up and pulls your chair out for you. 

“I’m glad you made it,” he says shyly, he can barely even look at you right now. If he thought you were a goddess just from the photos, he’s convinced of it now that he’s seen you in person. The photos didn’t do you justice. 

Instead of taking a seat right away, you hug him first. You give him a quick peck on the cheek before sitting down, “Me too! I’ve been so excited to meet you!” 

Years of hero work have made Toshinori aware of when people are lying to him, and he’s shocked to find that you’re genuine in the sentiment. He wonders if you also feel as overwhelmingly nervous as he does. 

“It’s a good thing we’re both here, then,” he chuckles softly as he takes a seat across from you. “I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.” 

He spends a few moments just staring at you longingly. He can’t believe how beautiful you are, and that such a beautiful girl is so happy to be with him. 

“I’m gonna go order some coffee,” you say sweetly, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Wait, allow me!” he says as he stands up. “I’ll get it.” 

“Oh, okay!” you tell him your order, and he makes his way up to the front. 

You feel so happy right now. He’s just as adorable and kind as you expected him to be. You can’t wait to see how things go with him. Maybe this time, you finally found a man who wants to take care of you and who will still treat you kindly. The first sugar daddy you found was rude and cruel to you. Toshinori seems different. You almost feel like you’d be happy to be with him even without the prospect of money, but unfortunately, tuition and rent won’t pay themselves. Still, there’s no law saying you can’t have true feelings for him. 

When he returns, he sets your coffee down in front of you. To your surprise, he also sets down a small white box with an assortment of pastries inside. 

“I thought we might like snacks while we talk,” he says bashfully. 

“That’s lovely, Toshinori! Thank you,” you smile at him. 

He feels his cheeks burning at your praise. He’s really done it, he’s made you happy. For the briefest of moments all is right in the world. 

*** 

Pleasing you becomes his favorite pastime. Whether he’s taking you out shopping or he has your legs spread while he eagerly eats you out, there’s nothing he loves more than taking care of you. He becomes obsessed with you in his own way. He leases you an apartment close to his, and that only lasts a few months before he’s asking you to move in with him. You drop the company altogether when he makes a fuss about you having to give a percentage of your ‘allowance’ to them. 

“I want it all to go to you, babygirl,” he had said on the night he brought up the idea. Secretly, he also wanted to make sure he kept you. 

It’s a dream come true for you. The live-in sugar baby to a man who adores you with his whole being and treats you like you walk on water is not a bad gig. Except you feel guilty at times. He gives you so much, and yet he never really asks for anything in return. You’ve offered him things, but he’s so shy he can’t imagine going through with anything. He’s never even mentioned sex. 

You have to take matters into your own hands. 

One night after dinner, you guide him to the bedroom. You have him sit on the bed and wait for you. 

“I have a little surprise, daddy,” you explain with a playful wink before disappearing into the large, walk-in closet. 

Once you close the door, you begin changing into a silk and lace nightgown. When you emerge again, Toshinori’s eyes widen. 

“Oh…y-you look beautiful!” he says as he stands up to come to you. His hands are gentle on your hips. 

“You like it, daddy?” 

“I love it,” he leans down to kiss you. “You look like an angel.” 

When he starts guiding you towards the bed, you know what he wants to do. However, you don’t want him spoiling you tonight. You want to take care of him, this time completely. 

“Don’t, baby,” you kiss him again, then lower yourself to your knees in front of him. You’re holding his gaze as you reach for his belt. “Let me take care of you, daddy. Please?” 

“Babygirl, I don’t want to…Disappoint you.” 

“Why would I be disappointed? I love everything about you, Toshinori. Absolutely everything.” 

His cheeks turn pink as he looks down at you. He runs his fingers through your hair gently. “Alright, alright. Show me what you can do, sweetheart.” 

You’d intended to do just that. You wanted to rock his world, to show him all the things he seems to have missed out on. There were quite a few tricks up your sleeve you wanted to pull out, but you didn’t get the chance. When your hand wraps around his throbbing cock it only takes a trio of gentle strokes before thick strings of cum are covering your face. 

“Oh!” you pull away just from the surprise of it. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Toshinori’s big cock is still halfhard as he tries to force it back into his boxers. He had expected to be able to last longer, after all he jerks off regularly, but there was something different about having you touch him that made him lose control. He begins gently wiping the cum off your face with his shirt. 

“It’s okay, it happens,” you say half-heartedly. 

“No, fuck, no it doesn’t,” he sighs. He sits back down on the bed, his face in his hands to avoid looking at you. 

“Baby, it’s okay,” you assure him again. You sit between his knees, massaging his thighs gently. “Look at me, Toshinori,” you coax his hands from his face. 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he caresses your cheek. “You know I don’t expect you to lie to me just because you think its what I want to hear.” 

“I’m not lying, daddy,” you kiss his hands gently. His half-hard cock stiffens a little more in response. You suck on his fingers. Then you reach out to free him from his pants again. You kiss and suck on the tip of his cock gently, and he stiffens fully in your hand. “Perfect, daddy. That’s good.” 

“Fuck, baby…” he shakes his head, surprised but also pleased by your tenacity. 

You manage to take him deep down your throat. He is trembling as he tries to hold himself back from cumming again. The pleasure is unlike anything he’s ever known before. His hands tangle in your hair, ready to pull you off of him in an instant if he thinks he’s gonna make an ass of himself again. 

You pull off his cock gently, giving it one more kiss before looking up at him. You stand up and strip off your nightgown, leaving it in a wilting pile at your feet. His eyes are drinking in every inch of your body. He reaches out to touch you, starting at your waist and moving down the curve of your hips. 

“I want you inside of me, Toshinori. I’ve wanted it for a long time,” you whisper softly as you carefully settle on his lap, straddling him. You caress his cheeks gently and run your fingers through his hair. 

“Baby, are you sure?” he kneads gently as your waist, just underneath your tits. He never wants to make you feel like you owe him anything. He wants you to do this because you want him as much as he’s craved you. 

“I’m more than sure,” you kiss him softly, then a little deeper. 

His tongue is soft and warm against yours. You reach down to guide his cock to your entrance. He feels like a teenage boy, shaking with excitement. His head lulls against your shoulder as you sink down his length, letting out a soft moan as your pussy stretches around his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re huge,” you pant softly. 

He grunts, “Don’t say things like that.” 

“Why not?” you giggle softly. You kiss him deeply and continue rocking your hips. 

You don’t quite get to pick up a good pace before you feel him tense up. His fingers dig into your hips as he floods your pussy with his cum. You slow to a stop. He rolls you onto your back, and begins thrusting sloppily. 

“I can keep going,” he growls softly. 

He buries his face against the curve of your neck as he fucks you. He’s sloppy, but oh so eager. You wrap your legs around his waist and your hands are tangled in his hair. Every so often you give it a firm tug just to make him growl against your neck. With every thrust, his cock hits your sweet spot. 

It’s perfect. Everything you had imagined in the last few months failed to live up to the reality of the man you adore making love to you. He reaches down to rub your clit to pull out even more pleasure from you. When you reach your climax, he treasures the way his name sounds being cried from your lips with so much adoration. It means everything to him. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants, punctuating every cry with another thrust. He cums inside of you one final time, clinging to you like you could disappear if he loosened his grip. 

When you both come down from your orgasms, he pulls out of you gently. He lays beside you, pulling you to his chest and playing with your hair. 

“You were worth the wait,” you giggle softly. 

“I’m glad, baby.” 

He kisses your forehead gently, then he peels himself away from you. He pulls his pants back up, then goes to the bathroom. A few moments later, you hear the water running for a bath. Toshinori prepares to continue spoiling you. 

[jelzorz]

195a.

It starts on a Wednesday.

It's any other Wednesday. The on-campus coffee shop is emptier than usual because everyone's still away for the winter and the new semester won't start for a few weeks yet, but someone has to man the coffee machines while the undergrads are away and, well. Soren could use the extra cash.

It's a lot less glamorous than what he used to do. Going back to school had sounded like a good idea when he was working shit hours and too much overtime as a hospital physiotherapist, but now he's poor again, and he's still working shit hours and too much overtime. Now he serves coffee to stressed college students and exhausted academics while he fills his spare time with books about business and money and legal stuff that makes his brain hurt, and for what? The idea of his own clinic is so distant. So small. Some days it feels good to study, to start fresh. On others...

The smell of dark roast is clingy but Soren breathes it in sometimes just to stay awake.

The kitchen is warm today, stuffy and humid in spite of the January chill. Callum is making eyes at Rayla from the till while she busses tables in the dining area, and it's as disgusting as it is sweet because neither of them seem to understand that the obsession goes both ways. Ezran is humming to whatever hipster song is playing over the work speaker while he stacks the dishwasher, and Soren is dusting chocolate powder over someone's almond milk mocha when it begins.

"Opeli! We haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"

Soren glances up and thinks his heart stutters a little. There's a woman at the counter. She looks tired, but her eyes are bright and kind and striking in a way that he knows he'll be up tonight thinking about their exact shade of blue. The hood of her coat is bunched up around her ears like she's only just now pushed it back, and there's still flakes of snow on her shoulders and in the caramel of her hair.

She is, in a word, beautiful, but a really old-world kind of beautiful; the regal, fairy-tale kind that might have had him wearing her favour into battle if she let him in a other life.

"Well enough," she's saying, adjusting the strap of her handbag. "Your father tells me you and Ezran are enjoying your time on campus."

Callum shrugs, but he grins as he answers. "There are good days and bad days. I think Rayla's signed up for your class next semester."

"Has she?" The woman—Opeli—chuckles. "I'll go easy on her, shall I?"

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"You took my class last semester," she laughs. "You tell me."

Callum has the decency to flush a little. "Not if you declare it, right?"

"So you were paying attention," she teases. "Don't worry. I won't quiz you any further. Just a latte with an extra shot of coffee please."

"Coming right up," says Callum. "Soren, did you get that?"

Too late, Soren realises he's been staring the whole time, and that the cup of coffee he's putting the final touches on has a whole extra layer of chocolate powder over the top. "Uh." He swears and dusts his hands. "Yup. One latte with an extra shot. Got it. Won't be a minute."

The woman gives him a look that definitely doesn't wither under and jerks her head at a table by the window. "I'll just be over there," she says. "Say hi to Ezran for me," she adds to Callum, who nods and slides her order receipt across the bench to Soren.

It's not that Soren believes in that kind of attraction at first sight. It's that he's had a bit of a dry spell since Corvus and this is the first time in ages that anyone's caught his eye. Opeli is—

Well. She's older than him, he's sure of that, but by how much, he can't be sure. There's just something about the pull of her smile and the lilt in her voice and the impish little light in her eyes that makes Soren want to talk to her, just to bear witness to all those things over and over again.

He finishes off the last order and then starts hers with a flourish, topping it off with his best latte art (a swan, as graceful and pretty as she) and when Rayla comes to take it, he shoos her away.

"Isn't your turn for a break?"

Rayla raises an eyebrow at him. "I've been here an hour."

"Oh," says Soren. "It's just that Callum's about to go on his and you usually go together—"

She flushes. "What are you implying, exactly?" she snaps, just a tad defensively. "I don't time my breaks with his. Why would I do that? Just because we go together downtimes—"

"Oh, my God, Rayla. I don't care. Do you wanna join him or not?"

Rayla presses her lips together, then scowls at him, red-faced, and slams the tray on the counter before she stalks away to find Callum anyway. Soren tries not to snort and sets the latte on it, pleased for the opportunity for a little privacy.

Opeli is tapping away on her laptop when he gets to her, and he sets the mug and the tarts on her table with a smile.

"One double shot latte for the lovely lady by the window," he says, throwing in a bow for good measure.

Opeli raises an eyebrow at him, amused. "Thank you," she says primly. "Is this how you bring over everyone's orders or am I simply lucky?"

"I'm the lucky one for making your acquaintance," he says, winking.

Opeli laughs and shakes her head, sardonic but charmed all the same. "Very smooth," she comments drily. "If a lot a cheesy."

"These are the jokes, take them or leave them." He grins, smarmy and stupid, and even if she's not interested, he likes the way she smiles, so he takes the win. "You know Callum and Ez?"

"I'm a family friend," she says. "And you are?"

"Soren, your friendly neighbourhood barista, at your service." He draws the chair across from her, and when she doesn't object, takes a seat. "You teach here?"

"A little," says Opeli. "Feels like I do admin more than I teach these days but haggling with the university about what is and isn't part of your job is part and parcel, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's so cool," says Soren—and he means it. "Well. Not the haggling part. Although, I totally get that. Before I came back, everything was a fight."

"Back?" she asks.

Soren shrugs. "Yeah, just doing some extra stuff, trying to stay relevant and develop professionally and all that." He waves her off. He shrinks a little when he spots Barius behind the counter, craning his head over the line and obviously trying to find his staff. "Listen, I uh—I gotta get back over there but um. I'd love to like. Have a proper talk. Sometime I'm not the one making the coffee. Would that—can I see you again sometime?"

She chuckles. "I'll be around," she says cryptically. "Thank you for the tarts. How much do I owe?"

"Oh." Soren twitches his lips. "It's on the house."

She blinks, then smiles, then sips her coffee. "Thank you," she says. "It was nice to meet you, Soren."

"Same to you. I'll um. See you around?"

Opeli hides her chuckle behind the rim of her mug. "Perhaps you will."

It's not the most straightforward answer, but it certainly doesn't feel like a rejection either. Soren grins to himself and slips the tray under his arm as he heads back to the counter.

Some days it feels good to start fresh. He thinks this might be one of them.

[fuck-customers]

This was a couple of decades ago when I worked in sales, let’s say for an electronics company or appliance company or something similar to that. We had an older gentleman come in and he wanted to buy some high end stuff and quite a bit of it, so we were more than willing to help him out. Things started getting out of hand with him pretty quickly though. He was starting to demand that during the delivery and installation we would do stuff above and beyond what we could do because what he was asking for was against corporate policy. When we started to explain some of this to him he was all “You don’t know who I am, do you?” and he started to tell us that he used to be the ceo of a global company that I’ll leave unnamed. Think something big like energy, tech, or media. A company that has products in almost every household. He was telling us how corporate policies are all about lawyers and accountants and he doesn’t give a damn about that kind of stuff. If anything went wrong he wouldn’t hold anyone accountable and we could take him for his word. He said he used to make multimillion dollar deals on the golf course or over dinner with nothing more than handshakes and promises of phone calls over the next week to further hash things out.

We all thought this man was full of shit but he was willing to spend a lot of money, so we just let him keep on talking while we figured out ways to talk him down from his unrealistic expectations. It felt like a hostage negotiation. From time to time he would go on tangents and give us his “insider knowledge” about this company or that. It was all far from insider knowledge. It was everyday stuff that could easily be learned by reading Forbes or The Wall Street Journal.

I was the main salesperson and his first point of contact so I talked to him the most. He talked foul and looked completely disheveled. Everything about him and the whole interaction was the exact opposite of the types of corporate businessmen I was used to dealing with. I was starting to think we were getting conned. After about two long and painful hours the sale was completed and payments went through, much to my surprise. While a lot of equipment needed to be delivered, I volunteered to load the stuff we had on hand into his car. When we got out to the parking lot I saw that his car was a busted up and rusted out relic from the mid ‘80s. I thought that there was no way an ex-ceo of a global company would be driving something so crappy. I was convinced that he was just taking us for a ride for God know’s what reason.

When I got home from work that night I googled his name. Lo and behold there he was with photographs and articles. Tons of them. Not only was he who he said he was, he actually downplayed his career. I printed out some of the articles to take into work the next day. My boss, my coworkers, and I went over them, just dumb struck. We just couldn’t believe it. This complete asshole was exactly who he said he was. We ended up calling the installers to give them a heads up and warn them that they were probably be going to deal with one of the most difficult customers they’d see that year.

We never saw him again. On the one hand we were happy because none of us wanted to deal with him again. On the other hand we were kind of disappointed. He spent money without even trying.

I believed he was who he said he was before you said you looked him up.

The really rich people (worth billions) will drive a thirty year old car, wear clothes decades out of date, and expect a lot of things "extra" on everything they do buy. That's how they stay rich. The CEO of our company is still using a flip phone and came to our meeting (when I was still in corporate) in jeans and a t-shirt. And that dude is worth billions.

The showoff's (flashy car, new phone/bag/shoes) either are millionaires that will not be rich their whole life. Or celebrities/influencer's that need to have that image of wealth.

At least that's my experience in retail corporate and working security for the mouse.

-Rodney

[cruel-hiraeth]

*gets comfortable on your couch

i’m listening. i know you love talking about your most favorite most beloved harbinger 🌝💛

this is all below the cut because i have exactly 1 (one) modicum of self respect. this is the most embarrassing thing i’ve ever done online.

a couple of notes:

right now, this is a canon-divergent au, so the “traveler” does not exist.

while i haven’t decided which region i’d be from yet, this all takes place in liyue, and i’m not from liyue. so i’m a foreigner with few interpersonal ties.

our dynamic is very one-sided enemies to lovers because i really can't stand him, whereas he’s a soft/subtle yandere because he knows from the first time he sees me that i’m “it” for him. but it’s a slow burn because he’s in it for the long haul.

i live and work in liyue when we meet. i’m not anyone particularly special or noteworthy; i simply work with an antique bookseller, interested in learning the ropes. i have an interest in not just regional literature, but international literature, and i hope to start my own business someday.

the 11th fatui harbinger is doing what he always does: shady business. he’s on a particularly lengthy mission (which may or may not involve trying to topple the government) at northland bank. since he’s in liyue for months and acts essentially as a diplomat, he knows the city inside and out. he has his eye on me for a while. i notice him because i’m aware of the fatui—his clothing gives him away. but i have no interest in becoming friendly with him because everyone knows the fatui is bad news.

eventually, childe stops by and pretends like he’s interested in the books (he is but not for the right reasons) and our rapport begins there. he’s charming, but i’m allergic to charm as someone who’s inherently distrustful… i also just dislike him off the bat. i very obviously dodge all his flirting attempts.

after some period of time, he starts asking questions—trying to get to know me—and i’m begrudging with my responses. but also he’s a paying customer (one of our highest paying customers, to my disdain) so i must be civil and engage without divulging too much. with our encounters becoming more and more frequent, he becomes more forward (i.e. he not-so-subtly asks me out) and i always say know. he’s persistent and i turn him down without fail. annoyingly, he doesn’t get discouraged by my rejection; in fact, he kind of (very much) relishes in it—it makes cracking me all the more rewarding.

the timeline in my mind isn’t set in stone, but this continues for at least a year. i try to live my life and he remains a thorn in my side. but there comes a point when he visits me late one night as i’m closing shop that he’s returning to snezhnaya, unsure of if/when he will return. and he has the gall to ask—yet again—whether i’ll go on a date with him if he returns someday.

it’s kind of a ridiculous proposition, and i’m so eager to get him out of my hair (and life) that i tell him fine! i will eventually go out with you if you ever return on 1 condition. and the condition is that he has to bring me [insert an incredibly rare book that i have yet to develop lore for but is basically impossible to track down]. and only if he returns with said book in hand will i grace him with my presence on a date. and i’m truly convinced that he will never be able to find it and i continue on with my life.

fast forward a year or so: guess which fatui harbinger returns to liyue with the aforementioned book in hand, wearing a shit eating grin?

i seem to have forgotten that he's filthy rich and he works in (what is essentially) an insanely intricate intelligence organization that has tabs on all the black markets across teyvat and—yeah. he finds the book. and i'm so shocked/thrilled to see the book that i forget to be pissed for a minute.

so i go on a date with him because i’m a woman of my word. i suspect that he’s going to take me on some stupidly stuffy fancy date since he has more money than he knows what to do with. but we actually go to a hole-in-the-wall eatery that i’ve never tried even though i’ve lived in liyue for several years. and then we walk around the city at sunset and i sort of maybe find myself enjoying his company...

i kind of envision the date ending with him being humble for the first time in my presence. he says something like, “i really appreciated you going out with me tonight. i’d love to do this again sometime, but i won’t force you to." (the humility lasts for all of 3 seconds, but—maybe—i don’t hate him as much as i thought i did...)

so i say something along the lines of, “well, maybe if you get on your knees and beg me, i’ll let you take me out again.”

and then he says something gross like, “i can do a lot more on my knees that just beg~” so i immediately want to kill him again. but our relationship sort of progresses from there…

the end i’m done embarrassing myself for the evening.

[abigailywrites]

dress. [din djarin x reader]

part three of indebted.

ao3 / ko-fi rating: t word count: 4.1k warnings: none

There’s a hole in your jacket near the elbow where one of the patches is coming loose. It’s the first day of your break, and there’s no way you’re spending your hard-earned nothing-salary on scrap fabric. So, the fabric for the patch comes from the leg of your pants. That’s fine. It’s not the first time you’ve done it. Pants that used to come down to your ankles now hit about mid-calf, that’s all.

As you’re getting ready to sew the patch on, Karga bursts into your room without knocking. “I got something for you,” he tells you.

Slowly, you look up from your work and blink. “I thought this was my day off.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Karga questions. “I said I have something for you. It’s a gift.”

No employer has ever given you a gift before. Even if they did, you have very specific rules for what you’re meant to do with gifts: sell them immediately and put the money toward your debt. Nevertheless, you stand to follow him to the living room.

Draped across the sofa is a dress. A burgundy, knee-length thing with a deep neck, no sleeves, and a subtle golden pattern on the hem. The fabric is light but sturdy— perfect for the Nevarro climate. And there’s no doubt that it’s nicer than anything you’ve ever worn in your life. 

You look down at the patchwork jacket in your hand. Most of the patches are faded, blue variants or some kind of brown. But you can’t tell what the original color was anymore, and strings are hanging off of it where the hem has frayed and been stitched back and frayed again. It’s dusty, too. You haven’t had the chance to wash it all week. It’s not much, but it’s completely yours. It’s the only thing that’s completely yours.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Karga asks, picking the dress up off the sofa and holding it up to you.

“Sure,” you agree with a shrug.  

Karga gives you an exasperated look. “Sure?” he echoes. “It is. You should wear it next time you go to the cantina.”

“Oh,” you say. “So, it’s not a gift. It’s a work uniform.”

“Would you just put it on?”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch up the dress and drag it back to your room. It feels funny on your skin when you put it on, but it does technically fit.

Karga seems to think so anyway. He smiles when you walk out in it and says, “Ah, there we are! Give it a spin, let me see.”

You turn in a lazy, disinterested circle. “This is ridiculous,” you huff as you face him again.

“It’s only ridiculous if it doesn’t work.”

You look down at the dress and back to Karga. “What exactly is it supposed to do?”

Karga folds his arms over his chest and sighs. “Listen, I don’t know how you did it,” he sighs. “But somehow, you got Mando to change his mind. There’s something about you he must like. And if we can play that to our advantage…”

“To your advantage, you mean,” you correct him.

He uncrosses his arms and puts his hands firmly on his hips. “No, to our advantage,” he insists. “There’s a bounty I need him to take. Hardly any of my hunters have dared to go after it, and the few that have… Well, there have been unfortunate endings. I need Mando to take it, but the problem is this isn’t the kind of thing he usually goes for. Direct commission work. If you can convince him to take it, I’ll take another five percent off.”

Those few words flip a switch in your brain, and you hate it. Suddenly, something you’re terrified to even try becomes something you’re desperate to accomplish. The dress still seems excessive, but if it helps, then why not? And you still have no idea what you could have possibly said to Mando to get him to take four pucks, but you could figure it out. Over all of these thoughts echoes the constant chorus, “another year of my life, another year of my life, two whole years of my life.”

“Okay,” you agree after only a moment’s hesitation and next to no thought. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”  

In the next couple of hours, Karga hatches the beginnings of a strategy. He debates himself on the best way for you to get the job done. You interrupt him only a few times with some pertinent questions. 

 “Isn’t it going to be difficult to gauge his reaction?” you ask at one point. “Should I ask him to take his helmet off?”

This earns you a stern look from Karga. “That’s a joke, right? Tell me that’s a joke.”

It very much is not. Still, you scoff. “Oh, come on,” you say. “Of course, it’s a joke.” That’s the end of your questions for a while. 

Eventually, Karga decides that you have as much of a plan as you need for the moment. “Besides,” he says. “Mando won’t be coming back for months. We don’t have to worry about this until then.”

You don’t know anything different, so you don’t argue, figuring that anything you need to know can be learned later. But it’s time you don’t have. It’s only a month later when Karga hurries over to your usual seat at the booth. “I got a page from the shipyard master,” he tells you. “Mando’s Razor Crest is landing.”

“What?” you question.

“I know, I didn’t expect this either,” Karga says. “Just get out there, and stick to the plan.” 

“But we never finished the plan,” you remind him in a half-whisper, half-shout. “You said we wouldn’t have to worry about it for months. It’s only been one month.”

Karga isn’t hearing it. In fact, he’s practically pushing you out of the booth. “Just do whatever you did last time.”

“I don’t know what I did last time!”

“Would you just go?”

At this, you stand and smooth out the skirt of your dress. You’re still not entirely used to it. It’s been difficult to see it as anything other than a uniform. A tool. Not yours. Now is the time to put it to the test. How effective is an errand girl in a dress against a hardened warrior? It feels more absurd than ever. “Alright, fine,” you mutter as you walk away.

You make it to the shipyard as fast as you can, and the shipyard master hands you a holopad and directs you to Mando’s Razor Crest. The ramp is still up when you get there, but you’re gripping the holopad like it’s the only floating thing on a planet of ocean. But when the ramp begins to lower and you see him standing right there? That’s when you have to remind yourself not to break the thing.

When Mando sees you, he stops halfway down the ramp. The moment of silence that passes is nearly unbearable until he says, “What is this?”

You look down at yourself and back up to him, eyebrows furrowed. “Um… a dress?”

“No,” he says, continuing down the ramp until he’s standing over you. “You. What are you doing here?”

You hold the holopad closer to yourself. “Karga sent me to take inventory,” you tell him.

“He sent you to the shipyard… in a dress.”

You shrug. “It’s just an outfit.”

“It’s impractical. You look uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my idea,” you tell him, growing frustrated. “Karga thought you might—”

“Might what?”

The way he’s staring at you, you get the impression that he already knows but wants to hear you say it anyway.  “Might…” you huff, your face going warm. “Might appreciate… it.”

“Appreciate you in it? Is that what you mean?”

You fold your arms over your chest, holding the holopad tight against you as a barrier. Maker, you wish you had your jacket. Wish you had some fabric on your arms. “Yes, I guess, that was the plan,” you answer.  “Like I said, it wasn’t my idea.”

“What does Karga want?” he questions. 

You shake your head and shrug. You could lie, but if there’s one thing you remember from the last time you negotiated with Mando, it’s that he doesn’t mind brazen honesty. “It’s some kind of direct commission bounty he wants you to pick up,” you explain. “He said it was high-dollar but not your usual gig.”

“And Karga wants you to convince me to do it?”

You tilt your head to the side, but you don’t look him in the eye… visor… whatever. “Offered me another five percent if I could. Anyway, I managed it last time, didn’t I?” 

That silences him for a moment. “Let me be clear,” he begins, finally. “I saw four good jobs, and I took them. I don’t do anything because someone begs me to.”

The way your spine goes stiff and your throat tightens is almost immediate. First, he calls you a slave, now this. On your planet, no one would have dreamed of calling— of implying—  “I’m not a beggar,” you tell him, your voice low, and your gaze snapping onto him. “Don’t call me a beggar.”

“Then what are you?”

“I already told you. I’m a servant. An indentured servant. That’s all. Not a beggar, not a slave.”

“If you’re not a slave, why not leave?” he questions. “It’s your grandfather’s debt, not yours.” 

“Because,” you tell him. “My grandfather and my father died paying it off, and I’d rather die than disrespect that. This is the custom where I’m from. It’s shameful to be indebted like this, but it’s worse not to bear it gracefully. So, you give everything you have to the one who holds your debt, and you work for them for as long as you have to. The last thing you give is the clothes on your back, and you do not try to run from it.”

It isn’t the first time you’ve had to explain this to someone, but it’s never any less tiring. A brutal reminder of all the life that has been lost in the wake of a debt you’ve carried with you as long as you can remember only ever serves to exhaust you. But it does nothing for your present self. So, you sigh and straighten your shoulders. “I’m not here to explain all this to you,” you eventually decide. “Karga’s waiting, and I’m just here to take inventory.”

That seems to be enough for Mando. He stalks away without a word.

You’re sure you just fucked up that entire encounter. It’s definitely not what Karga had in mind, anyway. But what else were you supposed to do? Just stand there and take insults from a— a walking, talking suit of armor? 

You can almost hear your father’s voice reminding you that not upsetting your employer also means not upsetting your employer’s friends. Then it’s your grandfather’s voice reminding you that there’s nothing that upsets people more than hearing about other people’s difficulties. And then, of course, it’s your own voice. “Stupid,” you whisper to yourself through gritted teeth. “Fucking stupid.”

That’s about when the actual shipyard crew to take inventory comes to take over, and that reminds you that all you were supposed to do was stand there in a dress and look pretty. And you failed at that so spectacularly you almost want to laugh. The dress was never going to work, anyway. It’s time you finished patching up your jacket.

✦✦✦

He knows exactly what Karga’s trying to do by setting you up just outside his ship. You’re supposed to be the first thing he sees. There’s no way he’s going to believe that the same girl who didn’t know how to open his profile last month is suddenly in charge of taking inventory. You’re a strategic pawn. Meant to either soften him up or break him down. What he doesn’t like to admit even to himself is that neither option is impossible. 

You’ve been on his mind lately. Most of his thoughts consist of what the hell is Karga thinking by keeping an indentured servant? But the fact that you keep showing up in his thoughts at all… The fact that your name has been stuck on repeat in his head ever since Karga said it… 

No, he knows what the hell Karga is thinking. Now that he’s seen you again, he knows exactly what’s going on. Karga isn’t stupid. Karga knows he took twice as many pucks as usual and why. And Karga’s counting on it working a second time.

He’s hyper-aware of the fact as he enters the cantina and approaches Karga’s table. The bastard is leaning back like he’s not on the edge of his seat waiting to see if his scheme paid off.

“Ah, that was fast,” Karga remarks. “Did you catch them all?”

He responds by tossing all four fobs on the table.

Karga looks over the fobs and nods. “Good, I’ll begin the offload.” 

Karga barks instructions in Huttese to someone nearby while he unclasps his rifle, sets it down on the table in front of him, and sits. Karga spends too long rifling around in his satchel until he produces payment and sets it down in front of him.

“These are Imperial credits,” he says.

“They still spend,” Karga points out.

“I don’t know if you heard, but the Empire is gone.” 

Karga leans back in his seat. “It’s all I’ve got.”

That’s all he needs to hear. He grabs up the fobs and begins to stand. 

Karga reaches for the fobs. “Save the theatrics!” he says. “Fine. I’ll… I can do Calamari Flan. But I can only pay half.”

Another of Karga’s games. Paying him what he would’ve gotten for just his two usual fobs anyway, but he's not in the mood to fight it. “Fine,” he agrees, taking the Flan. “I want my next job.” 

“Of course,” Karga agrees, reaching for the unclaimed pucks. “Hmm… I have a bail jumper. A bail jumper, another bail jumper, a wanted smuggler.”

That’s four. That’s what he’s got to start taking from now on if he wants to keep the heat of speculation off. “I’ll take them all.”

“No, hold on. There are other members of the guild, and this is all I have.”

“Why so slow?”

“It’s not slow at all, actually. Very busy. They just don’t want to pay Guild rates. They don’t mind if things get sloppy.”

He can sense where Karga is trying to lead the conversation, but he can’t avoid it. So, he grits his teeth and asks, “What’s your highest bounty?”

“Not much. Five thousand.”

“That won’t even cover fuel these days.”

To his credit, Karga doesn’t immediately jump on that. He takes a second. Hums. Raises his brows in thought. “There is one job.”

There it is. No way Karga was going to trust the entire thing to you. He’s had this orchestrated for a while now, probably even beyond what you know. “Let’s see the puck,” he decides.

“No puck. Face to face. Direct commission. Deep pocket.”

“Underworld?”

“All I know is no chain code. Do you want the chit or not?” Karga holds it up.

It’s a second before he makes up his mind and takes the chit. Holds it for a second before standing to leave. It’s a year of someone’s life, after all. Anyway, it is the highest-paying bounty.

✦✦✦

There’s enough time for you to run back to the house and grab your jacket before returning right back to the shipyard. The final piece of Karga’s grand, pointless puzzle is in place. You were the first thing Mando saw when he arrived. Now, you’re supposed to be the last thing he sees before he leaves. Karga’s purpose in this meticulous staging is still a mystery, but never let it be said you don’t follow orders. You simply refuse to twiddle your thumbs while you wait for Mando to get back.

So, you find a crate to sit on and get busy finishing up the patch that you didn’t have the chance to almost a full month ago. It feels good to have your jacket in your hands again. Patching the bulky, heavy, rough thing is doing a spectacular job of keeping your mind off of the fact that Mando is going to be back soon. Probably no more convinced than he was a couple of hours ago. Probably still pissed. 

Keep it out of your mind. Keep working on the jacket. Why stop at a patch? You could fix the hem that’s coming loose, too. 

You feel it when he enters the shipyard, and you can’t explain that at all. All you know is that the hair stands up on the back of your neck suddenly. A shiver passes through you, and when you look up, he’s walking towards you. 

There’s a new beskar pauldron on his shoulder that wouldn’t look as impressive on anyone else. It adds something that you can’t describe in words but makes you keep staring as he approaches instead of shrinking away from even looking at him.

“So, did you take the puck?” you hear the sound of your voice asking before you have time to make yourself nervous about it. 

He doesn’t answer which tells you that he doesn’t want you to know. Which you’re pretty sure means he definitely took it. 

“Well,” you sigh, going back to your hemming. “Good luck.”

He’s still standing there, and some part of you is bracing for a lecture. A warning. Some kind of confrontation dealing with the attitude you took with him a few hours ago. But his next words are so unexpected that it stops your hands from working. “I realize I offended you,” he says instead. “I apologize. That wasn’t my intention.”

That’s… surprising. There’s no face when you look up at him, of course. Just the helmet, tilted down to look back at you. But if you squint, you think you can almost make out an expression. Something genuine in the way he’s holding himself.

You blink through the shock and give him a half-hearted, close-lipped smile in return. “Hey,” you say. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was begging. You were right.”

“No,” he says. “You were doing your job, and I was ignorant and disrespectful. It won’t happen again.”

Nothing about this encounter is what you expected. No one has ever apologized to you like this before. No one has ever felt the need. You’re just a servant, after all. Unsure how else to respond, you shake your head. “Um… it’s alright,” you tell him. “Indentured servitude where I come from… it’s like the antithesis of religion. Instead of dedicating your life to getting closer to something immaterial, you dedicate it to getting away from something material. But I know that’s not normal, and you couldn’t have known anything about it. It was an overreaction, and I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t respond. Good. You’re not sure how you would handle a response. You’re still reeling from the fact that this is coming from the silent, stoic Mandalorian. The silence seems to be the natural thing, and it suits you fine.

“What are you doing?” 

You look down at your work and back up to him. “Fixing the hem of my jacket. It’s time I got rid of this dress. Karga kinda threw it on me.”

“He does that.”

You shrug. “Evidently.”

By all means, that should be the end of the conversation. It’s here you would absolutely expect Mando to walk away, fly off, and not speak to you again. But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks over his shoulder and back at you. Takes a step closer. “What if he couldn’t anymore?” he says.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“You could tell me what Karga’s planning before I’m even on-planet.”

You stare at him a moment, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Why would I do that?” you eventually sputter.

“It would save you the work of convincing me to take a job.”

Good point. It takes a second of utter confusion to think of a counter. “It could also screw up my so far amazing track record that’s taken two years off my debt so far.”

“I’d compensate you.”

“Like an inside job?”

“Like an inside job.”

You drop the needle on your lap, plant your hands firmly on the edge of the crate, and lean back. “I don’t know,” you grumble. “It’s a good idea, but how would I even do it? Karga monitors my personal frequency. He’d catch on before long.”

He pauses for just a moment. Then he reaches for his utility belt, pulls out a comlink, and tosses it in your lap. “Karga can’t monitor that,” he tells you.

Slowly, you reach for the comlink and turn it over in your hand. “Holy kriff, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The way he says it makes you believe he thinks you’re wasting his time with pointless questions. But in all fairness, it seems unlikely.

And yet, you can’t think of any reason to refuse. “I…” you start, trying to make something up. Karga would be pissed but after the humiliating dress debacle? That’s more of a perk, and nothing else comes to mind. “Could you do an advance?”

Mando nods and retrieves a piece of Flan. A whole piece of Flan. Two months of pay for you. Slowly, you reach for it and squish the coin between your fingers. 

“Get back to Karga,” Mando instructs you as you examine the gelatinous currency. “Contact me as soon as you know what he’s planning.”

When you look up to face him again, he’s already walking away. You have no idea what almost compels you to call after him. Gratitude, you guess. But gratitude doesn’t usually feel like your insides are being wrung out. No, that’s what fear feels like, but you’re not afraid either.

Hesitantly, you stand and start walking back to the house. Back to your room, with your jacket slung over your shoulder, the comlink you hid in the pocket making it heavy. By the time you get there, it’s dusk. From your window, you can see the shape of Mando’s Razor Crest taking off. That wringing, twisting feeling is still there. It’s taking over your whole body, making you numb in your limbs.

It doesn’t help when Karga bursts into your room without knocking… again. 

“Oh, he’s taking off, huh?” Karga asks, walking to stand next to you in front of the window.

You shrug your shoulders and wrap your arms around yourself. “He took the puck, right?” you ask him, after a while.

“He took the job,” Karga confirms. “I could give you the five percent for it, but I’m not sure if it was you that convinced him or me.”

You don’t bother arguing or even reacting. All you do is face him and pull out the piece of Flan. “I got this from Mando. I’d like it to go towards my debt, please.”

He takes the piece and examines it. “How did you get this?” he eventually questions.

“I agreed to things,” you answer, purposefully vague. You’re almost positive Karga is going to take it the entirely wrong way. Good. He doesn’t need the context.

Karga exhales slowly as he pockets the Flan. “Well, congratulations,” he says like it’s physically painful to do so. “Five percent it is.”

You exhale with the weight of another year’s worth of debt coming off of your shoulders, but you find that you’re not as light as you were the first time it happened. Once again, you fix your eyes on the Razor Crest fading from view. Once the ship is out of sight, you turn back to Karga. “What happened to the hunters who went after this thing?”

“You mean the few that actually dared?” he asks. Then he shrugs. “All killed. But I wouldn’t worry about it. If anyone’s got a shot at this thing, it’s Mando.”

“But he could die,” you point out. “I helped you convince him to go on a hunt where he could very well die.”

“What are you so worked up over? It’s not like you’re the one pulling the trigger. You did good,” Karga says as he pats your shoulder and walks past you.

You should be happy, you know that. In the brief amount of time you’ve been on Nevarro, you’ve accomplished the impossible twice. Ten percent of your debt is gone within the span of a couple of months. But that suffocating feeling you used to get when the Mandalorian was around is coming to you as he’s leaving, and the fear that it might never change is keeping you underwater.

You sigh and turn to walk back to the house. One month down. Eighteen years to go.

[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: Your parents met JJ and they disapprove of you dating a Pogue, especially the Maybank boy

Today was finally the day that JJ was going to meet my parents. I'd told them all about him and how he made me feel. They didn't like that he was a Pogue, but I mean, what Kook parents would be okay with their only daughter dating a Pogue? That's just not how it works on the island sadly. Both my parents were raised as Kooks, and they wouldn't have it any other way for me or my brother. He's as much of a Kook as they came, he took full advantage of the privileged life.

I can't lie and say I don't enjoy being one, but I've also not allowed myself to ignore the disadvantages that Pogues have had on the island. That's how I met JJ. I was helping Big John a few years back bring some diving gear back to his house from my parent's shop and JJ happened to be there with John B. I started hanging out with them a few weeks later when I happened to run into John B at The Wreck. He was there getting some end-of-the-night food from Kie for him, JJ, and Pope. We've been kind of inseparable since. We've of course had our moments, especially when Big John went missing at sea.

JJ and I have been together since then; it was pretty crappy timing, but we also realized that life was just too damn short. We had a conversation the same week he went missing and realized the feelings were mutual. The group knew about two weeks later, JJ's dad knew too but he didn't have much to say. He was just proud of his son for 'landing a Kook' and telling JJ to make sure to take advantage of the 'rich kid living.' I haven't been around there since.

We've been putting off him meeting my parents, but today was the day. JJ was nervous, the most nervous he'd been since the Pogues found out about us. He was so worried they'd use the no-macking rule and break us up, I knew better though.

I'd picked JJ up from the Chateau and was headed to my house. "JJ, you OD over there?" I asked looking over to him as he was picking at his fingernails. He looked up at me, nervously biting his lip. He just shook his head and looked back out the window, the houses slowly getting nicer the longer the drive. "J, it's going to be okay." I place my hand over his, hoping to calm him down as I pull into our driveway.

I put the car in park and look over at JJ, he looked extremely nervous. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek before getting out of the car. I go over and open the door for him, realizing he hasn't moved. He slowly gets out of the car, placing his hat on his head. I take hold of his hand and lead him to the front door. "We're here!" I yell when I open the door. They walk around the corner and I can immediately see the judgment in their eyes; I know JJ could too. "Mom, Dad, this is JJ," I tell them trying to break the awkward silence. I look over at him and take the hat off his head, placing it on the counter beside us. They quickly walk over and shake JJ's hand. "Nice to meet you JJ," they both said.

"Nice to meet you too, sir, ma'am," he told them, trying to be as polite as he could, not wanting to say the wrong thing. We all stood there for a second before walking into the dining room where there was an array of food placed on the table. Mom and Dad sat on one side whereas JJ and I sat on the other side. We made awkward conversation about the weather and school while we ate. Dad was the first to hit JJ with the questions they really wanted to know. "So, JJ, tell me what are your plans for the next five years?" I look at my dad, wanting to tell him to stop, knowing this was only the first of many questions.

"Well, Sir, I'm hoping to graduate high school and get a job fixing up cars and boats at the Yard. I would like to save up enough money to buy a house and maybe a nice boat, if I'm lucky," he responded honestly. I chuckled at the last part, knowing full well he'd buy a boat before a house any day of the week. My dad just kept looking at him, "The Yard? Why not try to go to college?"

"Well, I figure I don't have the money to pay for college, so I need to take a different path in life," he responded taking a sip of his water, "plus, I'm not sure I would want to go to college." I know my dad isn't going to like that answer. He claims all of his success came from him going to college, but in all reality, it all came from him and Ward Cameron's business schemes. Our family having money has nothing to do with my dad's college degree, but he'd never admit that. "College is important to be successful, I might say, it's most important. I can't imagine the Yard being very successful as they haven't been able to expand to anywhere besides the cut."

"Dad, please stop," I tell him, "JJ is a-" I try and say before I'm interrupted by my dad.

"Now honey, I just want to know how JJ plans to provide for you," he tells me, looking over to JJ, "So, how will you provide for our daughter?"

"Uhm, w-," JJ stumbled, not even being able to get a word in before my mom started in on him. "JJ, who is your dad?"

"Luke Maybank, ma'am," he told her. I could see him getting more and more nervous by the second. I quickly took his hand and held it under the table, knowing my dad would have a fit.

"Luke Maybank? It all makes sense now," my dad chuckled under his breath, "you don't have to explain anything else." I could see the anger and sadness on JJ's face, making me yell at my dad. "What the hell Dad! You don't ev-"

"You watch your damn tone with me," he yelled at me standing up and pointing his finger at me. "We leave you alone and you decide to fall in love with a fucking Pogue, let alone Maybank's boy! I will not allow this," he sat back down before turning to JJ, "JJ, it was not a pleasure to meet you. Now if you would please show yourself the door?" I looked over at JJ and I could see the tears forming in his eyes. He quickly pushed his chair back, causing it to scrape across the wooden floor. He looked down at me, letting go of my hand before pushing the chair back and walking out of the kitchen. I had tears slowly falling down my face now, disgusted with JJ's treatment from my parents. "Now, I don't EVER want you to see him again," my dad sternly told me.

I could tell JJ was still in the house as the door never opened or closed. I wasn't going to let him think I didn't care for him. "Dad, Mom," I say standing from the chair, "you know what, fuck this family. JJ is better than anybody in this family but you're too damn stuck up to realize that or even admit it."

My dad swiftly stood up and raised his hand at me before I told him with venom in my voice, "Do it, you'll never see me again and I know you care too much about our family image to kick me out. I'll go to the police and let them know all about your 'successful' businesses. I'll ruin your fucking life," I say the last part with pure anger. I get closer to him, hoping he'll hit me so I have a reason to go to the police and tell them everything. He sits back down and picks up his drink to take a sip before looking up at me. He doesn't say a word before he throws his cup to the ground, it breaking into a million pieces causing me to flinch, and proceeds to walk out the room. I look down at my mom, rolling my eyes at her knowing she's too scared of my dad to disagree with him.

I storm out of the room to see JJ with his back against the counter, holding his hat in his hands before placing it on his head. I go over to him and grab his hand, pulling him out of the house and over to my car. We get in and I start driving, not sure where to go as everybody was at the Chateau. "Your dad's right," I hear JJ mumble. I look over at him and he won't make eye contact with me. I pull over on the side of the road, looking at him. "JJ, my dad may be a lot of things, but he's not right."

"He is though," he looked up at me with tears forming in his eyes, "you know my dad. I'm just like him, you deserve someone who can give you more."

"JJ, you are nothing like your father," I tell him grabbing his hand in mine, "You are the greatest and best person to ever walk into my life. I can't imagine it without you, not only that, but you are pretty damn attractive too." He lets out a small chuckle at the last part, "J, can you please look at me?" I ask him. He looks over at me as I wipe a tear falling down his cheek, "I love every part of you, especially the ones you hate. You are my whole world and all the stars. When I look at you, I feel like I'm finally home. I feel nothing bad can happen when I'm in your arms. You are my person, my only person, and I hope you know that nothing will change that, not even my asshole parents. I would give them up a million times over before I ever think about saying goodbye to you. I love you."

JJ squeezes my hand tighter, letting a small sob out. "Hey, are you okay? Please talk to me," I tell him placing my hand on the back of his neck. He looks over at me before placing a small kiss on my forehead. "I've uhm, never had anybody tell me how much I matter to them. Dad has always blamed me for Mom leaving and has always told me how much he hated me, I guess I kind of thought there wasn't another way for someone to feel when it came to me. I got so used to how he treated me I thought that's what I deserved, it was all I was good for," he told me. I felt a few tears fall down my face, realizing how much what my parents said hurt him. "I love you too, I'm just sorry if I won't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"JJ," I tell him, waiting for him to look at me, "as long as I have you, that's all I need. I need you to know that."

"You really are whipped," he lets out a small chuckle to break up the emotions in the small car. I playfully smack his arm, "J, be for real right now. You're hearing what I'm telling you right?"

"Yes, I hear you. I love you too. Thanks for showing me what it means to be loved," he tells me, reaching over to place a kiss on my forehead before moving away and placing his lips to mine. "Now, can we go get some pizza 'cause I didn't eat." I look at him and laugh. "Nerves babe, they got to me and I'm starving now." I laugh and look over at him before putting the car in drive, whispering 'I love you' to him and he responds by grabbing my hand and placing small kisses on them. We head to the nearest restaurant and eat, getting extra so we can take it to the Chateau.

Once we got there, we were asked what felt like hundreds of questions on how it went. We gave them the tiniest of summaries, just telling them that my parents are dick and that we left. They didn't need to know anything else, there was enough going on in the group since Sarah started coming around. I'm a big fan of her, but the results are still out for Kie. No matter what though, JJ and I had each other, till the end of the days. As long as I was breathing, he was my love and I was his.

Authors note: this one was longer than I planned. Please tell me if we like the longer fics or if I need to shorten them at all:)

[midgetmoth]

I really love getting spammed with the same inbox message about someone asking me for money and help! That surely makes me feel better about myself and everything going on around me. I should get more of those often!

adjusts the microphone I'm holding and clears my throat

(TW: Mention of the war and thus injuries and death, also includes my massive rant so if you do not want to read it, here's the warning. Also, lots of swearing)

STOP FILLING MY INBOX WITH CRIES FOR HELP. I KNOW YOU ARE BOTS; YOU SPAMMED ME 4 DIFFERENT TIMES TODAY BECAUSE OF MY POSTS. I WILL REPORT YOU IF IT KEEPS HAPPENING, AND I DO NOT LIKE DOING THAT.

YOU ALL KEEP SPAMMING ME WITH "HELP!!" AND PICTURES OF CHILDREN WHO LITERALLY LOOK LIKE THEY ARE DYING. I DONT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO BUT BLOCK YOU THE SECOND YOU APPEAR IN MY INBOX. YOU FUCKERS LITERALLY SENT ME A PICTURE OF SOMEONE WHO HAD AN OPEN WOUND.

I get asking for help, I get pleading for someone, ANYONE to save you, but spamming my Inbox with the most horrendous shit is NOT going to get you help. All it does is get you blocked and turned away instantly by me. I have stated TWICE. TWICE now that I will not be talking about this, but I guess you people just won't get it straight.

I will not be supporting any of you, not because I do not have the money, but because your pleas have gone so far as to show a child BLEEDING FROM A WOUND, to try and tug at heart strings. Oh, and it worked to! Just that it only tugged on my last bit of patience.

I get that so many of you are bots and people fishing for money, and to that I purely say to go to hell and rot. To be taking people's real-life horrors and taking it to post and get money from it? That's pathetic.

Rant over, I am not happy with how many times I have seen blood and gore. I love blood and gore art, but these people sending me photos of wounds have made me lose my stomach over it.

"Why are you talking about this then? Just delete the messages and move on"

I have. Ever since I first ranted about this, I have. I have been deleting one after the other after the other after the OTHER. Even when I block some of them, they come back on ANOTHER ACCOUNT. I wish I was making this up. I am fully convinced these are all bots now, and that is just so, SO upsetting to me. All of this is so upsetting. I asked not to be given these asks, I have asked not to talk about it, but alas the bots just keep rolling it in. Block after block the same message gets repeated.

I just wish this shit would stop. I just wish I didn't have to be bombarded with these people begging for help I cannot give.

[frondere]

*shakes can* more pins and needles please? the first part you shared is so adorable! Loved this part "They raced through thickets, weaving stories of pirates and explorers, the world theirs for the taking."

ty for enjoying!!!! I shall be oh so nice....and give you something slightly beefy....please enjoy!! u know the drill..u see something...u dont say something....!!!!

You, lovely viewer, can see the first part here

So, yeah, he ended up pinning the damn thing. It didn’t look great—looked pretty lousy, actually—but who cared?

 He wasn't Ford.  

The moth was better pinned than it was left to get lost in the grime of Ford’s lab, that’s all it was. 

At least, that’s what he told himself.

 The problem, though, was that there was this gap now in Ford’s display, an uneven number of empty spaces that bugged him (no pun intended). A busted piano key on an otherwise perfect set. 

Just... bare. 

And every time he glanced at it, something about that empty space stared back at him, like it was daring him to finish the job, to make it look… symmetrical. Logical, if he were Ford. He could practically hear Ford muttering that, in that teacher’s-pet tone of his. 

And so, slowly, it became a habit. He started slipping out of the lab every now and then, taking “breaks” that weren’t really breaks—wandering along the back trails near the shack, through the damp woods and brambles, scanning the ground almost unconsciously. It wasn’t like he was actively searching for dead bugs. But if he happened to stumble across something, well, then maybe it was worth a second look.

Not that he needed much of an excuse for breaks. He was drowning in technical junk that felt like it was written in some kind of intergalactic code. Quantum mechanics, portal theory, electromagnetic propulsion—he’d thought it might be as simple as building the Stan-o-War with Ford, but it was like trying to solve a mystery without a single clue. A nightmare to sift through without a high school diploma to his name, let alone Ford’s mountain of degrees. So, yeah, a break here and there, where he’d “just happen” to find the odd bug, wasn’t so much slacking as it was survival.

Besides, he was figuring out some best practices, too—pin the forewings in this direction, press the hindwings that way, cedar chips to keep pests out, control for moisture, all that. Ford had left some anti-pest sachets stashed in the basement, and he found himself sprinkling them around, like he actually knew what he was doing. It was practical, really. Some people paid a hell of a lot of money for this stuff, so in a way, he was saving money by doing it himself.

Somewhere in all that, the bugs even gave him an idea: The Murder Hut. People in Gravity Falls would pay through the nose to see weird, creepy things, and Ford’s collection of odds and ends was a treasure trove of just that. It wasn’t hard to work up a spiel, either—Ford’s dusty stash had enough bones, feathers, and mysterious “artifacts” that he didn’t even have to make much up. The town ate it up, hook, line, and sinker. One day he’d display a “Jackalope Antler” or the “Invisible Man’s Gloves”; the next, some cursed thing he’d dug out of a forgotten box. As long as he slapped a “Do Not Touch or You’ll Be Cursed” label on it, it sold.  And he’d use every dollar they dropped in his greasy hands to pay off Ford’s debt-ridden shack, which somehow—Jesus, Sixer—was almost two years behind on mortgage. Like Stan needed more debt, especially debt that wasn’t even his.

Gravity Falls thought he was a brilliant recluse—some strange scientist who only stepped out of his lab to mutter secrets at the townsfolk. Worked fine by him. Daytime, he was the big mystery man selling freak shows, and by night, he was back in the basement, grinding his way through Ford’s books, pretending he knew enough science to wrangle a portal machine back to life.

But every so often, after the hustle, the whole act would wear on him. He’d find himself sinking into the kind of black-hole thoughts he usually kept a lid on. He’d sit alone at Ford’s reclining chair, nursing a drink and watching some shitty soap opera that the old rabbit-eared TV could pick up, lost in the static and drama. He’d feel that sharp sting of guilt, this old, rotting feeling that it should’ve been him pulled into the void, not Ford. 

And yeah, sometimes he’d be back at the bug cases, zoning out over Ford’s meticulous collection, picking at thoughts that felt better left buried.

The bugs, at least, were easy to understand. They were all shapes and colors, some ugly, some downright beautiful, without a single number or formula to complicate things. He didn’t need to memorize larvae stages or migration details or any of that garbage. He just had to make them look good.  The Gravity Falls library had a few field guides on moths and beetles, and he’d pocketed them without a second thought, no intention of ever bringing them back. 

He found himself taking little “expeditions” outside, field guides in hand, picking out names, identifying colors, sometimes seeing the same bugs his kid brother used to pin up with that bright-eyed obsession. And the names started sticking, like he was getting the hang of a foreign language. There was a strange satisfaction in it, almost addictive. He’d even gone so far as to order a few “extras” from the dusty catalogs Ford had lying around, rare ones from across the world, some already pressed, just needing a good place in the display. Maybe he could throw together a different display in the Shack, and sell moth-man-themed junk to the rubes. 

But Ford’s originals, the ones from years ago? No way. Those were off-limits. The thought of handing those over, cheapening them with tourist's eyes… no. He’d sooner walk out of the shack than let those get messed up. If he wanted a case full of unique specimens, he’d find duplicates. Let Ford’s stay exactly as they were, safe and untouched. It just felt right, like something sacred, or as close to sacred as he’d ever admit to.

Sometimes he found himself looking into the cases, the glass casting back his own reflection—Ford’s reflection. His face, right there in that mirrored surface, surrounded by wings and antennae, his brother’s meticulous handwriting labeling each specimen with a date and place. He could almost feel Ford beside him, that kid with the saltwater-and-ink smell, who’d grin up at him with that rare, shy smile of his, patting Stan on the back for “getting it.” And as he looked, his chest tightened, the memories clawing their way back up, and he wondered if it had always just been about getting Ford’s praise. Or if maybe there’d been something else he wanted, something he couldn’t put a name to.

But that was a ridiculous thought, wasn’t it? Just a stupid, pointless thought.

~

Thirty years, and the old “Murder Hut” had morphed into the Mystery Shack. Apparently, “murder” didn’t scream family-friendly or touristy enough. Not that Stan ever thought he’d find his calling in a dumpy roadside show, but this kind of thing turned out to be in his blood—scam artistry with a flair of mystery, the whole town eating up every word like it was gospel. Maybe if things had gone a little differently, this could’ve been his life right from the start. But hell, no point in dwelling. He already had too much weight on his shoulders, too many regrets boxed up and shoved away in some far corner of his mind where he could pretend they didn’t exist.

Tracking down Ford’s second and third journals had been another mess. He’d gotten damn good at self-taught nuclear chemistry, computer science—practically any subject Ford’s machine might require him to know. Like he had any choice. And it wasn’t easy, but when had his life ever been easy? Each day that passed felt like he was inching closer to the edge of a cliff. There were weeks, then months, then years of grinding away, fixing parts, recalculating, rewiring. Progress came slower than a snail crossing the Sahara, and every step forward left him feeling emptier, a little more brittle, like he was killing himself to bring Ford back. 

Maybe he was.

But it’d be worth it. 

It had to be.

This summer, he agreed to let Shermie’s grandkids come up for a visit. At least he wouldn’t be stewing alone in that dusty shack. Mabel’s loud, and Dipper’s a curious little brainiac, but they’re good kids. They’re not like him and Ford—they’ve got a shot at something, a chance to actually be happy. Sure, they’d nearly bailed the first night, their decision hinging on some magic eight ball, for crying out loud. But he’d baked them cookies, something to soften the blow of being stuck here.

Two months in, Mabel came hollering down the stairs about a package. Dipper threw in something about the mailman tally—he swore the guy was a werewolf because of some flea he thought he saw jump. Stan sauntered in, smirking. “Any guy can get fleas, kid. Doesn’t mean he’s a werewolf.”

Mabel snorted mid-sip of juice. “Maybe the flea jumped on Dipper,” she teased, which Stan jumped on right away. “Might be time for a flea collar then, huh?”

Dipper glared, cheeks puffing indignantly. “Then the whole house would need collars. Fleas just jump from person to person.”

“At least I shower every day, so I’d be safe.” Mabel’s grin was as bright as it was smug.

Stan tossed Dipper the scissors and gestured at the box. “Cut it open, would ya? I’m gonna make breakfast.” He turned back to the stove, letting the kids go at it.

A groan escapes Dipper as he pulls out a display, a mix of distaste and fascination on his face. “It’s…another one of your bugs,” he says, holding it up like it’s diseased.

Stan perks up from where he’s flipping pancakes. “Oh yeah? Which ones this time?” he asks, sounding casual, but there’s an edge of interest he doesn’t hide too well.

Dipper pulls out the first case, examining it. “Looks like... a mantis?” He hands it to Mabel, who oohs, mesmerized by the soft pink color, her nose practically pressed to the glass.

“Pretty in pink!” she beams, turning it for Stan to see.

Stan nods, amused. “Yep, that’s the one. Figured it’d play into the whole alien theme for the tourists. Folks around here go nuts for anything that looks otherworldly. ‘The Tiny Mantis God’ or somethin’.”

Dipper shrugs, not fully buying it. “Could just make a crop circle out back.”

Stan snorts. “Kid, that’s the first decent idea you’ve had since you got here. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Dipper shrugs. “Never asked.”

Next, Dipper reaches into the box and pulls out a little beetle propped on a miniature toilet. Stan laughs, “Now, that one? Couldn’t resist. That’s pure art, right there.”

Mabel dives her hand in next, tongue between her teeth as she pulls out another case, squinting at the name. “Uh... Auto… Automeris io?”

“Peacock moth,” Dipper supplies, glancing at the label under the display.

Stan turns to look, his face falling a bit as he recognizes the error. Damn it. He plates up pancakes for the kids, pouring sprinkles and strawberries on Mabel’s, bananas and chocolate chips on Dipper’s. As they gaze at their breakfasts with grateful eyes,  he huffs as he pulls the case to him. “Damn thieves,” he mutters. “They gave me Antheraea polyphemus, not Automeris io.”

Dipper pauses mid-bite, brow furrowed. “How would you even know that?”

Stan gives him a sidelong look, resisting the urge to grin. “Look at the eyespots, genius. Automeris would have these deep black rings with white centers. Polyphemus? It’s got these large, purplish ones, layered like it’s lookin’ at you. Plus look at the tinge of pink.” He taps the case, showing Dipper the subtle difference, and the kid’s watching with rapt attention, actually listening. That kind of mistake shouldn’t happen, especially to a guy who’d been collecting for years.

Mabel raised her brows, grinning. “You actually sound… smart. Like, nerd smart.”

Stan clears his throat, waving it off, his face a touch red. “Hey, I’m a paying customer, I gotta know what I’m ordering,” he grumbles. Dipper nods slowly, agreeing, but there’s a little smirk on his face that says he’s filed that piece of information away. Stan grumbles, snorting. “Just ‘cause I play dumb doesn’t mean I am, kid,” he says, reaching over to mess up Dipper’s hair.

As he glances back at the rest of the box’s contents, his eyes narrow.  Most were imports, pinned and framed for his real collection. 

Mabel noticed him lingering over a few, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “Gonna put those out on the table?” she asked, and Stan shook his head.

“Nah,” Stan says, “Gonna have Soos mount these three, something’s been knocking them down lately.” Dipper interjects, “Told you, it’s the gnomes,” but Stan waves him off. “The rest’ll go…. somewhere else.”

Stan pulls out the final item in the package, a little baggy with something for Mabel. He holds it out. “Kinda weird and in that abnormally shaped earring style you’re always going for.”

Mabel gasps, peering into the bag, where two delicate, resin-encased Lunar Moth wing earrings catch the light. She beams up at him. Stan rolls his shoulders, popping a few joints.  “All right, punks. I got a tour to run, so don’t cause any trouble.” His stern face melted into a grin as the kids laughed, chorusing, “No promises!”

Later that night, when everything was finally quiet, he slipped down to his basement, pulling out the moths for his private collection, fingers grazing each delicate display. Rare, beautiful things, some from as far as Asia and Europe, wings folded in perfect repose. It wasn’t like he splurged often—money for lab equipment and military-grade chemicals didn’t come cheap. But for once, he’d let himself have this small indulgence. He was close to getting the portal to work; he could feel it. Every gut feeling he had said he’d finish it, that something was about to give. This summer would be different. It had to be.

But right now, this was what he had. He handled each carefully, pinning them with the precision he’d learned over the years, his own quiet tribute. Ford had always fussed over the wings, the placement of every last part, and somehow, Stan found himself doing the same. He worked on autopilot, arranging each one with a kind of grim satisfaction, a small part of him hoping Ford would see this someday. 

He paused, staring down at the display case. The years had made Ford’s face hazy, his image lost somewhere between the edges of memory and imagination. He knew Ford was alive, could feel it deep in his gut. But what did he look like now? Time had changed them both, carved them in different ways. Stan saw it every time he looked in the mirror: the lines around his eyes, the rough drag of his face, the slight paunch that had settled in around his gut. He’d lost count of the hard nights, the empty days, the scars he’d dragged along with him all these years.

Ford… Ford would be different too, sure. But Stan liked to think he’d aged well, that he’d still have that fire in his eyes, a sharpness Stan always admired, even envied.

Stan leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face, catching himself lingering on a thought he didn’t want to entertain. Maybe, just maybe, when he brought Ford back, things could be different. Maybe they could be brothers again, in a way that wasn’t cold, guarded, and broken. Or maybe it could be… anything, anything that felt like a real connection. But that little voice whispered louder, tugging at something in him he didn’t dare name. He’d buried it down deep, but here, in the quiet, he could almost hear it.

 But that was insane, ridiculous. No place for that here, no point.

With a harsh breath, Stan slid back his chair, closing the display case with a soft click. Just a couple more parts, a few more months.

[missmarveledsblog]

I'll show you different ( Joel Miller x Reader ) part 10 No Outbreak! au

summary : peach got something to ask joel , joel's terrified it maybe the end and tommy is excited to share his news

warning : insecurities but mainly fluffy like these two deserve

previous part

 strange yet welcoming ,  six month after the worst time  in life . Going to therapy was hard at first few session she barely spoke a word then when she did start it was like she couldn’t stop , it call came pouring out, all the anger, pain and guilt that was building all her life , learning to be her own human and know none of it was her fault . it was a process one she was still learning but getting better at . she was starting to ditch the clothes that she was made wear or trained to wear  now she was wearing what she wanted to finding her style , like finding her true self. she was more open not a total social butterfly but it was better than before bantering with the guys at her grandfathers construction site as she was still working in the office.  another good thing was joel, joel miller was there for it all hiding her after her sessions when she cried it all out ,  hyping her up when she was trying new clothes to get although he hadn't a clue of what was what but he did know she looked beautiful and she was looking happy .  he helped her get rid of the spray paint covering it with paint and wallpaper  making sure  it was completely gone . what he did not expect was a brand new pick up truck in his yard another gift trying to get her to take it back was half the battle but she was more stubborn than he was . he wanted her to know he love d her way before all this money business and she would smile and tell him thats why she did it . 

“ you loved me at the lowest of my lows so enjoy the highs with me”  not that she was splashing the cash that much honestly she barely did, biggest thing she  buy for herself was new truck herself one she been wanting since she was little girl .  

she sat on her porch  looking out brow furrowed when he found her . then that look he loved so much , the bright smile and love in her eyes . one look that had him feeling like the luckiest man in the world. yet something was there he couldn't tell what exactly it was but something was there. that had her gaze down and her feet shuffling . 

“ peach baby what’s wrong” . 

“  can we talk” she breathe out her face unreadable as she sat down . 

yet his own experience had him fearing everything , thinking of every interaction.  was she realizing she could do better. did he upset her . it all swirled in his head as he gulped nodding joining her on the step waiting for it waiting for the bubble to pop . 

“been thinking about this alot lately and i can't stop like it permanently  stuck in my brain and driving me crazy” she began as he felt the bile rising in his throat.  

“ baby its ok i get it” he sighed trying to brace himself. 

“ i don't think you do cause if you do then this will be harder ,  i didn't know what love was i mean other family love but love love gosh that was just a pipe dream something i wouldn’t never get a grasp on or so i though then i met you and you really showed me it all what it’s like to be love , i’m not some possession to show of or a source of release and i wanna take that next step with you not marriage way off of that but i would like to more so i wanna wake up every morning and go to bed at your side  , no pressure i mean if you don’t want to that’s totally fine but i wanted to ask “ she sighed feeling the weight of the want and question leaving her . 

“ of course i wanna live with you peach shit i thought you were breaking up with me or something which would be worst day of my life because honestly sad to say at my age this first time i know actual love love too “ he chuckled weakly pulling her to the side. 

“ we have to ask the girls too i mean space here for them actually more space than necessary  but they can have their own rooms and stuff” she smiled brightly , excitedly . 

“ i’ll tell them later but i think we both know that their gonna be happy  they wanted you to move in since they met you “ he kissed her head. 

“ they’re coming in like a month ohh we can let them do their own rooms up or we can do it  get them send me pinterest posts “ . 

“ tommy could stay too” 

“Nah think time tommy start living on his own but he sure is happy for you both “ the man himself smirked  heading towards the two . “ i ain’t staying so wait til i  leave before you two start getting all gross just coming to say i was going on date and be home late” he winked. 

“ you finally asked her out “ peach beamed up at the man . 

“ asked who out ?” . 

“ maria duh “ she rolled her eye patting his shoulder . 

“ i did and she said yes so i better go get ready any last advice “  

“ be the sweet you not the overly flirty you sweet you is just perfect amount of flirty without overdoing it and less cologne “ she nodded as joel hid his face. 

“ do i wear too much “ he asked smile falling off his own . 

“ YES” The said in unison . 

“ ok ok fair observation harsh b

ut fair i guess “ he nodded . 

“ i’m kidding just be you  she likes that “

“ wish me luck and congratulations “ he called as he ran off excitedly . 

“ i’ll be dammed i think he’s nervous , he usually cocky little shit he must really like her” joel  scratched back of his neck . 

“  you realize he stay with her the night i was stabbed because he was terrified she was hurt  , he’s been crazy about her long before he even knew it himself kinda like i was with you “ she kissed his cheek . 

“ first time i met you i was a goner “ 

“ you looked grumpy when i met you first “ she snorted . 

“ that was me trying to play it cool …really grumpy ? “ 

“ yup hot ass grumpy teddy bear. But i love my hot ass grumpy teddy bear” she nodded .

“ old ass grump “ he corrected 

“ hot ass grump just take my damn compliment miller plus ain’t old not when your …”

“ yeah yeah  i mean got keep my girl happy don’t i” he winked lifting her up bridal style carrying her to the front . 

“ i love you joel “ she kissed his cheek 

“ i love you too peach gonna show you how woman like you truly deserves to be love, my sweet peach i’ll show you different “ he crash his lips to her carrying her in the house and really ready to start a better life both deserve. 

Fin

taglist : @harriedandharassed @missladym1981

a.n thank you to all that have read and enjoy the story of peach and joel really love writing this series , i could of done whole damsel in distress thing but we like a badass chick

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