#im generally worn out right now

[alukaforyou]

nothing like getting out of drawing by going to the gym LMFAOOWJEMAAIJAKA

[asahicore]

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[aliidarling]

No bc like imagine you are in a trial right right, but you spawn with ONLY a slightly big tee shirt and panties and so Danny (ghost face) is like GOOD GOOGLY MOOGLY and tickles you where the sun doesn’t shine :3 only do this after you do my Ada request though .. (just kitten I know that will never get finished)

IM SORRRYY I GOT LIKE HALFWAY DONE WITH THE ADA ONE AND LOST MOTIVATION I SWEAR ILL FINISH IT SOMETIME SOON 😓🙏🙏

dark paradise

DANNY JOHNSON X fem!reader

nsfw content — please scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary: you’re spawned into the trial in tiny pajamas for the new event, and your favorite killer very much likes your outfit hehe

warnings: nsfw obvi, p in v, rough sex, creampie, butt slapping a little, degrading, stab wounds(NO WOUND FUCKING), steve harrington…😟

nsfw content below!!

You felt absolutely humiliated, to say the least. The Entity had decided to wreak havoc on you and send you to a trial in nothing but some shitty horror tee and the tiniest shorts you’ve ever worn.

Being sent to the Red Forest made it even worse, your shirt all wet and damp from the musty air and rain, making the fabric cling onto your skin. Your teammates weren’t to shy with their obvious glances at your chest and how your ass was hanging out.

“Quit it.” You huffed, scowling as you worked on a generator alongside Steve. Fucking Steve, one of the biggest flirts around here.

He rolls his eyes and does a mocking surrender of his hands, before grinning at you.

“It’s not my fault you got sent here looking like a model! Like damn, girl.” He snickers, nudging you with his hips. You glare at him, trying to hold back your laugh.

“It’s not funny!” You whine, curling your knees to your chest slightly to help yourself with the cold. You were shivering. Feeling the wet floor press against your butt had you cringing, but you’d rather have a mud-covered ass then hypothermia.

“It kinda is,” He hums. Another few moments pass as the two of you work on the generator, an eye out for any killer. The trial had just begun so you had no idea who it was yet. A small part of you hoped it would be Danny.

You had no idea what you and Danny were, but he would always let you live, as long as you have him some kisses and maybe a little hook up session. And you weren’t even against it, he was good with that monster in his pants and his words.

Steve suddenly makes a mistake and next thing you know the generator blows up in both of your faces, making you yelp and back up. You turn to him slowly with a pissed off expression.

“Seriously?”

He offers a weak grin.

“Can you blame me? You look very distracting—“

He gets interrupted when suddenly a knife is pushed through his back, making him scream and fall forward. You gasp loudly, stumbling back and hugging yourself. You shiver as the wet rain making your hair sticks to your face, your thin shirt hugging your breasts.

“Don’t talk bout her like that, fuckin’ moron.” The tall man huffs, the black robe and shrieking mask making you relax. You relaxed only for a moment before realizing he was about to kill one of your friends.

“Danny!” You stepped forward, trying to get him to stop from stabbing the shit out of Steve. “He was just joking, c’mon.” You huff, frowning up at the taller man.

He gazes down at you, eyes under his mask widening as your barely covered form presses against his body. From his angle he could see down your shirt, your nipples poking through the shirt brushing against his chest. His breath hitched as he reluctantly steps away from the bleeding out Steve, before turning back towards you and grabbing you around the waist.

“Let’s go, now.” He grunts, dragging you towards the cabin.

Barely twenty minutes later, he had you bent over one of log tables in the cabin, his cock deep inside your small cunt. Your shorts hung off your ankles, your panties pushed to the side.

His grunting was loud and raspy, his hands holding you around your waist to steady your trembling body. He pushed his cock as deep as he could with every thrust, his large fingers rubbing your skin.

He had made sure to bunch your shirt above your chest, not even bothering to fully undress you. Seeing you all damp with those tiny pajamas sticking to your soft skin had him all hot and bothered, with no care in the world other then shoving himself inside you as soon as possible.

“Shut up, whore.” He grumbles quietly, panting from behind you as he keeps thrusting his hips into you from behind. His grip on you was tight, bruising probably.

“Danny…” You moan softly, eyes rolled back to the back of your sockets, mouth hanging open each time his tip presses against that sweet spot all the way in the back of your pussy. It felt so good, getting slutted out by this masked murderer.

You couldn’t even care that your friends blood was getting all over you. All that mattered was how he felt, inside you and on your skin. How his cock hit deeper then anyone ever could, and how he whispered such dirty things that had you clenching down.

“Dressed like a fuckin’ slut,” He grunts, his thrusts hardening. He starts to gain speed, groaning at how tight you were around him, like a fucking anaconda.

“Don’t act surprised that you got bent over, bitch. You knew what was gon’ happen the second you saw me, dirty little slut, flashing those tits at me—“ He reaches one of his hands to grab the back of your head, pulling your hair back as his thrusts grow harder and faster.

“Dannnnny!” You mewl from under him, panting and moaning as he kept going. He grabs one of your legs and puts your knee up on the table, managing to shove his cock deeper inside you. He hums at how you clench down from the new angle, a mocking grin on his face.

“Good lil’ girl, keep takin’ my cock like this and maybe I’ll let you cum.” He snickers darkly.

“Y-Yes, mhm, I’ll be your good girl.” You sigh heavily as he pushes himself deeper once again, having your eyes daze at his good it felt. You were so thankful the generator in the cabin had already been completed, or else the fear of someone walking in would of been haunting you.

His hand roughly slaps your butt, making you whine and clench down. He groans at that and let’s go of your hair, going back to holding your waist and pushing your body down into the table. His thrusts continue, your moans leaving your throat like a broken record.

“I-I’m gonna cum, please, please, can I?” You whimper desperately, hands scratching and clawing at the able in hopes of finding something to hold onto. You could feel your orgasm nearing, making you clench down greatly around his cock, earning a raspy moan from the man behind you.

“Y-Yeah, fuck, let it go sweetie.” He mumbled, his thrusts growing sloppy as he works on making you cum.

Without another second, you let out a shaky cry and cum over his cock, your walls milking him dry. He leans down, pressing his chest against your back to muffle his noises. He releases his thick load inside your pussy, his hands reaching up to push down on your shoulders.

A few minutes pass as the two of you relax from your high. Once he’s felt that you’ve calmed down enough, he slowly pulls out, hissing at the feeling. He stares at your wet pussy and how both your cum dripped out, a small chuckle leaving him.

He steps back and tugs your panties back up, making you cringe as he makes sure none of it falls out of your hole.

“..Danny… C’mon—s’yucky!” You whine as he helps you out your clothes back on. His touch was surprisingly gentle.

“Shut it. Lucky I didn’t cum all over your face.” He gives you a little pat on the cheek. You roll your eyes before reluctantly smiling and pulling him in for a kiss. He hums and kisses back, his large hands going to rub your waist.

You had no idea what the two of you were, fuck buddies, lovers? Maybe in another life you could of maybe lived a normal life, not one where one was a serial killer. Maybe a journalist. Danny Johnson sounds like a journalist name. You’d call him Jed as a nickname, you though, it would fit him.

You both slowly part, his hand going to pull his mask back down. He slaps your butt and pushes the towards the door, smirking.

“Until next time, sweetheart. Better get to the gates before it’s too late.” He tsk’s.

once again i didn’t proofread cuz i’m LAZYYY

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[blackswan446]

yandere bts headcanons

yan!bts headcanons -- general

cws: mentions of blood, allusions to suicide, mild stalking, mentions of murder

link to m.list

note: i think these are a bit long for headcanons but enjoy anyways i promise im working on wips ily guys so much!! thank u for ur patience <3

kim seokjin ! december 4, 1992

seokjin was a lonely, lonely guy.

he never had any friends growing up. for some strange reason, the world just rejected the poor boy, and anybody that didn't totally oust him never stuck around for long.

he could never understand why. he was caring, he was polite, and handsome. so why did everybody hate him?

because of his unfair reality, it wasn't uncommon for seokjin to form a sort of...attachment...to those who showed him the slightest shred of humanity. you were no exception.

one day, a day that would, unbeknownst to you, shape the lives of two people.

seokjin was in your civics class. you never heard much from him, even though you sat right next to him. he was just there, floating in the background, until one day, he was shoved into your view.

it was exam day, and the snap of seokjin's pencil was amplified by the silent room. the young man scoffed in annoyance as the lead rolled away, onto the rough, brown carpet.

at first you almost laughed. not at his misfortune, really, but his reaction. it was like something from a sitcom, but of course you didn't laugh. laughing would be rude, and you were not rude.

taking a thin, pink, glittery pencil from your open pencil case, you wordlessly slid it across the smooth table, the wood making a long scratch sound on the wood. seokjin looked over at the sound, and when he met your kind eyes, and saw your sweet smile, that was it.

reaching out his slender hand to take the pencil, he gave you a smile of his own, a small one, but it was the most genuine one he had worn in months. his heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he picked up from where he left off in his writing. only now, he could barely remember anything, the information now blurred and fuzzy.

from then on, you didn't just sink into the background to him. you didn't blend in with the other mess of college students he saw everyday. you were vibrant, and interesting, and full-of-life.

every time you spoke, he listened as if it were the most intriguing thing he had ever heard. every time you walked, he watched you like a movie. whenever you wrote, he read it like it was a sacred text.

that's all it was, though. just an interested boy studying an interesting girl. he knew he was on thin ice, but never really grasped the thought of what would happen if it ever cracked.

until one day, when he decided then and there to dedicate his life to the subject.

"seokjin, did you get question twenty right? i got marked down for it, but i don't know what i did wrong."

your voice was soft, and curious, and delicately met met his eardrums like hands met fine china.

"i, uh" he stuttered, looking down at the exam paper. unfortunately, he hadn't done well at all on the exam. sometimes he got the feeling the professor had some sort of hatred for him. however, he did get question twenty right.

"yeah, i did. you can look at it, if you want to." he offered, outstretching the paper in his shaky hand.

you accepted, standing next to him and taking the corner of the paper in your hand as you read his answer.

seokjin's heart pounded in his chest. he had never been this close to someone before, the sweet aroma of your perfume and gentle touch on his arm making his mind go hazy.

you nodded. "i get what i did wrong. thanks, seokjin!" you smiled, patting his shoulder as you bounced away from him. he hoped you didn't see the pink blush on his face as you left.

it was over for him, his life as kim seokjin. from now on, he was yours, all yours, for you to love and ruin and coddle and ignore as you pleased.

from the moment your electric touch met him, is when the ice shattered and he took the plunge into the harsh, choppy waters of...love? or obsession?

he didn't know. the line between the two was thin, almost nonexistent, and the ink was smudged by the thunderous waves that crashed around it. but instead of drowning in the icy ocean that surrounded him, he tread the water and swam like a shark.

by far, his favorite thing to do was follow you around. everywhere, everyday, no matter what.

what was the harm? it was fun for him, gave him a look into the life of the one he loved, and he could keep you safe--even from afar.

although it did have its downsides. and of course, the pain was given to him by the hands of other people.

he wasn't a fan of the other people in your life, your piano instructor, your coworker, even the professor in one of your classes. they were too close to you for his liking.

but his perception was botched. he didn't like anyone within six feet of you, so naturally he was biased against everyone.

there were letters, a lot of letters. detailing his love, his devotion, his disdain for the people around you. left in your mailbox, your seat, even in your bag.

some were sweet, just toeing the borderline between cute and weird. but others were just plain graphic, claiming to be motivated by love.

one of them, he even adorned with his own crimson signature. he drew the blood from his left ring finger. after all, it was the wedding ring finger, and the only finger that connected straight to the heart. how fitting!

he also sent gifts -- if he ever saw you linger in front of a shop window, gazing wistfully at an expensive bag, or watched you poke through the selection of plushies in a bin, he would make sure it wound up on your doorstep.

you were confused at first, but as time marched on, your confusion slipped into something closer to fear and concern. but somehow, it still just felt rude to throw out the...loving...gifts that fell into your lap.

and you were not rude.

min yoongi ! march 9, 1993

poor, poor yoongi.

no matter how hard he tried, all get got from his family were demands.

to do more, to do better, to be better.

it was like nothing he could do would ever please them. whenever his fingertips brushed the standard set for him, the bar was raised, just out of his reach.

for a long time, yoongi tried to convince himself that he wanted what his family wanted, that he wanted to become a respected lawyer and take over his family's law firm.

it felt wrong to want anything else, after all, this role was shoved into his lap before he was even born.

but it was when he got to college that he came to terms with the fact that he was not, and would never be, what his family wanted him to be.

all his life, yoongi had been drawn to the sweet tunes of the ivy keys and soft hums of the guitar strings, rather than the scales of justice. it only started as one more activity for him to do, sanctioned by his parents, but it turned into a true passion for him. it turned into an escape.

though it was a very real dream, it was just one more thing that was out of reach for him. all that separated the two was a thin piece of unbreakable glass, the reality so close he could almost reach out and grasp it.

so he tried to move on, he really did, for the sake of himself, and his parents.

but when he was gifted with an opportunity to teach piano to other college students, how could he refuse?!

most of his pupils weren't serious about it. some felt obliged to be there, thanks to feelings put forth by other demanding parents. others just needed an extra graduation credit.

but you just stood out to him.

not because of your musical abilities (though your ability to pick things up so quickly did impress him greatly!)

but because of the way he could let his guard down around you.

you were a chatty thing, unlike most of his other pupils, and you didn't waste any time in asking him about himself.

it took him by surprise, as most of the people he tutored didn't bother to say much to him.

so he told you he wanted to be a musician, but that he was studying prelaw instead. your eyebrows knitted together, your eyes narrowing in confusion.

"but you're so talented. and you want to be a musician. why not just go for it?" you wondered, voice soft and genuine.

your question caught him by surprise. if he were to say something half as radical as that around anybody in his family, he would earn a lecture and a smack on the head. so it wasn't surprising that he had to take a second to formulate an answer that wasn't a defense.

"thanks, [name]," he sputtered, "i wish it were that easy." he sighed, busying himself with the music sheets in front of him. you giggled, the underlying poke in his words flying over your head.

and from then on, his guard was down. for the first time ever. and he just loved it.

maybe, just maybe, if he had gotten that encouraging word ten years earlier, things would be different. maybe he wouldn't have grown to crave it the way he did.

it started small. just a little flame in his heart whenever he saw your name on his schedule.

the flame only grew with each passing week. it wasn't enough, seeing you once a week, it wasn't enough to extinguish the blaze in his heart. he needed to see you every hour of every day.

but the fire within him turned from adoration to anger one night, when he spotted you laughing with a group of people he didn't know.

they were using you, he thought. for your looks, your kindness, your intelligence. he was the only one who really cared for you, he knew it.

so of course, with your well-being in mind, he did his own research on these people. it was just harmless -- he only collected their addresses, their phone numbers, their family members. just in case.

but with every session that went by, of just the two of you playing piano, he found himself falling further and further into this unfamiliar void.

and he decided that he was bringing you with him. there wasn't anybody else who would keep him safe from the demands of his family.

so what if you were afraid of the dark? he would bring you a flashlight. it would be good for you, he absolutely knew it.

he knew it wasn't enough to see you for an hour every week. it wasn't enough to give you the music he'd written for you, with its soft melodies and sweet tunes.

it wasn't enough for him to drape his arms over your shoulders as you played, "adjusting your hands" as your fingers brushed over the ivory.

it was never enough.

and when he saw a some boy think he could put his arm around your shoulder one afternoon, the fire burned so hot there was only one thing left for him to do.

the very next day, the boy walked around campus, his hands sore and fingers in splints.

that same day, you skipped into the music room, and as you were chattering about your week, mentioned your dear friend and his accident and his poor broken fingers.

"that's awful," yoongi muttered, seemingly shocked at the incident, "if i got into an accident like that, i don't know how i'd go on."

the boy wasn't dead yet, but at least he couldn't play you piano.

jung hoseok ! february 18, 1994

apollo himself.

that's what you thought the first time you saw hoseok. with his bright red hair, his pretty face and radiant smile, he was the brightest looking person you had ever seen.

he had been the first to welcome you to your new job, at a small convenience store down the street from your school. he had also been the one to train you, and soon became your closet friend at work.

he was happy, for sure. he was eager, and helpful, and oh-so sweet to you. being around him was like a boost of energy and a jolt of excitement.

"thanks, [name].." he said shyly, after you had told him all of this. "i think you're all of that and so much more." he admitted with a smile, before you were interrupted by the door opening.

he watched dreamily as you rushed over to help the customer, your words sticking in his mind like honey.

he meant what he told you. he wanted to tell you so much more.

that you were unlike anyone he's ever met. that you were the best friend he's ever had. that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and that he loved you, so so much.

hoseok had always been the floater friend. kind and caring to the point he was the backup plan.

he helped his friends while they were down, caught them when they fell, listened to them cry and complain and rant.

all the while, they rebounded from their troubles, and were back in the game, leaving hoseok there. just waiting in the back.

he thought he didn't mind, he thought he was okay with it. but he couldn't keep ignoring the toll it took on him.

but you were a breath of fresh air. truly unlike anyone he's ever met.

you mirrored him. you took the time out of your life to talk to him, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself answering the same questions he asked the people in his life.

and quickly the memories of late nights spent by himself, long walks down the street debating if this was really worth it, and empty bridges that seemed to beg the same question, were gone and out of sight.

he found himself craving it, your care, your questions, your answers, your love, your hate, your attention, in any way he could get it. he wanted your eyes on him.

and the more time that passed, the more intense his cravings became. so he did whatever he had to do to keep your attention on him.

it started as small things: swiping various snacks and drinks from the shelves for your break, killing the bugs that found their way into the store (he knew you were petrified of them), putting away the heavy boxes and stepping onto the ladders for you -- anything he could do to make you so enamored that you would forget about the world outside of him.

he knew his little addiction was getting serious when he found himself at the store under the cover of darkness, long after you had gone home, shoving bills from the register into his pockets and leaving just as swiftly as he had arrived.

he had to fund his...hobbies...somehow, didn't he?

after all, axes were expensive. so were tarps, and gloves, and garbage bags, not to mention the gasoline and matches.

as much as he wanted to, as badly as he wanted to take a blade to every single other person you had ever talked to, he had to be careful.

after all, if you found out your sweet, sunshiney coworker had done that to the man that had scolded you at the register that day, you would never want to see him again.

the mere thought was too much for him to bear, so he didn't bother thinking about it too hard -- he just did what he had to.

kim namjoon ! september 12, 1994

being a professor was no easy job.

sure, it put food on the table and allowed him to socialize, but sometimes the students were almost too much to deal with.

but there was one thing -- one person, actually, that made it all worth it.

it started on his first day, in a medium-sized civics class, full of students he assumed wouldn't take him seriously and would give him nothing but trouble and a headache.

you hadn't caught his attention right away -- sure, you were gorgeous, but he hadn't thought much of it, there were a lot of pretty girls here.

the thing that had first drawn him was rather trivial -- a small act of kindness towards another classmate, by giving him a bright pink pencil after his had snapped. sure, it was kind, and the first such act he had seen on campus before, but not earth-shattering.

but what really got him was that smile. it stopped him in his tracks, froze him in place, and wrecked him in ways he had never experienced before.

over the course of the weeks, it became evident that you stood apart from everybody else -- for one, you were smart. and namjoon was a professor, so of course he loved smart.

aside from that, you were a sweetheart. and you were polite, and helpful, and funny, and you actually participated -- so many things that everybody else he had in his classes wasn't, that it made him wonder.

what were you doing here? why were you hanging around with a bunch of nobodies when you were obviously so much more? it was clear that you were special, and that he was the only person around that could give you what you needed.

so the only logical solution to this is that he would take you under his wing. he would keep your focus on him and off of the halfwits, so they couldn't corrupt you too. he was going to keep you safe, like any good teacher should.

and soon enough, namjoon found himself in love.

it didn't take long for him to weasel his way into your life -- for someone so smart, you sure were trusting. that didn't bother him, though -- it only made things easier for him.

it started after a particularly long and boring class, when he pulled you aside and asked about your interest in impressionist paintings, eagerly telling you how he had overheard the conversation between you and a friend the day before.

you didn't even get a chance to agree before he pulled six papers from his rather messy and cluttered desk. what were they? three printouts of his favorite impressionist paintings, and three printouts of italian macchiaoli paintings that he thought you'd like.

it continued from there -- nearly every single class, he pulled you aside to show you something he'd thought you would like, or ask your opinion on an era of literature. sometimes he would even give you something to keep, like a book or pamphlet.

it wasn't long after he started chatting to you about romance languages and ancient poetry did his friendliness become favoritism, at least in his eyes.

it was just subtle things, really, like boosting your grades just enough to avoid suspicion, looking the other way if you were late, and making sure to call on you first in class discussions.

he knew there was a line, though, and he made a point to never cross it.

except for the tracker he had put into your phone, one day after he had collected it for an exam. he knew it was excessive, borderline stalkerish, but to him, it was necessary.

he couldn't have anything happening to his little genius, could he?

and obviously he knew exactly why the boy who you had given the pencil to, and who could now not stop ogling at you, had suffered a major academic crisis in his civics class.

but that didn't count. he couldn't help it if the line kept moving forward.

poor namjoon. the more time that passed, the more frustrated he got.

you were smart. how could you not see it? did you ever see him treating any other student the way he treated you? when was the last time he gave anybody else a book of victorian-era artwork, or a collection of unfinished poetry?

and what irked him the most was watching the same people he wanted to keep you away from be all friendly and close to you, while all he could do was pat your shoulder, smile politely, and stand on the sidelines.

namjoon was smart. he knew he wouldn't be able to settle for this much longer. sooner or later, he was going to have to act, for your good and his own sanity. it was wrong, and it was strange, but he couldn't help it. he needed more.

park jimin ! october 13, 1995

jimin was nothing short of a sweetheart.

your closest and dearest childhood friend, your story began at the park, when you saw him sitting on a swing, kicking the mulch around and looking alone.

being the little social butterfly you were, you skipped over, sat on the swing next to him, and started talking, and that was that.

you stuck together all throughout childhood, high school, right up until you both left for college.

"promise me you'll call? and text? and visit me?" he pleaded, his hands resting on your shoulders.

you nodded and smiled fondly. "all the time, mimi. just watch, you'll be sick of me in a week. i'll call you every day." you promised, leaning up to link your arms around his neck and hug him for the last time in what seemed to be forever.

you had kept your promise to him, he knew you would, but he couldn't help but feel empty. like there was a broken, gaping hole in his heart, causing the life to spill from his body.

he knew there was something brewing, feelings that were went beyond friendly, even beyond romantic. feelings that, if he expressed him, would make him seem so messed up that you would never speak to him again.

he had felt them for years, and deep down, he knew what they meant. but he ignored them. he looked away, shoved them out.

and that's what he would keep doing until there was absolutely nothing left for him to do anymore.

it wasn't easy for him, and hadn't been easy for a lot of years.

he was ever the romantic, but of course you didn't know that. his pure love and adoration appeared to you as nothing more than him being a good friend. but in reality, the only thing he was doing was getting as close as he could.

bringing you your favorite snacks when you hung out was as close as he could get to bringing you a bouquet of flowers and a love note everyday.

retelling childhood memories and embarrassing stories to make you laugh when you were sad was the closest he could get to holding you in his lap and rubbing your back until you felt better.

letting you test out makeup and skincare products on him in the store was as close as he could get to your face without pulling you towards him and kissing you until you couldn't think straight.

as innocent as he came across, he knew something more sinister lurked underneath it all. and he felt it stir, whenever you mentioned your professor and your shared love of the humanities, or your coworker who embodied the sun, or the barista at your local coffee shop who had mastered your favorite coffee.

it was like something else washed over him, something that ignited a blaze in his heart so hot that even he was scared of getting burned.

what was weirder is that jimin was usually so pure. for god's sake, he still put both your names into those cheesy internet love tests. he still gave you a family together in the sims. he still wrote your initials together, surrounded by a heart bubble and a sweet message on the corner of every paper he could find.

but the thing that took over his senses was the polar opposite. it gave him awful, twisted, murderous thoughts. it tormented him, day and night, knowing that something like that existed within him. it scared him.

and it only got worse when you broke the news that a mystery someone had taken a liking to you, and was showering you with gifts and notes and everything else a sweet girl like you could ever want.

that was when it took over completely. that was when something inside of him snapped, shattered, was torn to shreds.

he knew that he couldn't hold up anymore. this was his call to action. he had to do something, he had to act, and if he didn't, you would be gone forever.

he wasn't going to stand by. he couldn't stand by. not anymore.

kim taehyung ! december 30, 1995

taehyung was mystery. at least, to you he was.

he moved in to your neighborhood during your freshman year of high school, and not once in the last four years you lived there before college did you ever hear a word from him.

you didn't even know his name, let alone his age or school. from your guess, he was about your age, and based off the school uniform you had seen him in a few times, he went to some hoity-toity private school on the other side of town.

the only thing that you knew for sure were that his parents were strict. like, really really strict. they hardly let him out of his sight, and a few times you had walked past the house and heard them loudly lecturing him on the importance of studying and how he could have fun when he was established.

what you obviously didn't know was that taehyung was fascinated by you.

he had seen you within the first week he had lived next door, and something about you had him hooked.

you were fun, and loud, and had a lot of friends, and were the opposite of everyone else he had ever gotten to know. and of course, his parents lectured him about you, telling him to "stay away" and that you were "careless and a bad influence".

but he couldn't peel his eyes away from you, even if he wanted to. he just couldn't look away.

pure curiosity was the reason he started peering through your window when you were in there -- never while you were changing though, that would make him feel like a bad person. but as you laid on your bed, scrolled on your phone, hung out with friends, or listened to music, his gazed always traveled to you.

the reason he started was curiosity. but the reason he stayed was pure fondness. he came to love watching you, observing your habits and behaviors, almost like he was living his teenage dreams through you.

it was also the reason he started to become a bit more...active in your life.

nothing crazy, after all, he lived under a hawk's eye, and there wasn't a whole lot he really could do without being chastised for it.

he wanted you to know, though, he wanted you to know how much he really adored you. he would send you flowers, whatever was in season, and various goodies from cute online shops, sometimes even sweets from a fancy bakery, and putting it all under the name of an aunt he didn't even know if you really had.

although he couldn't be sure all the time, he was fairly certain his fake aunt persona was working -- judging from how you would go upstairs and happily open the package, taking out whatever was in there and excitedly showing it to your friends on video chat, he assumed you were none the wiser to the reality.

as time went on, though, he found himself increasingly unsatisfied with just watching you. like a viewer who wanted to live in their favorite tv show, he wanted to be in your life. and the fact that he couldn't do that pained him worse than anything he had ever experienced. so, he coped.

one night, clad in a black hoodie and mask, he silently slipped out of the backdoor without rousing his parents from their sleep. it was surprisingly easy, making him wonder why he hadn't done this in the past.

he crept over to your first-story bedroom window, peering through the glass. he couldn't make out much since it was so dark -- but he could faintly see your sleeping form, wrapped up in blankets and surrounded by plushies.

it was almost too easy, how he slid open the window and hopped in. his heart was pounding at this point, the thought of waking you almost scaring him into going home.

but he didn't. he stayed, tiptoed around your room, looked at your desk, which was cluttered with pictures of you and another guy, whom he recognized as a close friend of yours, and read through your school notes.

your handwriting was beautiful, he noticed, the swoops and curves of the letters looked more like ancient artwork rather than history notes. he felt a surge of excitement as he saw your white leather desk chair, the same one he had fondly watched you spin around in for what felt like hours on end.

he felt like a kid in a candy store, as he rifled through your other belongings, flipping through books and poking through your jewelry as he fought the urge to steal anything for himself.

just as he was just making himself at home in your room, you stirred noisily in your sleep, causing him to practically leap out of your chair and clamber back out the window -- but not before blowing you a kiss.

it wasn't the last time he would do that, in fact, nearly every night he found himself back in the warm embrace of your cozy room. it gave him a taste of not just your life, but the life of a normal teenager. the life his parents had robbed him of.

and he wanted more.

you left for college a week before he did. and the first night you were gone, he found himself at the now-locked bedroom window. an awful sense of dread bubbled up in his heart as he realized the reality: you were gone. he had lost you.

he vowed to himself that things were going to be different next time. that he was going to change. and that by the time next fall rolled around, neither of you would be going back to college.

jeon jungkook ! september 1, 1997

jungkook was young.

well, the youngest person that worked at the coffee shop. which was surprising, seeing as it was located right by a college campus.

his job was fairly robotic -- greet the customer, take their order, and make the occasional drink.

however, there was one really, really good part of his job, and it was the fact that he got to see and talk to you almost every single day.

the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the way you smiled and greeted him, your cool nails, your decorated wallet, everything about you intrigued him, made him want to see you more.

in reality, the only thing he knew was your name. other than that, you were a total stranger. so how could a total stranger captivate him in such a way?

he didn't know. he was just young and in love. and shy, which is why he refused to make the first move. he would never recover from a rejection like this.

but that didn't stop him from acting like he was your one and only. nothing could stop him from doing that.

and he fell hard -- so hard, in fact, it wasn't uncommon for him to wake up from a dream in which you had been the main character, or for him to think of you when he saw a cool bag or drank your favorite coffee.

but no matter how intensely he loved you, he had to accept the fact that to you, he was and would always just be the cashier from the coffee shop.

it didn't get to his morale, though. in fact, it motivated him. he was determined to stand out to you, to stay in your mind as much as you were in his, to the point where you couldn't take it anymore and would finally ask him out.

so he worked.

some of the things he did were innocent, like watching hours of youtube videos on how to craft your drink perfectly, slipping in a free pastry here and there, and even looking up love potion recipes online. of course he knew they weren't real, but that didn't stop the fantasy from playing out in his head.

and some were...a bit sly.

sometimes, he'd get to work a bit early, just so he could hide the ingredients to your favorite drink, which meant that when you came in and his coworkers were inevitably scrambling to find the ingredients for your order, he would get more time to hear your pretty voice.

he even started collecting the little things you left behind -- receipts with your signature, straw wrappers, even pocketing some of the coins you gave him to pay for your drink. these little artifacts lived in their own museum in his locker, which his coworkers just thought was messy.

but one day, something happened that made him realize he had to step up his game, or be miserable forever.

one day, you came in, except you weren't alone. there, in a place beside you which should have been his, there was a boy. his hair was a vibrant red, he wore colorful streetwear and had a smile that could only be compared to sunshine.

but he didn't care about that. who was this guy, and why was he with his girl?

tongue-in-cheek, and with a fake smile plastered on his face, he suffered through taking your order as normally as he could. but of course, he wasn't going to let this freak get away with something like this.

so as he prepared the drinks, he made yours perfectly, just as he had seen online. but for your little friend, he quietly slipped in a clump of salt, stirring it with the straw and handing them both to you with a smile.

he couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that swelled in his chest as he watched the happy boy's expression contort into one of confusion and disgust with just one sip of the drink.

but later, on his break, he brooded over the incident. who was he? why was he with you? was he going to take you away? what if you never came in again?

as the thoughts swirled around in his head, it became obvious that something had to be done. he needed you all to himself, and it was going to happen by any means necessary.

[imagineredwood]

Yandere ask - Most likely Mayans to use overstimulation to force their girl into staying home because she's too worn out to go out

Angel, EZ, Coco, Manny and of course Miguel (wasn't sure if you meant only Mayans or the show in general)

EZ does it in a more discrete way, making it seem like he just so happened to overstimulate you enough to where you're sleepy and limp. Cooing at you, "I'm sorry baby. Didn't realize I made you come that many times." Offers up major aftercare and naps to take up more of your time so you don't even have the time to go out with the girls anymore. Would deny it if you ever asked.

Angel is open about it. "Look at the poor baby. Can barely keep her eyes open. Those legs are wide open though, huh? Clit too sensitive, don't want anything touching? Is that it? Guess you can't go out like you planned. I'm sure they'll understand." He planned it out and doesn't care if you know it. Takes his time cleaning you up and cuddling you.

Coco is cruel with it. He'll tell you even before he starts why he's doing it. "Going out? No. I don't think so. I think you'll stay here with me." Doesn't hesitate to tie you or restrain you in some way to make sure you take it all.

Miguel may even take it a step further, vibrator on your clit until your vision goes out and he has to gently smack your cheek to bring you back to, just to then motion to the door. "Go ahead. Go out with the girls. Let's see if you can even stand." And he's plenty cocky when you barely can, that evil smirk plastered on his face as he sucks his teeth at you. "Looks like you'll have to reschedule."

Manny will take no blame at all and place it all on you, chuckling at you when you whine. "Me?? What does it have to do with me? It's your body. I just wanted a taste before you left. I never said you couldn't go. You can get up and get ready right now. I won't stop you." Knowing damn well neither your brain nor your legs can function well enough for you to go anywhere.

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera  @woahitslucyylu  @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts  @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95  @cruzwalters @myakai13   @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous    @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady @choochoo284 @whitetxilwxlf @ravennaortiz @flowercrowns-goodvibes

Mayans MC taglist 

@dazzledamazon  @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name  @blessedboo  @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @myakai13 @cruzwalters  @po3ticb3auty  @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @kaykaysuh @angel-121 @fanfic-n-tabulous  @lovelytricia @carma-fanficaddict

[blucactus112]

May never come to reality but im planning out a Animatic to AJR's 'Maybe Man' (sue me) and need some help filling in some of the parts.

(Its probably going to be about all the life series in general not specifically Wild life. but feel free to try it fit it all in one series)

!!!long post incoming!!!

General plan so far:

First Half(ish) will be calmly looking at hermits in their peaceful habitats talking about their insecurities.

Finishing the first half when we get to the god part it will be Grian before life series started pleading to watchers and becoming one himself then cutting to him and all the other lifers standing around in a circle (like the start of each series) (much wow)

ONE. TWO. PANDEMONIUM.

murder, just all of the scenes of people dying biggest polt twist, betrayals, and Amount of kills.

Also specifically a close up of grain seeing the server burning in the reflection of his eyes.

ending with another shot of the beginning of a server but we see grains eyes which are weathered and worn out and maybe has some watcher purple

Specific Lines:

Wish I was a stone, so I couldn't feel You'd yell in my face, it'd be no big deal But I'd miss the way we make up and smile Don't want to be stone, I changed my mind

Im thinking scar and Grian Desert Duo? also could be

I wish I had eyes in the back of my head Then I could see the places I've been But then I would know that you're talkin' shit I don't wanna know what my friends think

This im Deff thinking cleo bigb scott and lizzie from the Boogeyman series (i forgor wich one that is)

but open to other ideas

Wish I were my dog out on the lawn I'd be so glad when I hear you come home But if I were my dog, I wouldn't live long I'm sure gonna miss her when she's gone

This is pearl playing with a dog, you cannot fucking make me change my mind

I wish I could act in a show on TV 'Cause then I could practice not bein' me I'll practice my cry, put it into my reel But you won't believe me when I cry for real

im either thinking like Ren or Martyn because of the acting thing or one of the scenes usually portrayed as lots of crying (ie Scott at the end of double life)

I wish that my brain would triple in size I'd nail every joke, I'd win every fight But I'd get too deep with that kind of mind I don't wanna know the point of life

ive been thinking of this as jimmy in general but also i dont want to be mean so other ideas would be great

In some other life I would be rich I'd travel in style, I'd cover the bill But couldn't complain 'bout anything small Nobody'd feel bad for me at all

havent given much thought for ones after this but im thinking Scar on Magic mountain trying to scam everyone?

If I was cocaine or a bottle of Jack I'd get invited to every frat But when you get old and your good days have passed You'll only want me when you're sad

have there been any people that bounce between alliances during one series?

Wish I was a song, your favorite one You'd follow the dance to me at your prom I would be there when your baby is born For two or three minutes, then I'm gone

there was at least one dande floor that was a trap, right??

I wish I was big, as big as my house I'd sleep on the trees, I'd skip every crowd But I wouldn't fit on my therapist's couch God, I could really use him now

probably ep1 of WildLife

I wish I was God, I'd never trip up And if I did, well, so fuckin' what? I could be cruel and break all your stuff Yeah, I'd be loved no matter what

pov grain angst

grain is on super windy mountain top surrounded by watchers crying, pleading to them

But if I was God, it'd get kinda weird 'Cause you would only say what I wanna hear And then you would die, you'd love me to death I never know who the hell I am

grian is surrounded by purple light wings and eyes becoming at least in part, a watcher

I wish I was me, whoever that is I could just be and not give a shit Hey, I'll be whatever makes you a fan 'Cause I don't know who the hell I am

cut to peaceful tranquil plains, all of them jn a circle at beginning of life series laughing joking shaking hands hugging (set em up for emotional damage)

One, two, pandemonium

black, black, PAN DE MONIUM

cut to destruction of server only using reds browns and blacks showing carnage this series has brought (and yes ofc player has died messages will appear in the corner as if in chat)

One, two, pandemonium

im thinking each line will be each of the series in chronological order

Here I go again

One, two, pandemonium

Here I go again

One, two, pandemonium

One, two-

Here I go again

cut to beginning of ?wild life? they all have scars when their final kills have been, some look tired some look determined

if you end up making this animatic if you want to put me in the credits as like 'inspired by' :3 but honestly idc that much. but you HAVE to tell me if you post one bc i will watch the hell out of that

#god i need more tags

[skellymom]

hey skelly!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i was wondering if, perhaps, you could do a one shot with Hunter where 'reader' is sick???? please??? im currently very sick and its killing me :/

~ tysm, jamie <3

@fionajames my FRIENDO! I hope you feel better soon.

Here ya go! There is some lovey-dovey to this one shot, but done in a respectful manner. Angsty, implied nudity. SAFE FOR WORK! My apologies if the spelling or grammar is off. I wanted to bang this baby out quickly to get it to you!!!

Word Count: 907

Background: Reader is not feeling well. But Hunter will DEFINITELY help change that.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

"HEALING TOUCH" - Hunter x Reader Request

Kicking off the covers, you sighed from the heat.  

Heat from your fever. 

Tossing and turning, every part of the bed uncomfortable. Your joints ached as if packed with jagged glass.  

There was NO sleep for tonight. 

There was NO sleep for Hunter, either. 

He could hear as you thrashed about in bed. Feel your horribly high fever. 

It started with a general malaise...as Tech called it. Low level energy. Mild Lethargy. Your Sergeant noticed you were off. He ordered you to take a break from ration loading and lay down in your bunk on board the Marauder. 

You crashed out immediately. Thinking you would just sit, then lay down on your bunk for a MOMENT before getting undressed for bed...didn’t pan out. However, you woke up hours later UNDRESSED FOR BED clad in your rudimentary binder and underwear sleepwear. 

You SWORE you never got yourself ready for bed before hitting your bunk... 

You FINALLY awoke bathed in sweat. The room was too uncomfortably hot. You had to pee, but REALLY didn’t care to move. When your bladder threatened to overflow, you lurched to the refresher.  

Coming back from your trip left you winded and weak. 

But being worn out doesn’t promise sleep. Maybe one-minute intervals every 15 standard minutes. Jolting awake to lay in bed, then change position... 

...to lay in bed, then change position... 

...to lay in bed, then change position... 

...to lay in bed, then change position... 

Rinse, repeat 

Then your body temp dropped quickly, resulting in shivers. You burrowed into fetal position under the covers.  

“Y/N?” Your Sergeant whispers. His voice even smokier at a low register.  

His voice could still excites you...even being this sick.  

A prickle of heat makes its way up your body and over your face. You feel its tendrils envelope you, warm you up...then proceeds to shoot up to burning hot. 

“Hhmm...” Still weak as hell. 

“How you feeling?” Hunter reaches under the covers to feel your forehead and face. 

His strong callused hand tenderly slides down your forehead, then cups one side of your face, then the other. He takes his time to feel your body temperature. It’s a show of care with a side of sultry touch. 

Your body heats up to a definite fever pitch. 

“Ummm...” is ALL you can muster. EVERYTHING is SO MUCH! All of your senses being assaulted by your own body.  

Is this what it’s like for Hunter...all the time??? 

You try to mumble this statement to him. It comes out weak, incoherent...DELERIOUS. 

He’s pulled you upright in the bunk. Looking into your eyes. Oh...that man...he’s DIVINE! You think among other things that get lost in the mush of your thoughts. It’s SO HARD to think right now. 

Your perception blurs, then the room flips.  

“Y/N!!!” Is the last thing you hear... 

...waking up SHIVERING...in the cold rain? In just a binder and panties... 

As you focus your awareness slowly...while sitting on the refresher shower floor. Leaning against... 

HUNTER 

You are BOTH shivering in each other’s arms. His legs are spread out on either side of you. You were leaning on Hunter’s chest. He was drenched in the cold water and air as well...and shivering from the chill. 

Hunter was only wearing his Republic tightie-whities. They were drenched and stuck to him like a second skin...a rather translucent one. You covertly took in his “geography”. Muscular...neatly manicured body hair... 

“Y/N?” That smoky voice. 

“Hyeahhh...” You comically whispered. 

Hunter chuckled. Deep base in your ear against his firm, slightly furred chest.  

And he smelled AMAZING! It couldn’t be explained: like deep wilderness with the sunlight filtering through the trees...it’s warm fragrance...the sound of life in a place...the strength and heart of Oak trees...of safety in a green place  

Some approximation of that... 

You chuckled back “I think my fever’s broke.” in a guilty but emboldened whisper. 

“Hhm...you sure?” 

You sigh...he can feel the heat of your blush.  

He caresses your back. 

He knows how you feel about him. Could read you the moment you met. The little flirtations you sent out...that he returned... 

Could even feel the moment your fever broke, but continued to hold you to be sure, making sure your temperature never dropped too far down. 

Hunter’s been respectful. Waiting for your move. He’s doing that now, too. 

You reach up to trace your finger along his jawline, then caress the side of his face. You look up at him and hold his gaze. 

His eyes are soft but fierce. A small smile graces his lips. It’s an adoring face. 

Hunter reaches down to take your head gently in his hands. Then kisses your forehead, holding his lips to you for a moment. He takes in your scent. 

“I REALLY want to...I do. But now isn’t the best time.” Hunter senses your request. A responsible caretaker first, passionate partner later. 

He reaches up to turn off the refresher showerhead. Then proceeded to get you off the floor, dried, dressed, fed, and settled back into your bunk. 

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll just be over in my...” 

You interrupt by grabbing Hunter’s hand before he can retreat. 

“Stay with me...big spoon?” 

He smiles. Then blushes. Then gives a mock stern face. 

“Of course...JUST strict bed rest. Cuddling only!” 

“Of course.” You smirk at Hunter. 

“You’re...going to make it really HARD ON me, huh?” 

“Bet your Duncan Hines Cake on it!” 

Hunter slid into the bunk and wrapped you up in him... 

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[magentasnail]

hello I do not know anything about Undertale but I am interested in hearing about your children! I think I am in a similar situation with Little Nightmares, haha.

OMG THANK YOU I LOVE YOU!!! i can let this information out without feeling too annoying because now i'm answering an ask so it's fine !! it's going to be so long I'm so sorry, but what are we on tumblr for if not to rumble about our interests, right? also i hope the fact you don't know undertale doesn't make this too confusing !! also spoiler warning i guess ??

general world building:

the humans have forgotten about the monsters and magic, they are only remembered in myths and legends (i made a cool thing about it)

all of the humans had a similar experience to us playing the game, they learned about the monster history, made friends and eventually kinda gave up in hope to help the monsters

right so, first human: chara!

chara is already in the game, but I think i made them the richest backstory

"chara" is a nickname, their name is actually character. they were bullied for that name and they really hate it, wishing they could get any other name (like what happens at the start of the game!)

they were named character because of an old tradition to name kids based on the first word you see in the spell book that runs in their family. however the book is encrypted, and their parents ended up on a random character they couldn't read.

they didn't get along with the other kids in school, and were trying to study their behavior so they can understand them better by taking notes of what they said and drawing their facial expressions (the way text is shown in the game!)

eventually, they came to the conclusion they don't like the other children and don't want to be like them, so they decided to learn how to push them away (by making scary faces!)

always get red eyes in photos

next: patience soul! i'll be honset i wrote these stories 6 years ago, i think everyone had names but i don't remember them anymore, so all the children will now be called their soul trait gbfdjfd

patience was a girl from chara's village, and chara's only friend! or well chara was patiance only friend. their parents were friends so when they hung out patience and chara were left to play together. patience liked chara as she was home school and didn't get to play with other kids, while chara was mostly annoyed about the whole thing and felt like patience friendship wasn't genuine, as they were forced into hanging out

she really likes cute things, like dressing cute and putting on make up! she introduced chara to make up which ended up helping chara make scary faces (such as melty face look)

she wanted to be a Dr when she grows up, hence the toy knife (meant to be like a surgery knife for children) and the bandages at the flowey fight

when chara left to the mountain, patience just waited for them to come back. they waited and waited, until asriel got to the village. only then they decide to go to the mountain. they found out chara died very shortly after getting underground, and so lost their determination and was killed easily.

they got to the underground right after asgore declared war against humanity, asogre probably hoped it will take a while for a human to arrive but one fell down and was killed really soon! this just made more sense to me for why toriel left without talking asgore out of it, and why she hates him so much. things escalated really quick

bravery soul!

youngest brother of like 5 older brothers and a single dad.

his brothers always bullied him for being soft and girlie (I also considered him being afab but im not sure !)

got the worn boxing gloves his dad used to have when he was young, they have big holes and patches

also maybe his mom died when he was born, and she was also a red head like him, which is part of the femininity stuff ?

as part of a prank, his brothers dared him to go to the mountain and come back to prove himself thinking he won't go, but he did!

didn't stay with toriel because he was in a rush to get home to prove his brothers he did it

integrity!! this is where me not being a native english speaker gets me because I'm not sure what integrity means and it ruined their backstory a bit! I used to treat it as "being true to yourself" but now I think it's more about staying true to your morals, which is a bit different oops !

amab and nonbinary! their mom used to be a ballet dancer and now is a ballet teahcer

they were the only male student, and were jealous and hurt that all the girls got to wear tutus but them, and thought it wasn't fair

they sneakily stole their mom old dusty tutu from the attic and were secretly practicing in their room, until they were caught

they felt so guilty and ashamed that they ran away from home to the mountain

toriel reminded them of their mom, and how worried she must be, so they didn't stay with her

perseverance!!

kindness' little sister!

while looking for books in the library, she stumbled upon and old and encrypted spell book (yes this is the book that was in chara's family!) after a lot of hard work she learned how to decrypt it using some context clues, and with it she learned about the monsters and magic and even a few spells!

when she tried talking about her findings nobody took her seriously, and people at her school made fun of her

even her brother was trying to be supportive but didn't really believe her, which prompted her to run away to the mountain to prove everyone the monsters are real and she's right

in the underground, she was able to use her spells! like the unused spell option in the original battle menu! she also befriended Gerson as they shared their love to history, and she gave him her notebook and glasses (as they were fogging up too much to see out of anyway) as a parting gift! (maybe she also casted a duplication spell on them, considering the infinite supply at his store?)

also she didn't stay with Toriel because she was focused on getting back home to show everyone she was right at that stage

kindness!

perseverance older brother !

honestly, he's just a cutie that likes to cook! will often make and food just for sharing with his classmates

when perseverance was sad that nobody was taking her seriously, he went to make her favorite food to cheer her up. she wasn't answering him for a bit and assumed she just locked herself in her room because she was sad, so he gave her some time until eventually he decided to come in to check on her and realized she ran away through the window

he was probably a few hours behind her on the adventure, both as he gave her time, and he checked up a few places before going to the mountain, and he was more lost and confused than her when it came to exploring (also he was wearing flip flops still, which slowed him down)

didn't stay with Toriel because he was determined to find his sister, but then he found out she sacrificed herself, and decided to join her (both for the monsters and for her sake out of guilt)

justice!! she's the only one I know their name! her name is mustard !! just like undertale yellow I was tempted to call her clover based on the "clover" shooting from her gun at the flowey fight, but actually according to the file name this is not a clover but a flower! and mustard has a yellow flower with 4 petals and it's cute !!

moved to the village near the mountain with her family only recently, and this was their first Halloween in the town! and actually her first Halloween ever, as where she used to live they didn't celebrate it

she loves cowboys ! her grandpa was an actor in old cowboy films, he passed before she was born so she only know him through these films, and thinks he was a real cowboy

the gun she has is his old gun, that she got from her dad for her costume

she saw a group of bullies picking up on a younger child and trying to steal his candy, so she jumped to protect him saying she has a gun, but that didn't go very well as that terrified the small child and made them ran away. she tried to ran after them but ended up getting lost on the mountain

didn't stay with toriel because she wanted to return to her parents who must have been worried for her

lastly we got frisk!! i didn't get much background for frisk but more like a bunch of headcanons about them

probably homeless? and honestly, might have hit their head when climbing the mountain and suffer from amnesia, so they don't know their backstory either so it's fine!

really need glasses! explaining the small eyes and the whole game being pixelated and the small screen size, they just can't see

when asriel said frisk and chara have similar fassion choices he didn't mean like the striped shirt (as all children wear striped shirts) but like the way they have an under layer, cargo shorts for more pockets (also inventory space has to do with how many pockets you have!!) and boots !

fell underground the same age chara did, so like 10? and chara spent like a year underground

went to the mountain because it was some sort of a calling? they didn't really understand why but they felt like they needed to

also this is a headfanon but I'm for frisk and chara being far relatives!

wooo we did it all humans !!! now some extra general stuff:

the red soul's trait is love!!

all the humans came back to life after the asriel fight!!! and their body were fully healed and fine! Asgore probably bandaged them as he buried them in the coffins, and when they woke up (and opened chara's coffin seeing it's empty) they left their bandages there explaining the mummy wrapping that appear

considering it's been decades since some of them fell down, they had no where to go after this, and were all adopted by toriel! which also motivated her to open the school ! this idea of all of them being roomates and living together is what sparked all of this in the first place, i just really wanted to have a blog where people ask me things as them

at the end of the flowey fight, all of their soul traits "evolved", as seen with the color change when you ask for help, completing their character arc. all of them were helping flowey as part of their flaw, but frisk calling for help helped them change. for example, just as patience was always waiting to see what will happen, she wasn't trying to stand up to flowey, but she learned to be more brave and act! bravery learned to stop complying to every dare he gets and stand for himself and so on.

and that's everything i think !! if you made it all this way you get a sticker! i hope this helped with whatever boredom you were facing !

now i can stop worrying about how their story will never be out there, as it is now! and if nobody cares that's fine !!

[ca-suffit]

im sorry your takes are generally pretty great and i appreciate the space you make in fandom but i find the dismissal around lestat's queerness to be diminishing.

louis is a fantastic gay character and u r right about how he represents his queerness which is fabulously. he is mother he is fashion he is wife, a lot, and lestat is a lot more masc in aspects of their dynamic. louis also struggles with it, had internalized homophobia, and his relationship to his sexuality is fraught. now you can have that complexity and still be a "gay icon" sure but what i see here is a gay man existing. not every gay man existing has to be ~iconic~. louis is working on himself.

lestat is a different person and is going out there to make a mark on culture actively, regardless of why. he's not putting on a dress for five seconds (which btw was still pretty impactful in context but ok), he is being meaningfully gnc and making art. this is what queer culture is. it's frustrating to see this element diminished like it's just a meme or a bunch of people being thirsty.

im all for critiquing fandom being weirdos about it but i think the showrunners are doing something spectacular and pretending like fans are making lestat into something he is not just isn't the vibe.

reading this made me realize that I left out a sentence in this ask, so it did come off differently than I intended. I'd meant to say there's already been a lot of exploration of characters / ppl like lestat, but there's never been a character like louis before. I wasn't rly ever talking about lestat's queerness itself, I was talking about how he's prioritized bcuz he's white.

if u personally identity with him in this then that's ur right to, obviously. no group is a monolith and I was never trying to say one way is more "right" than the other. I rly do apologize if it came across like that, cuz I can see why it did.

"he's not putting on a dress for five seconds (which btw was still pretty impactful in context but ok)"

I don't rly know what u mean here bcuz within the show, nobody comments on the dress. ppl react to the baby but everything we know of the dress otherwise was only revealed by carol cutshall bts. I don't know what impact ur meaning here. to the tv audience, sure, but the NOLA audience?? or is it the fact he designed it in the first place.

tbh the thing I most noticed was that once again a white, european immigrant got to be center stage in an event that louis, as a black, louisiana native, isn't (like the card game lestat already had a place at more favored than louis earlier in S1). he also was able to wear that dress in public without public scorn (being european prbly helped here too, he's "other'd" but not the same way as louis is "other'd" for being black), which is something louis could never have done and actually survived at all. it's not that lestat doesn't experience homophobia otherwise, but he's still got a lot more room to confront it than louis, claudia, or armand would have, as ppl who would be confronting homophobia *and* racism with no access to white privilege (claudia literally dies in the same hour we see lestat confront a homophobe otherwise on his and louis' behalf and "win").

idk what they're going to explore for S3 yet, but what we've seen so far is....not that deep tbh. it's not even especially "queer." we're aware he is so we know it is, but straight men have worn makeup and flashy outfits and done homoerotic shit as musicians before too. very often. nothing we've seen from lestat so far has been pushing any boundary as a queer artist or making any kind of statement. I'm not trying to sound like a total bitch here, but a lot of what ur saying is pushing this white fandom agenda of the "importance" of so much that any white, queer character does that....just isn't. lestat's image and sound is taking a lot from other ppl in real music history who *were* doing groundbreaking things at the time, straight or not, but what he's doing is just wearing it as a costume rn. his lyrics even say "I'm an actor / in my makeup." like I said, S3 in full will bring more to the table, obviously, but for what we've seen so far....this hasn't said anything in any objective way that's "deep." u can still like it and identity with it, but idk how u'd argue that it's doing anything tbh. ur welcome to do it tho, I'm not trying to shut down the conversation here. I'm just giving my perspective. I *do* actually think this is stuff we should talk about exactly *bcuz* fandom rides so hard for it all the time. it should be explored why that is, what's the logic behind it. I rly am interested.

edit: wanted to add too that p much everyone we see in this show is queer and creative so literally why is nobody ever saying all this about louis' photography, claudia's acting and interest in fashion (or her general observations on the world thru so many diaries that are referenced in multiple ways as she's not around anymore to speak otherwise), armand's theatre work, madeleine's dressmaking. that's usually why ppl comment on lestat, bcuz he's the most noticed and praised but he's literally not the only one doing it at all.

[altocat]

ok but im more curious, how post-doc genesis reaction begin called old? poor guy

Post-Doc Genesis is honestly kind of mellow and checked out. Sure, he still has instances where he lashes out or acts like the same theatrical hothead he always was. But he's a lot more subdued, worn down through years of grief, survivor's guilt, and just...well, guilt in general.

Being called old no longer fazes him. Genesis still wants to live and is determined to do so. But after the events of Crisis Core, he mostly feels adrift, unsure where to take his life. He's also come to realize that, now that he's been cured of his Degradation, he's not really aging in the most conventional sense, if at all. His life will go on, stretch far beyond its limits. He will wander this world alone as a pariah, doing good where he can, physically preserved despite the weariness of his own mind. Was this what Sephiroth would have experienced? To outlive loved ones, Shinra, the planet itself?

Over the passing seasons, Genesis finds that he's changing, even if his appearance doesn't. If there's one thing he gained from this entire experience, it was wisdom. Maybe in ways that Angeal and Sephiroth never would have attained if they were alive. Genesis knows he's old. But he accepts it. He will go on. He will continue to protect the planet on his own. He will offer council and aid to those who seek it. And he will utilize his wisdom in ways that will benefit the planet, preserve the dignity of human life.

For once, he's glad that he's old. Glad that he's older and wiser.

It means he's doing something right.

[campingwiththecharmings]

it's been too long since i've sent something debilitatingly horny to you, so here:

edit: im sorry its so long and plot-y 😭 i've never written for poe and got too excited.

imagine being a first order commander in charge of coaxing information from poe dameron. the first batch of interrogators (a couple stormtroopers) couldn't get a thing out of him so you were called in as back up.

GIF by antagonistenthusiast

you've had a few interactions with poe (as you're both renowned pilots), but you've never actually seen his face. you've only communicated through radios -- well, communicated is a strong word, you've taunted and growled at each other from a distance...

needless to say, you were intrigued to finally meet this 'poe dameron' that you've been chasing around since you became a flight officer.

you're shocked when you see him, not because he's battered and barely conscious, but because he's prettier than you expected.

GIF by one-blog-to-whump-them-all

of course, he's fucking pretty. he's the resistance's flyboy, the general's favorite, complete with a cut jawline, pouty lips and perfect curls.

it enrages you.

long dark lashes frame half-lidded eyes as you approach him. his body is strapped tight to a chair, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. he's so unbothered, in fact, that he immediately greets you with one of his annoying quips:

"you the good cop?" you're sure it would've sounded better if his voice wasn't so hoarse and broken -- not that you didn't enjoy that sound. there's something about a ruined man that immediately sparks a flame inside of you.

"no, they were the good cops." you refer to the storm troopers that left him this way. "i'm the bad cop, and i like to do things a bit differently..."

you can see it on his face: he recognizes you, or your voice, but he doesn't know from where.

"can't fly away anymore, can you, dameron?"

it finally dawns on him, "you." he almost looks...happy about the revelation.

"yeah, me." his stare is intense and interested, and he's not trying to hide it at all.

cocky bastard.

"y'now i didn't expect such a bea--"

you roll your eyes, "ok, let's stop with all this chatter."

there's a piece of paper sticking out of the breast pocket of his leather jacket, folded several times to fit securely in the space.

"you got something for me?" you coo, voice sickly sweet all of the sudden.

you reach out, gliding your hand from his shoulder to his chest, feeling the smooth leather rise and lower under your fingers as he starts to breathe harder. he pushes against your touch like he's touch deprived, like he's been waiting for this moment all his life.

oh, he's easy.

you snicker as you pluck the paper out, taking a second to wag it tauntingly in front of his face.

"what're you...HEY! THAT'S MINE."

bingo

you open it up, satisfied by how fluidly this interrogation is going. once you deliver this to ren, you're sure to get a promotion.

when you see what's inside, you glower: it's just a worn photo of some BB-droid.

"really?" you give him an unimpressed look. "what, is this your pet or something?"

"he's my driod! my little buddy!"

"ok...so we'll do this the hard way."

---

it starts with pain, but it never seems to be enough. he's -- laughing! he's taunting you, groaning out "is that all you got" or whispering a hoarse "i could do this all day".

you realize you're methods will have to be a bit...unconventional to get your point across. you saw how he reacted to your touch, how he looks at you, even when you're punching him in the face.

you know what you need to do, you're just not sure that you could take it.

GIF by joker1315

you take the step -- blurring the line between pain and pleasure.

it's for the first order, you tell yourself, but you're enjoying it.

you're breathing almost as hard as he is -- you need it just as much as he does.

you've been edging him about an hour now. he whines when you slow your hand again, leaving him right at the brink of release. metal clangs and groans as he pulls against his restraints.

"please, please, please..."

"you know what i need." you squeeze him, not tightly, but just enough to drive him wild. "just one word -- the planet -- and i'll give it to you. i'll let you cum all over yourself."

"c-can't."

"can't? or won't?" you swipe your thumb over his leaking tip. he's literally pulsing in your hold.

"fuck!" he yells out a name, one you immediately memorize, desperate voice and all.

;dlfsl;dfgk oh oh oh ohhhhhhh my goddddddddddddd

no but like, the fact that poe was also kind of into the whole thing though?? him arching into your touch, shooting you heated glances even when you're torturing him, like he likes being at your mercy?????? please send help 🫠🫠🫠

(**WARNING: here there be smut and it could potentially be considered dub-con so read at your own risk**)

if you thought he was pretty before, it's nothing compared to how he looks when he comes--his jaw slack, head thrown back, baring his glorious neck (a neck you just wanna bite), his sweaty curls deliciously mussed, eyes closed in ecstasy as he makes a mess of himself and your hand.

heavenly, you think. the sight is heavenly.

unable to resist, you kiss him softly, so contradictory to the rough way you'd been handling him. he sighs, sagging against his restraints as he kisses you back, his breath fanning across your cheek. you tell him he's a good boy when you pull away and he whines, trying to follow your lips, his mouth gaping, pupils blown wide with lust. he's so drunk on you, on the pleasure you've given him, he'd probably give you whatever you wanted right now; the knowledge fills you with glee. you smile, running a hand down his chest before tucking him back in his trousers.

he comes back to himself when you move to leave, his eyes growing a little harder, jaw clenching as you tell him that you look forward to working with him again.

unfortunately, ren isn't around for you to give him the intel poe gave you, so you hold onto it, intent on telling him when he returns. that night though, you can't sleep, can't stop thinking about poe's breathy whines and whimpers and how pretty he looked begging you to let him come. it's all you can think about, the urge to go to him so strong. so you go, shooing the guards from his cell and going inside. he's asleep, still tied up but removed from the rack he'd been on earlier, bloodied and bruised and beautiful. you allow yourself a moment to study him, eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, of his brow, his nose.

then you take him in your hand, squeezing and stroking, his pretty little noises going straight to your core. you want him, you realize, want to claim him, want to make him yours. the urge is so strong it makes you a little angry--that he could have so much power over you in this state is...well, it's unacceptable.

maybe you just need to fuck him, you reason, to get it out of your system. so you do, straddling him and sheathing his hardness inside your warm, wet cunt. he sounds (and looks) even prettier like this, beneath you, his moans breathy, breathing ragged as you ride him. he feels so good inside you, the stretch of his cock scratching an itch you didn't even realize you had. he watches at you with wide, attentive eyes, hips pushing up to meet yours as you impale yourself on him again and again.

you see stars when you come, cunt clenching around his cock as you throw your head back with a strangled moan. he's still hard and inside you when you come down, his ragged breaths reaching your ears. the look in his eyes is almost reverent when you meet them, and when he begs you to let him come inside you, a little piece of your heart crumbles.

you leave his cell, swearing to yourself that you'll never do it again, that you'll tell ren what you've learned and that dameron will be executed and it'll all be done.

but you don't. can't.

you keep the information you learned to yourself so your trysts with him can continue. every day you go to his cell, send away the guards, and fuck him. you start to look forward to it, to seeing him, to being with him. he starts begging you to let him touch you, and one day you cave and allow it. you groan when he cups your breast, arching into his touch as you bounce slowly on his cock. then his hand falls to your hip, his fingers dig into your skin, and a part of you hopes he'll leave behind bruises. when his thumb finds your clit, he circles the bud, groaning as you gasp, cunt fluttering around him. he whispers something as you fall apart, and it isn't until later that you realize...he'd called you beautiful.

(lmaooooooooooo many, many apologies for going overboard with this, i love me a subby man, especially when that man is poe dameron, hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng)

[thelov3lybookworm]

Undercover (part 2)

Part 1

Summary: She just wants him to leave her alone.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: im sooooo sorry for the amount of time you had to wait for this part, but i promise ill try to write faster 😉

(again, its been almost one and a half years since i read the books, so theres a possibility i write something thats not canon. so if you see it, no you dont 😉)

anyways, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Shoving her clothes into her bag was not the best idea, considering it was only increasing the amount of work she'd have to do later on.

But it sure made her feel better, and who was going to stop her?

Dropping the lumpy backpack to the ground, Y/n stalked back over to the small cupboard she had been given, and ripped out the leggings, pants, shirts and anything within reach of Y/n's slender fingers.

A knock on the door drew Y/n's attention, and she scowled at the unmoving thing.

"What?" Y/n snapped, pushing her clothes into the poor bag.

Y/n was sure that were the bag a living being, it would have cursed Y/n to hell and back for the torture she put it through.

She was also sure living in hell would have been a better option than going on a mission with Kenji, that too as a last resort.

No one answered back to her angry inquiry.

Reigning in her groan of frustration, Y/n stomped to the door and nearly ripped it off its hinges as she opened it.

There stood Kenji, with his signature asshole smile on his ugly little face.

"Are you deaf?" Y/n hissed.

He had the audacity to blink at her, raising his eyebrows, like she was being unreasonable.

She probably was, but who cared about that?

"I think I should be the one to ask you that."

"What do you want?" Y/n sneered.

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, his shit eating grin unwavering. "Just wanted to make sure you hadn't died of happiness that you were going to be working with me-"

The door slammed in his face before he could let more bullshit spew from his disgusting lips.

Y/n could hear his soft laugh through the wooden door, and she cursed Castle for the slow renovations.

Most of the Omega point had been upgraded, given metal and good quality doors through which sound was hard to pass unless people spoke through a microphone. But Y/n, as her luck would have it, had been assigned a small quarter in the part of Omega point that would be last to get upgrades.

It also did not pass Y/n's notice that the part Kenji lived in was the first to be renovated.

"Don't get too excited Y/n!" He yelled through the door, and Y/n whipped around, glaring holes into the worn wood.

"The only thing I'm excited about right now it killing myself."

"Nice one Y/n." Kenji laughed, loud and free.

Y/n said nothing, her anger dissipating at what she'd just revealed to him. Hoping that he would leave, she defeatedly walked back over to her backpack and dumped all its contents on her bed, settling down to fold them all neatly.

A moment of silence passed, and there were no sounds other than the soft rustle of the clothes on Y/n's lap.

Though a moment was all she got.

"You're joking, right?" Kenji called out.

Y/n ignored him.

"Y/n?"

"Go away Kishimoto."

Maybe he could hear the defeat in her voice, maybe it was the way she did not really scream, but he began knocking on the door frantically.

"Hey! Y/n!"

When Y/n did not acknowledge him, he suddenly began pounding on her door. "Y/n. Open up."

"Fuck off."

"Tell me it was a joke and I'll fuck right off."

"Leave me alone."

"Say it Y/n. Say that you-"

"I am not going to hang myself Kishimoto." Y/n yelled, frustrated, before mumbling to herself. "At least not today."

"Fine. I will leave, but remember, this conversation is far from over."

"If you don't leave right now, more than this conversation will be over."

A pause.

"And what's that?"

"Your life."

He laughed, and it slowly faded away like he was leaving, just as a small smile faded onto Y/n's face.

Asshole.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686 @eve175

Kenji Kishimoto Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter

[lucysgraybird]

to show hospitality to angels

pairing: billy the kid x reader

warnings: discussions of religion (brief and light)

title source: hebrews 13:2. i think

a/n: hello ! i am not catholic and thus don't know protocol for catholic mass. generally im like religious lite so im really sorry if my discussions of God are sacrilegious in this, it's just how i conceptualize religion. also i don't think they are sacrilegious, im just preemptively apologizing

Billy was not a religious man, but that didn't mean he never went to church. Call it Catholic guilt, call it respecting his ancestors, but he made it to mass on Easter and Christmas and on rare Sundays if he was particularly missing his ma. 

This particular winter morning saw him in the sanctuary for the Christmas morning service, doing his best to be still and silent. Though these holiday services were longer, he preferred them to the ones on Sunday – the church was prettier, decorated for the season, and there was usually more (and nicer) music. The choir stood behind the pulpit, though admittedly he wasn't paying much attention to the full picture, searching for one singer. Someone had a lilting soprano voice that made the world soft and a little fuzzy at the edges; maybe not trained, maybe not clean, but the kind of voice that played on the outskirts of memories of sleepy childhood nights. Through First Noël and Little Town of Bethlehem he scanned the right of the choir, but couldn't identify quite where the voice was coming from. 

Then, for Silent Night, you stepped forward, a worn book of music clutched open to your chest as you gathered your red-and-green ruffled skirts. Billy had made the early New Year’s resolution to be a little more careful about falling in love, but the moment you began to sing he knew that was out the window. There was a slight tremble in your hands, betrayed by the fluttering paper and betraying your nerves at this solo, but your voice soared clear through the chapel anyways. Every worry Billy had went out the window – the cold and snow that were rolling in, the bounty still on his head, the insecurity of his whole life, all gone at the sound of your voice. There was only here and now, the sweeping melody wrapping around him like a blanket.

It was over in a second. The solo, that is. The feeling it had brought him, the peace he hadn't felt in God knows how long, remained for the rest of the service, until he was standing and scrambling to the front after the final prayer to talk to you.

“Miss?” He said, the brim of his hat crushed in his hands.

You turned, face soft and open. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to tell you that you got a real beautiful voice.”

A smile just about split your cheeks, now dusted with a pink blush. “Oh, thank you! I was so nervous, so I'm glad at least one person enjoyed it. I've never seen you here before. Are you new in town?”

Now it was his turn to flush. “I've been here a couple months. I don't make it to church as often as I oughta, I suppose.”

To his surprise, no judgement sprung up in your eyes. 

“There's no set number of times someone ought to come to mass,” you said. “We all have lives. Church is always there when we need a break – or can take one.”

Such a sage statement coming from someone his age, maybe even a little younger, almost made him laugh, but it actually settled the nerves in his chest.

“I thought since you were in the choir, you'd be real pious,” Billy said.

Your mouth turned down in a conspiratorial smile, just this side of letting out a giggle.

“I slip out the back after we sing sometimes,” you confided. “I grew up a preacher’s daughter, and it seems more worth it to me now to go to church when I actually want to be with God, not just because I feel like I have to.”

“I like that,” he said thoughtlessly, and immediately felt stupid for the simplicity. 

It earned him a toothy grin, though, and you brushed your hand against his arm.

“I have to get home now, but I would like to see you again. I'm a teacher at the schoolhouse in town, so you can find me there every afternoon.”

His surprise at your interest in him manifested in silence, and you dropped your hand in shame.

“I'm sorry, that was incredibly forward of me. If-”

“No! No, I want to see you again too. I'll come by the school on, say, Friday? If you're not too busy?”

“Not at all. Just tell me your name, so I know who I'm welcoming?”

“William,” he said, something about you making him desperate to be proper, then desperate to be honest. “Billy.”

“Well, Billy, it was lovely to meet you.”

You cast a glance around the room, then rose on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek before leaving to get your coat. What a strange tableau you would've created, he thought, had anyone seen you: the lips of a preacher's daughter on the skin of an outlaw. It was almost something out of a dime novel. It wasn't until you were surely long-gone that he realized he had never caught your name.

[smeg-and-the-red]

Smegtober Day 8: Diary

(prompts by @strange-and-off-putting)

word count: 578

A/N: This is set during Stasis Leak. Warning for allusions to child neglect (and Rimmer's terrible childhood in general).

Like a lighthouse beaming across a sea of boredom, Rimmer’s diary provides a delightful evening of entertainment. As Lister reads, he occasionally recites passages in his best impression of Rimmer’s nasally whine to the Cat, who snickers while he hems a pair of pants. What Rimmer has written in his diary isn’t even particularly interesting, it is simply knowing how bent out of shape the hologram would get over it that makes it fun.

Rimmer is outraged when he finds out - of course. Which he hardly has any right to be, Lister argues, since he knows that Rimmer has read his diary. Their bickering is cut short by Holly informing them of the stasis leak.

Rimmer’s insistence that Lister stop only serves to make him determined to read more. Rimmer once mentioned that he has kept a diary consistently since he was a child, and since Lister knows he never throws anything away, he figures the old ones have to be somewhere. He looks high and low, but finds nothing in their sleeping quarters. He figures Rimmer must have dumped them after all, and soon forgets about it.

Until now. As the months have passed, their sleeping quarters have collected more and more trinkets, junk, or whatever else Lister happens to find when he occasionally explores the rest of the ship. Rimmer had objected at first - of course - and insisted he didn’t want to be living in an episode of Hoarders. But eventually he relented, and Lister noticed a few of the hologram’s things out of their usual strict places as well.

An old wooden chest sits open in the middle of his and Lister’s quarters with various bits and bobs thrown haphazardly into it. But it isn’t all junk, as Lister had assumed. He spots a couple of worn, plain black notebooks, identical to the one Rimmer had used as his diary. Grinning widely, he scoops one out of the chest and hauls himself up into bed, settling in and opening the notebook.

He frowns at what he sees. This diary can’t be Rimmer’s - the handwriting is an untidy mess, nothing like Rimmer’s immaculate Copperplate script.

Lister scans a random page. No, this is definitely Rimmer’s diary. He sees Rimmer’s brothers’ names in the middle of one entry. He flicks back to the first page and checks the date at the top of it. The first entry was written in the winter of 2160, when Rimmer was about eleven years old. Lister reads.

I got a letter from Father. My report must of came in the post. Im glad Im not there. Hes really angry at me so its probably really bad. He said Im to study hard so he can test me when I come home. I need to eat as much as I can before I go home on Friday.

Lister closes the notebook with a snap, his heart beating uncomfortably fast.

It’s not like Lister didn’t know. Rimmer had told him recently that his father was tough, that he had denied him and his brothers food at mealtimes if they failed to answer questions about astronavigation. But hearing about it is one thing. To actually see it written in that childish scrawl is another thing altogether. It makes it so much worse somehow. Those things didn’t happen to Lister’s smeghead bunkmate, they happened to a tiny child.

Lister tosses the diary across the room and back into the wooden chest he found it in.

[wrongcaitlyn]

I HAVE RAMBLINGS ABOUT TYT

Nico and Apollo def have geek out sessions over greek mythology like they are NERDS and Apollo def grew up having snippets of the Iliad and Odyssey read to him so the moment Nico showed even the slightest of interest in Greek mythology as a kid, best believe Apollo used that to warm up to him 😭🙏

ALSO I can just picture little Apollo curled up next to Leto as she read him all these different poems (I'd like to think she read to him in Greek and while Apollo wasn't completely fluent in Greek, he def understood it very well but then he lost it 😞)

Also, Leto definitely called Apollo sunshine, and that's why he calls his own kids that. Every time Apollo would ask why he was named Apollo, Leto would scoop him up and say it was bc he was the light of her life, and Apollo is the god of light, so ofc she named her pride and joy after the god of light

Anyways whatever u do don't think about sixteen year old Apollo drunk (and probably high) out of his mind, curled up in a hotel room that he hardly spent any time in wishing he could've spent more time with his mother before his father whisked him away and into the spotlight :(

UGH AND DON'T THINK ABOUT APOLLO READING THE ILIAD TO HIMSELF WHENEVER HE MISSES LETO

clearly I have very strong feelings towards the relationship Apollo has with his mother and the fact that he should've had more time with her but bc he was in the spotlight all the time as a kid he didn't get to :(

Wait, oh my god, did Apollo go to his own mother's funeral?? Bc like Will was in middle school when she died, right?? So would have he trusted Will enough to be alone in the house for a few days, or did he just not go?? And how many times did Apollo look at his sixteen year old son and realize that the neglect Zeus put him through (ignoring Apollo's very clear addiction in favor of making him famous ofc) was definitely abuse. HOW MANY TIMES DID APOLLO HAVE TO REALIZE THAT HE GREW UP TOO FAST EVERY TIME HE LOOKED AT WILL??? 😭😭😭

ALSO ALSO IDK IF IT WAS INTENTIONAL BUT HAVING APOLLO, THE PROTECTOR OF YOUNG BOYS, BE THE ONE TO RESCUE NICO FROM AN ABUSIVE SITUATION AND GAVE HIM THE RESOURCES HE NEEDED TO HEAL???? AMAZING

I think Kayla def tried to teach everyone that Will was friends with archery. Just bc archery is severely underrated 😞

(Only Piper managed to actually hit the target, and Jason somehow sliced his hand open??? He has a very faint scar now, and if someone asks about it while he's with Leo, then Leo will come up with the most ridiculous stories instead of telling them the truth 😭)

Also, I think you've mentioned it before, but did either Darren or Kayla try to teach him archery? Idk but the mental image is very funny and it probably took him a plethora of tries to hit the target and Kayla was probably so proud

ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG IM DOING THIS INSTEAD OF WRITING MY CREATIVE WRITING ASSIGNMENT (I love that class but also UGHHHHH)

HAVE A GOOD DAY 🫶

FIRST OF ALL THIS JUST MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO SEE LIKE AHHSDFHLSDFJ OMG TYT RAMBLES

the whole part about apollo and leto... YES YES YESLKJDSFASDF AHHH apollo was 100% raised on greek mythology and he does have various copies of the iliad and the odyssey and other myths, an old worn-down version from his mom which had been passed down to him in her will, and a bunch of fancy pretty ones bc if he ever sees a pretty copy of the iliad or the odyssey he WILL buy it.

i think that he did go through a phase where like,,, he was just completely uninterested in that sort of stuff, considered it childhood and whatever. but i think that eventually, esp when taking in will, he went through what i'll call the "dumb and poetic try-hard intellectual" phase where he actually did read through the whole thing, read through various translations, annotated some copies, attempted to learn greek (modern greek, not ancient greek lmao), and just in general getting in touch with his heritage bc he realizes, watching will who's so small and resembles him so much, that those memories of him and his mom were actually some of his happiest moments of childhood, not annoying ones. and so he does try to replicate that, despite having not left his family on the best of terms *cough* really bad onesSLKJDF

and as someone who had a parent speak to them in their language, knew how to understand that language, but refused to learn it themselves bc it was boring, there's gonna be such an intense regret there from apollo, thinking that he should've taken the opportunity to learn when he could. he definitely would still understand bits and pieces, maybe a few quotes that were his or his mom's favorites, but it's just a lot harder to learn a language once you've grown up ://

as for the funeral, he did not go, because he still wasn't on speaking terms with his father, and well,,, yeah. he didn't want to cause a scene, also didn't want to tell will much about it, but i do think leto left some things to apollo in her will that apollo had to fight pretty hard to actually get sent to him

and GOD the emotions of apollo watchign will grow up... AHSDFJ ILL NEVER GET OVER IT like its hard to accept but he eventually does recognize it. and it's painful but it also feels good to know that that'll never happen. to watch his son at 16 spend his afternoon doing homework, and at 17 having a healthy relationship with his best friend, and at 18 applying to colleges... it definitely makes apollo proud, but it also breaks his heart a bit. because he couldn't imagine ever forcing the childhood that he had on his son, and he has to admit that his father hadn't felt the same sense of protection or care, and that even though his mom did, she wasn't in a position to do anything that would truly help :/

ALSO ALSO IDK IF IT WAS INTENTIONAL BUT HAVING APOLLO, THE PROTECTOR OF YOUNG BOYS, BE THE ONE TO RESCUE NICO FROM AN ABUSIVE SITUATION AND GAVE HIM THE RESOURCES HE NEEDED TO HEAL???? AMAZING

KSDJFLKASJDFSD PARALLELS AHHSDHFHDSFJ no bc that actually just makes me so happyyyyy like yes apollo is a good father yes he always has been and yes he always will be!!!! to literally anyone who needs it. i love him so much. can you believe when i was first outlining this fic i was like "hm, yeah, he plays an important role, but like i'll make sure not to make him a major character or anything"

now we're here. apollo is probably like. the third most major character after nico and will. in greatest of luxuries, at least.

kayla absoluTELY tried to train everyone in archery, and apollo's trying to avoid it bc he's trying not to think back to 2002 when darren tried to teach him archery, and kayla has the exact same instruction style bc darren had taught her, and hes actually better than will and will's friends bc he's learned before, but he fails on purpose bc the memories are too painful because THEY WERE HAPPY-

sorry pollen is possessing me! it will never leave

ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG IM DOING THIS INSTEAD OF WRITING MY CREATIVE WRITING ASSIGNMENT (I love that class but also UGHHHHH)

this is SO real bc i am responding to this to avoid doing my lit essaysdlkjf

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK