#old chem universe

[slippinmickeys]

Old Chem pt 3

For those that said something nice before they asked me for more.

Mulder met Scully’s mother for the first time at her husband’s funeral. 

The family had gathered before the start of the service in the basement of the church, where a few women were laying out trays of brownies and store-bought cookies, carafes of coffee, an Igloo cooler of what could only be described as ‘orange drink.’ Mulder stood back respectfully, wondering if he should offer to help. 

Scully had initially been in shock, then a crying mess, and was going on day five of Stoic. He’d stayed at her place, only leaving to run whatever errands needed running and to teach his classes. Sniffling, she’d cleaned out two drawers for him without a word and he’d moved in several pairs of underwear and socks, three shirts, four pairs of pants, his toothbrush and a razor, both of which sat next to hers in her bathroom. 

That morning, he’d run home at 5:00 am to change into his charcoal suit and they’d left for Baltimore at 7:00. Scully didn’t speak for much of the drive, and Mulder didn’t press her. When he’d pulled into the church parking lot, she opened her door, then turned to him, and said simply, “Thank you,” before taking a deep breath and heading into the church. 

There were tearful hugs and some nervous laughter amongst the Scully children–Bill was currently deployed and unable to make it, but his wife Tara made up for his absence by being a whirling dervish of helpfulness and positive energy. Mulder was exhausted just looking at her. 

“I’ve been told not to call you Fox,” said a voice from beside him, and Mulder turned to see a woman who was a little taller and more willowy than Scully, but with the same bright shade of hair. 

“You must be Melissa,” Mulder said, holding out his hand. 

Melissa looked at it a moment and then gave him a firm grip, observing him appraisingly while she shook it maybe three seconds longer than was polite. 

“So is it Dr. Mulder, then?” she asked, releasing it. 

“Just Mulder,” he said. “My condolences on the loss of your father. From everything Dana’s told me, he was a good man and a good dad.”

“To some more than others,” Melissa said enigmatically, turning to look at the rest of her family, still gathered across the room. 

Mulder held his silence, and watched Scully interact with her siblings and mother, something he’d as yet not been able to witness. There was a comfortability with them that he noticed, and a reversion to what he could only guess were the antics of Dana’s slumpy teenagehood. Siblings would do that to you. He thought briefly of Samantha and smiled. 

Melissa followed his gaze. 

“She’s sad about Dad,” she said. “But I’ve never seen her so happy.”

Mulder turned to look at Scully’s sister. 

“Don’t fuck it up,” she said. “Or your funeral will be next.”

With that, she ambled back over to her family and gathered Dana into a hug. 

[ariadne-mouse]

Do you ever watch a video that has some interesting, confidently-delivered information in it that is immediately debunked in the comments as false with reputable backup and, despite you agreeing with the debunking, you feel like your eager brain has already soaked up the bad information like a carpet soaking up a stain and you have to hope it's not going to burble up later as "fact"? Continued influence effect is a real bitch

[chemicalarospec]

college is wild because two queer 19 year olds from different places meet and one's been called a fag (as a slur) many many times and the other has never even heard the word being used in the derogatory sense.

[ghoulphile]

wish you'd make me cry | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 2.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!cooper, frottage, sitting missionary, dirty talk, degradation kink, pet names, teasing, dacryphilia, bareback, drug/chem use (jet), shotgunning, high sex ➥ summary | "You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c ➥ notes | drabble (that's no longer a drabble lol) request for @tearueful, thank you bby!! this one really got away from me... i had to stop myself from writing lol. un-beta'd atm. masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

Setting up camp for the night in an abandoned warehouse, you and Cooper wait out a radstorm that blows in off the horizon. Because while he loves sitting outside with a smoke, soaking in the rads until he’s buzzing with frenetic energy, you don’t feel like hunting down RadAway tomorrow.

It’s quiet apart from the distant sound of super mutants and ferals roaming the city, the sporadic roar of thunder, and rain tinging off the sheet metal roof. There’s still hours left until daylight, and it doesn’t seem like the volatile weather will break soon.

Unfortunately, you’ve read all the Grognak comics you could get your grubby hands on three times over, and there’s not much else to pass the time besides scuff your boot along the concrete floor, and pluck at a stray thread hanging off your tattered sleeping bag.

Meanwhile, Cooper lounges on his side, unbothered. His hand - bare for once - props up his head, the unscarred skin of a commandeered digit stark against angry rad burns and ropey scars. Between the knuckles of his other hand, he rolls a vial of chem over and over in a mesmerizing flick of deft fingers.

A lantern sputters between you as the old battery struggles to keep it lit. Its jaundiced glow banishes the thick darkness; a fuzzy halo of light that elongates shadows and deepens the cuts of his face.

You kiss your teeth, and say, “Hey, you got any more Jet?”

Lazy eyes slide towards you. A hairless brow quirks. “And if I did,” he asks, the vial pausing between his fingers, “why you wanna know?”

“Dunno, I’m bored… wanna get high?”

“Well, shit,” he whistles, bares his teeth. A low, crackling laugh rumbles from his chest. “Why the fuck didn’t you ask sooner.”

You shrug and crack a knuckle.

To be honest, the idea hadn’t occurred to you at first. Now that it has, anticipation curls low in your belly. Not only has it been a long, long time since you last got high (the sensation a hazy, half-remembered dream of fuzzy warmth and whirling thoughts), you know Cooper always carries a top-notch stash.

The little chem fiend, you think fondly.

“So,” you prompt. “Wanna get high together or what?”

“Sure as shit, darlin’. Let’s party.”

He settles against the pockmarked wall beside you with a soft grunt, the grit of concrete digging into his back. Thigh to thigh, his body is a rad warm line of heat. A bloom of suffocating heat in the otherwise biting chill of a wasteland night. Gunpowder and smoke tickle your nose when he leans over to rifle through his bag, leather creaking.

Muted, mellow; everything fades into a silent companionship as you pass the red inhaler between you. With every puff, whorls of smoke curl from your mouths until a murky gray cloud hovers in the air; defining the edges of your crafted universe.

The acrid vapor of chem burns its way through your lungs and into your bloodstream. A bitter taste coats your fattened tongue, lips tingling as your palm smothers little coughs. A flood of static rushes down your nerve endings, sends your head spinning.

As your vision blurs, the tension leeches from rounded shoulders with a bone weary sigh. And with every slow clicking blink, colors spark to life in a distorted kaleidoscope. Head lolling to the side, you watch through heavy eyes as Cooper rattles the inhaler and takes a shallow hit.

When he exhales, little tendrils of smoke caress the plains of his cheek. Dance along the hollow nasal ridge. “Almost out.” He grunts, your fingers brushing when he passes the cartridge back. “Go on, now. Finish it.”

The kind gesture (for him) touches you.

Then a faraway thought flutters.

Snags - settles into a nebulous desire.

And before you can second guess yourself, a rumble of thunder shakes the building. Wipes away the last of your common sense, and reservations. After all, why not? He was nice enough to share. You can too.

To his credit, Cooper doesn’t startle when you slink into his lap - not that you expect him to, even without being chem-addled. He tracks your movements from beneath a heavy brow bone, the dark Nuka Cola of his eyes glittering like shattered glass in the wane light.

“Heh, this that kinda party then, darlin’?” he asks once you settle, your thighs draped over his hips and your ass flush with his crotch. “‘Cuz you’ll be wanting ta extricate yourself if it ain’t.”

—Before I do it for you.

Humming, you dip forward until your breasts brush over the wide expanse of his chest. Interest flickers to life behind your navel; cinders cracking and popping along your spine. While you’d never considered Cooper a sexual availability beforehand (what with his never-ending search for family), the laden weight of his gaze as it pauses on your chin before dropping lower sings through your blood.

Kickstarts your heart into a galloping stutter that thuds against your ribcage as longing hooks behind your navel, tugs sudden and sharp. The world spins.

Maybe, you think, peering at him from beneath the fan of your lashes. Maybe…

“Pervert,” you murmur, biting down on a small smile.

The knife-sharp smirk falls from his lips faster than a comedown from Psycho when your fingertips ghost over the curve of his jaw, turning his head towards you. Like this, you share breath, the scant space between you thrumming with energy.

So close you can see flecks of gold in the amber whiskey of his eyes.

Your forehead brushes over his; the rough drag of gnarled skin sending a shiver through your limbs. “Let’s share the last hit. S’only fair.”

Pausing, he considers you for several long moments.

His gaze bounces from yours to the playful curve of your mouth and back. A small eternity passes like this. And then - when you’re about to crawl away to lick your wounded pride - the most imperceptible of nods grants his assent.

There’s a hiss of aerosol, a lung burning inhale, and then you’re exhaling into the open gash of his mouth.

Wisps of smoke dance off your tongue onto his, the bow of your lips glancing off the swell of his top lip as you squirm closer. You feed him chem in a slow, steady stream until all the air has left you.

He groans - a wounded, low-throated sound.

Your eyes flutter open to find him already staring, his iris a thin ring around the Blackhole of his wide blown pupils. Hooded, hungry: a caged predator. You lick your lips, and in doing so, flick your tongue over his.

Your stomach swoops, “I --”

“You’re such a needy fuckin’ brat, y’know that, sweetheart?”

Whether it was an apology or some other retort stuck to the back of your teeth like hard candy, you’ll never know because in the next moment a rough hand knocks the Jet out of your hand. The inhaler cracks against the concrete with a plastic smack before skidding off into the darkness.

A burning palm curls around your wrist, calloused fingers digging into your fluttering pulse point. “Hey — hngg!”

He yanks you close, and you taste the violence in his kiss.

Harsh lips map out the softness of yours as teeth pinch and roll until your mouth is a swollen mess of tender flesh and smeared spit. Keeping up with the frenzied scrape of his tongue and the deep pulls of his kisses is like trying to weather a hurricane or fight off a Yao Guai with a single bullet.

“W-Wait,” you gasp, fingers twined through the lapels of his duster. “I don’t --”

“Shut up,” Cooper growls, worrying the swell of your bottom lip until a bead of blood bubbles to the surface. He sucks it away with a stifled moan, his hips kicking up against the plush of your ass.

“Shut the fuck up right now. You know what you was doing - trying ta act innocent when you’ve been gaggin’ for it.”

Flustered, you pull back, “No, that’s not true!”

It’s hard to keep your balance with chem pumping through your veins, and you sway to the side. The only thing keeping you upright is the bruising grip Cooper has on your wrist. “I haven’t been — you’re wr-rong.”

He spits out a mean spirited chuckle. “If that’s what you need ta tell yourself, sweetheart.” A critical eye drags down the pathetic sight you make, crumbled as you are in his lap. “But I know the truth. I felt you looking - pantin’ after me like a bitch in heat.”

“...”

Panic grips you by the throat, your pulse thundering against the thumb he strokes along the curve of your shoulder. You should’ve known better.

Of course, he’d notice.

He was The Ghoul after all - best bounty hunter from this coast to the next. It was his job to perceive everything around him, sus out friend from foe.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

What else can you say?

He brought you along (for whatever reason, fuck if you know why), and you’ve caused nothing but trouble every step of the way. It’s a wasteland miracle he hasn’t kicked your ass and left you bleeding in the dirt by now.

I have to fix this. Whatever it takes.

“I ain’t wanting you sorry.”

Gulping, you will away the sting of tears, and say, “Please, don’t kick me out.”

“Y’know, sometimes I think it’s a miracle you survived this long at all.”

“You don’t have to be so rude about it…” 

“Listen good and well, sugar,” he says with a roll of his eyes, that tender hand brushing over your neck turning into a collar as he drags you close. His lips whisper over yours with every word. “I didn’t go through all of this bullshit just ta get rid of you. Now--”

Hips rut up into you, dragging the firm line of his growing erection along the soft globes of your ass. “Stop teasin’ and make yourself useful,” he says. “Or you will be sorry.”

Everything after that flicks in and out of focus like a zoetrope: the burning clasp of hands, the slick glide of hungry mouths, the frantic rock of your hips as you both chase after dry friction with a desperation that borders on madness.

Your hands don’t know where to settle, fluttering from the nape of his neck to the breadth of his shoulders to the rippling muscle of his stomach as he rocks into you. Bites at any exposed skin that he can until his teeth leave marks you’ll carry for days.

All the while the hard edges of his body crash into your softness like waves against an eroding shore. Liquid fire blazes in your belly like a raging wildfire, scorching you from the inside out until you’re dumb and dripping.

The chem snaking through your body enhances the littlest of sensations until you feel like one giant exposed nerve. Slick drenched and sweaty, you moan weakly and rest your forehead against his cheek.

“Please,” you slur, thighs trembling where they squeeze at his live-wire hips. “S’not enough - need more. Wanna cum. Please, please, please. Make me cum.”

Cooper bites out a curse, his fingers biting into the fat of your ass. “Yeah, s’that right, sweetheart - d’you think you deserve it for bein’ such a lil brat?”

“Yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything. Just - hhahh, fuck!”

The fabric of your panties clings to your folds, and your pants chafe.

Your clit throbs with every thud of your heartbeat, every firm grind of his cock and low husk of his voice. Want him seated so deep inside you choke - your poor pussy struggling to take his cock as he rides you so hard you cry.

“Anything?” he asks with a breathless chuckle.

The devilish gleam of his eyes rattles your bones, shivers of electric anticipation fizzing through your veins like Quantum.

“Well, shit. Don’t come cryin’ ta me when you regret it. Now, take off those fucking pants and ride my cock like a good girl.”

And when he bullies his way inside, those thick ridges dragging along gummy walls, you almost swallow your tongue. He’s so big - the biggest you’ve ever had.

Every inch is a struggle, a victory. He’s not patient, he’s not kind. You don’t want it any other way, spread so wide your pussy flutters pathetically, trying to push him out.

Then the fat head grazes past the rough patch of your g-spot, sliding home to kiss your cervix. Your knees lock around his ribs, your head tossing back as a high-pitched whine punches its way out of your throat.

“A-Ah! I can’t — oh shit — you’re so,” you babble. “Too much!”

An ache spears deep, roots behind your navel.

“Heh, you asked for it, sweetheart. Look at me.” A scarred thumb wicks away a tear as you peel your eyes open with a sniffle. “That’s it. Shit, you look s’pretty when you cry.”

He licks his skin clean, uses his wet thumb to reach between you and roll the pad over your abused clit. You jump, sliding up on his shaft only for gravity to drag you back down with a solid smack of skin, your limbs jello soft.

The motion slams him deeper and slick drips from you in a sticky gush to soak his balls. You cry out, reedy thin.

Cooper grunts, warns, “You keep doing that and we’re not stoppin’ til you’re dripping cum.”

Though the thick haze of chem and syrupy sweet pleasure, you cobble together a grin and lick your way into his mouth. Tangle your tongues and suck as your hips arch into his. “Please, ruin me,” you breathe.

A possessive greed glints at you from the depths of his hangman eyes.

“Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you, sweetheart,” he promises.

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞 · 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

ׂ╰┈➤ ◖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐈 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 ◗

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

cw : MDNI - S2 Arcane Act III [spoilers], parallel universe, alternate male reader, alternate Silco, slightly suggestive, top male reader, old man yaoi, mentions of nudity, chem-baron male reader, crime boss male reader, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of suicidal tendencies & thoughts, mentions of injuries, bitter sweet ending, open ended, fluff, angst, proofread. wc : 1.6k

__________________

now playing : What Have They Done To Us (from the series Arcane League of Legends) - Mako, Grey

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

prologue · epilogue ←

overview · With Silco dead and gone, it seemed as if all your strength, your will to fight, will to live — it all disappeared with him. It was as if your entire world had fallen apart all at once, that you'd been forsaken or damned by some higher power to simply live a life of constant cruelty. Just as it always has been, just as it always will be — toiling in misery as the place you once called home seemed to be burning before your eyes.

Or maybe, just maybe...it was all nothing but a bad dream.

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

You woke with an abrupt gasp, a cold sweat clinging onto your body after waking from a less than pleasant dream. Your breath stuttered as you fisted against the sheets to ground yourself to reality. As your vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, it was only then that you realized you were in bed within your allotted room. As the sheets stirred beside you, a slender hand moved to run itself against your bare, scar riddled body — starting at your stomach and slowly making its way up your chest — before finally settling against where your heart resided.

“You alright?” Silcos' voice cut through the quiet air of the room, now able to hear your sudden laboured breathing. He was just barely awake at the time, but the moment he not only heard, but felt you wake in such a panic, he didn't hesitate to come to your aid. The way your heart seemed to race under his touch only worried him that much more about your current state.

“Yeah, no, I just…I just had a weird dream, that's all. Nothing to worry about, just wasn't too fond of it since, well, it seemed so real. Call me crazy, but everyone we knew was there.” You wiped a hand against your own face, still half awake yourself. One hand went up to overlap the others while another went through your hair, combing it back with your fingers balling up towards the end. After a moment or so and being able to catch your breath, you laid yourself back down, resting against the pillow propped under your head.

Silco huffed out, doing his best to sit up, maneuvering a pillow behind his back as he moved positions. “Is that so?” He knew that you were prone to having vivid dreams every now and then, and when it was something intriguing or something that kept you up, he didn't mind letting you ramble on when recalling said events.

“I was some sort of…crime boss and so were you. But you were much scarier than me,” you started, only to snicker at the thought, practically hearing the other playfully roll his eyes at your active imagination. “Though, I will say it got really depressing rather…rather fast. Lots of people got hurt, people I cared about dearly. You, you were there, and suddenly…you weren't.”

“Darling,” he called out for you, though in the moment of recalling what felt like years worth of memories shoved into one dream, you couldn't help but to continue your rant before the thoughts completely disappeared from the forefront of your mind.

“You and Vander, god,” you sighed out, brows furrowing and eyes glancing about the ceiling, as if you were trying to find the image. “You two were up in arms against each other, and I…and I just sat and watched as everything burned. Like I was helpless to it all. The kids, they — Silco, bad things happened, left and right and it was as if the world was against you, us…me? And Powder, damn it, she was so…lost, so broken, and there…there was nothing I could do to—”

Your head snapped down to your arm as you felt a hand slip into your own, squeezing it reassuringly. Your head then tilted up, looking back to your companion with a slight pout on your lips.

“I'm not going anywhere, you know that. I'll always be beside you, understand?” Silco croaked out.

You gently smiled in turn, twisting to where you were laying on your side before reaching out to cup and caress against their face. “Just as I’ll be here next to you, unmoving. My love, unwavering,” you say onto him. Your thumb gently rubbed against the scarred skin of his face, tender touches under the discolored eye you'd come to adore, all before leaning in and tenderly pressing your lips against his own.

Silco reciprocated immediately, tilting his head as his own free hand came up to the nape of your neck, slowly threading his fingers through your hair before giving it a gentle tug, humming as he felt you groan into his mouth.

Regretfully pulling away, you looked at him through half lidded eyes. Your heart throbbed within the confines of your ribcage as he looked at you with the same look he always gave you, the look that makes you fall harder for him everyday.

The look of absolute love, devotion, and admiration — the type of love you couldn't find anywhere else, the type you thought you never deserved.

But Silco knew you deserved more. You deserved the world and he'd give it to you the moment you asked, no hesitation.

Before long, the sheets were moved and your bodies were entangled. Your lips were quick to spoil and praise his skin, pressing hot, heavy kisses against his neck, slipping down to his collar, nipping away while he called your name in such a sultry tone. You practically melted. Your hands drifted to his sides, playing against his bare skin while his hands dipped and diverged, one against your back — brushing against the many scars you'd earned throughout the years — the other threading through your graying hair.

You were once again breathless, but for all the right reasons. A warmth surged through your body, swirling around your core as Silco egged you on.

Leaning up, you found yourself stealing a kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip before slowly pulling away, his teeth catching your bottom and tugging it shortly after. As you two parted, you couldn't help but to stare. Oh how you adored this man, would break the world for him if he asked or demanded it. What wouldn't you do for the man you loved. “I love you…”

Peering into his heterochromic eyes, he looked back into your own, just as he looked at you across the bar all those years ago. “I love you too darling, more than you'll ever know.” He pressed his lips against your once again.

“And nothing will ever change that.”

₊˚⊹ ₊

Your eyes shot open and your body lunged forward, gasping for air as if you'd been choking on fumes. You hacked and coughed before slamming yourself back against the brick wall you laid again, groaning as pain surged throughout the entirety of your body and a harsh banging against your temples. You could barely think in the moment, but you were awake enough to notice that you were somewhere shoved in an alley, slumped against one of its many grime covered walls.

Before you could even attempt to move again, there was a searing pain that seemed to occupy the entire left side of your body. Slowly turning your head, you gazed upon the rather harsh and horrific burns that were in your skin. A pained yell let loose from your lungs as you tried to sit up straight, the pain making your vision flash white.

The Lanes had gone to hell, devastation around every corner, and what was left for you?

Despair, destruction, it all came down and brought back nothing but misery. Something you'd been all too accustomed to.

“What a fucked up dream,” you sneered, wincing with every breath you took.” Maybe…Maybe just one good thought of him before it's lights out.” In the corner of your eye there seemed to be an eerie green glow that lit up the darkness of the Lanes. It caused you to weakly turn your head towards the product of such a glaring light. Only then, could you remember where you truly were, what you'd done.

You could do nothing but sit and watch as The Last Drop was engulfed in flames, the fire lapping at every entrance, window, and wall. You could still feel the flames that nipped at your flesh, eating away as you slumped yourself at the bar in those final moments. Everything started to make sense to you, watching Jinx as she lit the place a blaze, watching her shadow, foreign without her long hair.

The memory was too painful for her, and you didn't blame her.

You could never blame her.

You could never hate her. After all, she was your forsakened daughter, whether you acknowledged it or not. The last thing you could have imagined was her harming Silco, but in the end, you knew she couldn't have done such a thing on purpose, not when she missed him so dearly. Just as you did.

You wanted your suffering to end there, as sad as it seemed, you saw it as a means to an end. One last drink before a final goodbye.

The three people you held dearly, all three of them, gone. Only you remained, to suffer in their silence.

You couldn't remember if you dragged yourself out, or if someone else did, but as you closed your eyes, you could hear his voice encircling your mind.

“You aren't just a mutt fighting for scraps anymore. You're a hound willing to fight for what's yours. You aren't pathetic enough to put yourself down, nor has anyone had the strength or audacity to kill you. So do what you do best…and fight.”

It was as if he was right in front of you.

“Keep fighting, or I swear I'll take everything you care about and watch it burn. Keep fighting. For me…”

As the blaze that once was the Last Drop continued the burn, you couldn't help but to think rather fondly of the dream you had. “Maybe in another life, yeah?” You muttered to yourself. Staring off into the flames, you could feel the darkness seeping in, ready to take you down into the depths of unconsciousness once again.

“Maybe…what could have been.”

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

a/n : thank you for suffering with me, arcane gripped my heart and I'M STILL HURTING— anywho, don't forget to like, comment, or repost! Arcane requests are open! <3

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. three (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 16.5k (dear god).

WARNINGS: eventual SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, this chapter is truly them being cute and barely fighting which is ???, healthy competition i think, they get a serious case of the silly goose at some point, mentions of drinking at some point, gyuri being an overprotective friend, meeting new people, emotional talk involving kids yall will see why, pet names (princess), descriptions of female and male anatomy, first kisses!! *the crowd cheers*, a little bit of dry humping... *the crowd boos* and unresolved feelings!!!! *the crowd AND y/n leave in angry tears*.

NOTES: hi everyone! here's part three of this mini series that is PART OF THE LOVE'S AN UNCHARTED PATH / SHOW & TELL UNIVERSE. so, so sorry it took so long but i had a bit of a writer's block these past months :(. there's mentions of the last installment plot so, if you're new around here, you can always find the rest of this series and the rest of the stories of this universe on my masterist! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: december 5th 2024.

masterlist - part one - part two.

There's this image of you that flashes across Yunho’s mind. 

It happened right before he fell asleep last night, too, and he's having a hard time figuring out if he only dreamed it or if it actually happened. 

The skin on your back glistening, the cut of the dress after he pulled down the zipper just enough to not be disrespectful. 

He did it out of instinct, out of the sudden familiarity he felt between you both. He did it because, before he had the genius idea of helping you with your dress (to get it off in some way, what the fuck is wrong with him), you were really close to his face and he couldn't think straight for the remainder of the time he was in your presence. 

There was a time in his life where the mere thought of you brought discomfort to him. It kinda brings discomfort to him now, too, but it's a different kind of discomfort. It's dull, it's confusing and it's angering at the same time because, if he was sure of something before, it was the fact that he never really wanted to be near you. 

You were the bane of his existence when you two were kids, something that was forced on him the second your parents wanted and he despises the lack of control and freedom he's always had around you. 

And now there's a flash of you genuinely laughing at him for blushing after the old lady from last night gave him some not-so-innocent compliments in front of everyone. There's a flash of you defending him when you really didn't need to, even if you stated otherwise. 

There's a flash of you wiping the corners of your mouth after finishing the food he made you, a visage that completely besots him. 

He never really wanted to kiss you. 

Only once, at your graduation party, but that was drunk him and playing spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven really did a number on his teenage hormones at the time. 

He remembers the bottle landing on the girl next to you and the guy next to you and the guy next to the guy next to you. Yunho kissed them all with the hope of kissing you at some point that night. Just because he was curious, because deep inside of him he knew your parents plans all along. 

He didn't get to do it, though, and so it didn't really matter; the wish died as soon as he woke up the next day with a huge hangover and a dry mouth. Yesterday, he thought the same would happen if he went to sleep and dreamed about anything but you. 

That, of course, didn't happen. 

Now he’s just left trying to figure out what the fuck is going on exactly as the memory of your lips and the sting of annoyance that follows the thought of him wanting you in any way other than fifty feet apart distracts him from whatever his friends are saying right now. 

“He lost his fucking mind,” Gyuri stands in front of him, hands on her hips and furrowed brows like a mother who’s scolding her troubled child. She collapses on the couch behind her a second later, next to her best friend who’s giggling at her and her reaction “He’s not even answering to me.” 

They called for an emergency meeting at San and Wooyoung’s place, as expected. He was supposed to see them on saturday anyway but now he gave the friend group a reason to hang out a day earlier. Seonghwa did too, but his story, apparently, is more interesting than the oldest sudden girlfriend. 

In a way, they both got out of nowhere partners. But the friend group is hanging out a day earlier than expected so he’s not really sure why he’s being reprimanded for something so out of his control. 

They don't know this is out of his control. Maybe that's why. 

Wooyoung takes a sit in front of him, on top of the wooden table separating the space between the tv and the couch and puts a hand on his shoulder, like a father who’s trying to be on his side of things without offending his wife “Care to explain yourself, Yunho?” 

He decides to play pretend so he doesn’t have to think about it more than he needs to “Explain what?” 

As Gyuri gasps, Woo shakes his head before dramatically hanging it low.  

“God help you, my dear friend.” 

Gyuri gets up again and Wooyoung gets up as well, stepping aside so he can give space to her to regard poor little him with the angriest look ever directed at an innocent man.

He thanks Mingi for opening the front door of the apartment right at that moment. 

Behind him, Mingi’s girlfriend, Yeosang, Hongjoong and Seonghwa follow suit. San is in the kitchen finishing the dishes and Jongho is at school, taking a quiz or something, he thinks. 

He didn’t really read the group chat like that. They just requested his presence and he spawned in the apartment half an hour later.

But he didn't take into account that he was seeing Mingi that day too. Mingi, his best friend for a few years now, the only person he should've actually told what was going to happen yesterday night. 

He fucked up. 

“Can you let the man explain himself, Gyuri?” Mingi asks, down on one knee and helping his girl take off her shoes. Yunho wants to roll his eyes but Mingi is, after all, head over heels for her. 

How is he going to explain to them that he’s not head over heels over his new, sudden girlfriend? That, in fact, he thought he despised her until yesterday. 

And that now he’s not able to shake her from his thoughts even if he desperately wants to. 

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks and Gyuri turns and points at him. 

“We’re talking to you after we talk to him.” She makes a show of her threat, her pointed finger moving to Yunho’s forehead and slightly pushing him back on his seat. 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes and plops down on the couch, next to San’s girlfriend “Oh, my God.” 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him with a tiny smile “She’s freaking out today.” 

Wooyoung turns the tv on. His laptop is connected to it through a long, orange cord and when Yunho turns to the screen, it shows a picture of him and you with plastic smiles that look too real. 

If only people knew. 

“This is what’s going on,” he says, pointing to the image and then leaning into his laptop to click a new tab “The Jeong and Kim empires merge into one after their youngest announce they’re in a relationship at yesterday’s twenty year celebratory gala,” reading directly from the article, Yunho manages to cringe at the wording of it before Wooyoung turns to him “Since when, bitch?” 

Yunho opens his mouth to reply but both Yeosang and Seonghwa make a surprised noise. 

“Oh?”

“Isn’t she…?” Yeosang looks at him “Is she?”

He nods and Yeosang claps, mumbling a I knew it under his breath. 

“So that’s what she meant when she told me I looked familiar, she knows you!”  Seonghwa smiles a little and then his expression turns into a frown, like he just realized something he shouldn't “When did you start dating her?”

“Well, actually—”

“And didn’t tell us?” Mingi’s girlfriend looks very offended but he can tell she’s half joking, especially when Mingi smirks a little and then joins her with a pout. 

His best friend looks at him a second too long, though and that lets him know he might be a little offended. 

Mingi opens his mouth to speak but a choir of voices stops him from doing so and Yunho breathes out his regret for even showing up and for not explaining everything to Mingi first. 

“What do they mean ‘merge their empires’. Are you getting married?” 

“When did you even meet her?”

“Through his family, I suppose.” 

“Are you getting married?” 

“So did you cheat on her like two months ago with that girl from the bar?” 

“No, no, he didn’t hook up with the girl, that was Hongjoong.” 

“Sure I did,” he says and gives Yunho a look, like he doesn’t remember who they’re talking about “Yuyu, can I be the main groomsman?” Hoonjong asks as San returns with a snack plate on his hand and he takes it from him when he offers it, putting some chips on his mouth immediately “Hwa, too. We're the oldest, so.” 

Mingi scoffs “And I’m literally his best friend, don’t even try it.” 

“That’s literally me, oh my God? Liar?” 

Yunho is starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the amount of noise he normally would contribute to. 

Right now? He wants everyone to shut up while he finds a way of explaining everything and not sound completely insane in the process. 

It’s quite the normal concept, he thinks. Arranged matrimonies are a thing in a lot of cultures and in his it’s more subtle than anything, not quite what it used to be, but they’re still there especially for families like his. 

He’s not getting married, he should also clarify that. But as Mingi takes hold of Wooyoung’s laptop and scrolls through the article and then turns to him asking for an explanation with his eyes instead of his words, all the coherent sentences he just put together in his mind die on his tongue. 

Mingi is not really one to pry, but his stare tells him that he’s a little bit concerned with everything. After all, he’s the only one who understands the full complicated history Yunho has with his family. 

“Guys,” he says, all mischievousness wiped out of his face “let him explain and don’t interrupt.” 

The noise quiets down and everyone looks at him, expectant and curious. Now that he’s able to untense his shoulders and take a calming breath, he also notices a few concerned stares that join Mingi in the sentiment. 

Alright. Okay. He can do this. 

Yunho sends his best friend a thankful smile before gulping down his nerves. 

“That’s Kim Y/N,” he points at the tv screen, although half of your face is cut off because Mingi scrolled down to read “I’ve known her since we were kids, her parents and my parents are really good friends and her dad helped my dad launch his company, so we were… They were celebrating that yesterday.” 

Everyone nods and then he catches Seonghwa’s eye “My brother and her brother are very good friends, too. You know Soohyun hyung, don’t you?” 

“Oh,” he seems taken by surprise by that “he’s a new client.” 

“I figured,” Yunho smiles, “He’s a good guy, just a little…” 

“Carefree?” Hwa offers. 

“Mhm. Anyways,” he shakes his head, trying to get back on track “Jeong Tech made a huge mistake a few months ago and so they decided to announce our relationship yesterday to kind of… Everyone loves Y/N,” he says quickly “She’s… We—” 

“Are you two together or not?” Wooyoung asks, clearly confused and when everyone shushes him he mutters his apologies. 

Yunho wants to answer him with the truth. He really does and it’s right there, ready to come out, but he thinks about you. About everything you told him yesterday, about how you actually seemed to care to please your parents.

He thinks about his own mother’s threats. 

And he knows it’s a little stupid wondering if someone in this room would tell, but he hesitates. 

It hurts him to hesitate but then someone speaks up. There, curled around San’s arm and peeling open an orange, his savior speaks up.

“Relationship of convenience,” she says softly and matter of factly, turning heads in her direction “What? I could’ve told you this two hours ago,” she points at Gyuri and Wooyoung “But you refused to explain! Come on, everybody,” giggling, she offers a freshly peeled slice to her boyfriend. “I work with books for a living, you work with books for a living!” She points at Woo again, “This trope is classic,” and then she looks back at him with a kind and honest smile. “You two do look good together, though. Are you friends, at least?” 

He hesitates. You both definitely, sort of, made amends last night. But it's a little weird and, suddenly, also hard to explain. 

Yunho thought the word friends would've just rolled out of his tongue naturally, as a little white lie to ease everyone's worries. Now, it hardly makes its way onto it so he just nods after a long pause that definitely raises suspicion on everyone's face. 

“We've known each other for a very long time, went to highschool together and everything,” that seems to eradicate some of the doubts, because San grins and turns to his girlfriend with a knowing smile that she returns. 

Gyuri is not as convinced “But are you friends?” 

“Yes,” he returns immediately after that, wanting the conversation to be over. He’s not lying, not really, not after what you both said yesterday “We are, we’re trying to be.” 

“So you hate the bitch. Got it.” Gyuri nods. 

Yunho takes offense to that, oddly enough. Because no, he doesn't hate you, not a little, not at all. 

He thinks. 

Besides, he confirmed yesterday that you're not much of a bitch and it hurts that Gyuri thinks you are one, but San’s girlfriend it's already handling that before he has the opportunity to defend you like you defended him. 

“Babe, don't call her that.” 

Gyuri raises her hands defensively “I'm just taking preventive action! What if she is a bitch?” 

“She's not.” Yunho says and they both turn their heads to him, Gyuri with a frown and her best friend with a knowing smile. 

What does she know that he doesn't? Beats him. 

Instead, he settles “She's just… Well, she's—” 

“Intense?” Gyuri offers. 

Wooyoung shakes his head and points to his ex “No, that's you.” 

For once, he's glad their bickering interrupts him because he doesn't really know how to describe you. What's his current opinion on you? He has no clue. It's weird, he hates it a bit, but the feeling is there and the words are on the verge of spilling out of his mouth.

San’s girlfriend gasps and then murmurs an excited: “I love enemies to lovers!”

“I don't think real people can fit into fictional tropes, babe,” Gyuri returns, taking a slice she's offering in her direction before eyeing Yunho “Or can they?” 

That he can answer “We're not enemies and we're definitely not lovers.” He says with a shrug. 

“You're something way worse then,” San’s girlfriend nods and then smiles in excitement “Can't wait!” 

“For what?” Yunho asks in a whisper but Mingi, thankfully, interrupts. 

“Why are they talking about marriage, then?” He asks, his concern is palpable and Yunho feels kind of bad. He feels really bad, actually. 

He could have told him this, at least. He could have talked about you, but the truth is that his mind avoided remembering you if not necessary; that’s how much you two seemed to hate each other.

Now? 

It’s kind of complicated not to think about you when you’re plaguing his mind, infecting it like a virus. 

Or painting it, like the canvases he saw in your room yesterday. 

Do you paint? Is that something you like to do in your free time? 

Why does he feel like he knows very little about you, all of the sudden? 

He groans and then shakes his head. 

“There’s no marriage, they’re getting ahead of themselves,” he clarifies. 

“Is there going to be a marriage?” 

There's movement on the screen now and he sees Mingi’s girlfriend scrolling unapologetically through the article. She's watching a video of the both of you posing together for a picture and there's something that pulls inside of him. His eyes attempt to water but he manages to keep his emotions down, locked up because there's a lot of feelings he won't put on his friends. 

He's sure they think of him as a dumb puppy who's actually very academically smart, just a little clumsy with his social interactions. He's been pretending he is, anyway. 

The only one who really sees through him is Mingi but even him, to some degree, has bought his immature act. And to some extent it became real for Yunho himself, too, so deep fears and sad emotions are off the table. 

So he pulls himself together and turns to his friend.

“I think she has an escape plan if our parents decide to marry us off to each other,” he admits, snorting out a laugh that’s a little bitter but more amused than anything, he shakes his head “So no, no engagement, no marriage.” 

“Why, what's wrong with you?” Gyuri asks, eyes squinted with prejudice and suspicion “Why wouldn't she want to marry you?” 

“Well, that's not… Gyuri,” he opens and closes his mouth a few times, not really knowing what to say to his friend's question, so he looks at Mingi with begging eyes “That's not really the point, right?” 

“Don't look at me, she's right,” Mingi shrugs, “Why wouldn't she want to marry you?” 

“Because we're not in love!” 

Wooyoung scoffs “And yet you're a perfectly fine and rich young man, so why wouldn't she want to marry you?” 

“So we officially hate her, right?” Gyuri says and claps her hands before standing up again for the millionth time and heading his way. Her hands fall on his shoulders and he has to crane his neck to see her from below “Okay, then! What's the plan? Do we get rid of her?” 

“No!” 

“I could, if that's what you want.”

His head snaps at Hongjoong at the suggestion, disbelief writing on his face “I love you guys but the Yunho protection squad needs to dissolve right now, everything’s fine!” 

“Is it?” Mingi asks and Yunho takes his time to look at his best friend before nodding. 

“It is. We're supposed to break up eventually anyway,” air leaves his lungs in a long sigh and then he gulps a little, not really sure how to say what he wants to say without offending anyone. And Gyuri's hands are still on him, so the pressure doubles at the potential threat of physical harm that his next statement can get him. “Listen, I won't make any of you sign nda’s or anything like that because I trust you but please, please don't tell anyone this.” 

He looks around the room and sees wide eyes before they turn understanding and when his friends nod in agreement, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. 

Literally, Gyuri moves to sit next to Wooyoung who tries to put an arm around her and fails. 

“You're not that famous, Yunho,” Hongjoong kisses his teeth and the mood shifts into the lighthearted one he's used to “Unlike me. I'm a celebrity among my peers.” 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes “Yeah, because all the criminals turned music students turn guitarists of a nugu rock band worship you.” 

Hongjoong ignores him but his smile is tense and his eyes are squinted in fake joy when he speaks again “You are going to the gig tomorrow, right?” 

He laughs “Of course. I might be a little late but I'll get to see your set.” 

Hongjoong frowns “Why?” 

“I have a schedule now, so…” 

“Oh, my God,” San’s girlfriend squeaks, typing something in her phone and Yunho catches his friend fondly following with his eyes the sentences she's putting together “And what else do you have to do now?” 

“Babe, I hope you're not writing a story about this.” Gyuri warns but her friend ignores her and turns to Seonghwa. 

Who realizes right away what she's doing, gaping at her and her betrayal with feign hurt. Yunho gets it a second later and his lips curve upwards a little. 

“And what did you do to get a girlfriend so fast? It was the motorcycle, wasn't it?” 

Wooyoung gasps and Gyuri seems to remember suddenly that there were two important subjects to dissect on the table today, so she gets up again with her hands on her hips and stares at him like a distressed mother.

“What the hell were you thinking, Park Seonghwa? Girlfriend? You met her yesterday!” 

“Three days ago, but yes, maybe—” 

“Oh, three days ago! That's an eternity in dog years, right? Are you a dog, Seonghwa?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes practically meet the back of his head and Yunho has to stifle a laugh “Not a dog, Gyuri, just a guy.” 

She pauses and then makes a face. 

“That… Actually makes a lot of sense.” 

“We made the mistake of calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend way too soon. But, to be fair, his text messages woke us up,” Seonghwa's finger is pointing to Yunho and he pouts as a response “Kind of, so we were sleepy and—”

“Sure, let's hang out tonight so you can meet my girlfriend,” Hongjoong reads directly from his phone and shakes his head. Yunho can't actually tell if he's offended or not “Not even a warning first.”

“I literally told you about her and you told me to go for it.” 

“Did I?” 

“Yeosang was there.” 

At the mention of his name, Yeosang looks up from his phone and smiles shyly at the oldest two “Correct.”

There's a bit of silence and then Hwa clears his throat softly. 

“She's going to be my girlfriend though,” he says, almost in a whisper but everyone hears him “So I don't know what the big deal is.” 

Wooyoung slumps from the couch to the ground with his eyes closed in defeat “Oh, dear God.” 

“The big deal is that—” 

Gyuri's voice fades to the background and he catches Hwa telling her that she's not his mother or something before tuning the discussion out. 

When he turns to his left, Mingi is still eyeing him to make sure he's okay. Yunho nods and smiles and then offers his hand to him, which he takes. 

Mingi's girlfriend turned off the laptop and is watching the interaction with a tiny contempt curve to her lips and, when Yunho catches a glimpse at San’s girlfriend from behind his friends built form (she's completely hiding behind him from all the chaos Gyuri is bringing to the living room), she catches his eye and then blinks one of hers in complicity. 

Again, Yunho wonders what she knows that he doesn't. 

But with the attention off of him, your face returns to his head.

So he's not really able to concentrate on anything else for the remainder of the hang out. When he finally, finally has his mind occupied by something else (San dared him to beat him at Mario Kart and Jongho brought food and drinks as an apology for completing his academic duties instead of showing up to the meeting), a text pops up from an unknown number. 

+82-5-059-6733: Hey. Added your number  from that stupid group chat our brothers made because telling each other things through our assistants makes me physically ill, hope you don't mind.  +82-5-059-6733: Actually, I don't really care if you mind. If you block me, I'll find another phone to text you on. +82-5-059-6733: Anyway, I'll send you the address of where we're going fashionably late tonight. It's an early drive so you're free to skip this (Do skip it please).  +82-5-059-6733: Jeong Yunho, do not ignore me or I swear to God…

He hates that, after reading his home screen, he has a smile on his lips. You sound both formal and pushy through text, too and he didn't think it was possible to have so much personality that it filters through writing as well. He's finding out new things about you and, although he made it a point to ask you to get along yesterday, it still feels really weird to do so.

When he turns to the screen again, he's down a few spots and San’s character speeds besides his in its kart. 

“Is it her?” San asks, looking at him for a second, a knowing smile on his lips. 

“It is but I'm not smiling because it's her,” he defends himself but there's a tint to his cheeks that might give him away. San laughs “Shut up. Your girlfriend’s schemes are rubbing on you.” 

At the mention, he catches through the corner of his eye as his friend turns to the mentioned girl and Yunho smiles again before he hears him sigh, completely and utterly in love. 

“Thank God.” 

He recovers on the game while San is distracted, passing him and winning the race. The sound of it ending makes San snap his head back and watch as Yunho relaxes on the couch in egotistical victory. 

“Ugh.” 

The sun is shining through the clouds even though it was supposed to rain again. There's a singular gray one moving ominously among the other ones and threatening to mess up what you planned for the day. 

It suspiciously moves past you and into the city when Yunho's car pulls up the hill. By the time he gets down, the sun is shining in full force and you roll your eyes when he regards you and your closed arms with a wink. 

What does he gain out of this? You've been wondering since that night if coming here is better than staying at home for the weekend. 

He could stay at his dorm, though. Is that an option? The curiosity you feel towards him now has completely taken over. It feels disgusting. 

Either way, you hate that he actually showed up. That means someone, somewhere around you, is going to casually document the thing you kept to yourself for a long time. No because it's a secret but because there's no real need for anyone to know that you do this. 

Your presence on social media is scarce, you have one open account that you use every six months (if you remember to use it at all) and the one you stalk people of your circle on. You have a twitter account that's private and not under your real name, a youtube account that doesn't really count as social media in your eyes and nothing else. 

No one needs to know you do these sorts of things. Then, you wouldn't be doing it out of the kindness of your heart but to get sympathy points. Even though you'll always do it because you want to and not because you have to. 

There's a lot of things you have to do, like your relationship with Yunho, but never this. 

You know it's only like five out of one hundred people who wish you ill but those few people are enough to tarnish the affection the kids have for you, the trust you worked so hard to gain the few years you've been trying to make this orphanage somewhat quality-of-life acceptable. 

You stumbled upon it one of those drunk early mornings where you had to walk around to get the alcohol out of your system before even daring showing up home or near it. Not because your family didn't know what you were up to, but because of the possible photographers roaming around the house. 

A drunk underage daughter was worse than anything back then. Maybe it is now, too, but you remembered the mistake you made the first time you got drunk and the absolute reaping your mother gave you. 

So when you locked eyes with a middle aged woman in the middle of nowhere after walking around half an hour before in heels, your almost-sober self pretended to be lost just to talk to someone and feel safe. The sun was barely showing that day and you were cold and sad and angry for not controlling yourself at the party and it must've shown in your face because you saw the woman taking a deep breath before offering you to step inside. 

At that hour, the kids were asleep. There were traces of them everywhere, though and you remember the way your heart sank at the lifeness of the space even in the still hours of the morning. 

It looked lived in, enjoyable and cozy. You never had that. Toys were put back in their place the second you got distracted by the tv or a book or when your mother said that was enough playing around for the day. Your room was always neat and tidy, put together and devoid of any evidence that you were real. 

That has changed a little now, but back then seeing something you didn't have struck something within you. There was obviously no way you would complain about it out loud, though. 

You had everything solved, your struggle has always been insignificant when compared with everyone else outside of your circle. It's fine, it's always been fine and the tears brought to your eyes when the middle aged woman put a hand on your shoulder and consoled you when she saw the environment was affecting you meant nothing. 

You tried to convince yourself they meant nothing and tried to keep your heart where it belonged: inside of your tinsel bubble, frozen and harsh so that no one takes advantage of you.

And then she managed to melt the ice not even five minutes into explaining what it was that they did there. She said her position wasn't permanent, that the district kept changing directors and that the quality of life they were able to give to the kids was acceptable at best. Not good, not what they deserved. 

Maybe that was the first time you took advantage of your privilege for something good. Because next thing you knew, you were putting together a presentation and pressing your father to do something about the home. 

Your mother was scandalized but she agreed to do something with your ideas if your brother was put on the front of the newspapers, inaugurating the renovations made to the place. 

Saturdays have been destined to the orphanage since then. They know not to put anything else on your schedule for the day, they know not to film you or send photographers per your request. Because your brother was already seen making the good deed a few years ago, so there's not really a way to take advantage of this anymore. 

Besides, the district still manages it and no amount of volunteering can help the fact that its administration and the decisions that they make are as dumb as you believing for a second that Yunho was going to take your advice and stay home today.

Yunho being here changes things, you know it does. Why did they put this in his new schedule if not? You thought it was a punishment for him but now you're not so sure. 

There's lack of movement, lack of press, lack of your mother's touch to it so you wonder what's the angle here. And, as usual, Yunho seems to be in the dark about the things plaguing your mind. 

You point at his outfit in retaliation when he gets near you and your mother’s assistant, who became yours for the day. 

“Is this what you could put together with such a long notice?” 

“You said casual.” 

“And this is your casual?” 

At some point these past few days, and after seeing all the pictures of you two together at the gala, you came to terms with Yunho’s attractiveness. Objectively, he's a handsome guy. His dad was handsome at one point, his mom is absolutely breathtaking and his brother is handsome as well. They're just a family of naturally physically gifted people, alright? 

But it is kind of unfair that he can look this good in flared jeans and a white fitted shirt, for fucks sake. He looks like he just got out of a Calvin Klein shoot… If the shoot was somehow made in the seventies. The black belt and the black boots with a tiny platform he's wearing add to the whole look and your eye twitches a little. 

He looks really fucking cool, actually but there's no way in hell you would ever accept that. Handsome? Sure. Cool? Your mind is tricking you somehow. 

It's that warmth that invaded your body when he made you food a few nights ago making you think nonsense. You want to desperately get rid of it. 

He scoffs but a tiny smile tugs at his lips when he looks you up and down “Is this yours?” 

Looking down at your wide leg trousers, your kitty heels and your short sleeved cotton top, you fail to see where the problem is. 

“Duh.” 

He whistles, low and for a few seconds and for a moment you think he's doing it because of you and your heart beats erratically until you realize his eyes are fixed on the orphanage.

You smile a little. 

These past few years you've been able to get funding and provide funding to it, so the renovations just keep coming and coming. It doesn't look like the one you found refuge on that morning a few years ago at all and it definitely doesn't look like the one your brother had the chance to be photographed with either. 

Right now, it has a little bit of your touch: It looks like an elegant structure, but a building that's also suitable for children to be in. It has a playground vibe to it, the exterior and the design of the new entrance you approved a few months ago only solidifies it.

The kids love it. You didn't exactly run the design through them but it would've shown if they didn't. 

They're very expressive, but decisive too. Bossy, even. You look at Yunho and you want to smile fully because he simply doesn't know what he got himself into. 

That proves to be true as the hours go by. The kids raise their eyebrows when they meet him, say hi to him with a bow and then turn to you for explanations. When you say that this is a new friend that's going to be helping out that day, you don't miss the way Yunho lights up a bit besides you. 

And then that light is completely stolen by hour three, you see it as he chases kids around the yard. It hurts that they acclimated so fast to him but, again, when you got there the first time the place wasn't really one where they felt completely safe. 

This proves that you helped change that. Good. 

There's a few of them, the older ones, that sit on the ground and stare daggers at Yunho like he's going to hurt the younger kids at any moment. These kids were practically toddlers when you met them and they had a hard time being around you when you started to show up regularly. 

They barely spoke a word and, when they did, they yelled at you for not playing with the toys like you were supposed to, or because you looked too clean and too pretty to be messing with paint or something of the sort. 

It took months for you to build that trust and now the oldest is a tween with shaggy hair and a scowl on his face because he thinks of Yunho the same way he thought of you when he was just a kid.  

He barely notices when you crouch next to him, the hand you put on his shoulder making him jump slightly. 

“I understand the feeling of wanting to punch Yunho in the face,” you start, smiling and then tilting your head a little “but you're going to burn a hole on his back if you keep staring at him like that, Hyunjoon.”  

“Then why did you bring him here?” His frown deepens and you shrug “We were just fine with everything here and now there's a stranger playing tag with my little brother,” he shakes his head “I don't like it.” 

Sighing and then turning to Yunho, you see the exact moment his attempts to escape Haejoon, Hyunjoon’s little brother, are sabotaged by Hyunjoon’s best friend, Soyi. 

“I think you're a little jealous.” 

“What?” 

You want to laugh when his head snaps at you, chest heaving in preteen anger at the word jealous. 

“Yeah, not because he's playing with Haejoon but because Soyi is there too,” you shrug again, readjusting your crouching position because it hurts your legs but there's no way you're sitting on the ground “You like her, Yunho is handsome and you're jealous.” 

He turns away from you and you laugh when he makes a disgusted face that then turns into mild discomfort and ends up being a full pout.

“We're fighting.” 

“You and Soyi?” He nods and you sigh “What is it now?” 

“I dunno.” He murmurs with a shrug. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I don't know what I did! Okay?”

There's this uncharacteristically amount of patience you have when it comes to these kids that don't run out even if they yell at you and cause a few heads to turn your way. It never really bothers you except today, when you know there's possibly someone monitoring your movements. 

Yunho’s assistant, most likely. You know yours is compliant and doesn't really give a fuck about what goes on here, her focus on her tablet the whole time, probably arranging things for her actual boss (your mom). 

“Have you asked her?” He shakes his head “Then maybe start by asking her, later today if you want,” you rush to clarify when you see him tense up at the idea “Or tomorrow or the next day but don't let silly things get in the way of your friendship with her, hm?” 

His pout returns and his eyes start to water a little but before you have the opportunity to make him laugh the sadness away, someone jogs towards you both. 

“Everything alright?” 

Yunho’s sweating, he's out of breath and squinting his eyes because of the sunlight and it reminds you of when you used to cross paths during recess, back in highschool. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Hyunjoon sulks and scoffs at him and, once again, you suppress your laughter. 

“We're fine. Did you need something?” 

“No, no, Soyi just asked me to—” He stops when Hyunjoon's reaction gives away the root of his sulking and you see him glance at you once. You don't give Hyunjoon secrets away, though. “She asked me to tell you that she's going to start counting in two minutes and you are both obligated to play.” 

“Ah, yes, the mandatory hide and seek of the day.” You nod and watch as Hyunjoon's eyebrows raise in interest “Tell her it's okay, that she can start counting now.” 

Yunho raises his eyebrows as well, curiosity on his face “And you're hiding too?” 

“It's mandatory, Yunho. Do you know what mandatory means?” 

He clicks his tongue “I obviously do, Y/N, it was a simple question. Do you have to—” 

“Don't speak to her like that, ahjussi!” 

Once again, Yunho is interrupted by Hyunjoon and this time you can't help but laugh at the pure shock on his face. It warms your heart that a kid that was once so reluctant to have you around is defending you and you think your expression might give the feeling away because Yunho says nothing in return, just nods once and then presses his lips together, fighting a smile “I'll go tell her, then.” 

“No!” Hyunjoon gets up quickly and you do too, your legs and feet thanking you “I'll do it, she's my best friend.” 

It's the threatening (and very cute) look Hyunjoon sends in Yunho’s direction before sprinting towards Soyi and his brother that breaks the both of you into giggles. 

Only when your laughter dies down is that you turn to Yunho, arms crossed as you look him up and down to assess the real damage caused these first few hours.

No other reason. 

“Thought you said these kids were tough.” 

You shrug and he smiles “They are but you came here with me, so they're going easy on you.” 

“Yeah, I'm sure that's it.” Yunho nods and then turns over his shoulder. You do too, only to find Soyi with her hands over her eyes and counting already “Better don't get caught first, Kim.”  

Walking towards the spot you usually hide in when it's mandatory hide and seek time, you bump your arm with his in not-so-fake animosity. 

“You better not get caught, Jeong.” 

“Is that a dare?” He yells when you're almost out of reach. 

“I don't know,” you yell back “Is it?” 

You miss the way his eyes follow you until you're out of frame, until some kid whose name he doesn't remember grabs his hand and pushes him to hide because he stood in place long enough to almost get caught first. 

You do get caught in the first round but not before Yunho, so you count that as a win. The second round is trickier, Soyi banning some hiding spots like the natural leader she is, and so you get caught before Yunho. He does a little celebratory dance when he sees you in the yard before him. Ass. 

There's only one round left before they call everyone to clean up for lunch. 

Moving through the orphanage halls, you walk down the stairs that lead to the staff rooms before choosing one you know kids would not check if they don't caught you in plain sight: It's the one that has some panel windows on top of some lockers, to bring in some natural lighting because it was used as a classroom before.

Now, only boxes and dust live down there. But if you hide in the corner, there's no way you're getting caught before Yunho. 

You checked when you were upstairs. 

You giggle to yourself as you rest your back against the corner, taking your phone and unlocking it to find something to do while you await your very predictable victory in this pointless battle you and Yunho have going on. 

Only for it to be crushed when he enters the room and closes the door behind it. See, you obviously didn't lock it because that defeats the rules of the game. 

But maybe you should've. 

“Get out.” 

He seems startled when he hears your voice, clearly not expecting another soul to be there. “You blend so well into the wall, Y/N.” 

You don't bite the bait “Yunho, you're going to get both of us caught. Get. Out.” 

“How? I literally fit in here, too.” 

He gets into your space, a petty smile on his lips until your backside is completely flat against the wall.

You let out an indignant laugh and a breath at the same time because, from where you're shoved into the corner, he looks so dumb. 

And then the sunlight shifts a little and lands on his shoulder and you get reminded: You're going to get caught and it's going to be his fault. 

You want to yell at him to get out again but then hear laughter near the panel windows, so you whisper-shout instead “Find your own hiding spot, Yunho!” 

“I got kicked out of my last one!” He whispers-shouts back. 

“Well you can't have this one either!”

“We're going to be fine, Y/N,” he tries but at your scowl he laughs again “I'm perfectly hidden here and I'm hiding you.” 

“You're not perfectly hidden, idiot! You're like…” You move your hands, trying to replicate the broadness of his shoulders “You're huge.” 

“Yeah?” He seems pleased by your words and your eyes rolls on their own accord “I've been hitting the gym, so I'm glad it's showi—” 

“I don't care, get out!” 

You hear a scream and then laughter that follows it outside of the windows and your wide eyes peek around a little behind Yunho’s form to see what's going on. 

There, rolling on the grass and laughing hard, are Hyunjoon and Soyi. You see when she pushes him further into the ground and away from her, smiling like she usually does. She did seem a little sad today and you wondered why without intruding.

Learning about the fight made things click in your head and so now you're smiling wide because they potentially made up. 

The sound of someone gulping is what brings you back to reality and you crane your head up to catch Yunho staring at you with parted lips and soft eyes. Somewhere in the process of looking out of the panels, you ended up leaning into him and bracing yourself with your hand on his arm. 

You quickly keep your hands to yourself again, pushing your body into the corner one more time. 

“Sorry,” you say right away “I was just… They like each other and they were fighting today so I'm glad they, um…” You trail off. 

“Are not fighting anymore?” Yunho says for you and you're nodding frantically before you can help it “You seem better today.”

“Oh,” that catches you off guard and he notices, “It's never… It's never really as bad as what you saw a few days ago. You don't have to ask me about it.” 

“I didn't mean to… I was pointing it out to say that you seem different here.” 

“Different how?” 

“Relaxed,” he says right away with a shrug. “Less… Hostile.” 

You get what he's trying to imply. 

“I can't really be a stuck up bitch when I'm surrounded by children, Yunho.” 

“Never said you were one.”

Your eyes squint “But you were thinking it.” 

He doesn't back down at your accusation “I swear I wasn't. You could see it, too, if you stopped being so… defensive.” 

“I'm trying,” you kind of speak over him as he is finishing his sentence, your arms crossing in, well, defense “but your fugly jeans are provoking me.” 

This time around, he's the one that doesn't bite the bait. He smiles, leaning into your space with purpose this time; not because the corner you're both hiding in is small, not because he forgets who you both are. You can see it in his eyes that he means to do it. It's scary.

It's really not scary at all and it brings thoughts to your head that you need to put away immediately. 

You pretend it's bothering you, creasing your brows in order to bring to your expression the usual disgust you feel for him. 

“You like my outfit, I saw you checking me out earlier.” He murmurs like it's the most obvious thing ever. You, on the other hand, think you did a great job in concealing your staring for the day.

“I was judging you, not checking you out. You look like a hippie.”

He smiles but doesn't lean back at all “I have something to do tonight.” 

“So I heard,” and now you look over his outfit on purpose, as well “This fit is definitely a choice.” 

The usual spark that the arguments you two are used to have is there, but the actual nastiness and loathing of it all is mostly gone. Now, there's this weird pull that nudges you forward, your jaw set softly as you wait for his response. 

“It's a rock concert, I have to look the part.” 

You laugh and then nod “And so you dressed up as a greaser. Got it.” 

“So I look like John Travolta in Grease?” 

“More like Barry Pearl.” 

He scoffs “Who even is that?” 

“Exactly.” 

Your smile is nothing but pure bliss at the way you seem to get under his skin with that one. The anger crosses his expression, his eyes widen a little before roaming your face and you wait for his comeback. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

But it never comes. Instead, he leans in a fraction more than what your sanity can handle and keeps his voice low when he changes the subject.

“I had the opportunity to speak to Jiwoo earlier…” He starts and you nod, expectant and a little distracted by the smell of his cologne. “She told me everything you've been doing for this place. I had to ask her because you didn't tell me.” 

“You didn't ask.” 

“Would you have told me if I did?” 

It takes a second and a tiny smile, but you shake your head and he clicks his tongue. 

“See?” 

“I wasn't expecting you to show up in the first place,” you murmur back in your defense, sincerely, “and I'm not used to people seeing this part of my life.” 

Laughter and hurried steps outside remind you that you're in the middle of a game, in the middle of a dare with Yunho, too. But it doesn't seem to matter anymore. 

This is a weird way of having a genuine conversation, an odd place to have it in as well but there's nothing conventional about your relationship with Yunho. 

In a way, it's kind of fitting for you two. 

“Well, you got great reviews.” 

“Do I?” 

“Mhm, Jiwoo said she was about to be sent away when you stepped in,” he starts to recall, nodding to himself “Soyi also said she met you when she was little and that you were there when Hyunjoon and his brother got here for the first time,” this time, you nod and a tiny smile tugs at your lips at the memory “And I saw the way you were looking at the kids earlier, how you spoke to them… That's why I told you that you seem different here.” 

It's your turn to gulp and blink a few times, trying to measure your words. You know that you and him came to an agreement the other night, but it's still a little hard to be fully honest with someone you've tried to be so superficial and distant for a very long time. 

“I'm happy here,” you whisper back, taking in a breath. “I'm happy when I'm helping, it makes me feel…” You trail off, failing to find the right words. 

“Purposeful?” Yunho offers and your heart beats loudly at that, your stomach sinks at how accurate that is and he can see it in your expression, because he takes in a breath himself and closes his eyes for a millisecond “I understand.” 

You want to ask him how he understands it. Is it simply because it's something easy to grasp? Is it because he relates in some way? The breach in between you became a simple line the night of the gala and that line blurs the longer you stay amicable with him. 

It's dangerous because you can already picture him going away when this whole charade ends. 

You don't want to get used to the feeling of him making your heart beat this way. 

And hopefully you can forget all about it with the usual meal related anxiety you feel but even that is dull. It's not as bad here and Yunho knows so it's not going to be as bad with him either. Fucking great. 

If you someone would just interrupt yo— 

There's a knocking, persistent and that allows you to step away from him finally and glance at the panel windows one more time. 

Soyi and Hyunjoon are lying on their stomach, smiling knowingly like they understand what is going on in your head. Yunho steps out and they pretend to be surprised but you can tell they were expecting to see him here. 

“The game finished like five minutes ago.” Hyunjoon says and it's muffled by the glass but you can make it out just fine. 

Soyi nods and joins in, adding something as she stands up “Yeah, it's lunch time and if you don't hurry I'm stealing your food!”

At that, Yunho seems to react like he's a child himself “Don't even think about it!” He yells back, heading for the door and leaving you there with an erratic heartbeat and questions. 

Thirty seconds pass before you hear him again, his laugh this time and you close your eyes because the curve of your lips needs to go away before you step out there as well. 

Three more hours pass and at some point you don't see Yunho at all, letting him do his thing. 

Turns out, he's actually very good with kids. Considering he was a weird kid himself, you don't even find it weird that he's sitting on the grass with a worm in his hand and kids circling him like he's giving a masterclass. 

Kind of like they were circling you fifteen minutes ago, when you gave them a little painting advice. You started on a small canvas and your paint strokes look tired, probably because you feel that way, but you use it to pass the time even if their interest is now elsewhere. 

They have art classes here, you insisted on including them in their pensum as something mandatory, like science and maths. 

They enjoy it. A few of them want to pursue art in the future and that makes you really happy, even if you probably won't be around to see it or if they change their opinions along the way because, as dumb as it sounds, you were never encouraged by anyone to pursue what you liked. 

Maybe, sometimes that's enough. Planting the seed to wait and see if it grows into something fructiferous in the future can be what some of these kids need. 

Aside from resources and opportunities, of course. 

There's less activity in the room you're in and you're sure it's because the kids are tired. They're taking naps in their rooms, they're washing up for the night and you're dreading leaving this place. Your shirt it's dirty, there's paint on your arms and dirt under your nails and you don't want to catch the disgusted look your mother is going to give you when you get home. 

You fuck up the painting a little bit. Lost in thought, you barely notice when Yunho makes his way inside from the garden, a little girl secured around his neck like he's her father or something. You barely spare him a glance, but smile at her when he sits down besides you and she opens her arms and clings to you instead. 

Leaving the brush and canvas forgotten on the table, you make space for the seven year old in your lap “Hi, gorgeous.” you smile at her and her sleepy eyes “Did you have fun today, Jaemi?” And at her name, she punches you softly in the arm with her little fist. 

You're afraid she's too tired to commit to the bit. 

“Jaemi,” Yunho nods beside you and you look at him, “she didn't want to tell me her name.” 

“Then that's totally not her name,” you correct yourself and Jaemi smiles, sticking her tongue out to Yunho afterwards “Did you have fun?” You insist. 

“Yes, he was teaching us something about…” she pouts in concentration, trying to remember “Crickets?” she offers with her little lisp, turning to Yunho to confirm her words. 

“Cicadas.” 

“Yeah, that.” She turns to you, nodding “He said that they sing when it's about to rain and that made me happy but then he said that they also sing when they're about to die and that made me sad.” 

Looking at Yunho, you let him know with your expression that that's not something kids need to know. He just shrugs, smile growing when he sees how Jaemi hides on your neck, sleepy and comfortable. 

“And I told him what you told me about the worms,” she murmurs there and you pat her back, softly, but trying to tell her to stop talking. There's an embarrassed glow on your cheeks at what she says next “and he told me that he was the one who taught you that.” 

Eyes wide, you huff out a laugh and then clear your throat, but Jaemi speaks through her pout before you defend yourself “Is he your boyfriend?” 

“Oh,” her question is not weird but you've been avoiding answering it all day. Right now, there's not really a way you can evade it, so you just focus on your painting and nod “He is.” 

“He's smart,” she mumbles and when your eyes land on Yunho again, his cheek is pressed to his forearm that is pressed against the table. He's looking at you both with stars in his eyes and you want to kick him under the table “Like you. I want my future mom and dad to be like you.” 

Yunho pouts and you gulp, defensiveness abandoning your body and emotions swirling inside at the sweet, hopeful color of Jaemi’s voice. 

“People here are going to make sure of that, Jaemi,” you assure her in a whisper and by the time you rock her softly in your arms, you can tell she's asleep in them “I'll make sure you get the best mom and dad in the world, hm?” 

You don't know if you can keep your promise. If there's enough will for you to do it, if it's up to you to decide it. But you don't get to dwell on it for long. 

“Is she out?” Jiwoo asks and you nod, sliding back with your chair a little so that she can take Jaemi in her arms instead “I'll get her to the nap room. Sorry about that.” 

“It's okay.” You smile at her and she puts a comforting hand on your arm, shaking you a little on your seat before heading for the nap room. 

You don't dare to look at Yunho after that. Yeah, he saw your mother belittling you and, yeah, he made you food and wiped away your tears after having a panic attack… But that might've been the most vulnerable Yunho has ever seen you. Maybe. It felt like it, anyway. 

Returning to your painting, you forget what the orange blob in the corner of the canvas is supposed to be. From the corner of your eye, you catch Yunho staring at you still, unmoving from his position against the table. 

“How dare you steal my earth friends facts, Kim Y/N.” 

“You mean the facts about worms everyone learns in kindergarten, Yunho?” You scoff “Didn't know you trademarked them.” 

“You enjoy painting.” He says, a fact not a question, ignoring your jab at him and it's starting to get a little annoying how he changes topics so fast. 

“I'm not very good at it.” 

He gets up, scoots his chair closer to yours and you catch as his eyes move up and down your stupid painting “I don't agree.” 

“I didn't ask,” huffing, you squint your eyes at him and at your tone he rolls his eyes “Don't you have a concert to get to?” 

“Yeah, you should go with me.” 

That's hilarious. 

“I'm afraid I'm a little underdressed,” you tell him and you think he wants to laugh,  but presses his lips together and pretends to be offended at your words instead. You lean into the table, your eyes following his mouth as he stops pursing his lips, a tiny smile tugging on yours. “And I don't feel like pretending to be your girlfriend today anymore.” You whisper to only him. 

“You won't have to,” he whispers back, leaning in as well, “they know.” 

“What? You told them?” 

“They kind of figured it out.” 

“Hm, because you have no bitc—” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupts you, annoyed and you laugh, leaning back in your chair “Come with me. I saw your car outside,” he smiles and bats his eyelashes at you “I don't want my mother to know where I'm going, so you can drive me.” 

“Ah, that's why you want me to go.” 

“I also want to hang out with you,” his hand on your arm doesn't startle you but it does send sparks down your spine, his words causing your chest to go warm and your walls to go down “I thought we were doing that today and then I got kidnapped by eight year olds.” 

There's this image of Yunho that flashes through your head, the one of him running around the yard with people so dear to your heart that it makes the poor organ beat erratically for the second time today. 

Deflect. 

“And you managed to keep your ugly outfit clean. I'm impressed.” 

He lets out a tired breath. 

Deflect. Ignore. Don't let it fool you, Y/N, he's not staying this cordial forever. 

However, you think that as a thank you you can give in a little. Just a tiny bit. Just for tonight. 

“Do they have parking?” 

Yunho smiles wide. 

You would never admit you actually want to hang out with him, too, so instead you just say: 

“I'm driving you and then I'm staying for an hour,” he claps and gets up suddenly, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your chair as well “And if I don't like it there, I'm leaving.” 

He looks like he wants to say something but, instead, he just shakes your twined hands with excitement before letting go at the realization of what he's doing. 

“You might want to go to the bathroom first.” 

“Why? Where is the concert?” 

He says nothing. 

“Jeong Yunho… Where are we going?” 

They do not have parking. Not near the musty bar you're currently trying to make your way into, anyway. 

Yunho shows something on his phone to the bouncer at the entrance and then turns to you “My girlfriend,” he says, grabbing your hand again and opening his eyes at you as a signal to go along with his lie “She's also invited, obviously.” 

So long for not pretending to be together, huh?

You nod and you kind wish you didn't because it leads you to a small space with a crowd that's bigger than what it can host. There's heavy drums and amazing vocals coming out of the speakers and you actually recognize the guitarist of the band that's playing. You don't know his name, but you definitely saw him in pictures with Yunho before. 

Grabbing Yunho’s arm when he lets go of your hand, it grants you the brief grace of his stare. 

“I'm sorry about that,” he says and then his eyes are on the stage again, smiling at the band. His height works wonders because you can tell he's actually able to see them fully and the next second you're being pulled across the crowd and up some stairs “They didn't expect me to come here with anyone tonight… And don't say it's because I have no game, Y/N, or I swear—”

“You made it!” 

When you let go of Yunho’s arm and stand shyly behind him as they let the both of you into the very humble vip area of this bar, it's like the pictures you've been staring at for months come to life. You don't know names (only Park Seonghwa’s, who's glued to the balcony’s rail, jamming along to the music) but you do know their faces. 

This girl that greeted Yunho with a hug just now it's in almost every picture, smiling just like that. And when she turns at you, that smile disappears and it's replaced with one that's not genuine at all. 

Great. 

“Oh, hi to you too,” she says and her eyes alternate between you and Yunho “I didn't know you were bringing your fake girlfriend tonight.” 

You don't know why, but the way she says it ticks you a little bit. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Yunho’s arm is around your shoulders now and you have to fight the urge to shove him away, like a second instinct “This is Y/N, Y/N this is Gyuri.” 

“It's nice to meet you,” returning her energy, you smile coldly at her too, “I've heard nothing about you.” 

Yunho's hip connects with yours in a silent warning. 

But instead of the usual hypocrisy you're met inside the crowd you move in, you're greeted with something genuine: At your response, Gyuri looks you up and down for what feels like a minute and a half and then that fake smile turns into a genuine one. 

“Okay, I get you,” she nods, laughing to herself when she turns to Yunho. You do too and the color has been drained from his face, at least a little bit “I'm glad you're here. I guess it is meet my girlfriend night,” her head cocks to the side, to where Seonghwa stands and you're a little relieved you don't have to ask what she's talking about when, besides him, you see the mechanic you didn't get to meet earlier this week. She turns to you again “Do you want a drink?” 

“Oh, I'm driving, um…” You look at Yunho “I don't know if you—” 

“No, let's not drink tonight, though if you want to we can call—” 

“No, that's not necessary, I don't feel like—” He interrupts with a nod. 

“Gotcha.” 

The nervousness is palpable and, although you didn't really feel anything the hour and a half it took you two to get to the bar (Yunho didn't really let you, bickering with you about your driving or the decor of the car or the tinted windows or whatever he could think of to annoy you), but now you you notice it. 

The way Yunho's fingers tap on your arm, his around your shoulders still. The way he doesn't really know what to say when you both turn to Gyuri after speaking over each other like that and the way you can't bring yourself to be hostile to him in front of his friends. 

It's a little pathetic. You think Gyuri thinks so too, and the long-haired guy next to her as well because they're staring at you stoically, unmoving. 

“So I'm taking that as a no but I need a drink now. If y'all excuse me…” 

“H-hi, Woo.” 

“I thought we got rid of this when San and Babe got together,” he sighs as Gyuri turns around and leaves for a table, offering you his hand with a wink. You can tell he's a little drunk but the way he shakes your hand brings out a genuine giggle out of you “I’m Wooyoung, Yunho’s best friend. I bet he already told you that, though.” 

No, you want to tell him, you and him haven't been able to talk like that yet. Even after knowing him for over ten years and spending holidays together, you don't know his best friend's name at all. 

And you start to nod just to skip explaining that but Yunho speaks and ruins your plans.

“Mingi is going to kill you if he hears you say that.” 

“Say what?” A tall man stands next to Yunho and only when he hugs his shoulders is that Yunho lets go of you “Are you talking shit about me, Woo?” 

Wooyoung genuinely sulks“I wouldn't dare, Mingi.” 

“You must be Y/N,” Mingi ignores him and you want to laugh at the expression he makes in return, but you busy yourself taking the hand that Mingi's offering “I've heard so much about you in the last forty eight hours.” 

“All terrible things, I'm hoping.” 

“Well—” 

“Okay, okay,” Yunho pushes him away and takes your arm again, giving his actual best friend a look “Let me introduce you to everyone else before Wooyoung makes a scene for the night.” 

Over your laugh, you hear a faint gasp and a I don't ever make scenes! shouted on Wooyoung’s side of the room. 

You were never shy but you fall a little quiet in the middle of these strangers because the one thing you realized right away is that there's no actual need to pretend here, in the dim light and with people who don't give a fuck if your posture isn't perfect or that you're not making small talk. 

It's a little freeing. 

That weight falls off your shoulders and you kind of get why Yunho is a little clueless about how things work in your world after talking to San and Mingi’s girlfriends for a little. 

It truly takes everything in you to keep everything you share about yourself in shallow waters. 

You tell them things they might've already known, things that can be found online about you. You tell them that you met Yunho when you were little, you tell them about your job when the girl that Park Seognhwa chose above going to the gala with you joins and then you direct the conversation to her instead of you. 

They tell you about Yunho’s college life, the parties and the embarrassing moments that you've missed all while he talks with his friends about something, all against the vip balcony railing while they watch the band perform. Gyuri is there too, arm to arm with Wooyoung and they tell you they used to be together. 

It shows, especially when you get up to join Yunho and watch the performance and she snuggles a bit closer to Wooyoung to make space for you. 

Even if there's plenty of space already. 

He looks at you when you bump into him, smiling and leaning into your space a bit to talk over the music “There you are. I thought I lost you to girl talk!” 

You roll your eyes.

“Your friend's are nice.” 

“Normal people usually are, Y/N.” 

Scoffing, you focus on the main vocal of the band. The only girl up on the stage, too and you convince yourself that's more interesting than the way Yunho seems to sparkle when he's with his people “Well, that explains why you're everything but nice.” 

He laughs “I am nice, just not to you.” 

“No, yeah, trust me, I know.” 

“You seem quiet around them,” he turns to look at the girls for a brief moment “And you're usually, obnoxiously loud. Everything alright?” 

You know he's asking about your panic attacks. Yes, you feel fine. You took your pills with your lunch and, considering the small space you're at gives you brief anxiety, mixed with the general nervousness of being with people you don't know, it could be worse. 

But, like you said, his friends are nice. 

You don't exactly fit in this group, but they make you believe you're a part of them at least for a little while and you know your friends, or the people you usually hang out with when you go out, wouldn't give a stranger the chance if presented with it. 

“I'm fine, I'm just… Intimidated.” 

“You just said they are nice, Y/N.” 

“And they're all very good looking, which is unfair and nerve wracking,” you add with a scoff and hear him giggle before you turn to him again. “You said you wanted to hang out with me but it's been forty minutes and you barely said anything,” you give him a look, “so you just wanted the ride, hm? Asshole.” 

“Needy,” he returns, pushing you with his arm, “I also wanted you to meet them. They're a huge part of who I am and I know it’s not this way for everybody, but I do believe you can gather who someone is if you meet the people they surround themselves with.” 

What does that say about me, is what you want to tell him and then his words from a second ago cross your mind. 

It's not this way for everybody. 

He knows and there's something so deeply fucked up about his understanding of you because is not supposed to be this way. You hate Yunho, he hates you and keeping each other at arm's length has always been the norm. 

It baffles you how quickly he can leave his preconceptions of you behind and open the door to his comfy bubble, invite you in and make you feel welcomed where you otherwise don't belong. 

He understands. It makes you smile and he smiles back, close to you both physically and emotionally, and so you're sure you don't need to add anything to this moment you two are having. 

Instead, you shake your head “I don't know why they hang out with you, then,” you turn to the stage one more time and there’s some tension between the band all of the sudden. You don't ask, Yunho is not paying attention to them right now anyway “I still think you wanted the free ride. Send me the gas money when you get home.” 

“When you take me home.” 

“No, you're walking back,” your fingers take a hold of his forearm, pinching it and gaining an exaggerated reaction to the mild pain it causes back from him “asshole.” 

“And get him again for me!” Wooyoung shouts to your left and you both turn to see almost everyone staring at you. 

It's almost enough to make your cheeks burn. Almost. 

When it's almost time for you to go home (the hour you said you were staying turned to two hours) and the band gets down the stage, Seonghwa sits beside you. 

“Did you paint over it?” Is the first thing you ask him and he frowns before understanding. 

“The tree in your brother's office? Nah. He said we should keep it.” 

Your brother has no taste. 

“It's a horrendous tree, Mr Park,” you insist, shaking your head when he makes a noise to disagree. “Please be sure to take it down at some point, behind his back if it's necessary.” 

“Miss Kim,” he starts and you realize whatever he's about to say, it's not about that goddamned tree, “when you asked me to go to a party with you, was it the gala you and Yunho went to?” 

He's direct and blunt and you are grateful that he addresses the topic straight ahead instead of walking around it like the girls did. 

You nod “Yes, I wanted to say I had someone to go with so they wouldn't force Yunho and I to…” 

“I understand.” 

“I'm glad you said no, though. She likes you a lot,” you point to his date, she's jamming along to a rock song you don't recognize in the slightest with Hongjoong, who just joined the group in the vip area with the rest of the band. The vocalist it's missing, however and you wonder where she went, “And you like her too, so that's good. I'm glad.” 

“And you don't like Yunho?” 

The chuckle that bubbles out of you comes out a little more nervous than what you intended “He's, um… An old friend.” 

“He told us you were trying to be friends,” he says and you blink, wondering what else Yunho told them, “but that's not what I'm asking.” 

“I know what you're asking, I know what some of you think it's going to happen,” your eyes land on Yunho, his arm around Hongjoong and they're both laughing at something Mingi said. There's that pull again, your chest feels heavy with something you've never felt before “but it is not going to happen.” 

Yunho catches your eye and smiles, says something to his friends and then starts making his way up to you two. 

Seonghwa, instead of getting offended at your very direct refusal of his intentions, just laughs at you “Famous last words, Miss Kim.” 

“Paint over the stupid tree and I might reconsider your point, Mr Park.” 

He opens his mouth to say something else but then Yunho interrupts, a hand on your shoulder. 

He's so touchy. You never actually took into account if he enjoys physical touch or not, but his hands are always on someone.  On you, when you're close to him. 

“We're leaving.” He says and he's talking to Seonghwa, not you. 

“We all are?” 

“Nope, just us. Princess has a curfew.” 

“Aw,” you place your hand on top of his, pretending to be moved, “yes you do!” 

Harshly but also half-joking (you think) he moves his hand away and turns around “I'll be waiting for you downstairs, you witch.” 

You watch him say his goodbyes and flash you his middle finger before, effectively, going down the stairs. Laughing as you stand up, you return your eyes to Seonghwa “Stop it.” 

“I'm just saying—” 

“Shut up.” 

Seonghwa laughs again and you say goodbye to everyone, Mingi giving you a look that reads as be careful with him and you want to clarify that nothing is ever going to happen. 

But some of them think otherwise. 

When you get downstairs, the crowd overwhelms you all over again and, just when you think Yunho might've actually left you, there's a hand that closes over yours. 

The hand spins you around and Yunho comes into view with his lips curled upwards into a teasing smirk “This way, princess.” 

Suspicious (about the fact that he's navigating the crowd towards anything but the exit, not about his flirtatious ways), you tug at him to make him stop “What are you up to?” 

He ignores your question, moving fast and through a deserted hallway where music doesn’t really get through and, after that, he opens a door that leads to the back of the musty bar. 

“Are you bringing me here so I can get robbed, Yunho?” 

He huffs out a laugh, kind of offended but not really “Obviously, Y/N. It wasn’t because someone was taking pictures of us all night at all.” 

His hand is on yours still as he drags you to the streets and to where you think your car is. You’re grateful he’s holding you, your heart dropping at his words. Not because people can’t know you came to this bar, or that you’re with Yunho, but because someone recognized you and you didn’t notice.

You always notice.  

But this time, you felt so comfortable inside a bubble that isn’t yours that you allowed someone to disrespect you like this. 

Worst, disrespect someone else who’s supposed to be with you like this. 

“Are you sure it was us and the person wasn’t taking pictures of Hongjoong? He’s kind of the buzz around here, Jeong.” You try to joke to calm the beating of your heart down, swallowing hard as you get to your car. 

Your hand shakes a little as you press the buttons to unlock the doors and, by the time you get into the car you’re sweating. You feel the moisture on the back of your neck like a warning, it tells you that you need to calm down before actually getting on the street but Yunho’s words don’t help at all. 

“That's what I thought but then I realized the phone was following you.” 

“Great,” you gulp again, starting the car and turning on the ac just to have something to distract you and your hands. "You didn't have to leave with me, though. You just needed to tell me and—” 

“We’re together, aren't we? At least to them, we are, so leaving together it's the least they expect us to do.” 

Expect. You hate that he's right, that he was able to think rationally and you hate that he regards the situation you're both in with a little more maturity than a few days ago. 

This turn in his personality is overwhelming to say the least. There's only so much concealing you can do before it shows that you're starting to care about him genuinely, beyond the pr and the arranged relationship.

“Thank you.” You mutter after a few seconds of silence where he checked his phone. 

He looks up from it a few seconds, smiles at you a little and then returns his attention to the screen. It takes a few seconds of the ac blasting in your face and the sound of the keyboard of his phone to return you to the ground, panic dissipating when he looks back up again. 

“Are you sure you don't want to sneak back? I don't mean to steal you from your friends, Yunho.” 

“You are my friend, princess.” Without really wanting to, your nose scrunches at the corniness of the statement and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t make that face. Look, I was searching online for the pictures or videos they might've taken at the bar and I found this.” 

He turns his phone and although your panic went away, the feeling is replaced by a little bit of anger: It's a picture of you both, Jaemi in your arms, her face covered by your hair and shoulder. Yunho is staring at you both sweetly, like you remembered he did and you are mid sentence. 

It's not the face you're making in the picture that upsets you, it's the fact that someone took that moment and posted it online for everyone to see. 

“You don't like it.” He says and you take a swing of air before replying. 

“I do like the picture, I don't like what it means,” and he's about to ask what you mean, you see it in his eyes but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don't like that they took that moment away from me, from us.” 

You don't know why you say it like that but you do, there's this emotion laced on your voice that, a week ago, you would've fought to keep away from him. He was never supposed to see any of this. In fact, no one was supposed to see any side of you that wasn't perfectly crafted to their liking, to your mother's liking. 

Yunho getting to know you like this wasn't part of your plan. So you ignore the sting on your chest at his pained expression caused by what you say next. 

“From now on, let's not allow them to take moments away from us. Let's meet when we're scheduled to, during the week and not on weekends and—” 

“Let's go.” 

“Yeah, I'll take you home and then maybe we can tell our moth—” 

“No, no. Just… Let's go here,” he tips and taps at the screen of your car, placing an address inside the gps you're unfamiliar with, “and then we can go home.” 

Confused and in a surprising complaint mood, you start to back out of the parking spot. At the questions written all over your face, he simply places a hand on your knee and squeezes there. It does nothing to calm you down but it does distract you for a second. 

Which is bad. Cause you're driving and all, so you bat his hand away with yours and he laughs at the dead look you send his way. 

“Where are we going?” 

“I want to show you something.” 

“Jeong Yunho, are you sneaking me into your dorm room?” 

“Shhhh.” 

A finger on your lips is the only thing you get as a response before he pokes his head out, into the badly lit hallway of what you can only presume is his dorm room. 

His digit is replaced by your hand because you're trying very hard no to burst out laughing at his very specific change of placement. He sprints to the wall in front of you and moves his hand, urging you to follow his footsteps. 

You do, only much slower than what he intended, you guess, because as soon as you're on his reach he grabs your arm and collides his body with yours. His lips near your cheek when he looks down, his words a whisper. 

“The cameras are old and they don't catch fast movements that well, so we have to run.” 

It takes five good seconds to try and contain your laugh again before replying: “Okay… Mister Bond.” 

His face falls. “Y/N, I can get in serious trouble for bringing you here.” He deadpans and you nod, fast and unserious. 

“Yeah, no, I can totally see that.” 

“I hate you.” 

You smile all the way up to his room, his anxious behavior a little strange because, well, you see a girl casually exiting a room on the base floor as you go upstairs. She's flushed and giggling as she types on her phone, so you don't understand what big deal is. 

Especially when Yunho all but shoves you into a room you can only assume is his, your kitty heels almost making you trip with the shoe rack by the entrance. 

“You're the most dramatic person I have ever met, Jeong.” 

“Hall monitors are a thing here, Y/N and I don't want to get banned from the team!” 

“What team?” 

Now that you think about it, this does seem like one of the dorms reserved for sports teams in the school you graduated from. This one is smaller, definitely not as luxurious and allegedly has a faulty security system but that's besides the point: there's banners and posters on the walls all the way from the entrance to this room that kind of smells like soju and beer. 

“The dance team!” He says as you step further into the room. 

“I didn't know you dance.” 

There's enough space for two beds, two desks that are pressed together on one corner of the room, in front of one of the beds, giving the illusion of being one cohesive piece of furniture when it's not. In front of the other bed there's a corner mirror and a bedside table with old energy drink cans and one unopened, undrinked water bottle. 

“I didn't know you painted until recently.” 

“I don't,” you argue, throwing your purse on one of the beds before Yunho takes it and places it into the other one. You assume that's his. "You are allowed to have a dorm here for shaking your little ass on stage a few times, Jeong?” 

Your teasing makes him frown but you can only smile at the reaction, arms crossed as you take one more look around the room. 

“I do more than shaking my great ass on stage, princess. Besides, this makes me somewhat very independent from my parents,” he shrugs “And I'm close to the campus. It's a win, win situation for me.”

“Yeah, I'll give you that.” And it's true: you can't really argue against being away from your parents. He's lucky he's able to do it, least to some degree. “You still have to go to your house on weekends, no?” 

“Yeah,” he sighs and when you return your eyes to him, he's making his bed. He looks a little ashamed of the state he left the room in when he catches you staring. “But I think I can allow myself to stay here on weekends now, too, considering they forced me into our little… Arrangement.” 

“Yeah, because your mother is all but allowing you to do things this week. Really, Yunho, don't test the woman’s patience.” 

He frowns at you “What side are you on?” 

“The side where we get scolded the least until this whole thing is over, Yunho!” 

“Look, I understand that you care deeply for your parents approval and we've gone through this already this week but—” 

“But what?” 

You hope the look you send him makes him choose his words very carefully. You don't think it gets the message across when he takes a breath and shrugs. 

“But at some point you're going to have to let go of that, Y/N, you're clearly not happy.” 

“Stop caring so much about my happiness, Yunho.” 

“We're friends, that's what a friend is supposed to—” 

“Oh, stop that.” 

He looks taken aback by your interruption and your tone, but the whole leaving the bar because someone was taking pictures of you knocked some sense of reality into you and now you're upset. 

You don't want to scream, you don't want to fight with him because today has been so good. Good to you, good to him, good to people who are dear to you and to him, but it's so hard. 

It's hard when he understands some of it but not the full picture and it's hard when your walls are down, your feelings are on your sleeve and your words spill out of your mouth without a second thought. 

“We're not friends, Yunho. We've never been friends, we were not brought together to be just friends and you may think otherwise because you have the opportunity to live like this,” you point to his bed, “and go to bars and concerts and make noise within the crowds because you're tall and attractive, not because of your last name but I am never going to have that.” 

Feet moving to their own accord, you cross the space as you speak, until you have to look up at him and that pained expression you saw before heading towards his dorm is back, that pained expression he gave you back at the gala when he found you in that room, that pained expression he had when he fought with his mom in front of you. 

You hate it. Not because he might be in some sort of pain, but because it makes you feel bad that you are the one that's causing it. 

“I am never going to have this, Yunho. So yeah, I'm unhappy and bitter and sad and I've developed a whole panic disorder because of it but that's just what—” 

“God, you're impossible.” 

What? 

“W-what?” 

“‘That's just what it's meant to happen’. Is that what you were going to say? ‘That's just the way things are’,” he mocks and that hurts you but he doesn't back down even at the way you physically recoil at his words. 

He moves to the floor, knees hitting hard as he drops and looks for something under his bed. 

You don't need to be here. But before you announce that you're leaving, he does something that ignites your curiosity: he pulls out a box. 

A box with the name of the highschool you attended together in it. You have that box, or at least you think you do, somewhere in the storage of your house where no one can find it because, like almost everything in your life, there's no happy memories in it.

You're not sure if there's happy memories for Yunho, but the way he harshly opens it and rumages inside to find something specific tells you otherwise. 

“The other day, after seeing the canvases in your room, I tried to remember if you liked painting,” he starts and gets up, a mid-sized blue photo album on his hand with the name of the school and your classes slogan engraved in gold on the side, “I tried to remember things I'm supposed to know about you, because we grew up together, Y/N.” 

His reminder makes you gulp. 

“I've tried to distance myself from you as much as I can because I never thought that we would need to get along and— No, no, I never thought I would want to get along with you but now I do and so I went home and I stole this from my mother's office.” 

He opens the album and, at first, you only see pictures of him. Him at his graduation day, him at that one soccer event where he almost broke his nose, him at the school yard with guys from your class you barely remember and then he gets to a specific part of the album. Instead of a picture, there's a card with beautiful handwriting that reads your name instead. 

“See, I always hated that my mother seemed to adore you. She doesn't have any daughters, so I thought it was a way of living that through you and that your mother was a little weird for allowing it to happen, but I was wrong,” he hands you the album and you scowl a little at the pictures you see of yourself, pictures that you've never seen before tonight, “And so, when she asked me to take pictures of you at school events she couldn't attend or your parents couldn't attend, I did it because of that. But I realized recently that she never wanted this for herself.” 

There's a picture of you at a piano recital where you came in third because you sucked at it. There's a picture of you on stage, on school assembly day, accepting a medal for your academic excellency. There's a picture of you next to the school’s art gallery, where you were able to display the canvases you painted throughout your senior year, at your teacher’s insistent request. There's a picture of you in the art gallery, someone you don't recognize or don't really remember is talking to you, their hands pointing at an abstract piece you did. 

It's the only picture where you're genuinely smiling. 

You trace the picture caged with the protective film of the album with the pad of your finger, softly, over that smile and wait for it to disappear but it doesn't. 

You look at Yunho, eyes almost teary with confusion and sentiment. 

“She never wanted this for herself because, although she loves you, she doesn't care about any of this when you're already the perfect match for me in her eyes” he smiles a little, his finger joining yours on the page. “She doesn't care if you got third or first place here, she doesn't give a fuck about your academic achievements and she definitely doesn't give a shit if you're an artist or not,” his finger connects with yours, over your immortalized smile on the picture “but I do.” 

Your head starts to shake, your mind starts to reject his words right away. He cares? About you? No, no. It can be, he— 

He's nodding, stepping close and letting his eyes move away from you just a millisecond so he can stare at the picture “If it makes you this happy, I do. And I did, I don't… I don't remember exactly everything I thought about you as I took these pictures, Y/N, I was probably very annoyed,” he laughs a little and you do too, softly, barely, “but I probably cared back then too, I just… Well, what I'm trying to say is that you can be happy, you can have this and—” 

You don't know what does it. Is it his speech? This whole I was supposed to hate you but I don't think I ever did feeling that washes over you, like some sort of light in the midst of a very long period of darkness? Is it the lingering curve of his lips as he looks at your face in that picture and then back at you with stars in his eyes? Is it the way his finger brushes against yours shyly, like he intended to do it but he's not so sure how you would react to it? 

Is it the way he looked at you this afternoon, while Jaemi was speaking nonsense into your hair? Is it the fact that, at some point during the drive, you looked over and saw him smiling at his phone, at the picture that stole your moment with him this afternoon? 

What exactly prompts you to shut the photo album, let it fall to the floor and close the distance between your lips is beyond you but, if you're being honest with yourself, it doesn't really matter. 

Kissing Yunho feels like defiance, like rebellion against yourself and your principles and your values. It makes your heartbeat happily against your ribcage and that's, maybe, what makes you pull away from the close-lipped encounter. 

He just told you that you can be happy, but your mind can't just accept it so easily. 

Also, he didn't exactly kiss you back. 

His lips are parted when you look at him again, his pupils going all over your face like trying to get ahold of what the fuck just happened. 

This is so embarrassing. 

“I shouldn't have done that,” you start, in a whisper, tiptoes going down until you're back from the clouds on the ground. “I'm so, so sorry. I'll leav—” 

Briefly, you wonder what makes Yunho grab the side of your face and kiss you back, this time with a foreign emotion pouring into the kiss that you, somehow, feel equipped to return as your lips move in tandem with his. 

You wonder if what makes his free hand move to your waist and press you flush against him is, in any way, motivated by some sort of pity. 

His tongue brushing softly against yours for the first time makes your insecurity go away. It makes everything else go away, including that alarm inside of your head that tells you that you're making a mistake. 

It’s blasting red, dangerous and irrevocable red, but you think you confuse the color of it with the blush on Yunho’s cheek when you push a little onto him and he falls to the bed. You confuse the sound with the sigh that he lets out when he pulls you to him and your first instinct is to sit on his lap, leg on each side of him, hand fisting his shirt as you capture his lips again. 

His warmth engulfs you when his arms go around you, press you into him again and settle you further into his lap so you’re not awkwardly hovering over it anymore. There’s this need that takes over you, struggling to come up to the surface. You think he feels it too and, when your hips move out of pure want, he opens his legs a little more. 

Adrenaline rushing through you, making you confuse the sensation for pure euphoria, it takes two more thrusts into the material of his jeans for you to come to your senses. 

What the hell are you doing? 

Your heart races, for a different reason now. 

What the hell do you think you’re doing? 

Panic rising, you push Yunho’s shoulder with your hands, pulling you both away from the kiss completely. He has a pout on his lips, swollen from your kisses and flushed pink. They look very inviting, and although there’s a part of you that wants to give in, there’s the other side of you, the louder side, that’s telling you to think clearly. 

Giving into Yunho, is giving into your mother’s wishes fully. Giving into Yunho means she won. 

And Yunho thinks you are able to be happy one day, the words you cut off still ringing in your mind and they cover your fears with hope you never felt before, hope that you didn’t think you deserved to feel in the first place. His kisses had that taste, too. 

But you don’t think you can let your mother win.  

“Dinner.” You manage to say, untangling his hands off your waist, using them to help you up and off his lap.  

“W-what?” 

“It’s almost nine, I have to go to dinner with my brother.” You fix your shirt, tuck your hair behind your ear and bend over him to grab your purse before clearing your throat, “I know the way out.” 

“Y/N, don’t—” 

“I’ll see you next thursday.” 

When you sprint out of the room and close the door behind you, you already want to go back in. 

But running is sensible, it’s what you’re supposed to do. 

It doesn’t matter that hot, angry tears are wetting your cheeks. 

It’s what’s best for everyone, including him.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[valkyrieromanoff]

synopsis: when your best friend Luke asks you to pose as his girlfriend during his parents' 25th wedding anniversary cruise, you reluctantly agree. After all, you're single, he's desperate, and who can say no to an all-expenses-paid getaway? But what starts as a simple favor spirals into a tangled web of awkward introductions, suspicious relatives, and one undeniable complication: your growing, utterly inappropriate crush on Luke’s father, Anakin. Surrounded by the charming and chaotic Skywalker family, you’re forced to navigate the tricky waters of pretense, loyalty, and a passion you never saw coming.

warning: age gap (Anakin is 44 years old and the reader is in her early 20s), cheating, alternate universe, that's it for now, I'll add more warnings when the next chapters come out.

CHAPTER ONE: CRUISE

CHAPTER TWO: DINER

CHAPTER THREE: NIGHT BREEZE

CHAPTER FOUR: POOL

CHAPTER FIVE: SAUNA

CHAPTER SIX: HEATED EMOTIONS

CHAPTER SEVEN: SIPS AND SECRETS

CHAPTER EIGHT: BREAKING THE SILENCE

CHAPTER NINE: BED CHEM

[hayw1res]

a small drabble bc im thinking about nanami kento..

18+ MINORS DNI

imagine university au , teachers assistant, nerdy and needy nanami who cannot keep it in his pants! hes such a loser that when you two have your private tutoring sessions he cant stop looking down your v neck shirt everytime you answer one of the questions..

nerdy perv nanami who has a secret folder in his phone of quick pictures of under your skirt , in between your chest and some just stand alone pictures of you smiling or reading a book

pervy nanami who uses those pics to get off in his dorm room, his mind goes wild with imagination that he almost feels your cunt on his leaky cock.. he silently thanks his old roommate for moving out so early , he can whine and moan in peace

nerdy nanami who celebrates with you when you pass your chem exam, you two and a few other friends drink a little to relieve stress and relax after midterms , poor nanami was a bit of a lightweight..

pervy nanami who takes you to the bathroom with him, rutting his clothed cock against your thighs.. whimpering and begging for you to just let him have this

“please , o-oh god please please y/n-”

hes practically drooling down your exposed shirt as he ruts inbetween your thighs like a horny dog, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you there , your hands bracing yourself on the bathroom sink- his thrusts were sloppy.. that of a virgin at least.

that night he took you back to his dorm, forgetting about his own virginity for a moment he leads- or tries to but fails the moment you rake your fingers through his hair - tugging at the ends to correct his position with you

“y-yes ill do it right next time, please- please let me in- let me inside of you-“

hed beg and beg until you allowed the loser virgin to slide inside of you.. it was always the quiet ones they say- the stretch was something you hadnt expected . he barely gives you time before hes fucking into you at an unkept pace.. just wanting to get his cock as far inside of you as possible.. his face buried in your tits he moans and whines you name over and over again.. his stamina must be high- the way hes cum inside you almost 3 times already.. but continues to bully his cock inside of you regardless of the overstimulation.. determined to make you cum all over him until hes milked dry.

sigh.. i love nanami kento.

[gogogodzilla]

day 19, 69ing

john hancock x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, drug use, sex while high, teasing, dirty talk, fingering, hancock calls reader sunshine kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3

To Hancock, getting high was second nature. He was always popping one chem or another on your travels. You didn’t mind. Whatever he had to do to get through the day.

You ventured through the gritty streets of Goodneighbor, looking for your friend. You had a surprise for him, after all. The raucous sounds of the Third Rail on a Saturday night graced your ears, and you found yourself being pulled there. 

You nodded to the security guard and descended the steps. Smooth jazz and the low murmur of voices greeted you as you entered the bar. A grin fought itself onto your features as you spotted, through the cigarette smoke and lively conversations of the patrons, your favorite Mayor seated at the bar, talking to Whitechapel Charlie. 

You sidled up next to him, leaning on the bar, nodding to Charlie as you sat. “Room for one more?” 

“Look who decided to finally show up,” Hancock drawled, pushing his tricorn hat back to let his eyes rake over your form.

“The super mutants trying to kill me didn’t seem to care that I had a date tonight,” you retorted, chuckling a little at your joke. 

You and Hancock weren’t exactly together, but you couldn’t deny that you felt strongly toward him. The lingering glances and semi-sexual remarks while you were traveling were enough of an indication that Hancock liked you too. 

The usual grin on his face widened at your reply. He rubbed his chin, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Date, huh?” 

You leaned into his space, emboldened by his gaze on yours. “Yeah, although it’s a little crowded in here,” you titled your head, glancing around the room and its various patrons. 

“Why don’t you and me get outta here, sunshine?” Hancock suggested as he slid from his stool and offered you an arm. 

You stood and took his arm, “Thought you’d never ask, mayor.” 

You were giddy as you made the short walk to the Old State House. While on your adventures out in the Commonwealth, you’d found a bottle of Day Tripper. It was popular back in your day for those attempting to escape the troubles of their everyday life, and you didn’t think that Hancock had ever tried it before. 

Fahrenheit nodded to both of you as you entered the old building from her usual place at the bottom of the spiral staircase. Her gaze danced between the two of you for a moment before Hancock led you up the stairs. 

You sauntered toward one of the couches in the middle of the room, and Hancock shut the double doors to his room behind him. Your heart rate picked up at the telltale sound of the lock clicking. You took your seat and patted the cushion next to you. 

He sat next to you, eyes dancing across your features. “There’s another reason why I was late,” you mentioned as he reclined and threw an arm over the couch. 

He hummed, turning his head to look at you. You rifled through your bag before your hands wrapped around the blue-green bottle. You pulled it out and handed it to him. 

He took it from you and raised an eyebrow as he read the label. It was white and covered with flowers. From what you’d heard about the effects, you assumed that the label was supposed to reflect how you felt while you were on it. 

“Where’d you find this?” 

“West Roxbury Station, out by University Point. I wasn’t lying about the super mutants trying to kill me,” you laughed, giving him a half-shrug. 

His mouth curved into a smile, “You’re somethin’ else, sunshine.” 

You inched closer toward him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I thought we could try it together,” you divulged, biting the inside of your cheek. 

His grin grew wider, “Didn’t take you for the partying type.” 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you replied, coyly. 

Hancock kept his eyes on yours as he undid the orange top of the bottle and shook out two small pills into one of his hands. 

He picked up one pill, “Open up, sunshine,” he ordered, smirking. 

Your breathing hitched before you opened your mouth for him, allowing your tongue to stick out over your bottom lip. Hancock held out the pill for you pinched between his thumb and pointer finger. You met his gaze as you leaned forward and you wrapped your lips around his fingers. His thumb escaped your lips to cradle your chin and his pointer finger stayed trapped within the wet confines of your mouth. 

You were a little surprised at the boldness of your actions, but the thought was quickly replaced by much more obscene ones as you swallowed around Hancock’s finger and a soft growl escaped him. 

He retracted his hand and popped the remaining pill into his mouth. He reclined against the red cushions of the couch, waiting for the effects to kick in. Slowly, the world around you began to transform. Color intensified and became more vivid, time seemed to slow, and the air around you hummed with energy. 

Hancock chuckled as you looked around the room, “Welcome to my world. Ain’t it a trip?” 

A laugh bubbled in your throat, and your eyes met for just a moment. Warmness spread throughout your body like the heat from the good whiskey Charlie served on special occasions. Hancock’s eyes were half-closed and the corners of his mouth were turned up in a lazy grin. 

You watched as he slowly sat up and tugged off his coat, also feeling the warmth that felt like it was humming under your skin. His shirt shone like a beacon in the light of the nearby lantern in your drug-induced vision. It was like your limbs were moving on their own as they reached out and stroked the fabric on his bicep. 

His breathing hitched in his throat as your fingers trailed up and over his shoulder to the bare skin of his neck. Something inside you ignited as soon as your fingertips dragged over the column of his throat, and it felt like your entire being was being drawn toward him. 

You crawled toward him, settling yourself on his lap as you cradled his face in your hands. He chuckled as he gripped your thighs, keeping you still. 

“I… need to touch you,” you murmured as you leaned forward and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t enough. 

You moved your face upward, eyebrows furrowed. “Need to taste you,” you practically begged as your lips ghosted against his. 

He leaned forward, and your lips collided. Your movements were clumsy, the drug making your muscles uncooperative. Your senses were heightened, and you could taste a hint of the liquor Hancock had earlier on his tongue. You groaned against his lips, which were rough and marred against your own. You wondered if other parts of him tasted this good. 

You pulled away and a small string of saliva connected the two of you. You moved to press sloppy kisses along the column of his throat, letting your tongue drag over the skin there. Hancock’s hands wandered over your body, squeezing and kneading wherever you could. He probably would’ve ripped your vault suit off of you if his limbs were working properly. 

“Wanna taste you, sunshine,” he rasped out as he grabbed your hips and ground them against his hardened length. You whined at the sensation as arousal coursed through your veins. 

“Lay back,” you ordered, shoving his shoulder lightly. Hancock followed your orders as you stood on shaky legs. You slowly peeled off your vault suit, thankful for the zipper, and Hancock palmed himself as he watched you through lidded eyes. 

You tugged your underwear down and kicked them to the side. You were practically drooling at the sight of Hancock before you. His shirt was open, exposing his scarred chest to you. He had unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock from its confines. He slowly stroked himself as you neared. 

In your drug-induced haze, an idea struck you. You straddled Hancock’s face so you could easily lean down and take his cock in your mouth. You could both taste each other that way. 

His hands moved to grip your thighs as you hovered over him. His breath fanned against your core and you shuddered, rocking your hips slightly. 

“All for me,” Hancock breathed against you, a hint of astonishment in his voice. 

You nodded as you reached down and began to slowly stroke him. “Only for you,” you slurred, tongue heavy in your mouth. You were already drunk on the feeling of him. 

Your grip around his cock tightened as he took you in his mouth. Your thighs squeezed around him as he devoured you, swiping his tongue through your folds before moving to circle your clit. 

He bucked his hips, reminding you that you had a job to do. You pumped your hand slowly before swiping your thumb over the tip of his cock, gathering the precum dripping from there. 

Hancock groaned against your core as you stroked him, sending vibrations through your body. You rutted your hips against his face, chasing your high. 

Hancock dipped his tongue into your entrance, and you leaned forward, moaning. You swirled your tongue around his red-hued tip, and your eyes practically rolled in the back of your head from the taste of him. 

Hancock’s grip tightened on your thighs as he brought you even closer. Moans escaped him as you slowly bobbed your head and clenched around nothing. 

You hollowed your cheeks around him, taking him even deeper than before. Your movements became sloppy as you neared the precipice. Hancock’s mouth wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced before, and coupled with the finger he slid inside you, your release was rapidly approaching. 

He quickly added another finger and pumped them inside you while he sucked on your clit. You moaned around his cock before relaxing your jaw to take all of him. 

Hancock’s tongue circled your clit once and then twice, and then you were coming undone above him. Pleasure wracked through your entire body in waves, and your thighs began to shake. Hancock continued his efforts, allowing you to ride out your high. 

He tensed under you before coming with a strangled groan. You pulled away and watched as white tendrils coated your hand. You continued to stroke him until pleasure veered into overstimulation and he tapped your thigh. 

You slowly slid off of him, both coming down from the high of your orgasm and the high from the drug. You giggled a little as you took his sash and cleaned him off. You didn’t expect your plan to work this well. 

“I’m glad we did that,” you whispered as you lay on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. 

Hancock chuckled, “I should party with you more often.”

[iwannakisskissyoureyesagain]

more percy jackson headcanons

- there’s a small communal kitchen in the big house. it’s usually used for cabin dinners as a bonding activity, but percy and annabeth like to use it when they visit so they can cook and catch up with their friends

- percy loves to cook and he’s really good at it. sally started teaching him in montauk and now he does it whenever he’s stressed. now he’s teaching annabeth so they can do it together. she’s not as good as him, but she’s a fast learner

- nico and hazel like to watch gravity falls together

- reyna is like a sleeper agent when it comes to makeup. she learned a lot on circe’s island, though she doesn’t wear it a lot herself anymore, now that she’s a hunter. it’s not uncommon to find her and some of the aphrodite girls giving each other makeovers whenever she visits camp

- will and piper are both totally obsessed with short & sweet; his favorites are “slim pickins” (unsurprisingly) and “don’t smile,” and hers are “bed chem” and “please please please”

- will keeps trying to convince nico to dress as sabrina and jenna for halloween with him

- almost everyone who interacts with percy at new rome university ends up falling head-over-heels for him. he has no idea until they tell him, and he kindly has to explain that he has a girlfriend. he’s very flustered and confused every time it happens and immediately iris messages annabeth if she’s not with him. she thinks it’s hilarious every time

- annabeth and her roommate manage to hide a stray dog that annabeth found on the street in their college dorm for a week. annabeth cries when her ra finds and confiscates him, until it turns out that his owners have been putting up missing dog signs around new rome and she just kidnapped some poor family’s dog by accident

- piper dyes her hair cherry-cola-red and makes nico, will, annabeth, and percy help her/hang out in the big house bathroom for hours with her. chiron tries to come in and finds five teenagers sitting around a bathroom that literally looks like a murder scene, piper’s hands and neck and nico’s hands and arms splattered with red dye that will’s trying to scrub off, percy sitting on the toilet seat with his legs crossed and clenched because he’s had to pee for the past thirty minutes and no one would let him, and annabeth actually trying to tackle the dye in and around the sink. chiron made an announcement at breakfast the next morning that the big house bathroom was off-limits for hair dye and anything else that stains

- drew is a dress to impress FIEND

- sally watched the waitress proshot when it was in theaters and sobbed

- annabeth and sally carry around emergency spray bottles of water, partly because demigods are always in danger, but mostly because percy is accident-prone and falls off his skateboard or down the stairs on a daily basis

- sally and paul get annabeth a folklore cardigan for christmas and she sobs

- calypso LOVES ethel cain

- frank teaches hazel and ella about wikipedia. no one sees or hears from either of them for the rest of the day

- will is astounded to learn that nico doesn’t wear his seatbelt

- piper has a hat that says “women want me, fish fear me,” percy has one that says “women want me, fish want me too,” and leo has one that says “fish fear me, me fear women”

- percy and hazel like to sit in the stables and gossip with the pegasi whenever hazel visits chb

- meg has a breakdown when she learns that pigeons are considered feral instead of wild because they were domesticated and then abandoned by humans

- when estelle’s old enough to visit montauk, sally and percy take her, annabeth, and paul out there for a week because sally has never taken paul and percy has been saving annabeth’s first trip for when they can take estelle. percy lets estelle bury his legs in the sand and annabeth sculpts him a mermaid tail

pt. 1

pt. 2

[the-b4rty-cr0uch]

Blog Intro

My name is Barty, I am 18 years old and I'm a Chem student at Hogwarts University. He/they.

My Friends

Pandora Rosier - @thatbox-filled-withpapillons

Regulus Black - @poet-for-the-stars

Evan, mf'ing Rosier - @derangedrosie

People I know, I guess.

James Potter - @sunshine-potter

Remus Lupin - @remus-j-fucking-lupin

Bellatrix Black - @it-aint-all-black-and-white

Sirius Black - @siriusly-son-of-a-bitch

My main account is @adhara2034

This is my interpretation of Barty. If there is something in the rp that you don't agree with/headcanon, please don't respond to any of us with hate, just move on with your lives and let us have some fun: find other rps, read other fics, idc, just don't attack us.

[slippinmickeys]

Bonus Old Chem Prompt

For Nicole.

1. “So what’s your area of study?” he said. “I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask.”

They were walking to their cars, so late that it could properly be called early. The storm cells had finished passing through by midnight, and the air was as humid and thick as hot soup. She nudged him companionably with her shoulder. 

They had talked all night, but the storm and the dark and the mood had leant the night an air of confidence, and they’d talked about big-picture stuff; hopes, fears, childhood traumas, until Scully began to yawn and the weather outside had quieted. All the stuff you talk about once you get past the getting-to-know-you phase had been hashed out and argued. All that was left were the details. 

“I study the chemical processes of negligible and negative senescence,” she said. 

His mental rolodex whirled until the right catalog card came up. He looked down at her in wonder. 

“Immortality?” he said, unable to keep the intrigue out of his voice. 

“Close enough.”

“That’s wild.” 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it,” she said impishly.  Then, “This is me.”

She stopped in front of a silver Volkswagen Passat, and Mulder pivoted until he was standing in front of her. 

“I enjoyed my time in the dark with you,” he said, his voice a little low. 

“Let’s do it again,” she said, and then lifted herself up onto her toes and pressed her lips into his, lingering there. 

When she finally pulled away, he was a little lightheaded and dazed. 

“I’d like that,” he finally managed to say. 

2. “I used to be married,” she said, her nose pressed into the bare skin of his bicep. 

They had kicked off all but the sheet and she was still coming down from the high of a shared climax, her leg still thrown over both of his. 

Mulder’s first thought was widow, because this was not a woman you lost if you could help it. 

He was trying to figure out how to ask when she went on. 

“He lives in Seattle now.” 

It was a Sunday, and sheaves of the newspaper they’d been passing back and forth were strewn half on the bed and half on the floor. The last wisps of steam were wafting up from cups of coffee on either side of the bed and an uneaten croissant sat on a plate under a wedge of sunlight. 

“What’s his name?” Mulder asked her quietly. He’s not sure why that was his first question, but it was. 

“Ethan,” she said. 

She knew all about Diana, their almost-wedding, her affairs and blow-ups and his disastrous attempts to make excuses for her. His years of swearing off women.

“Is it bad that I didn’t tell you?”

He reached out with the arm she was pressed to and pulled her until her head was resting on his chest. 

“We’ve only been dating a month,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a lot we don’t know about each other.” 

At this, they both chuckled. They’d shared more than most couples who’d been together five times as long. 

“What happened?” he asked. 

“We wanted the same things,” she said. “In the bedroom.”  And before he could ask if she meant to say the word different, she finished with: “Namely, men.”

Mulder clenched his teeth. “Ouch,” he said. 

She shrugged a shoulder into his armpit. “We’re still friends.” 

Mulder had to tilt his head back to look down at her. 

“I’m friends with his husband Bruce, too.”

3. She slunk into the back of the lecture hall fifteen minutes before class was up and lowered herself into an empty chair on the upper right. 

“So we’ve gone over our long list of elements of psychopathology,” he went on with his lecture. “Let’s touch on some of the basic causes before we break for the day. Broad strokes stuff, here. Anyone want to offer something up?”

A girl in front with perfect posture raised her hand. 

“Go ahead,” he said. 

“Genetics?” she asked. 

“Yep, genetics.” He wrote this on the whiteboard.  

An older looking student in the middle offered up: “Are there social causes?” 

“Sure are,” Mulder said, and wrote social on the board as well. 

“Anyone else? I’ll start calling on people, I’m not as shy as you,” he went on. A few people chuckled. 

He pointed at one of the laughers. “What have you got?”

“Um…psychological?” the kid said. 

A couple more people chuckled at this answer, and Mulder wrote it on the board. 

“This is a 101 level lecture, guys, don’t laugh at Jeremy. It’s okay to use the name of the class in the class. There are plenty of psychological causes of psychopathology. It’s in the title.”

To his left, his TA yawned and looked at his watch. Mulder flitted his eyes up to Scully, who seemed to be enjoying watching him. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about the class and just wanted to be with her.

“Last one and you guys can get out of here. Anybody?”

A few people looked around the room to see if anyone was going to answer. 

“Nobody?” he called out. 

From the back of the small auditorium, he heard a familiar, welcome voice. 

“Biology!” Scully called out. 

Mulder couldn’t help but smile. “A personal favorite,” he said, and turned to write it on the whiteboard. 

Kids were already folding their laptops and shoving notebooks in backpacks. 

“Okay, yes, I said I’d let you go.” The volume of shuffling and movement went up and he had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over it. “Assigned reading is in the syllabus. I won’t be available for office hours at the normal times next week, so reach out to Gary,” at this he pointed at his TA, though most of the students were already on their way out the lecture hall, “to set something up. Have a good long weekend!”

He moved behind the podium to grab his phone and his own laptop, and when he looked up, Scully was on her way down the steps, fighting the current of retreating students. 

“Hey,” he said as she approached, and he swung his bag over his shoulder and, with a glance up to see if anyone was paying attention (they weren’t), leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. He fell into step with her, heading for the rarely used exit at the bottom of the lecture hall. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling up at him. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” he replied, reaching forward to hold open the door so that she could walk through. 

“How was your trip?” 

“Good,” he said. “Uneventful.”

“You’re back for a bit now, right?” she said. “Before your next thingy?” She looked a little anxious when she asked. She must have something on her mind.

“The technical term,” he said, as they stepped into the flow of student traffic in the hallway that led to the front of the building. “About that. I actually had a question for you.”

“Oh?” she said. 

“You first,” he said, pulling to a stop in the foyer of the building. “You look like you had something else you wanted to ask?”

She averted her gaze from his, which was unusual. “My parents invited us over for dinner,” she said. “I told them about you. And they want to meet you. If that’s okay.”

Mulder rocked back a little on his heels. Diana’s folks had died before they got together and he hadn’t had any girlfriends before her serious enough for parental vetting. The last time he’d met a woman’s parents, he was standing in Missy Sander’s living room pinning a homecoming corsage on her velvet dress while her mother hovered nearby.

Nevertheless, Scully was important to him, and her parents were important to her. 

“I’d love to,” he said, smiling, and noted the relieved slump of her shoulders. 

“Great,” she breathed. “I told them it might not be until after the holidays. We’ll both have midterms to grade and then things usually get crazy.”

“Whenever you want,” Mulder said gamely. “I’ll bring a nice bottle of wine and be on my best behavior.”

She smiled up at him warmly. 

“You said you had a question for me?”

“I did,” he said, grabbing her coat from her hands and holding it up so that she could shrug into it. He put on his directly after, and then held open the door for her to exit into the cold, brisk day. 

“So I’m the faculty advisor to the ski club,” he went on. 

She gave him a look. “You never told me this.”

“It’s not normally very interesting. Anyway, the club is heading to a resort up north over the long weekend, and the school will pay for my lift tickets. Any chance you want to join me?”

“You ski?” she asked. Her incredulity was amusing.

“It’s literally the club’s only requisite for an advisor,” he admitted. “Do you?” 

“Not once in my whole life. I’m from San Diego, Mulder.”

“California has mountains.” 

“And I’ve never been on them. But a resort sounds like it might be nice…Are there fireplaces? Hot tubs?”

“More than you can count,” he answered, picturing her in a bikini, picturing her reading a book while lounging on a bearskin rug. 

“Then I’d love to join you,” she smiled at him, the vapor of her breath dissipating in front of her. 

4. The resort was sprawling, the main lodge done up in the Bavarian style, which was only a little off putting as they were in the only high country in the Midwest. Fairly large hills rose up above the roof of the lodge, covered in snow and dotted with skiers and snowboarders. Several chairlifts served the hills (they could not accurately be called ‘mountains’), spaced at even intervals amongst the small range. 

“I have to admit it’s charming,” Scully said, when they walked in, most of the people around them clomping around in hard ski boots. 

The interior decor was dated. Old wooden skis were crossed on the wall over the front desk, and vintage ski posters decorated the walls, and all, Scully assumed, had been up since they were new. The staff was friendly, though, and when they walked into their room, she was doubly impressed. 

“Mulder,” she said, nearly speechless. 

He closed the door behind her, smiling. He had splurged and sprung for the nicest suite they had (complete with updated decor) – the only one with both a fireplace and its own hot tub, which was on a large balcony that overlooked the ski hills. 

“Does the university know they’re paying for this?” she asked. 

“I get a small lodging stipend,” he explained. “I may have chipped in a little of my own money.”

“A little?” she said, moving into the room and picking up a bottle of champagne that was waiting on ice for them along with a couple of local chocolates and a dozen red roses. 

“The stipend probably covers the champagne and two of the roses,” he said, sidling up to her and sliding a hand across her belly. 

She turned in his arms until she was facing him. 

“Then let’s get your money’s worth,” she purred. 

5. It was the first full day of the trip, and the students of the club had invited them to join them in the bar in the basement of the lodge. It had equally dated decor, but a small stage in the corner with a decent band who was playing 90’s hits at a reasonable volume. 

The club–made up of a dozen kids–more guys than girls–was on their fifth pitcher of beer and showing no signs of slowing down. Mulder and Scully had already had a couple cups each, but were settling in, watching the shenanigans with benevolent bemusement. The table was littered with empty cups and pitchers, along with a scattered detritus of ski gear; helmets with mirrored goggles, gloves, a few errant neckwarmers. 

Patrick Fitzpatrick, a senior, and the president of the Ski Club held up his beer to Mulder while nodding at Scully, who sat demurely next to him in a coat that was very obviously not ready to hit the slopes. 

“So Dr. Mulder,” he called out past the four people sitting in between them. “How long have you and Dr. Scully been going out?” 

All other conversation at the table stopped in a decidedly record-scratch-like moment. All eyes shifted to them. 

Fitzpatrick had taken a few of Mulder’s classes–enough to think he was cool enough to ask to be the club’s advisor–though Mulder wasn’t sure his major required anything but the most remedial science credits. Scully’s job was research based, and the few classes she taught were mostly 400 and graduate level. Only one of the kids in the club had ever had her as a professor. Scully had barely left their suite–he’d wondered how they even knew she was on the trip when they’d asked Mulder if both of them wanted to come and hang out. 

Mulder cleared his throat and looked to Scully, asking silent permission. She snorted a small laugh and took a slug of beer. 

“A few months,” he answered, looking around the table. 

Molly, the one girl who’d taken classes from Scully, looked away with an abashed smile. 

“And how long do you think you might continue dating?” Fitzpatrick burped. 

Mulder nearly laughed out loud. The kid was a putz, came from Chicago money, but he had a mien that could charm the socks off a horse with white feet. 

“At least as long as it’ll take you to graduate, Fitzpatrick,” Mulder answered. “How many credits shy are you? You know you have to actually pass a class for them to count.”

The table erupted in laughter, everyone beginning to take shots at Fitzpatrick, who took on the ribbing with gracious humor. Next to him, Scully pulled out her phone which was buzzing, took a look at the display and stood. 

“I have to take this,” she whispered in his ear, slipping away while the table was still abuzz with jubilant teasing. 

She came back about ten minutes later, her face long and ashen. She held her phone in her hand limply.

“Scully?” he said, half standing from his seat when he saw her.

The few people sitting near Mulder noticed and the table quieted down quickly. 

“It’s my Dad,” she said, swallowing thickly. 

“Everything okay?” he asked. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head, shocky. “He’s dead.”

[neighbourscat]

I BET WE’D HAVE REALLY GOOD BED CHEM. 𐙚

[ 🐊! ] WELCOME …! 𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂

⎯╾⃰◌̺̺͙𖢖ུ⃨. ᯓ ─ she / her, black (. cat ) writer, virgoat! eighteen years old, university student!. [shaped by 𝐀𝟐𝟒] :ravenclaw! ˚　 . 　 ⁺ # nali ᡣ𐭩 ? :: the official president of the ‘handsome white man’ fanclub.

+*^ 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ᡣ𐭩 ? ::

[ to be! continuation parts! ]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 , nicholas alexander chavez

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐌 , nicholas alexander chavez

[ single parts! ]

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 , nicholas alexander chavez

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐑 , father charlie mayhew

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 , nicholas alexander chavez

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄 , spencer cassadine

[ IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE! 🐊☁️ ]

[ LISTEN WITH YOUR EYES ( & EARS )! 🐊☁️ ]

[ 🐊 ] requests / asks are open! [ black writer, black reader ]

©neighbourscat // please do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[dedeinthewild]

Could you please do a pepe marti story where you’re both curled up under a blanket, sharing earbuds, listening to a song that means everything to them. “this part,” they whisper, right before the lyrics hit, “makes me think of you.”

pepe martí x reader, established relationship

~"this part, makes me think of you"

It was a rather tough period for the two of them. They were juggling their first university sessions, feeling the winter creeping in like a cold caress down their spines.

During a break, she had decided to book a flight that would take her to Pepe, tired but thrilled at the idea of balancing his Formula 2 season with his courses.

Before long, her subway pass for commuting to campus was replaced by running around the house, chasing each other like maniacs. Her jeans and serious-looking coat gave way to an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt she’d conveniently stolen from Pepe.

There was something magical about spending time with that boy, without a care in the world, talking about ten thousand things while binging nerdy movies. They never seemed to run out of things to say. They jumped from one topic to another—whether he was on the simulator and she was at the desk, or one of them sat on the bed while the other worked on a puzzle he’d been gifted but never had the time to finish.

“God, this smells,” she said, pulling out a shirt he often wore from a neatly folded pile of clothes.

Pepe grabbed the shirt instinctively, sniffing it to see if it smelled of sweat or if he’d forgotten to wash it. But it just smelled like his cologne.

“I wore it when I went to the restaurant with Mom,” he said, knowing full well she’d detect even the faintest extra spritz of fragrance.

“Yesterday, I was talking with Christian about how Gabi loves it when he puts cologne on her.”

“I hate cologne.”

“You don’t hate it,” said the Spaniard, arms crossed behind his neck, watching her search for something to wear after washing her hair.

“I simply prefer your natural smell,” she shrugged, opting to stick with the damp shirt she’d had on before climbing onto the bed and resting her head on Pepe’s lap.

He laughed, jokingly cupping her face with one hand, knowing he could always draw out one of those stunning smiles he loved so much. His hand drifted down to run through her hair.

“I should be studying chemistry,” she said, looking up at him from where she lay, noticing how he’d let his hair grow out and how, despite his packed schedule, he didn’t show a trace of fatigue.

“Want me to help you?”

How many times, before she started university, had he stayed up late, even with a race the next day, to help her with math homework? He’d patiently explain things, occasionally losing himself, and every time he did, she’d ace her exams anyway.

“I guess I’ll just procrastinate,” she said, turning to hug one of his legs and closing her eyes, feeling too cozy to start studying.

But Pepe, knowing she’d feel guilty later if she didn’t study as planned, sat up and suggested something.

“Go get your chem going, and I’ll do some laps on the sim,” he said. “Then we can play a game—your pick.”

She looked at him with one of those playful smiles, her sweet-smelling hair brushing his face as she leaned in to kiss his nose.

“God, I love you.”

The driver headed to his simulator, calling Christian and their friends to stream a quick race, while she sat at the kitchen table, firing up her computer to dive into genetics. It was a subject she’d always loved and still appreciated, despite the overwhelming workload, making it easy for her to retain the information.

There was something about him living life at 300 kilometers per hour while maintaining the kindness and purity that defined him, and her dedicating her life to her studies, finding fulfillment primarily through her achievements that tied her down. Perhaps, deep down, those two worlds complemented each other, meeting between Grand Prix weekends and bonding over their wildly different interests.

“I don’t want to be nosy, but if you can, be quiet,” said the Spaniard into his mic, gripping the simulator wheel as he drove a road car on the Nürburgring.

“You know us—when we beat you, it’ll be anything but quiet.”

“Come on, she’s studying,” he smiled shyly into the camera, his eyes fixed on the screen, wearing blue-light glasses.

Corner after corner, the Spaniard proved to be the fastest, barely trailing one of the bots. Meanwhile, she repeated key concepts aloud, her table covered in textbooks, notes, and a forgotten mug of tea amidst the papers. Pepe’s plan to separate into two rooms was paying off; hours later, he emerged victorious from the tournament with his friends and colleagues, and she, when she felt his hands on her shoulders, had already studied a third of what she needed to prepare over the next two weeks.

“Fancy a little break?”

“It’s interesting how you get me to study and then do the opposite,” she smiled, jotting down a few last notes and turning to him, realizing she did need a break despite feeling like she could keep going.

“I didn’t do much today, so I might as well waste the last hours with you.”

“Waste your time with me?” she raised an eyebrow.

He nodded, teasing her with that special smile of his, before flopping onto the couch and motioning for her to join him.

“Bed to bed, couch to couch,” she sang, parodying Smooth Operator as she referred to their lazy day. The day before, he’d taken her on a lovely walk in a place he knew, and the next day, they were planning a day trip.

He shrugged, smiling, knowing full well he wouldn’t do anything productive anyway, and opened his arms for her to cuddle up beside him.

They spent some time in silence, her head resting on his chest, his hand gently stroking her hair as they both closed their eyes to rest. Then, as they often did, she opened the book she was reading in her spare time and accepted one of the earbuds Pepe handed her to listen to some music.

Sometimes, it was her playlist—eclectic and adaptable to any mood. Other times, it was his, secretly curated just for her. A mix of vintage tunes, songs they’d heard on trips, and new tracks she loved discovering while close to him and immersed in a good book.

As she recognized the notes of a song her dad often played when reminiscing about his younger days, she looked at Pepe, who was rubbing his eyes.

“For real?” she asked, feigning boredom, even though she was the first to love ’80s music and its vibes.

“Classic,” he replied, humming along as she chuckled, pulling her legs up and wrapping herself around his athletic frame.

“This part,” said the Spaniard as the second verse began.

This is the sound

Always slipping from my hands

Sand’s a time of its own

Take your seaside arms and write the next line

Oh, I want the truth to be known

“Makes me think of you,” he whispered.

Through every high and low, there was something that kept him going beyond his passion for racing. That something was seeing her smile under the podium or hearing her sweet words when he returned to the garage. Teaching her math, urging her to study when he knew she’d regret not doing so, and spending lazy days together at home.

What an incurable romantic.

~ not proofread or anything, I feel like I can't capture anything well anymore... anywayss let me know :)

(it's so shorttt)

[syrupfog]

Tired, tired barista Law. Works in the coffee shop at the heart of campus where the line is always out the door and the drinks are so sugary it makes him physically ill to pump the syrups. He's the shift lead though so he has to pull the longest hours and cover anyone out sick. 

He's just. Tired all the time. But it's fine, he just has to keep his grades up and keep his job and get into the fellowship he's after and then it'll be smooth sailing to get onto the night shift at the hospital he wants and work his way up to day shift it's fine.

Honestly the biggest problem he deals with is the store manager, Doflamingo. Once, a year ago at this point, Law had mentioned that he would have to leave his position if he managed to get the receptionist position at the university hospital. It would've given him connections.

But apparently the mere idea that Law would be willing to leave, to no longer work under Doffy, was betrayal enough. He's been... off. Ever since. At the very least, Law knows he's never getting a raise again. He'll be lucky if he's not framed for stealing from the till.

One morning, after an especially rough clopener where Law found himself cleaning literal shit off the bathroom walls multiple times, Doffy comes in to inform him that he's going to have to stay until close because he’s declaring an emergency shift lead meeting.

Law has two midterms and a lab due within forty eight hours, but he needs the money and as much as he'd like to in this moment, he can't just walk out on the job. He nods, stiffly, and goes back to creating the worst latte art of all time.

It's for a regular. He comes in almost every day, orders lattes, and then DOESN'T DRINK THEM. He insists on the drinks that are the most annoying to make (Law's good at hearts but he's started turning them into dicks out of annoyance) and then he doesn't EVEN DRINK THEM.

He just sits in one of the plush chairs in the corner until his drink is cold and then leaves, waving at Law with a big smile on his face like they're old friends. 

It's weird. Law doesn't trust it. 

Of course, as Bepo says, Law doesn't trust much of anyone these days.

And as Penguin says, that's probably because he hasn't slept more than 3 hours in a night in two years. 

And as Shachi says, damn. That's fucked up, dude. 

Finishing the latte (the art is a dick, there's no denying it), Law pushes it across the counter to the regular.

His straw hat is pushed back, giving Law a view of his wide, wide eyes and general overexcited look. 

"Thanks!" he says, taking the drink and blowing on it, instantly sloshing foam over the side. 

Law rolls his eyes and goes back to the ever growing line of customers.

The day doesn't pass quickly, but it ends eventually as all things must. Law is dead on his feet, sweeping the same spot of floor with stained mocha powder for almost ten minutes before Bepo, sanitizing the espresso machines, takes pity on him.

"You should go," he says. "I can finish cleaning up. Go get some real sleep." 

Law rubs at his eyes. "No, it's fine," he says. "Actually, you should go. Doffy's making me stay for a shift lead meeting so I'll be here regardless." 

Bepo does not look happy with that answer.

But Law's his boss, technically. Law grits his teeth and checks another closing chore off the list. 

He knows Doffy's upstairs in his office, but it does slowly dawn on him that he's seen no other shift leads coming in. There's four of them, and yet... 

Odd.

All he can concentrate on at this point, is that the sooner he gets done the sooner he can go home. Home. Where his bed is, and more importantly his notes for O Chem. 

He shoos Bepo off home when the only thing left to do is inventory. Moving slow, he grabs the clipboard and makes his way into the walk-in, propping the door behind him. 

Scones, muffins, cheesecakes... It's dark in here, and Law realizes he's left his phone on the counter. He can't tell what's blueberry and what's chocolate chip. 

He's just about to turn around and grab it when the door of the walk-in slams shut. 

Law freezes. 

He'd propped that door open, right? It wouldn't just close like that. 

The walk-in door doesn't lock, for like. Security purposes. He goes and pushes against it, only to find resistance. Not like it's latched, but like like someone's barricaded the door. 

Law grits his teeth. This isn't good. 

It's cold in here, he has no phone, and Bepo's already gone. If he listens, he can hear someone's footsteps, the scraping of chairs. 

It feels like overreacting to yell. To react at all.

But— he's cold. he's in his uniform, and a short sleeve polo doesn't do much when one is locked in a freezer. Is this one of the shift leads playing a prank? Kid wouldn't be organized enough to try this. Apoo might... 

His chattering teeth eventually win out over his pride.

"Hello?" he yells. "I'm still in here!" 

There's a beat of silence, and then slow, steady footsteps. 

"I know," says a voice that is distinctly Doffy's. "And you'll keep being in there, until you learn your lesson." 

"What the fuck," Law spits. "What fucking lesson?"

"I saw your papers, Trafalgar," Doffy says. "I know you're applying to that summer internship program." 

Law is. He doesn't have a shot in hell of getting in, doesn't have the connections. He's still applying, though. "So what?" 

"You're my best shift lead," Doffy says.

"You're my best worker altogether. It would be ridiculous to abandon me now." 

Law was always going to abandon him. This is a coffee shop. He's not planning on working clopeners the rest of his life. "Let me out, Doffy," he says. His nose is icy. His hands are in his armpits.

"I'll give you a night to think on it," Doflamingo says. "Maybe you'll make better decisions in the morning." 

Law knows very well that he won't survive in a freezer overnight. He's not even wearing socks inside his boots, the cold is already numbing his ankles.

"Stop!" he yells as he hears Doffy's footsteps receding. "Wait! I'll-- I'll cancel the application!" 

The footsteps return. Then Doflamingo laughs. "You can't fool me like that," he says, still chuckling. "I'll give you the night to REALLY reflect on it."

His footsteps recede again and Law shudders out a breath. This is bad. 

He tries the door, pushing with all his strength, until his shoulder is freezing against the metal, but it doesn't budge. He tries pacing, but it's pitch dark in here. He breathes onto his hands for warmth.

He's so cold. So cold. It's been barely any time at all and he's already feeling desperate. Did Doffy lower the temperature? 

He wonders if the door is barricaded well enough that he should be worried about running out of air.

Squatting down, he tries to wrap his apron around himself, but even that is already freezing. it's wet, too, from a spill he'd been cleaning up. 

Law's thoughts drift against his will to home. He thinks about all he did to escape everything. How it wont have made a difference.

How he'll be found in the morning, how the newspapers will say that he is succeeded by no kin, because everyone else has been gone for two decades. 

He should've quit months ago. 

The thing is, is Law is so tired. He was already tired. And now he's cold, and it's dark.

And he knows he shouldn't go to sleep, but— it seems easier. It would be so much easier than having to deal with the numbness in his hands and feet, the way his eyelashes stick to his cheeks. 

But he knows he shouldn't. Knows he should be doing something.

And as a last ditch effort— he knows no one can hear him. Knows Doflamingo will laugh— as a last ditch effort he screams. 

He screams until his throat hurts. Screams until he's coughing from the cold. 

Wordless screams that draw the last of his strength, steal his warmth.

He falls into unconsciousness as the last of his breath is ripped from his cold lungs.

Darkness is welcoming. 

He floats in it. The cold is still there, but muted now. 

He had been so tired. For so long.

Suddenly, Law is pulled back to consciousness, painfully, like ripping a bandaid off of a wound. 

There's light in the walk-in. He feels it on his eyelids. When he cracks open his eyes, he's hit with blinding light. Is this heaven? If it is, it's pathetic.

But with the light comes a wave of warmth, not enough to help him, but enough for him to notice. 

And with the warmth comes arms, strong arms, roughly hoisting him around his middle, dragging him out and onto the blessedly warm tile floor of the back room.

"Traffy?" a voice says. "Traffy! Hey!" 

Someone slaps his face. 

"Fuck!" Law yells, putting a hand to his cheek. He still cant really feel anything in his fingers. The blindingly bright light is clearing enough that he can see the silhouette of someone standing over him.

GOD he hopes it's not Doflamingo. 

But that voice didn't SOUND like Doffy. 

"Traffy! You're alive! Do you have hypno thermia?" 

"Hypothermia," Law mumbles. "Who the fuck is Traffy?"

"That's what your nametag always says!" 

Law's nametag says Trafalgar. He knows it.

"How-- Where's Doflamingo?" 

"That tall guy who locked you in here?" 

Law's vision finally comes into focus and he startles at the sight of the regular with the straw hat. "Yeah," he says. "Him." 

"I dunno, I saw him leave a while ago." 

Law flexes his fingers in search of warmth

"What do you mean you saw him leave? Why are you here?" Are you a part of this? he doesn't say. 

Straw Hat doesn't look at all embarrassed when he says, "I was hiding in the bathroom. You guys never check it at the end of the night." 

Law gapes at him. "Why?" he asks.

"I dunno, I mean most places do and I was honestly surprised you guys don't, but--" 

"Not-- you do this a lot?"

Straw Hat grins. "Yeah! My roommate kicks me out whenever he wants to have sex, which is like every night at this point. So I've been sleeping here. Chairs're comfy."

Well that's. Better than it could be, honestly. 

Law tries to refocus. He probably IS hypothermic. What's he supposed to do for that? Body heat? 

"You said Doffy left?" he asks. 

Straw Hat nods. "Yeah! A while ago! It took me a bit to get all that stuff off of the door though. Like, he's strong! He pushed a whole refrigerator in front of it!" 

Dear lord, he really had been trying to kill Law. 

Shit. Doffy knows where Law lives. 

Law can't go home. 

"Anyway, I think you're hypno thermomic," Straw Hat says. "And you probably need, like, a hot bath."

Okay Law does know that will kill someone with hypothermia. He remembers that much. "I can't go home," he says, still trying to process. "He knows where I live." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "You can come home with me! My roommate is a cook, he'll help."

"Your roommate kicked you out to have sex," Law points out, dazedly. 

Straw Hat shrugs. "This is more important," he says, and like. Well Law can't argue with that. 

He tries to sit up and his limbs listen a little, but Straw Hat steadies him anyway.

"Not that I don't appreciate the help," Law says, "But I shouldn't just impose. I can-- I'll call my coworker, my phone's around here somewhere." 

"Oh," says Straw Hat. "Is that it?" 

He points to a spot on the floor where Law finds his phone. 

Smashed. 

Into several pieces.

He does NOT have the money for a new one. 

"Oh my god," he whines. 

"Come on," Straw Hat says. "Let's go to my place. We can build a fire!" 

"Do you have a fireplace?" 

"No!" 

Law still can't feel his hands or feet. "Listen," he says. "Just- why do you never drink your lattes?"

Shockingly, Straw Hat looks embarrassed at this, gaze shifting nervously. "Because," he says. "They're really gross." 

"Why do you get them, then?" Law demands. 

"The first time I came in, I asked what to get and you said a latte because you're good at hearts!"

Christ. Law has... no memory of that. 

Straw Hat crosses his arms, looking petulant. "It's not my fault they taste gross." 

Law's throat is raw and he's probably got frostbite on his penis like that prince. "I'll make you something you actually like," he says. "Next time."

Straw Hat perks up. "Next time?" 

"If I live through the night," Law adds. "And. Not next time here. I'm quitting this job." 

Straw Hat nods. "Good. That guy was mean, I think." 

Then, without informing Law of his plan, Straw Hat turns around and pulls him onto his back.

Everything in Law hurts at this, but he also doubts he could've walked wherever they're going. 

Straw Hat is shorter than him, but he's jarringly strong. 

"Hey," Law says. "If you murder me, I'll kill you." 

He feels Straw Hat laughing through his teeth.

The actual straw hat's brim is pushed up against Law's cheek. 

"Don't worry," Straw Hat says. "I want you to make me a better drink!" 

He carries Law across campus to a rickety old dorm. 

Law listens to him talking about all of his friends and also his favorite bugs.

He makes sure that Straw Hat does NOT draw him a hot bath or make a fire in the dorm, but he does accept skin-to-skin warmth, which does wonders. The hot tea made by his cranky roommate also helps. 

Tomorrow, he's going to have to press charges, probably. And get a new phone.

Tonight, he's sharing a bed with the weirdest guy he's ever met. 

Life is sort of okay.

[its-in-the-woods]

Hi! I am Chris, 30s, they/them, pansexual, I am from the great white north eh! Minors are very much not welcome. Please exit or block.

I primarily write fanfic, I am down with any ship but I won't write every ship. Listen to variety of music and watch a variety of TV show/movies.

POLL FOR WHAT I WRITE NEXT

Find me here for AO3

Find me on twit-ter

*Last update Sept 18/2024

Lifes Too Short (complete)

Pairing: Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean (Fallout tv show)

Rated: Mature - Canon typical violence and smut

Synopsis: Weeks of wandering the desert brings Lucy and the Ghoul closer. Takes place after the last episode for fallout tv show

Chapters one, two, three, four, five, six

Down The Rabbit Hole (wip)

Pairing: Walton Goggins x you (AU) (both are single)

Rating Mature: Romance, fluff, older man/younger women, eventual smut (read all tags in chapters)

Synopsis: Working as a Make-up Artist in film is hard enough. But when the lead actor, Walton Goggins, ask you to be his artist. It's easy to slip down the rabbit hole.,

Chapters one , two , three , four, five, six, seven ,eight , nine, Ten, Eleven, twelve , thirteen , fourteen , fifteen , sixteen, seventeen , eighteen here, nineteen here , twenty here , twenty-one here, twenty- two here <-new

The Woman Who Couldn't Die

Synopsis: Set a few years before Dom Pedro gets a hold of the Ghoul. The Ghoul is traveling back from the east coast, doing side quests for chems, after saving a girl from closet. She becomes an unlikely companion, that softens the Ghoul’s hardshell.

One , Two , Three, Four , Five, Six , Seven, Eight , Nine , Ten, Eleven , Twelve , Thirteen , fourteen <-new

An old farm set on a couple hundred acres of land, surrounded by forest and wildlands. Lucy Maclean is now the new owner of her childhood home, much to her family’s dismay and anger. The land doesn’t feel the same without her Granddaddy around, the woods seem darker and much vaster. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s alone in the middle of nowhere for the first time in her life. Her great uncle Harris has stepped up to help her learn the ropes of the business, which is bigger than Lucy ever imagined. Her neighbor Cooper Howard, is happy to meet a new face in the area. Bonding over their shared grief and strife to make ends meet as the world is changing. Their worlds are shaken when Lucy’s home is vandalized, and secrets that were supposed to be buried forever begin to emerge from the woods. Horror, mystery, and drama all rolled into one. There is something in the woods.

One, Two, Three , Four Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine , Ten , Eleven , Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen <- COMPLETE

Knife's edge ~ co-written by @dichromaniac

Pairing: Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens, Ava Crowder/Boyd Crowder

Warnings?: Dinking/alcohol, knife kink, Blood/injury, hand job, blow job, alternative universe, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Canon Divergence, Closeted,

Summary: Boyd punctuates his statement with the gun, bruising Raylan's torso with the thrusts of the weapon. “You're the same angry young man who left, only difference is you ain't so young anymore.”

Part 1 *~* Part 2

One-shot-wonders

Smokey Music walton x you

***

Short Stories

Smoke and shadows -> horror

Random poetry, very personal often deals w mental health

Empty houses

Crave