#second and final part of the small series ig

[mushiemadarame]

⇢ Won Tae Min as Go Ho Tae and Do Woo as Kim Dong Hee in every episode of Unintentional Love Story EP6-10

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 9

this has been a long time coming but it's finally here! have some simping over lockwood's hands to make up for the wait (there's more next chapter too 😉)

Word count: 5k words

Warnings: swearing, Steph (HUGE WARNING, I HATE HER IN THIS BUT IT'S NECESSARY FOR THE CONTINUATION OF THE SERIES, SHE MADE ME WANT TO THROW UP), a lot of simping over lockwood's hands (also he's wearing a ring), innuendos ig? references to not so sfw times, vague references to body image issues and related things, I think that's it?

family photos and a gingerbread house competition (part 1)

series master list

(couldn't pick between these two so I put them both, you're welcome, also thinking about it they both match the vibes that lockwood has in this part)

“Remind me why we're doing this?”

“Because it's a tradition, Anthony. I would have thought this would be right up your street!”

“Well it is, but I don't see why we have to be stood next to Steph and Linda.”

“That's just Mum's positioning. She says it looks best that way and nobody argues with her.”

Anthony hummed, looking around at the family members gathered in the living room. The fire had been set up a few minutes ago, Ben stacking up the kindling like building blocks and setting some larger pieces of wood around them, striking a match and closing the door. Most people were already ready for the family photo, and Anthony and Y/n were sat on their loveseat while they waited for Steph and Linda to come downstairs. 

Predictably, the two of them were still in their bedrooms fussing about the fact they had to do this, but Emma was taking full advantage of the fact that nobody could leave and had forced them into joining them. 

"I don't know why they're so upset, really,” Anthony mused, trailing his fingertips over Y/n's shoulder. The way they were sat with her curled into his side made it a slightly awkward angle, but he could put aside the pain in his own shoulder if it meant he was closer to her. “I think that you look adorable in that jumper.” Y/n frowned, scrunching her nose up and glaring up at him. 

“Adorable? I look like I've been shoved into a charity shop and been pulled out backwards through the racks!”

“The dancing reindeer really take the cake, if I'm being honest.”

“Stop it. They look deranged.”

“They look happy, darling.” He paused, taking in the wide eyes and toothy grins of the reindeer that decorated the matching red jumpers that the whole family were wearing.  “And possibly like they've seen too many deaths. But they're smiling, and they've got... what is that, chocolate bars?”

“I think it's beer, Ant. The deranged reindeer are drinking beer while they're being wrapped up in a net of Christmas lights.”

"Christmas lights... that actually light up," he grinned, pressing the button on her jumper to demonstrate his point. Y/n sighed, trying to look cross with him, but the small smile on her face gave her away. 

“You're such a ridiculous idiot sometimes,” she said quietly, gazing fondly at him. The lights on her jumper were still flashing, decorating her face in different colours. 

“Yeah, but I'm your ridiculous idiot.” She snorted, then kissed him gently on the lips. If they hadn't been in the presence of most of her family members, Anthony would have held her there for hours. 

As it was, however, she reluctantly pulled away a few seconds later, smiling widely when he automatically chased her mouth. 

“Alright, love birds, stop making the rest of us feel so single and lonely,” Will called out, attempting to sound annoyed. Anthony knew that the man couldn't be happier about his little sister getting a boyfriend, and that he was easily settling in to his newfound role of teasing them about their relationship. 

“Shove off, Will,” Y/n rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother, and he responded by sneakily giving her the middle finger. 

“Right,” Emma declared, looking around the room at everyone gathered. “Where's Linda? And Steph?”

"I think they're still upstairs, Mum," John replied, not looking up from the sofa as he sat on top of Sam and whacked him around the head with a pillow. Sam looked like he was being slightly suffocated under his brother's weight, but nobody seemed to take much notice. The two of them fought like that a lot, and Anthony supposed that everyone was used to it now which was why nobody intervened. 

“John, stop killing your brother for five minutes and go and find them. Tell them they need to come down right away or I'm dragging them. And putting flour in their hair.” John went to complain, but at the glare that was sent his way he quickly shut his mouth and headed out the room, not before delivering one last hit to Sam's head for good measure. 

Within three minutes John was back, Linda and Steph in tow as they grumbled about the jumpers they had been forced into. 

“This is disgusting. And we're all wearing the same ones? Really, Emma? It's bad enough that you made your own sister wear this... monstrosity, but forcing it on all of us? Unbelievable.” Anthony barely hid his scowl as Linda talked down on her sister, and if he didn't think Emma could defend herself he would have leapt to do it himself. 

“You can take it off the moment we're done here, alright? But this is my house, Linda, and you're playing by my rules. It's not like you can go anywhere, so you might as well shut it and take the damn photo with us.”

Linda opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a few moments, before deciding against responding and moving to where her sister had pointed for her to stand. 

“Thank you,” Emma sighed, finishing setting up the camera. “Right, everyone get into position please, no squabbling!”

Anthony smiled as Y/n huffed and stood up, stretching out her limbs after being curled up in his lap for the past however many minutes, and within the next five minutes (that felt much longer than that) all family members present were in the places that Y/n’s mother had assigned to them, and she was clicking the button on the camera to take the photo. She rushed to take her own place next to Ben as the timer started counting down, plastering on a wide smile a second before the flash went. 

“Can we go now?” Steph whined from where she stood to Anthony’s left. She’d had to squeeze in to fit in the picture, and the sheer amount of perfume she had on was making Anthony suffocate slightly.

“Uh, hang on. Let me check that it’s a good photo. Ugh, Tom, honey, you’re meant to be smiling, not staring at the camera like you want to kill it. Let’s try again. Sam, don’t be making stupid faces this time, alright?”

“Yes, Mum,” Sam said, stifling a laugh when Will poked him in the side. Nana Jean ruffled Tom’s hair, much to Emma’s chagrin (it had taken her ages to get it somewhat neat), but the action gained a smile in response. 

They tried again, the flash going off a second time, and when Emma gave the all-clear Linda and Steph immediately moved to take off their jumpers. “Hideous things,” Linda muttered, clearly not in the holiday spirit. 

“You two had better not go anywhere,” Nana Jean said, pointing a crooked finger at them when they went to leave. “We’re building gingerbread houses next and if nothing else it’ll be a competition where you can attempt to destroy everyone else, so get your asses in the kitchen!” Anthony had been pleasantly surprised at how much energy the 80-year-old woman had, especially since her knees were basically completely ruined, and he had found himself engaged in lively conversation with her on more than one occasion. She wasn’t entirely fond of Y/n’s choice of work, but from what Anthony could tell that was more to do with the fact that she was very fond of her granddaughter, and would rather not receive a letter in the mail telling her that Y/n was dead. 

“We’ll go together, right?” Y/n asked, looking up at him while everyone was getting into pairs. He was just about to answer when Nana Jean appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her in surprise (she was quite a small woman), confusion all over his face. 

“I’m taking this one, you can go with your Gramps. I’ve never won with him, not once. This’ll be my year, I can feel it! And your lover boy is going to help me!”

“Good luck, Nana. I don’t think Anthony can cook toast, let alone gingerbread.” Y/n was smirking, crossing her arms as she let triumph seep into her expression despite not having started the competition yet. 

“Oh really? You also didn’t think I’d be any good at snowball fights. You’d be surprised what I can do with my hands, darling.” He immediately blushed at the look on Y/n’s face, and steadfastly refused to look at either her or Nana Jean. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, shaking his head and hoping the situation would end so he could go and bury himself in blankets and hibernate for years. He felt someone nudge his side and his cheeks got hotter still when he saw Nana Jean smiling up at him with a cheeky look on her face. 

“I’m sure Y/n/n knows all about what your hands can do, love.”

“Nana!” Y/n cried, exasperation in her voice. “You can’t say that!”

“Well I don’t think I’m wrong! You’ve been together eight months now; I married your Gramps in less time! Come on, Anthony!” She cheerfully turned and headed out the living room, dragging Anthony behind her and leaving Y/n to stand staring incredulously after them.

~~~

Y/n still hadn’t fully recovered from Anthony’s comment (and then Nana Jean’s addition) about his hands, and she was meant to be making gingerbread. 

Her Gramps had settled at the dining table with tracing paper, a pencil and far too many rulers, while she was measuring out the ingredients and mixing them together in a large bowl. He’d been an architect before he retired, helping draw up the plans for the Fittes Building and providing sketches for housing that had helped when people were on the streets at the beginning of the Problem because their houses were unsafe. Y/n had listened to him talking about his job a thousand times, but she still didn’t know what the purpose of all the different rulers were. 

“Gramps, you know you don’t have to get that technical about it, right?”

“Oh yes I do! I’m not letting Jeanie win this year, oh no! She thinks I’ve lost my touch with architecture, but I was doing badly deliberately because I knew, one year, she’d get fed up and go with someone else! She has no idea what’s coming!” Her Gramps chuckled, shaking his head and clutching his side as he thought about how deceptive he had been. Y/n smiled, remembering all the previous years where Nana Jean had become so exasperated at his apparent incapability that she’d given up all hope of winning with him. It had had no impact on their marriage, and the two of them were just as in love as they had been when they first got married, but Nana Jean also had a healthy love of winning things, and gingerbread was one of her specialties. 

“Focus, love, you’re tipping the mix out the bowl,” her Gramps said, nudging her in the arm. Y/n looked down to see the mess that she’d made over the table, and cursed softly under her breath. “What were you thinking about to make you zone out like that?” She flushed, and cast a quick glance over to where Anthony was stood at the island in the kitchen carrying out the same job as her. Without thinking, her gaze drifted down to where his hands were mixing the ingredients together in the bowl, and when her Gramps coughed she snapped her focus back to him and realised that she hadn’t actually given him an answer. Damn her Nana for saying what she said about Anthony’s hands and putting thoughts into her head! 

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to ignore the weird look he was giving her and the heat that was now permanently in her cheeks. 

“That’s alright, love. Just scoop it back up, like this, there we are. That’s looking pretty good I’d say. Go ahead and add the next bits now, and I’ll finish drawing up these stencils.”

~~~

“What do I need to do now?” Anthony asked, holding his hands just above the bowl. Nana Jean looked over from where she had finished cutting up the last of the stencils and smiled. 

“Ah, you’ve added in the butter mixture, good lad. Looks perfect to me, so let’s get it rolled out and we can start cutting. We need to make sure we get to the oven before Richard and Y/n do, because then we’ll have a head start on the decorating.”

“Alright.”

“You might want to wash your hands first though, what with all that mix on there. Make sure you get as much as you can in the bowl before you go and scrub ‘em.” Anthony nodded, starting to push off all the gingerbread mix that had clung to his fingers while he’d been bringing the ingredients together. He heard laughter from across the room and immediately recognised it as Y/n’s, which was strange because he didn’t think that he’d heard her laugh so unapologetically since coming here. Normally it was forced, or real but contained, and although they hadn’t got along before this entire situation had happened she had still laughed like she was currently (normally when he fell over from tripping on his coat). She was gorgeous when she smiled widely, and even more so when she laughed, and Anthony paused in his actions as he watched her be properly happy around her family for one of the first times this holiday. 

He knew that she got on well with her Gramps, despite his reservations about her job and some of the comments he made about her being ‘too much to handle sometimes’, but clearly they could forget about that when they were baking together, without the pressure of Steph and Linda watching their every move. 

No, Anthony had that pleasure, and Steph’s eyes hadn’t left his face for the past thirty minutes. 

He felt the weight of her gaze now, and after sending a small wave to Y/n when she looked over and saw him (she’d stuck her middle finger up in response, but had immediately blown him a kiss when he acted hurt) he sighed and turned to Steph. “Can I help you?” He asked, resuming his previous actions of taking the gingerbread mixture off of his hands and depositing it into the bowl. 

“I think you can,” she answered, plastering on a sickly sweet smile and slowly walking over to stand on his left. She stopped barely a hair’s breadth away from his arm, and the perfume she had on was swarming his senses and making him want to gag. It was just as cloying as her smile. “See, I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” Steph started, and Anthony bit back his retort of ‘careful, don’t strain yourself too much’ and tried not to flinch when her hand came in contact with his shoulder. “I think that we haven’t really had a chance to… get to know one another. Properly. And I really would like to… get to know you, Anthony.” Her fingers danced down his arm, and he couldn’t help the grimace that came across his face at her tone. He stepped away a little, trying to not knock Nana Jean while still putting some distance between Stephanie and her wandering hands (that had since moved to his chest). 

“I’m not sure I follow,” he frowned, turning and moving to the sink. He’d gotten as much of the sticky gingerbread mixture off of his hands as possible, and now all that was left was to douse them in water. Steph followed him, gripping his arm tightly and restricting his movement. He was too good of an agent to panic - panicking in his line of work meant almost-certain death - but he could feel unease creeping up his spine and a chill working its way into his bones like miasma. 

“Why don’t we take a minute? Out in the hallway?” He really didn’t like the way she’d said that, all low and what seemed like an attempt at seduction (he couldn’t tell because it was so bad, but from the look in her eyes he could make a guess), and he shook his head. 

“I’ve got to stay here, help out Jean. Shouldn’t you be making your own gingerbread?”

“Oh, that thing? No, we never win so what’s the point? I’d much rather spend some time with you… alone.” Anthony finished washing his hands, trying to ignore how Steph’s grip on his arm had somehow grown stronger in the last minute, and turned back to the island. His eyes scanned the kitchen and dining room, desperately searching for someone that would see he’d been accosted and would come to his rescue, but everybody was busy making gingerbread houses. 

“A minute and a minute only. No more than that,” he said, giving in. Steph’s smile turned smug, and she dragged him out of the kitchen, at which point Nana Jean did look up, sending him a questioning look. Anthony mouthed ‘sorry, back in a moment’ just in time before the kitchen door shut in his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw in preparation for whatever the hell Steph wanted. “Right,” he started, opening his eyes again and looking around for her. “What’s so urgent that you needed to-” He was cut off by Steph practically lunging at him, grabbing his face and pushing her lips onto his. It took him roughly a second to figure out what was happening, and he quickly got over his initial shock and shoved her off. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, looking at Steph with disgust. 

“Oh come on! I know for a fact that you and Y/n aren’t actually together, so what does it matter? Besides,” she continued, sidling up to him again when he took a step back, “I know that deep down you want this, Anthony.” He frowned, both at her words and at how she was still coming towards him, and the previous chill that had settled on him was now a raging storm. He kept it contained, not wanting to cause too much of a scene when anyone could hear what was happening on the other side of the door (that was now blocked by Steph), but the anger was evident when he spoke. 

“I’m not sure where you got those ideas from, Stephanie, or why you think that I will ever want you when Y/n is in my life, but you need to stop.” She tried to contain her shock at his rough tone, but the way her eyes widened gave her away. 

“Wha-”

“Let me finish. First of all, why do you think we’re not actually together? Are you so disbelieving of the fact that Y/n is a genuinely incredible person and could absolutely get anyone she wanted? Because I consider myself lucky that she even tolerates my presence half the time, let alone wants to date me. Second, even if we weren’t together, it would matter to me. I’m not the sort of person who switches loyalties that easily, and I will always, always, put my relationship with Y/n before any kind of attempted civilities with you. As it happens, she is my girlfriend, and quite honestly the fact that you think I’ll ever leave her for you is laughable.” He was being mean, he knew, but he was too done with Steph’s behaviour to worry about being nice and charming now. He’d pieced together the last of the puzzle that had been bothering him since he first got here too, connecting the dots between Linda and Steph’s comments and Y/n’s subsequently strange behaviour since arriving here. “So no, I do not want this. What I want is for you to stop bullying her, and belittling her, and making her feel like shit all the damn time, because she doesn’t deserve it,” he seethed, jabbing his finger in her face. “She doesn’t deserve any of it at all. All the comments about how much she’s eating, or her body shape, or giving her a gym membership as a Christmas present, or telling her she’s not pretty enough because she doesn’t look like you, or because she wears the same dress two years in a row, all of that needs to stop. Because you make her act like an entirely different person when you’re around and that is not alright. Because Y/n is ten times the person that you will ever be, Steph, because she isn’t a bully. She’s genuine, and kind, and loving, and the most beautiful girl in the entire universe, and she doesn’t deserve a single iota of the hate that you give her.”

Steph was quiet for a minute, processing everything he’d just ranted about. “I overheard you,” she finally said, not looking at him. “That first night when Y/n stormed off upstairs in some stupid tantrum-”

“She stormed off upstairs because you were being a bitch.”

“Right,” Steph didn’t looked too bothered, but she at least had the grace to flinch at his icy tone. “Well after you went up, I followed, because yeah, you’re right, I am very disbelieving that someone as good-looking as you would ever go for someone as ugly as her when you know you could do at least twenty times better, and I thought there was something weird about it! And there was a very large period of time when I couldn’t hear anything, which was really annoying because my legs were getting tired from-”

“Steph, hurry it up.” He had barely any patience remaining now, and her voice had gone all whiny and irritating.

“Oh, yeah. Well, then I heard you two talking about how it was really hard pretending to like each other or something, and you were arguing and saying that you were pretending to date.” Anthony froze for a moment, but rapidly recovered and eased himself into his normal ‘customer service’ persona, plastering on a pitiful smile. Before he could say anything though, Steph was moving towards the kitchen door, one hand on the handle. “It’s been quite fun, really, watching you fake a relationship to everyone. I’ve been trying to work out when the best time to bring it up was ever since Christmas Day after you had a go at me. So, either you tell them all, or I do. You’ve got nowhere to hide now, and I am going to enjoy watching this whole thing collapse on Y/n. I’ll give you until after the competition’s been judged; I wouldn’t want to ruin the festivities.” Her smile was even more sickening than it had been when she’d first started this conversation back in the other room, and after she disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door behind her, Anthony let out a shaky breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. 

He needed to talk to Y/n before the end of the competition, and figure out how the hell they were going to deal with Steph. 

~~~

She couldn’t stop staring at his hands. 

Since coming back in from whatever hallway conversation he’d had with Steph, Anthony had gone right back to helping Nana Jean with a smile on his face, despite the wary glances he kept throwing towards Y/n’s cousin. She hadn’t seen the two of them step out, but she had noticed that Anthony was gone, because she’d gone to look at his hands again and he wasn’t there. 

Her Gramps was helping her cut out the shapes they would need for their gingerbread house, and she’d been doing just fine until out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Anthony slip back on the ring he always wore. 

He had taken it off earlier when Nana Jean told him he needed to mix the ingredients with his hands, not wanting to get the metal coated in gingerbread mix, but now that his hands were clean again he was adjusting it back on his finger. 

Why couldn’t she stop staring at his hands?

She’d nearly cut a piece of gingerbread entirely wrong just now because she had been too focused on how the metal band looked against his slender fingers while he rolled out the gingerbread, and her Gramps had scolded her by chucking a bit of flour at her face. 

“Pay attention, love, you’re very distracted today. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, uh- yeah… yes. Everything is… is fine.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off of his ring, which meant she didn’t see either her Gramps’ concerned look or Anthony’s bemused one until Will was calling across the kitchen. 

“Keep it in your pants, Squeak! You can take your Lover Boy to bed after the gingerbread competition!” Y/n flushed as her gaze snapped up to meet Anthony’s, finally noticing that she’d been caught blatantly checking out his hands. 

“Alright, Will,” her mother scolded, although there was a hint of amusement behind it that made Y/n want the ground to swallow her up. Anthony just raised his eyebrows at her, smirk on his face, and she didn’t have it in her to fight back, instead turning back to the gingerbread in front of her and cutting out the last of the shapes. 

~~~

“Hey,” Anthony said, finally getting a chance to talk to Y/n. Pretty much everybody either had their gingerbread shapes in the ovens, or they were waiting for a space to free up, so he had been excused by Nana Jean for a while. 

“Oh, hi!” She hadn’t seen him walk over, but the second she realised he was there she reached up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. He felt himself blush, despite it being over faster than most of their kisses, and she let out a snort. “Really? All I did was give you a peck on the lips, Ant.”

A wave of confidence came over him, and although the heat stayed on his cheeks he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Well I wasn’t doing much with my hands but I still had you blushing, didn’t I darling?” Y/n had no answer to that (not that it had really been a question; he’d seen her staring earlier and he was almost certain her thoughts had drifted somewhere other than something innocent), and before he pulled back Anthony pressed a lingering kiss just by her ear. 

“You- y- you can’t just say that, Ant! Jesus!” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her into his chest while she hid her face in his neck. He hummed, happy, until he caught a glimpse of Steph out of the corner of his eye. 

“Darling?”

“What?” she replied, although it was somewhat muffled since her head was still buried in his christmas jumper. 

“We need to talk about something really quickly, do you want to step out?” Y/n lifted her head, frown crossing her features. Anthony wanted to press kisses to it until it disappeared, but the conversation he’d had with Stephanie was at the front of his mind. 

“Okay… is everything alright?” she asked as he led her out of the kitchen by the hand. He didn’t say anything until they were in the library, safely away from all other family members. “Ant, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Steph talked to me earlier.”

“Right… how was it?”

“Awful. She kissed me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Darling, it’s fine, it was less than a second and I shoved her off and-“

“What? Oh! Oh, no, I’m not angry with you, Ant. I’m pissed at her for kissing my fucking boyfriend!”

“Ah. Okay. Well that’s not actually the thing I wanted to talk about.”

“There’s more?!”

“She knows. That we’re not… that we weren’t… that we were faking it. She doesn’t know that we stopped doing that and started actually dating, because she walked away before I could tell her that, but she’s known since the first night and she’s been waiting ever since. She gave me an ultimatum, and said that either we fess up or she does, right after the competition has been judged. Seemed far too happy about watching you suffer, to be honest. I think she might need to see a doctor.” Y/n stared at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she shut it completely. 

“So, Steph knows. Steph has known basically the entire time. And Steph has done nothing?”

“Yes. She said something about wanting to ‘watch the whole thing collapse on you’ and that she would ‘enjoy it’ or something?”

“That bitch. Well what are we gonna do then? Because whatever happens it sounds like my family is finding out about this whole… thing,” she flapped her hands between them before sighing and pressing them to her face. “I was right. This is a shitshow.”

“Hey, hey. Worst case scenario is Steph tells everyone, yes? But then we can just tell them the truth. Will knows, and he’ll back us up, right? And I’m fairly certain that Nana Jean knows but I’m not sure how, she just kept making these little comments while we were baking earlier and winking at me and I just - it just feels like she knows.” 

“Nana Jean’s just like that, I suppose. It would make sense if she knew. Okay. You’re right. We can do this. We’ll just wait until Steph tells everyone, and then tell the truth.” Y/n paused for a moment, looking down at the floor while she chewed her lip. “I don’t think I can tell the truth,” she said, and when she brought her gaze back up her eyes were shining with the tears that were threatening to fall. Anthony stepped closer, framing her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You don’t need to tell the whole truth. Not if you don’t want to. Just the bit about us being in a proper relationship now if you like, and I can do that if you need me to. But whatever you choose, darling, I’ll be with you. I will be right by your side, Y/n, always.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

“Anytime, my darling. Anytime at all.”

He hoped she knew just how much he meant it. 

part 10

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters

desperately hoping this is everyone, but as always just let me know if you want to be added/removed (or if I forgot you) and I'll do that as soon as I can! <3

[forever-once-gone]

Day 4: Hoseok - Your cat, unfortunately, picks favourites </3

Part of the Love, Amour, Aur Pyaar drabble series for February! (what a joke lol)

Word count: 2.7k

Content and Warnings: soft? yandere au, gn! reader, Hobi dearest is an intruder, your cat loves you but loves Hoseok more, knives, threats, attempted murder (not to you), dark content, cleaning, too much cat talk, reader is mad like really mad, house break-ins, unsafe housing ig, I couldn't bare to make Hobi too evil in this even though I probably should have considering the context... but it's Hobi :(

Author's Note: Hi! Another one for you guys. You guys got this cause a few kind anons and @comingupwithacoolnameishard were nice enough to let me know that they would like me to continue posting this series. Which I'm so touched by. So this is dedicated to them! Thanks for being so kind dears! This is unedited as per the rules of this drabble series/challenge. Anyways, enjoy!

You would often hear the shuffling of your cat in the dead of night. The little guy would often run around your house with his heavy flops and little pitter-patter footfalls. It didn't wake you up when you first got him, when he was just a little kitten enjoying the various rooms and halls of your house. He was so small that you barely ever noticed him running around until he’d get bored of the emptiness (usually around 4:30 am, when the birds would begin to sing) and make his way back to your room to scream up at you from the floor, asking to be let back up into the comforts of the bed with you. Then he would purr right into your neck contently until he’d wake up with you at 7:30.

But with his growing age, he had become larger and more disruptive in the night. And more mischievous as well. In the dead of night, since the past 8-9 months or so, you’d been hearing clacking of dishes, cabinets, and doors. Auguste knew he wasn’t allowed on the countertops from when he was just a little kitten, fresh from the shelter, and he was good at not opposing you when it came to his limitations. He wouldn’t climb into cabinets like other cats did and he didn’t show any attempts of trying to sneak his way in either. But it seemed when you were asleep in your room, his confidence would rise and he’d begin breaking all the rules. Maybe he was going through his teenage rebellion phase.

Nonetheless, you were often now roused from your sleep to the sound of Auguste going wild downstairs. You’d pause for a second, straining your ears to hear whether the little man had gotten himself hurt or stuck in the cabinets, but when the sounds of his heavy walking around would resume, you’d relax, turn, and fall back asleep. You knew he was fine, as every early, early morning he’d still finish his little rebellious session by appearing at the side of your bed, meowing for you to pick him up and pull him into bed with you. At this age, he was more than capable of getting on the bed himself, but you think he’d made it part of his routine to have you, specifically, pull him into bed. Even if in the day he’d happily jump up and down from your bed as he pleased.

Maybe you’d spoiled him too much when he was a baby.

Only on the nights that he wouldn’t make it back to your room by 4:30 would you begin to worry that he had gotten himself trapped in a cabinet or something of the like. You’d wait no more than fifteen minutes before getting out of bed and calling from your door out into the hall for Auguste quietly, only getting louder as the time went on. But every single time, he’d trot up the stairs, calling back to you with his me-ah noises. He’d finally run up to you when he’d see you standing by the door, arms down stretching, ready to scoop him up. He’d circle your legs for a turn or two before flopping into your hands, gleefully accepting the kiss you placed between his ears with a small mmerp.

You’d reprimand him jokingly. Asking him what devious crimes he’d been up to only for him to purr as you tucked him under the covers beside you. It was funny though, even though you joked about his “devious crimes” the house was never really out of order when you’d wake up after his active nights. Okay, maybe some things were shifted, out of place, the paper towel holder an inch to the left of where you kept it, the wash cloth haphazardly thrown onto the sliver between the two sides of the sink, but nothing disturbed. Nothing broken, nothing ruined. It was like even in his most mischievous of moods he could never be too bad.

It was another such night when Auguste trampled around the house, creating the ruckus that would cause you to stir. When you checked the time, you saw that it was nearly 4 am. You looked around you, but couldn’t find Auguste. He must be downstairs messing around.

But that’s when you noticed just how cold it had gotten overnight. Even while bundled up in your duvet, you were still shivering. Was it supposed to get this cold tonight? It was barely even close to winter, this is too much. Your poor little cuddlebug was probably freezing his paws off downstairs. If it was cold up here, it was probably freezing downstairs!

You managed to pull yourself out from the warmth of your bed thinking of your cat. You pulled a throw blanket that sat at the foot of your bed around your shoulders to try and protect your warmth. You tried to call for him, but just as you were about to, you heard a crashing sound from downstairs. 

You immediately startled, taking a step back before taking for the stairs, not even bothering to turn on the hallway light. You made it halfway down when you heard a noise coming from behind you. It grew louder and louder until it was right behind you. You just managed to jump to the side in the dark to barely make out Auguste sitting beside you on the step, his eyes practically the only part of his that you could see in the dark.

“Auguste?” The cat let out a meow in acknowledgement. “Aren’t you freezing?”

You scooped him up into your arms, under the blankets you had wrapped around yourself. He felt cold against you. Maybe it had gotten much too cold overnight. “Let’s go turn the heating on, hmm?”

Auguste only pulled his head out of the blanket in reply, looking out in front of the both of you, with only his head peeking out.

You hummed a little song as you made your way down the remaining steps. The thermostat was at the bottom of the stairs, right by the front door. With the moonlight streaming in from the window beside the door, you were able to locate the thermostat on the wall. You cranked the temperature up, and the furnace roared to life from below your feet.

“Let’s get back to bed, eh?” You pulled the blanket tighter around you with the arm not holding Auguste up. You pressed a kiss against his head, before turning back to the staircase. But when you turned to the stairs, you saw a faint yellowish light against the stairs that you hadn’t noticed before. Following the line of light, you saw the kitchen door cracked open, soft light making its way down the hall.

You must have left the light on earlier. Better turn it off before your electricity bill skyrockets. You pushed open the door and immediately froze.

There was a man.

A man.

In your kitchen.

Illuminated by the light from under the exhaust fan.

Wiping down the stove.

In your kitchen.

A man.

Auguste jumped from out of the blankets, landing with a thump on the ground before skittering over to the man. You wanted to grab him and run, but you couldn’t. You were frozen to your spot, watching your precious cat approach this stranger.

Auguste ran between the intruder’s legs, purring as he rubbed his face and body against his ankles. Between the various thoughts coursing through your head, you had one neuron notice that the man was wearing your guest slippers. Auguste bumped his head against the man’s leg, before meowing his grievances up at him.

The man just chuckled quietly, before whispering, “give me one second, Auguste. I’m almost done with the last of the cleaning.” He continued to wipe up the counters and stove for a few more seconds before finally rinsing the washcloth in the sink and putting it to the side to dry. In the same spot you always put it. By the window. Wait, why was the window open?

He washed his hands, drying his hands against his shirt before picking Auguste up. He pressed a kiss against his head, between his ears just as you do. “It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be running up to Y/n, hmm? Cuddling up to them? Making me all jealous?”

Auguste purred in his arms. You could see him moving Auguste around in his arms, bouncing him in his arms like a baby. “You should go up. Don’t want ‘em to come down and look for you, do you? What would we do if I was caught, hmm? Then I’d never be able to come and see the two of you?”

Auguste meowed up at him, pawing at the man’s face.

“You’re right. Maybe it’s time that I finally introduced myself to your parent. Then I could win them over and finally take both of you away with me.”

Auguste let out a disgruntled noise, before licking at the man’s cheek.

“Okay, okay,” the man relented. “I’ll move in instead, happy? Then all three of us can live happily ever together in this beautiful, clean house. Think you could cuddle up to me when I come over for the first time when they invite me over for the first time? If they think you just instantly loved me, then I might win them over even quicker!” The man laughed quietly. 

“You, me, and—” he turned around and locked eyes with you. “—Y/n.”

The two of you stared at each other. Both frozen in place as if your bones and flesh had turned into marble. Auguste looked between the two of you, seemingly confused. He began to fidget in the man’s arms, causing the man’s arms to tighten around him. Auguste let out a frustrated hiss before the man jumped, releasing him from his arms and finally pressing play on the two of you.

“Y/n, I can explain—” 

“Who the hell are you?” You demanded.

“I’m, um, I’m…” His hands balled into fists as he shifted from foot to foot. Almost like he wanted to run away.

“Your name,” you stressed, taking a step into the kitchen from the doorframe. “I’m asking for your name.”

His lips were pursed together. “I don’t, um… I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you that…”

You raised your eyebrows, an incredulous scoff passing through you. “But you’re supposed to be in my house?”

The man could see your expression even though his shadow was covering you, but even if he couldn’t, your tone made it clear that you weren’t happy.

“I was… just cleaning.”

“Oh! Just cleaning? Oh that makes it so much better. Now I’m not concerned at all with this stranger standing in my kitchen!”

He winced. The man knew he’d said the wrong thing.

You moved to grab a knife from the knife block near you, pointing it at him with both hands. With your hands preoccupied, the blanket had fallen from your shoulders, pooling at your feet, just missing Auguste. “You have five seconds to tell me your name and why you’re here before I kill you.”

The man’s eyes widened, slowly raising his hands in alarm. Why is it that he was in your house uninvited, but he felt like the one who needed to call the cops? “Uh, come on, Y/n. We don’t have to go that far,” he tried.

Your eyes darkened, taking another step towards the man. “Don’t say my name. Don’t you fucking dare say my name.”

The man backed up until he was pressed against the counter, his hands coming back to steady himself. You continued closer to him, until you had the tip of the blade pressed against his adam's apple.

“Tell me your name before I slit your throat!” you screamed at him, eyes crazed.

“Fine! Fine, my name is Jung Hoseok. I met you once, at a bar.” Hoseok had turned his head slightly away from your knife, eyes screwed tight. Hands clenching tightly to the counter for dear life.

“Who the fuck cares how I met you? All I care about is that I have a name to give the police when they come to collect your body!” You pulled the knife back and straightened your aim for his jugular. But just before you could bring the knife down on his flesh, your cat began meowing like crazy at your feet. 

He was on his hind legs, his front paws clawing at both your legs as he cried, wheezing his little heart out at the both of you. You’d never seen Auguste so stressed. You’d always kept him so happy.

You took a step back from his sharp claws, pulling your calf up to try and soothe the marks Auguste had scraped onto you.

You watched as Hoseok, given the room to move around freely now, scooped Auguste right up into his arms, pressing hisses to Auguste’s upset face.

“Hey there,” he sweetly spoke to your cat. “Now, now, your parent isn’t hurting me. It’s okay. Shhh, shhhhhh, it’s okay. They are just a bit surprised, okay? They won’t hurt me. See, I’m not hurt.” He raised his chin to show Auguste his neck. “See, I’m a-okay.” You watched Auguste relax in Hoseok’s hold, moving to lick all over his face as if he was trying to heal him.

“Now why don’t you ask your parent, not to kill me, hmm?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Are you trying to use my cat to manipulate me?”

Hoseok just shook his head, Auguste still curled up in his arms purring. “No, just trying to get him to talk some sense into you.”

“You’re talking about a cat right now.” You brought the knife back up, pointing it at him as he took a step forward. Auguste immediately straightened up, hissing at you.

“Did–Did you just hiss at me?!” You asked your cat, only for him to swipe at you with his claws. Even though you were out of reach for him to scratch you, the damage had already been done. “You’re choosing the intruder over me?!”

Auguste hissed at you again.

Hoseok laughed sweetly, too sweetly for the fact that you had a knife aimed right at him while he had nothing to protect himself with. It only made your anger heighten. “Don’t you know, you’re talking to a cat right now?” he threw your words right back at you.

“Oh fuck off!” You moved to cut him with the knife, only for Auguste to hiss at you again, this time his claws actually landing on you, cutting open your forearm. “Auguste! What the hell?!” You dropped the knife, narrowly missing your foot as you stepped back in pain.

Hoseok gasped, pulling the cat back from you. “Auguste! You can’t do that to Y/n! No matter what they do to me, you don’t hit them!”

Auguste only made a smug sound as he stared at you from his place in Hoseok’s arms.

“What black magic did you do to him?! Why does he like you more than me? Why is he protecting you and not me!”

Hoseok immediately tried to reassure you. “Oh no, Y/n, you misunderstand! Our baby doesn’t pick favourites! He loves you just as much as he loves me. He only did that ‘cause you had a knife! Now that you put it down and he knows you won’t hurt me, he’s fine, see?” 

He held Auguste out into your face by his armpits. Auguste only stayed silent as he stared into your soul. He had never seemed so upset with you.

“Come on, Auguste,” he coaxed your cat, your baby into being kind to you. “Give them a kiss so they know you love them just as you love me.”

Auguste refused to lick you, but with some more of Hoseok’s sweet encouragement, he pressed the pads of his paw against the tip of your nose. Seemingly, the most affection he was willing to give you after you almost killed his second favourite person. Or maybe his first, you weren’t really sure if you were still number one in his eyes with the blatant aggression he’d shown you tonight on Hoseok’s behalf.

“See, Y/n.” Hoseok brought Auguste back against his check, only for him to instantly start purring again. “He doesn’t hate you. Do you, Auguste?”

You watched as Hoseok fussed over Auguste and how Auguste, in turn, revelled in his affection just like he always did with you.

You were never gonna be able to get rid of Hoseok now were you?

No you will not lol

In case you're wondering, Hoseok broke into your house by the window in the kitchen. Which is why it was open, and also why your house was getting so cold so quickly. Like yeah, the night was cold anyway, but it was made worse by him leaving the door open.

Auguste does love the two of you equally... at least that is what Hoseok thinks. But after Hoseok making it routine to come into your house to wipe the counters, sweep, reorganize your pantry, snoop through your things and watch you while you sleep, and give Auguste plenty of pets and give him company during his nightly walks around the house, he'd quickly become number one. But you were still a very close second.

Oh yeah, also, Auguste was not the one who was making all that noise the past 8 or 9 months, it was Hoseok. Auguste just inadvertently took the blame lol

Anyways, let me know if you enjoyed. Hearing what you guys think is why I post anything in the first place, so please do comment. It lets me know that I'm not wasting time posting my silly ramblings.

Take care!

[gypsophiliaz]

“ douceur „

quanxi x fem florist | barista reader.

multiple part series. first part thats just pretty fluffy and romancey!! first time writing and actually publishing it so ermm leave tips ig idk. ik the pacing is weird but its bc i like to write in detail.

feminine reader x quanxi, includes romance. >:3 smut in later chapters or wtv.

disclaimer ; I've never written like romance before so forgive me lol. I write with extreme detail too so it probably gonna be the SLOWEST burn ever. also she smokes weed cuz ion fuck wit that cig shit lmfao

CHAPTER I

being a florist in tokyo isn't anything you thought you'd be finding yourself doing. though, being drawn to the sweet and naturey smell of flowers wouldn't suprise anyone who had known you before. head over heels constantly in love with all kinds of plants and flowers, from spider lilies to hydrangea, peony and flower arrangements in themselves.

. . .

you'd adjust your grip on the box cutter in your dominant hand, the vivid pink color of it mixing with the warm lighting above you, the blade swiftly and sharply cutting through the protruding thorns of the white roses, the remaining water inside would drip slightly onto the paper below the bouqet would find itself sitting inside of momentarily. a smell similar of freshly cut grass would fill your senses, and the cozy and comforting feel of the floristry – cafe place that you had recently assigned yourself to.

the smell of coffee, tea, and the baby's breath that sat to the right of you would fill the air, a rainy day with cars ever–so making light noises as their wheels splash and sputter inside of the puddles left by the rain. the annoying ding of the door would fill your ears once more, and like clock–work the all too familiar words would spill out of your mouth.

“ Welcome to Yrlissa's Flowery, How may I be of assistance? ”

as your eyes lazily drifted off the commissed bouqet that laid on the counter infront of you, your eyes would laid upon a tall lady, with a muscular yet slim figure. wispy bangs and a lacey eyepatch concealing her right eye. the rest of her thin hair contained by a black hairtie— who the hell visits a flower shop in a full black suit? Is she going to a fucking funeral ?

NOT professional thoughts. get it together!!!

the lady would approach the counter, with an almost monochromatic expression. not one emotion would appear on her face, and no body language out of the ordinary. her movements would seem almost perfected calculated, almost uncanny even, but as she grew closer the smell of the the roses and baby's breath would be replaced with the smell of marijuana.

the footsteps would come to a halt uncomfortably close to you, or maybe it would seem that way since shes near the height of a basketball player and you couldn't be any closer to a smurf, and also leaning over flowers with posture far from the best in the world– a few seconds of silence commence, the ladies eyes piercing above to read the sign. her lips parting to finally speak.

“A small espresso will do, please.”

“ would you like sugar or cream? ”

“ Surprise me. ”

the click of the box cutters blade retracting back into itself, and the clack of its placement onto the counter would follow her sentence. with your feet tapping to the cups behind you, and your body language obviously showing your nervousness, you'd swiftly grab it and draw back over to the counter near the woman.

tipping over the jug of geyser water just measuring to the line that marks a half liter. the sound of the water filling up would once again save you from extremely embarrassment from the pure awkwardness of the situation at hand.

. . . .

you'd stretch your hand over and weigh out 20 grams of coffee beans, pouring them into a small tin and placing them on the miniature scale. the lady bringing a stop to the awkward silence that filled the air.

“ I take it it's relaxing to work here hm? ”

“ It's nice on it's slow days, but then there's times like valentines day, and wedding season ykno? ”

“I'd imagine.”

as a few weeks passed, the lady swiftly became a regular. almost always coming in during your shift or being there before you clock in. a name you wrote on the coffee cup almost every shift, the type of name that rolls off your tongue sweet and slick, — quanxi. another day had arrived, opening the door to yrlissa's the bell would chime as you walked in, swiftly pittering to clock in, not missing quanxi sitting in the corner of the shop, as always.

she would stay for a few hours and make nice company on slow days, an often occurrence it would be to sit and speak with her while filling out the commissions for bouqets, and other kinds of assortments. it didn't take long to realize quanxi liked more to listen than to speak.

today was october 5th. the chill in the air sweeping into the store moments after the bell on the door would ring. it didn't take long for you to learn to brace yourself against the cold on the cue of the chime. completing the same ol' sequence you'd do everyday, steaming the milk and poking holes in the puck of espresso, yet this time for yourself to warm up on the cold day.

the thick fog outside would make seeing the people and events happening outside near impossible. pouring the milk, then espresso, a drizzle of caramel and whipped cream onntop, the perfect go—to drink. the cup would warm your hands, soothing you and bringing you into relaxation with the first sip, a small breath leaving your parted lips—

the all too familiar chime would fill your ears.

bruh.

quickly stepping behind the counter to at least shield your lower half. or.. 90% of ur body bc ur a fucking smurf. srry im writing this in my perspective im fucking 5'0. the chill would still expectedly hit your face and torso, sending a small shiver up your spine. gripping the cup of coffee just a bit tighter to warm your hands once again. fluttering your lashes and squinting to keep the ice cold air out of your eyes, you'd realize who'd walked in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cold.” Quanxi would say, looking back and closing the door softly behind her as not to brush more cold air inside. this time she was wearing a brown turtle-neck under her coat and long black pants. she'd take a deep breath in and pull her other hand out of her pocket.

“you're fine don't worry. at least it's not another total stranger walking in, I think I'd rot inside having to make any more small talk today.” you'd set down your coffee to start her order, placing it beside the cash register and lean on the counter with the corner digging into your palms.

“Usual?”

“Mm.”

Quanxi would approach the table near the entrance of the work space, leaving about 3-5 feet in between the two of you as you started her order. It took her a few days in the beginning but she got what she wanted down pack. a shot of espresso, mixed softly into chocolate syrup followed by warm steamed milk and whipped cream. In other words, a Caffé Mocha. with some extra chocolate.

. . . should probably start that order

you'd started serving quanxi in the pretty white mugs boss lady told you not to use, simply to reduce dishes. but you didn't mind washing one or two for quanxi. You'd hear the clink of her keys being placed onto the table before she'd speak.

“How's work been treating you lately? ” Quanxi would say to you, looking at you completely still with a hand propped up under her chin, but still as nonchalant as usual. It was hard to believe she was genuinely interested sometimes.

pouring the chocolate into the bottom of the cup focusedly, to make it look as pretty and perfect as can be, you'd take a second before answering. “Horrible, Actually. This guy yesterday, came in and got mad at me because I forgot to put caramel on top of his frappe. He ended up throwing it on the floor, and of course I had to clean it. ”

Quanxi's eyes would follow the way you carefully made the coffee. The way you'd twirl the cup to make sure it was evenly distributed, and the way you'd add extra for her, even though she didn't ask for it. Nor did she really like how sweet it made the drink, but to her it was an act of kindness.

"Mm."

“Oh! and thennnn I had a lady come in here with her boyfriend and I guess I was a bit too friendly with her and she pulled me to the side and basically threatened me. I'm not one for wanting a guy in general. That was actually around a week ago and she came back a few days ago an—”

the glass pot to steam the milk in would fall to the ground instantly shattering. nothing but the thought of your boss chewing you out rushes into your mind. not only is it expensive to replace, it was definitely coming out of your paycheck. Quanxi wasted no time raising out of her chair and assisting you with cleanup even before you, yourself could process what had happened.

“thank you. god my boss is gonna make me pay for this. . . " you'd say squatting down and beginning to pick up the big chunks of glass first and placing them in your palm. “I'll get it, you might get cut. ” Quanxi would take the glass from out of your hand and continue to pick up where you left off.

"are you sure? I can just get a broom or something." you'd turn away for a second to grab the broom from the back, yet once you come back you find the glass all gone, not a single piece remaining on the floor and a note on the counter, sitting placed under two 10,000 yen notes. (around 140$)

the shock would spread across your face almost in an instant. what the absolute hell? picking up the notes, you'd take the time to read the note she'd left behind.

“𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻. 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮, 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮.

𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷𝔁𝓲 347-1782.”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: * 🎀 .* :✧. ───✧

tired of there not being fuckin quanxi fics and smut bro. ik u stans r alive ACT LIKE IT!!!! 😡 k hope u enjoyed tho owo also im seriously fucking hoping this isn't ugly on pc bro.. idk but if ur reading fluff n shit on a pc u got balls cuz id cry if i got caught

[dayseedrawz2]

This is gonna be in my drafts until I at least get out every design for [Ring-Misstress] so Idk how much time I got-

So yeah I decided that I'm gonna write this AU in chapters so that it makes more sense when I make content about it, and yall can ask about it ig-

This all takes place after the events of the real series (that of which we have yet to see, so anything different can just be part of an alternate timeline)

Without further ado... Let's get to it!!

[R-M Chapter 1: The Relaunch]

Dialog guide:

Narration

*Perfoming an action*

"Thinking"

Pomni

•Caine•

°○Bubble○°

◆Ragatha◆

Jax

~Gangle~

Kinger

Zooble

Flinally!! After what felt like forever!!! With help from the others, Pomni and Caine found something groundbreaking!! The Games source code! Mostly, everyone was there to look for the exit, but they ended up finding something else...

*sigh* There's nothing here... can we go back now??

Yeah, honestly, this was a complete waste of time...

◆Come on now, guys! I'm sure they know what they're doing!◆

~Wait, look! They're back out!!~

*Pomni and Caine exit a jumble of One's and Zero's*

It's not much, but I think we found something!! But... I'm just not sure what it is... *She hands a small glitching object to Caine*

•Huh... It's... it's a developer's note! I haven't come across one of these in a while!•

Wait, what!?

Oh dang, that's right, it forgot this was even a video game-

~What's it say??~

*Silence fell as Caine read the text out loud*

•Let's see... "With the noticeable decrease in 'Bugged characters', the game should be ready for relaunch soon!" Oh...•

What... does "Oh" mean..?

•...huh? Oh yes! Uh, you all know how we have a designated place for Abstractions so that they don't destroy the place... and you?? How you have helped prevent some altogether?•

Yes..?

•Well I only implemented it after people stopped working on this game. They still think the game is okay to publish!!•

And? This is great news!! People play the game, realize we are stuck in here, and then we get help!! What are you yapping about??

•That's the thing- If more people, who for one are mostly children, come across this, they won't be able to help, and if worse come to worse, get trapped with us!•

◆oh... oh my, that does sound awful...◆

•Normally I'd be ecstatic, but I don't think it would be good if that many more people got trapped at once... let alone kids...•

Gee, missing kids in a video game. How tragic...

~Hey!~

•Wait, there's something else on here to- a "debugging code??"•

Did someone say something about Bugs??

•No, far from it... hey... this is a copy of the code for my "Ringmaster powers!" Interesting...•

Really? That's what you call em??

•Why yes!! What else could they be?? Anyways... now what do we do about this approaching situation of ours...•

Well, we're not just gonna have a ton more people in here being watched by one incompetent AI!

•... You're absolutely right, Pomni dear! Your little remark had given me an idea that might just work! Now... just how does one copy this...•

To be continued...

[Yippee, finally!! Part 1 done!!]

The second part is right here! (As well as the link to Caine and Pomnis blogs!):

[nifflering]

Beware: Spoilers for life on mars series one and two

lom thoughts

Hi, welcome to random thoughts (aka. Ramblies – like a lot, so beware) I had while watching life on mars (series one and two) because I binged the whole series in two days – which is rare for me. So, thank you to *random streaming platform only found in my country of origin*, for having kicked the series of your platform so I can’t watch it now. Who also restricts the very finale – because apparently, I am 12 years old and that episode is too sensitive for me (isn’t the whole series +16)… and I can only watch it from 10pm to 6am…???? ☹ Also, sidenote, these are mostly the latter half of the first and the entirety of the second season and not in detail.

These are mainly just about the differences between 2006 and 1973 and why I think they’re neat.

That’s part one – clothes (only on Sam).

So, we don’t see a lot of 2006, mainly in the first and last episode when Sam returns.

He never wears anything else than this tight (and ugly) suit. (there’s a lot of padding in his shoulders – which gives him a more intimidating shape).

It seems to be swallowing him, or rather choking him.

In the past, we don’t see him picking out any outfits, he just wakes up in his new ensemble which has several variations, but mainly consists of a leather jacket, blouse, bellbottoms and fancy pointy shoes – which, in all the flashbacks give me total pilgrim vibes. If he pulled out one of those weird founder hats, I wouldn’t have batted an eye.

But my main focus in this outfit is his shirt (or blouse) In contrast to his suit ensemble, the collar is wide open – more inviting in a way, as it reveals much of his neck (and sometimes even his necklace).

Side note: I looked in the lom wiki – and it said that the necklace is a silver St. Christopher medal – the patron saint of travelling – and I think that’s amazing – and I want to study the costume designer’s brain.

We can think of this outfit as being a kind of uniform – in the present the suit is one– well, because you have to dress a certain way if you want to be treated seriously. If he pulled up in the present with his 1973 fit…., the horrors.

If he wore the 2007 outfit in the past, he certainly would be called uptight – and some other… not so nice words (courtesy of Gene). (Even though most other main characters also wear a suit and tie, but they are always looser around the neck, except for ray (he’s weird and he also isn’t a full police-man yet) and Annie (it’s her job, she has to perform this role – her clothes get much looser in the progression of the series) – he kind of stands out in that way.

Overall, it’s much looser, fitting and free-flowing. It reflects how much freedom Sam has now. In a way, this outfit is also specifically protected by the saint of travellers.

He even brings in some variation – occasionally, you get small peeks of jewellery. Something that he’d never wear in the present – because it’s probably not up to standard.

Speaking of variations.

Also, in the finale – if we look at his betrayal outfit.

It’s choking him again.

Generally it's also very closed off.

(I know it’s a disguise – but, c’mon).

That’s part one (ig)

Enjoy.

lom 1 lom 2

[lyna91fr]

On The Street

The collab between j-hope and J.Cole is a milestone on Hobi's path, nothing less. Here are some of my thoughts and personal observations on the MV. Let's walk on the street with him

First of all, some background trivia: J.Cole has been one of the artists influencing BTS, ever since their early days. The raw feelings you read in Born Singer lyrics were written to his Born Sinner's track. BTS only released the song last year in Proof.

Born Singer is only the visible tip of the iceberg. The group mentioned J. Cole in many interviews, and his name or his works are featured in several tracks of theirs like Hip Hop Phile, God Rap, Monster, etc. Go listen to Grown Simba and RM's Monster and check out their lyrics.

j-hope has shared his love and admiration for J.Cole throughout the years. He literally calls him "my muse", his source of inspiration. So a collab song with the artist who inspired him to become an artist too is no surprise. His wish came true.

Check the beginning of the video below, where he was probably already hinting at the upcoming collab, but we were too blind to see or understand (as always).

If you haven't watched the Jack In The Box documentary where j-hope finally meets J-Cole at the Lollapalooza backstage, then you probably missed how the fan inside Hobi jumped out at that particular moment.

Now, let's start the MV.

Travelling down from the sky to a small alley in NY, a reference to J.Cole's Simba MV (2007). The fans recognized it straightaway and the MV director, Lumpens himself, acknowledged this reference (with a story on IG).

We can see Hobi waving goodbye to a child while a couple passes by. Knowing the song release context, this scene means a lot: goodbye to his own childhood and/or youth, goodbye to those he is leaving for a while... Yes, this looks similar to Jin waving goodbye to the little girl.

That's when he starts to sing:

Every time I walk Every time I run Every time I move As always for us

I wondered who is "us" in these lyrics. From an interview Hobi gave: "I want this song to accompany all those who are off to a new start or on a long journey, like a friend."

The camera follows j-hope in this alley exactly the same way as in the first part of Simba's MV. There is one difference though: it's not the same street (go watch both MVs). j-hope starts his song in the second street where J.Cole ends Simba - a new start and an ongoing journey.

Hobi then focuses something. The camera turns around for us to look at a person placing yellow lilies among white and yellow flowers, with lit candles: a memorial.

Every time I look Every time I love Every time I hope As always, for us (On the street, I'm still)

It's all part of the street, just like the child and the couple walking at the beginning of the MV. "Street is a metaphor for life" Hobi says. The mix of flowers symbolize mourn and grief but also new beginnings, Hobi bringing a touch of hope and courage to help us through.

Cortlandt Alley is known for being a movies/series filming spot. Did you know that this is where they filmed the Gotham scene where Bruce Wayne's parents get k!lled? This the event that triggers Bruce to change to become Batman. Here's to endings and new beginnings!

And we keep moving forward, on the street, with Hobi: My two feet walking willingly anywhere J in the air For the path I'm on to become one of hope I give my all

Airplane lyrics explain that he went from the barren land burning him down, wanting to fly to eventually making it.

Even my walk was made of your love and your faith To repay you even from afar, just like a butterfly Now just walk lightly, whenever you want Go on hopefully wherever you want

This song is our butterfly. One that will give us strength and comfort, while he starts his next chapter.

I was asked about the huge graffiti in this alley and whether it has a special meaning for the MV. I don't think it does. It's been there for a couple of years now (check g00gle street). Lumpens is known for his poster hints but I can't see anything related here (maybe later).

In these streets imbued with someone's breath I leave my soul and my eternity Everywhere (I'll be)

Since the street is the metaphor of life, "these streets" are us, the listeners. The song and his lyrics, are what stays with us after he is gone. And yes, music is eternal.

On The Street lyrics remind me of Airplane, Piece of Peace, Ego and Future, where he shares his thoughts about his own path.

Interesting then that the next part of the MV is in a crossroad with Walker st, and he dances the chorus there. Literally a turning point in life.

On the street, I'm still

j-hope then enters Bowery station.

I love how nothing is random in this mv. This is the same station where they did the Tonight Show with BTS in 2020. At least, where they entered the subway. It was meant to be a subtle reminder of Bangtan, and it perfectly worked for me.

Yes, everyone thought of Danger MV because of the subway. And I bet Lumpens did as well since he directed that MV too! But I did not find any additional poster with a hidden message in the station this time.

By now, you have seen Hobi's jacket several times already. This is yet another classic hip hop reference. I found an interesting video on this brand's history and how the jacket was a "staple of hip hop culture" back in the 90s.

Now back to the mv. j-hope goes underground and puts on his hood while J.Cole on the rooftop appears as a reflection. That's a visual of Hobi's roots as a street dancer while J.Cole is at the top.

On the street, I'm still

And J.Cole delivers a masterpiece...

This is more than what a regular collab would require. He went out of his way to make an amazing contribution to the song, a proof of the respect he has for j-hope as an artist. And j-hope gave him space and time to sing on his song. Their thoughts complement one another.

When J.Cole first appears, we see him reflecting in the water... because this is basically what his lyrics are: a reflection on himself, his own career and what he should do next.

As he starts his verse, we can see a huge billboard in the background... with the Chicken Noodle Soup car! "It's my call" is written on it. This can be interpreted as either "it's my decision" or "I was drawn to this path I'm on". It probably means both.

These words can apply to both artists, but the fact that there is the CNS car in the add makes me think that it's more a j-hope thing. His calling came from the man in the frame, J. Cole. Whatever the path he chooses, it's his decision. Remember Ego? "Wherever my way"

While J.Cole raps at the top, literally, j-hope does his thang, dancing and vibin to the lyrics in the underground station. A beautiful metaphor to show where and how j-hope started his own path and who inspired him to become an artist.

And as the camera takes a wider angle on the rooftop, this is one of the rare moments when the clock is not blurry, just at the beginning of this verse and it's a few minutes past 3, like in 03/03 release date of On The Street. No, that's not a coincidence.

Now let's dive into J.Cole's lines. Going deep into his words would need a lifetime unpacking everything, so I'll stick to global thoughts. He starts by telling us that he's been through a lot. That "mighty survivor of hell" hits hard. And although in a hostile world, he kept going on. It reminds me of Bangtan's story. They too had a hard time in an environment that was never easy on them.

I had a hard time picking a favorite part in his lines. He delivers bar after bar, and combined with Lumpens creative visuals gives: "Selling train of thought, name an artist who could derail" while Hobi is dancing underground with subways passing by.

His friend's story is in opposition to his beliefs. J.Cole trusts to be guided on his path, but then he doubts, maybe he should "pick a different hobby" or change paths. That's exactly when Hobi stops dancing to look at the train going in the opposite direction. Crossroads again.

So J.Cole is seriously thinking about what to do next in his own career in this song! He's been rapping all his life (and he is damn good at it) so, as his father metaphor says, it's difficult to "let her grow" or rather "let it go".

And he says he will, but not yet. He's not stepping down or "handing over the crown" anytime soon.

And I agree, "more quotables than what the quota allows" perfectly applies to his lines. I'm basically writing every single one of them since they are sooooo good.

Now to the Golden Corral explanation. When you don't know the name, it's not easy to understand. But once you know that it's a buffet restaurant, it all makes sense. There was a list published earlier this year. I don't want to know who the top 10 rappers on that list are. He probably does eat them anyway.

I love how J.Cole layers the wordplay, and there must be other layers I'm not even seeing here, only his long time fans will know the references. Hobi must have been over the moon happy with his muse's verse, or should I say "over the cow" happy now?

Obviously J.Cole wants to stay a bit longer: "The more I eat, the more it gets stronger". Another similarity with Hobi and his song More: "My work makes me breathe, so I want more".

They have similar questions at different crossroads in their respective careers.

As j-hope gets on the train, we can hear both voices singing the chorus together, and it's perfect! If you look at the train, there are 2 identical pairs of ads. While it was not fully visible in the MV, with the pictures we got today, we can guess/read "Hope On The Street."

As Hobi gets out of Bowery station, we can read another ad in the background: "We thought our family was complete - we're so happy to have been wrong" They all have the number 7 on their t-shirts, another hint for BTS. You know with whom the family is complete right? Us, ARMY.

As he walks on the street towards J.Cole, we get to hear the chorus again. This time he looks into the camera with a sweet smile. We don't get that kind of smile often from him... and that scene ends with "On the street, I'm still"

He may be at a crossroad, but he is still here.

j-hope finally reaches the rooftop to meet J.Cole as the song ends. While J.Cole was singing on the rooftop all along, and rightfully so, j-hope started his journey on the street, dancing underground, rising to the top of the building to finally meet him. Another metaphor...

I really enjoyed walking on the street with Hobi. I love how the last song he shares for a while, is one where he conveys hope and fulfills his dream, working with the man who inspired him a long time ago to become an artist.

Now go watch On The Street MV again!

[suffer-my-beloved-mutuals]

Ok so this is going to be maybe a little incoherent but that’s ok!

The hachetfield trilogy is a set of three original musicals by star kid, the first is The Guy Who didn’t Like Musicals, the second is Blackfriday and the last is Nerdy Prudes Must Die, there is also nightmare time, not required viewing to understand the musicals but are definitely fun and give more lore

The first part of the series is TGWDLM in which we follow Paul a regular guy with a crush on local barista Emma Perkins, Paul as the title suggests dose not like musicals, one night a mentor crashes into the small town of hachetfield, in tgwdlm it is alluded to that hachetfield is on an island, the morning after the meteor crash their is an odd uptick in people singing which is not good for Paul, he meets up with Emma and two of his coworkers (one named Ted, he is semi important) they go to Emma’s old biology professor where it is found out that the meteor is releasing these spores and replacing people, they are drawn to music Paul gose to blow up the meteor and in the process sacrifices himself, fun bits include that Paul and Emma in seemingly every timeline end up together, also fuck clivesdale

The next is Black Friday following Tom, the brother in law of Emma (he married Emma’s now deceased sister Jane, they had a son named Tim) there is also Becky toms old girlfriend from high school, the musical takes place on Black Friday as Tom and Becky both try to get the new hot toy, tickle me wiggly, as we learn through the show Tom blames himself for Jane’s death and feels he needs to make it up to his son, along with this plot there is lex, an employee at the toy store, Hannah her younger sister with an imaginary friend named Debby and lex’s boyfriend Ethan, Ethan and lex steal a tickle me wiggly to sell to make enough money for the three of them to go to California, Hannah says webby dosent like tickle me wiggly

We learn that tickle me wiggly is actually a tool for wiggog y’wrath (shortened commonly to wiggly) a seemingly eldritch god to enter our plane of existence, he lives in the black and white (this is important) he has like a whole thing about capitalism, the song is an absolute banger, the musical ends with the mall on fire and wiggly having tricked the president into nukeing Russia causing world war 3

The final musical NPMD centers mostly around Peter (younger brother of Ted, see I said he was somewhat important!) His two friends, grace Chasity and Stephanie, the mayors daughter, Pete and his friends are terrified of Max, the stereotypical jock bully, max has it down bad for grace bc she is one of those catholic girls and as he says “forbbidon fruit” Grace feels lustful thoughts about max so she rallies the titular nerdy prudes to prank max

This does not go well

This does not go well at all

Max dies and becomes a wrathful ghost, setting out to kill the ones he blames for his death and then all he deems a nerdy prude he kills both of Pete’s friends and Grace gose mad with power? Ig? She steals a cops gun Grace Steph and Pete find out the only way to get rid of max is to get help from the lords in black using the black book, they summon the lords in black and! Wiggly is back! Yay! And his brothers are here, Nibbly, Blinky, Tinky, and Pokey (also called Otho but that’s for later!) they will only help them if one of them gives up what they cherish most for Steph and Pete, that’s each other so one of them has to die, they are very in denial about liking each other btw Steph resolves to kill Pete and max saves him? Ok Grace comes in and I kid you not fucks the ghost, thus giving up her most prized thing her Chasity, max is gone yay!

Quick spiel about the Lords in black

Wiggly or Wiggog Y’Wrath has a thing about capitalism, he is seemingly the leader of his brothers

Blinky or Bliklotep is like the eye in the magnus archives, man love watching shit that’s his deal, he has an amusement park

Tink or T’noy Kraxis my blorbo and beloved has it out for Ted and Pete (this is explained in a nightmare time episode, time basterd if you watch any of them watch that) he fucks with time and is the silliest billy also goat imagery

Nibbly or Nibblenephhim he’s hungry he eats people sometimes (my third favorite nightmare time honey queen) that’s mostly it about him he has a cult

Pokey/Otho or Pokotho he is major theatre kid energy, a narcissist and hates any voice that isn’t his own, he is blue (he is probably definitely the one who caused the musical apocalypse in tgwdlm) he has my second favorite nightmare time yellow jacket, he calls himself Otho but his brothers call him pokey

And surprise!

Webby, the sister to all these little guys she is actually real which makes one of wiggly’s lines in Black Friday even better, she is generally a benevolent character acting sorta like a guardian angel for Hannah, she is best explained in the witch in the web another nightmare time

About Hannah, Hannah is important, the lords in black pick her out a lot! This is because she is a very powerful physic, this is part of why webby protects her beif any of webby brothers got to her it’d be game over

I left out a lot because I don’t want to spoil bits if you do watch them (please do) as far as nightmare time gose the most important ones for lore are

Watchers world

Time basterd (if you watch this you gotta watch forever and always first!!! I prommy it’s worth it)

Witch in the web

Honey queen

Yellowjacket

These are all ones that are relevant to the lords in black specifically, all the other nightmare time bits are simply set in hatchetfield, I do not recommend Jane’s car it is so weird please don’t watch it

*important note, all the season one episodes are two stories in one video, for watchers world and witch in the web watch the second part of their respective episodes (episode one and three) forever and always isn’t explicitly about the lords in black but it is so much better to watch it before time basterd I promise (it’s the entirety of episode two)

Sorry this is long and rambly

Do you really want to know what the hatchetfeild trilogy is about<- extremely mentally ill about it, desperate to infodump

sure :3 i don't rly have the patience to actually get thru the shows atm but i am extremely curious as to what actually is happening there sldkkffbg

[honeydjarin]

TO THE BONE PART I

DIN DJARIN X READER

Meeting one’s soulmate is supposed to be cause for celebration, so why does it feel like your whole life is falling apart? Will there be anything left to salvage?

warnings: fem!reader, soulmates, reader is a quarry, a little bit of murder sprinkled in, injury, this first part follows canon, really not a lot of dialog in this part

word count: 6,500

a/n: It’s finally here! I worked on this series for months, got disheartened and took an extended break, and now I’m working on it again. I hope some of you might enjoy the journey as much as I have

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST || AO3

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” 

The words have been scrawled on your arm since the day you were born, a miserable reminder of the path you are destined to follow. Your whole life you’ve known that those words being spoken aloud would herald nothing good, and now you’re finally confronted by them. 

You don’t speak despite the fear and rage swirling inside you at the sight of the armored man. You just curl your body tighter around the floating pod in your grasp, ignoring the blaster aimed directly at your head. Your gut feels hollow, lungs constricting. The coil winding tighter and tighter inside your chest may never come undone. You may never get the time for it to, your life may come to an end right here.    

You know the man before you would make good on his threat to kill you. The still smoking IG droid is more than enough evidence of that, the bent shape of its metal frame too human for you to be comfortable standing so close to. You imagine the face beneath the dark visor turned your way holds no remorse for what he’s done to reach you. You imagine he could pull the trigger on you and sleep just fine when the sun goes down. But you would rather die than let any harm befall the child—Grogu. He’s yours now, if not as family then at least by duty. No child deserves the fate that this hunter will surely deliver him to.

It’s your fate too, a small part of you whispers. You ignore it.

The Force must really hate you to give you such a match, a sick joke to pair you with the bounty hunter who will trade you and Grogu for credits without a second thought. You’ve had a lifetime to come to terms with the inevitable, but the child deserves better. The hunter is Mandalorian. Doesn’t harming children go against his creed? 

No part of his skin is showing beneath his dark clothes. The well worn armor coated in chipping paint and the entire arsenal of firearms strapped to his body help to prevent any slippage of his clothing. There is no indication of a soulmark that can be seen by your glaring eyes. 

A substantial part of you hopes that he has no mark, that he will never know what you are to him. As long as you don’t speak, then he can’t be marked by your first words to him.  

When you make no move to either attack the Mandalorian or detach yourself from the pod, he approaches, returning his blaster to its home on his hip, an action that doesn’t alleviate your fear the way it might if another had done the same. You don’t doubt he would have it trained on you again before you could even attempt to move. 

There is nothing you can do as he pulls you from your place around the child, the last defence so easily removed. Your legs give out, and you are useless as he forces your arms in front of you before locking binders on your wrists, placed over the thin fabric wrapped repeatedly around your forearms. His soulmark may be hidden (if he even has one), but so is yours. The pressure of the metal binders is tight enough to bruise, your covered wrists doing nothing to pad your flesh.

You hate him.        

As a child you didn’t understand the worried looks and quiet whispers of the adults around you, couldn’t yet grasp the true meaning of the words on your forearm, the weight they held. You couldn’t understand why you were encouraged to keep the writing hidden in the presence of others, or why your mother would scold you if you ever went outside with the words exposed. 

“You deserve better,” she would say while wrapping your arm with bandages or strips of old cloth until there was no way for wandering eyes to catch a glimpse of the permanent mark on your skin. You’d keep your focus on the crease between her brows, the nervous way she'd bite at her lip, so engrossed in her task of keeping you safe from the horrors of the galaxy that she lost track of everything else around her. Sometimes you’d risk a glance at her arm as she worked to hide yours, knowing she wouldn't catch you staring at her own mark which she left exposed for all to see: Is it really you?

You could never understand why you had to cover your mark when hers was always so visible. You wouldn’t fight her though, not when her eyes would glass over as she took you in, as if looking at your mark was enough to break her heart.  

Childhood wasn’t meant to be spent thinking about the intricacies of unchangeable destinies. It was a time for chasing the brightly colored frogs by the creek behind your home, for grass stained knees and muddy cheeks. You didn’t want to think about what it means to be connected to another through the Force. Even before you’d opened your eyes for the first time, destiny dictated that you would find each other.   

You were never given the freedom to choose what concerned you—not when people wouldn’t stop whispering, always keeping their distance, and especially not when your ex Jedi mother had taken it upon herself to teach you the path that she once walked, having turned away from the Jedi Order solely because of their stance on attachment (how could loving one’s soulmate be wrong when the Force itself flowed through the bond?). She didn’t seem to realize that her actions were just one more way of isolating you from everyone else. 

She was determined to make sure that your own connection with the Force always remained good. As if keeping the dark side away could prevent you from walking towards the destruction that might lead you to be the target of a bounty hunter. As if she, along with the other Jedi, weren’t all hunted themselves regardless of their alignment with the light side of the Force or supposed status as peacekeepers of the galaxy. As if she didn’t set you down the same path through her own actions.  

She should have known better, the Force always brings soulmates together. And if the bounty hunter standing before you now is your soulmate, then what does that say about who you are at your core?

The Mandalorian takes the opportunity to see the other quarry now that you are out of his way. He pays you no mind as you glare at the back of his helmet, wishing the mechanics within could ignite from just a look. The quiet hissing that comes from in front of him indicates that he has opened the protective pram. 

“It’s a child?” The hunter’s modulated voice drifts over to you despite the dark visor still angling towards the pod. You’re not quite sure if it’s a question or a statement. “He’s supposed to be 50.” 

Eventually he angles his head towards you, seeking answers that you don’t have. You know nothing of Grogu except that he’s like you—he’s connected strongly to the force (it is through that connection that you could even learn his name, a momentary linking of minds that you haven’t since been able to replicate). Even if you did know more, you wouldn’t share, not with a bounty hunter, and especially not with this bounty hunter. You don’t reply, keeping your narrowed eyes on the center of his helmet, where his own eyes lay hidden beneath a dark visor. 

When he finally realizes you won’t dignify him with a response, he decides to move on. He steps in front of you, looking down at where you still sit on the ground. For a moment he just stares. 

“Let's go,” he finally states, leaving no room for argument.  

He may have gotten restraints on you, but you won’t allow him to transport you back to his ship with ease. Surely there’s a fine line between slowing down the inevitable and causing enough problems that he puts a blaster bolt through your head. 

When he tries to move you out of the small bunker that’s been both protecting and imprisoning you and Grogu, you let your body go limp, easing any tension out of your muscles. He won’t be able to move you if he can’t keep a hold on you.   

“I can bring you in cold,” the Mandalorian threatens, a reminder of his first words to you. Even now, after the initial shock has passed into resignation, the words sting. His voice comes out like a growl through the vocoder in his helmet, and if you weren’t so furious with the Galaxy in that moment, then you might have been as terrified of him following through with the threat as you should be. He continues trying to get his arms beneath you but you just slip through his grip. You're certain he could carry you if you allowed any stiffness in your body. “Dank farrik, knock it off!” 

You don’t speak, you just scowl, sliding through his arms once more. Despite his threats he doesn’t pull his blaster on you again. He probably gets a higher payout for bringing you in alive.

Finally, he just grabs your binders and drags you along behind him. You let your head fall back, eyes turned skyward so you don’t have to see the carnage created as the hunter sought you out, and so you don’t have to watch the dark bunker that trapped you as you finally leave. 

It’s warmer in the bright sun than it was in the hideout, but just as dry. The pram follows close behind you, floating silently, now synced with the Mandalorian’s vambrace. The kid’s green head sticks up just above the lip of the pod, wide eyes trained on you.  

You dig your heels into the earth as you’re dragged, your boots brushing up small clouds of dust as you pass through the desert landscape. It does little to slow your journey down, and the hunter doesn’t show any outward signs of annoyance. He just pulls you along behind him without so much as a grunt. Ultimately, your choices are probably more painful for you than they are beneficial, but at least you're a mild nuisance to the bounty hunter. 

If all you can do to slow him down is to be an annoyance for the whole journey, then you will be as quietly obnoxious as possible. 

You expect him to bring you to a speeder bike, a land speeder, any sort of speeder or ship.  Even a blurrg would suffice. You expect him to toss you onto his transport and make his way back to his ship with little effort. No one on this planet is native and the hunter had to get planetside somehow. There’s nothing else around for miles, having transportation would be necessary. It’s for this reason that you allow him to continue dragging you behind him—even when you begin to lose all feeling in your arms (the numbness is almost as uncomfortable as the pain), or when your neck begins to cramp from the force needed just to hold your head up.  

The Niktos who brought you here had at least transported you on a land speeder. Was this hunter really unable to find a ride? How did he even get to the hideout? 

By the time you realize that this is it, you really will be going the whole way on foot, your body aches enough to make getting your feet beneath you difficult. You know the pain is a product of your own foolishness, but not putting up at least a little bit of a fight, if only enough to slow the hunter down, seemed unacceptable, like you’d be doing wrong by both yourself and the child. 

The Mandalorian stops walking when he feels you struggle to stand, giving you time to get your feet stable beneath you. It’s a small thing, unexpected from a bounty hunter, an act resembling compassion. 

He gives you a second more to get reoriented before walking again. This time he doesn’t grab your binders. You could try to run, see just how far you can get before the hunter catches you again. Maybe he would make good on his threat to bring you to the client dead. Instead, you follow behind him, wordlessly. 

—☾—

Red walls stretch up around you, providing you some respite from the bright sun which ensures the surface of Arvala-7 will never get a chance to be anything more than desert. The narrow channel is too shallow to be a canyon but deep enough to allow a low wind to pass through its walls, slow and cool, a bittersweet break from the constant sun. The mournful echo of the wind that resounds through the pass is enough to keep you on edge. You can hear it echoing in the distance, building until it passes around you like a specter. You stay close to Grogu, his three clawed fingers wrapped around a single digit of your own, the restraints on your wrists resting uncomfortably on the edge of his pod.

He chitters at you quietly, unconcerned.    

The earth on Arvala-7 is sunbaked and dry, flaking off into a fine dust that the wind picks up in small funnels. The layer of dust coating the ground goes no deeper than the surface, preventing the possibility of any sort of real sandstorm, but the loose earth does kick up around your feet and stains your boots red. The edges of the Mandalorian’s cape get the same treatment, the rusty color a stark contrast against the flowing black fabric. 

You’re grateful for the solid strength of the ground beneath your feet, even if much of the surface of the planet swells with worn crests and hollows into dry canyons, forcing you to rise and fall with the land. It could be worse, the surface could shift like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, constantly pulling you down into the sand. Or you could be dead. 

You can feel the shift in the Force before you know the cause, that unsettling itch beneath your skin growing from something imagined to something just beyond the edges of your senses. It weighs heavy against you, thick in your throat and your lungs, the metallic taste of blood not yet spilled hanging in the air. 

There’s three of them. 

The Trandoshans drop down from the walls of the channel. The three figures are dressed in dark clothes, much like the Mandalorian, and brandish weapons of their own. One attempts to rush towards you and the child but vanishes before he reaches you. He bursts before your very eyes, a short scream the last noise he will ever make. There is nothing more than a puff of smoke, a scattering of sparks, and small scraps of fabric blowing away in the hollow wind in the place where there was once your would-be assailant. 

Not too far away the Mandalorian fights the other Trandoshans, but the distance seems far greater now that you’ve seen just what his weapons can do to those he aims them towards, your vision darkening around the edges, a reminder that you need to breathe. 

There are no signs that the Trandoshan even existed beyond a small black box. It is still skidding along the path he once ran, heading directly your way. Your eyes track the blinking light on its antenna, the tracking fob beeping faster and faster as it slides towards you and Grogu. You grab it from where it stops in front of you. It’s such a small thing, easily fitting in your palm. 

A gloved hand gently pulls it from your grasp. the orange fingertips letting you know that it’s the Mandalorian—he’s the only one left standing. You hate him.  

You’re happy he survived.

He crushes the tracking fob beneath his boot and the beeping stops. You can feel his eyes on you through the dark visor of his helmet, scanning you, seeking out any sign of injury, or maybe any indication that you tried to escape. You can’t look him in the eye, can’t look away from the arm that had stayed loose at his side while his other hand took the fob from your own grip. There’s blood on his dark sleeve, a tear in the fabric leading to a wound beneath. It’s not that deep, can’t be for the small amount of blood soaking into the fabric, but it will probably scar. You can’t help but wonder how many scars have stitched across his skin where his beskar doesn’t shield him. 

He turns around without speaking, making his way forward through the narrow channel. And he walks, and he walks, and he walks, until the sun begins to sink into the red earth, settling down in the still warm dust. The three of you come to rest with it.  

“It’s been a long day,” the hunter says. “We'll make camp here and carry on again in the morning.” His voice is low and gruff through the vocoder, though you suspect it would still hold those qualities even without the distortion. You wonder if he gets the chance to use it often, if he usually speaks to his quarries at all.    

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The words burn on your wrist, a phantom pain reminding you that this is what was always destined for you. The line is practiced, gelid. He’s clearly said it to quarries before. It may very well be the only thing he’s said to some of them, the last words someone might ever hear if it’s easier to bring them in dead than alive. You’re not even worthy enough to be marked by words meant just for you. 

The thought makes you ache, deep in your chest, an uncomfortable stirring in your stomach.  

It’s not as though you actually want to be with him, it shouldn’t matter how impersonal the words are. If anything, they gave you a warning, an advantage, something to prepare for. 

And if you did want things to be different, then It’s your fault for not saying anything, for letting him turn you in. The Force flows through everything and everyone, connecting the galaxy. Some people are just more tightly bound to each other than they are to everything else, so much so that their first words to each other are stamped into the other’s skin for their whole lives. Of all the people in the galaxy, why did you have to be connected to this man?

Right now silence is the only weapon you have.

You wish you could run from this, from the words that mean nothing to the man beside you and everything to you. But there’s still the child to worry about. 

His wide, dark eyes are turned skyward, reflecting the low light, soaking in the vast expanse of deepening blue broken up by the pinprick glow of stars. He is completely unaware that the Mandalorian’s protection comes with a price that he has no choice but pay. This planet is too small, too barren to run on. And even if you could, Grogu would not understand. 

As the sun sinks fully below the horizon, leaving nothing but a grey tinged glow in its wake, the Mandalorian starts a fire. It’s a small one, made only of the dry brush and scavenged scraps that he found along the stretch of this extending plain, no hills or passes as far as the eye can see.

Should you be concerned? Would the light and the smoke of the fire draw the attention of any other hunters in the area? You want to ask him, want some sort of reassurance that this whole situation won’t end badly. But you already know it will, because your soulmate is a bounty hunter and you’re nothing but another quarry to him.  

You don’t watch as he puts himself back together, cauterizing the skin on his arm and trying his best to ignore the pain. You can’t watch as you hear him talk to Grogu, the one whose hands can heal, a skill you’ve never learned and doubt you'll ever be strong enough or patient enough to even attempt mastering. The whole situation makes you want to cry, to scream, to do something to release the pressure building in your chest and threatening to spill over from your eyes.    

It’s easier to lie down than to think, to allow your exhausted body to take the lead. You ignore the way the dust coats your skin and buries itself beneath your nails. You can almost drift off to sleep like this, can almost ignore the weight of your emotions. Before you fully drift away, sinking into the closest thing resembling peace you might find out here, you feel the light press of a gloved hand against your shoulder.

“Can you take him?” the Mandalorian speaks barely above a whisper. “He keeps trying to escape his pram.” 

You simply raise your elbow up. Just high enough for the Mandalorian to get Grogu tucked into your chest. You’re hungry, scared, and exhausted, but for now you and the kid are safe. You finally drift away, mind floating upwards towards the stars alongside the sparks of the fire.

—☾—

You awake in the middle of the night, eyes flying open far faster than you thought possible when being pulled from your slumber. The first thing you notice is that it is cold. There is no humidity in the air here, this arid planet cannot hold its heat without the sun to provide it constantly. Not even the dust, which finds its way into every fold of fabric and exposed stretch of skin, holds its heat anymore. At least in the hideout you were offered a thin blanket to carry hints of your body’s warmth through the night. 

You do your best to curl in on yourself, legs folding and spine curving forward, cradling the child to your core in hopes of protecting him from the chilled night air. You pull the worn layers of your clothing in as close as you can, seeking something resembling warmth, but it’s an impossible goal to reach. Your worn clothes are not enough to keep your heat clinging to your body, and the chill has already settled in past your skin. You will find no more comfort tonight.

Above you the stars stretch on as far as you can see, their cold light burning away much of the darkness that hangs over you. They appear infinite, sprawling out over the plain where you’ve set up camp. They’re different from the stars you knew at home, the constellations holding strange stories that you will likely never get the chance to uncover. There is no hint of the rising sun to fade out the lights of the galaxy, and in your freshly woken state they seem brighter than ever. It truly is the middle of the night.  

The fire crackles low beside you, popping occasionally into a burst of sparks, just far enough away that its heat doesn’t reach you. You’re too afraid to move any closer, lest a stray spark catch on the dry fabric adorning your body. The flame is slowly dying but still higher than you would have expected given how much time has surely passed since you laid down. The Mandalorian must have added more scraps to fuel the fire while you were sleeping. 

Your stomach aches with hunger now, having not eaten since before you left the hideout, and you imagine Grogu’s would ache too if he were awake, the child constantly seeking out sustenance even when there’s none to give. For now, he is still sleeping peacefully in your arms, curled up in the crook of your elbows with his head buried in your chest. In his sleep he seeks the heat of you, ears twitching softly as he dreams. 

What is it that woke you?

The hunger and chill are both forms of discomfort, but neither so strong that you would wake from them. You can’t feel anything strange on the edges of your senses, no reason to fear an attack from beyond the safety of the firelight, and your eyes would have caught such a threat in this open landscape. Now that you’ve grown used to the darkness, you know there is nowhere out here for someone to hide.  

The Mandalorian remains unmoving behind you. He’s sleeping, at least you think he’s sleeping. 

He is leaning back against the stone he’d sat on while he patched up the wound on his bicep, his uninjured arm tucked up behind his head like a pillow, though you doubt it’s very comfortable. Almost every inch of him is encased in unyielding armor, and even if the curve of his helmet might protect him from the edges of his vambrace, he can still probably feel the solidity of his arm beneath his head.  

The low light of the slowly dying fire gleams off the silvery metal of his helmet. His cuirass, which you know to be painted a rusty brown from when you saw it in the daylight, also picks up the light of the flames. But it looks different now, the colors altered by the darkness and ever shifting light. Now, in the flickering glow of the dying fire, it looks like the metal is painted with blood—blood which you know does not belong to him.

Your breath hitches at the sight, your heart pounding hard enough that you can feel it in your chest, rising to your throat to choke you. You can hear the rushing of your own blood in your ears despite the chill of it in your veins, and you almost fear the child will awaken from the sound of your heart thudding in your chest. But the kid doesn’t move, and the Mandalorian’s own breathing remains steady, his ruddy chest rising and falling rhythmically. In and out. In and out. 

He doesn’t move as you sit up, shifting your still bound hands to better cradle the kid before examining the sleeping man closely. He doesn’t stir, just remains where he’s probably been laying since he last tended to the fire. He is the most relaxed he’s been since you first met him, muscles eased, stretched out in the starlight. In the near silence of the night you can almost make out his breathing through his helmet’s vocoder. Maybe, if your heart wasn’t pounding so loud, if the fire wasn’t crackling with its dying heat, you could hear it, slow and steady, breaths made stable with rest. In and out. In and out. 

You settle your feet beneath you, keeping the child close as you crouch. The dust kicks up around your boots muffling any sound your movement might have made, and you are once again grateful for the specific terrain of Arvala-7—even if the dust still sticks to your cheeks and makes your mouth taste like sand. He doesn’t stir. In and out. In and out. 

You rise, step back. Again, then again. Slowly, quietly. Your eyes switch between the ground behind you and the Mandalorian. You must step carefully. You can’t risk treading on anything but dust, making a single sound. You can’t risk waking him.

In and out. In and out. 

When you reach the firelight’s edge, you turn, facing the distant stars, intending to reach the jagged horizon by sunrise, even if he will surely find you again. If you’re lucky, you might find his ship before he catches up to you, and properly flee across the galaxy. With your back turned towards the figure behind you, you are ready to focus solely on your escape with Grogu. You step once. Then again. A small flicker of hope takes root as you get farther from the Mandalorian than you thought would be possible, but it's too soon to let that hope grow.

“Knock it off.” You freeze, shoulders tensing and unconsciously pulling Grogu closer, but not so close that you would wake him. 

Slowly, as if you may have just imagined his voice, as if he may just be talking in his sleep, you turn around. The Mandalorian is still leaning back, good arm propped up behind his helmet. Only now the dark T of his visor is angled towards you. His chest still rises and falls slowly, rhythmically.

In and out. In and out.    

—☾—

“You’re staying here.” The Mandalorian presses the palms of his gloved hands into your shoulders, not hard enough to knock you off balance—you would have no way to catch yourself if you fell—but enough to keep you from leaving. You just glare. 

He can’t do this, can’t leave you alone here while he takes the child to wildly chase after some Jawas. He could try to trade the kid for all you know, a last ditch effort to retrieve the missing parts of his thoroughly scavenged ship. But you can’t fight, not with your words. All you can ever do is glare. His palms press gently into you again.

“I don’t know what else is out there. The child is protected by the pod but I can’t ensure that you both will be unharmed if there are other hunters looking for the two of you.” It still doesn’t make much sense to you beyond him wanting both you and the child, valuable assets to whatever client he has waiting for him, to remain unharmed. Someone could still find you here, and you would be alone with your wrists bound, unable to fend for yourself. The Force is practically useless without your hands. And someone could still find their way to Grogu, who trusts so much despite being held in a place like this. 

As if he hears your thoughts, the Mandalorian adds, “I also don’t need you intentionally getting in my way.”

You know the Mandalorian is not doing this because he truly cares what happens to either you or the kid, otherwise he would keep you all in one place. You are only as valuable to him as the price on your head, the tone of his words make that clear. 

He urges you to sit back down on the small chair belonging to the Ugnaught, Kuiil, who calls this place home, before making his way to the entrance of the small structure. He turns to you one last time before leaving and says, “If you run I will find you again.” 

Then you are left all alone in a stranger’s house. 

It’s not quiet here, exactly, but the few noises that do ring out remind you of just how isolated Kuiil’s moisture farm is—how isolated the whole planet is, really. You’re left alone with nothing but the hissing of the desert wind to keep you company. It’s different here than in the stone channel, not so mournful, though just as empty. It rises and fades again, spurring on the creak of the metal windmill that stands on the farm. You doubt Kuiil has much desire to climb the distance needed to oil the contraption, not as long as it isn’t rusting. 

On occasion you hear the huff or grunt of a blurrg. There’s two females in a pen on the farm, and you once again wonder why the Mandalorian hadn’t brought you here on a blurrg. There are others on the planet, still wild ones. You've heard them from time to time while you were kept inside the compound. 

The silence is peaceful, comforting. You can see why Kuiil likes it here. 

Time passes slowly, the journey of the past two days catching up to you, so you do the one thing that you can think of that will bring you some comfort. You stretch out on the hard ground of the home, and you sleep. You don’t yet know just how much you will be sleeping in the coming days with the Mandalorian. All you know is that sometimes resting is the best way to escape the reality of a situation. 

It’s a dreamless sleep, dark but warm, the reprieve you had hoped for the night before. Your stomach still hurts, maybe that’s why you fail to dream, or maybe you’re just worried enough to dispel that last comfort. 

Your slumber is disrupted by an unfortunate cacophony beyond the otherwise quiet home. The metallic screech of a drill not too far from the small farm of the Ugnaught pierces the darkness and forces you to face reality. It doesn’t take long for Kuiil himself to come back in through the entry of the home to find you still on the ground. 

“Good,” he says, ”you’ve woken up.” 

It’s dark in the room, a good half day later than when they left. The smell of something warm and earthy drifts your direction from further in the home. The Ugnaught passes you by, making his way towards that pleasant smell. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you just how long it’s been since you’ve last eaten. You can only imagine how hungry the kid must be. Kuiil speaks to you from his small kitchen, voice raised only slightly to ensure you hear him.

“The Mandalorian has retrieved the stolen parts of his ship.” He returns to you with a bowl and a cup, both steaming. Then he places them on the table in front of the chair where you had sat when they left you.  

“He’s a sleemo.” You can’t stop the words from spilling out, your voice sounding rough from disuse. It’s the first time you’ve spoken since you met the Mandalorian. You miss chatting with the kid, even if your conversations were always one sided, although you think Grogu appreciated it too. But speaking around the Mandalorian is a risk you aren’t willing to take, not with how much would change, or worse, not change. “He’s nothing more than bantha fodder.” 

You meant to thank the Ugnaught, not to burden him with your thoughts on your latest captor. 

“He has brought peace to this valley once more.” Kuiil speaks with finality, and rather than argue with him, you thank him for his kindness, for sharing his food and his water, both precious resources on a planet like Arvala-7. You return to the small chair, which is no softer than the ground where you slept. Before you can even begin to eat, he wanders back into the kitchen, ending the conversation that never really had a chance to begin. 

The binders on your wrists make using a utensil to eat the soup impossible. You have no choice but to treat the bowl like a cup, sipping slowly on the thick contents within. The soup is hearty, made from the fungus that likely grew in the moisture vaporators on Kuiil’s farm. The steaming cup is something lighter, though still earthy. Some sort of tea. You imagine everything growing in the harsh climate of the planet tastes of the earth. This is no place for the sweet or the delicate. 

You feel the Mandalorian approaching before you see him, creeping at the edges of your senses, just beyond the boundary of the small home. He doesn’t come in, just lingers in the doorway, standing awkwardly on the threshold. It’s not until you turn to look at him that you realize exactly why he doesn’t enter. 

He’s filthy. 

Mud slicked, dried, and cracking. Absolutely grimy from head to toe, armor no longer gleaming in the light, but rather sparking from the failing mechanics that keep it attached. He smells like an animal. He stares at you from the entryway, the dark T of his visor seemingly the only thing not caked in mud and Maker knows what else. How is there even mud on this planet? Surely half the moisture of all of Arvala-7 had been used up to coat this man in sludge. 

Behind him, Grogu floats in his pod, unconscious. Immediately you are out of your chair, rushing over to him. You pick him up gently but quickly, tucking his small green head and oversized ears beneath your chin as you hurry to get as far away from the Mandalorian as possible. He doesn’t move, doesn’t risk spreading the muck into Kuiil’s home, just watches from where he stands. You can feel the way his eyes bore into you, keeping track of your every move from his place in the entryway. You try to ignore him, choosing instead to focus on the child’s well being.

A quick examination proves to you that Grogu is uninjured. Unconscious, but uninjured. You turn your gaze to the Mandalorian and you glare. A low, deep noise of disapproval catching in your throat, still unable to speak.    

This is your fault. Whatever it is that happened to this child is your fault. You should have fought harder to be brought with, for both of you to stay, for some way to be able to personally ensure his safety. 

The Mandalorian needs you both alive, but that should not have been reason enough to let him be alone with Grogu. No. A part of you, a not so insignificant part of you, trusts him. Because he needs you alive, but also because he is your soulmate, your other half, the one person in the universe you should be able to trust without reserve—two lives bound together by the Force. 

But he doesn’t know what you are to him. You won’t let him know what you are to him. It’s a horrible thing to trust him when you hate him. 

“The Child,” the Mandalorian begins, interrupting your thoughts, “he did something that should be impossible. Something with his mind…”

For the first time since you met the hunter he seems to be struggling. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sign of discomfort despite the stoic appearance created by his helmet. 

“Can you do those things too? The impossible?” You don’t answer, and he doesn’t really expect you to. Not when you haven’t spoken to him thus far, and especially not about something so personal. You just find your seat once more, child cradled in your lap, and begin to eat your gradually cooling meal. Grogu needs to eat too. You wish he would wake up to do so. 

You can feel the moment the Mandalorian leaves, Kuiil following not long after, to continue repairing the broken ship. The once quiet landscape is filled with the sounds of drilling and hammering. You will not help with the repairs, even if you do decide to watch after finishing your meal, having nothing better to do. It is not your responsibility to help fix the ship that will take you to the one who is paying to have you and Grogu caught, and neither Kuiil nor the Mandalorian hunter ask that of you.  

Grogu does not wake. You don’t expect he will for some time.  

NEXT PART

@unmitigatedsuperiority, thanks for sticking with me through the mess that is this fic

[staysuki]

📍HAPPY DEATH DAY | l.felix smau (masterlist)

synopsis

-> rich yet down-to-earth. devilishly handsome yet an angelic sweetheart. before you transferred to your new university, lee "yongbok" had already established a fine reputation for himself—beloved by everyone, a personality that can bring world peace. but something seems off—because you've definitely seen him before, and he's not as sweet as he makes himself out to be.

pairing: fem!reader x slc!felix (snobby!y/n x mysterious!felix) (y/n is a bit like veronica lodge—the riverdale one, not the comics one, sorry lolz) (a bit of an OC y/n, just cause she has nicknames and identifiers and whatnot) (felix is called "leo"—from lee yongbok—just cuz that's hot) | friends to enemies to friends to lovers ig idk

genre: smau, light fluff and crack, semi-angst, mystery(?), strangers? enemies? to lovers? idk. no promises. it is what it is. (a bit of season 1 riverdale vibes)

warnings: mentions of death, illness, accidents, injuries, implications of s*lf h*rm and s**cide (but not from any idol, just background side characters). slight violence. criminals. sexual themes (just mentions, nothing too detailed, no smut). cussing. extreme language. R16??? 18+??? a tamer version of SLC nevermind that, i changed my mind, it's not as tame. high society scumminess, lots of ill gossiping and reputation destroying. think gossip girl but worse. mentions of the dark web and the black market.

notes: this is a spin-off series from one of the characters (felix) in my other smau (SWEET LIKE CANDY), but you don't need to read that series first before this one. this can be enjoyed as a standalone in itself because felix was only a side character in that fic. there will rarely be any mentions or allusions to the old fic, maybe here and there but it won't make it confusing.—the university/setting is VERYYYYY far from where SLC is set, imagine small town in the middle of nowhere type of beat where felix won't get caught.

chapters—

[red—written chapters]

teaser.

characters.

000—happy worst day.

001—i'm a birthday clown tonight.

002—though my lips are smiling.

003—i'm not getting in the mood.

004—everybody looks the same like me.

005—it's boring, boring, boring, boring.

006—in a room full of stuff.

007—at the sound of empty applause.

008—blow out the candles.

009—one, two, three (foo).

010—everybody's missing a thing.

011—celebration with no feelings.

012—even when the candles went out.

013—would they wear the same expression?

014—birthday, it's your birthday.

015—the sound of the song.

016—silenced by the fireworks.

017—worst day, it's a worst day.

018—the clown's laugh echoing softly.

019—the clown's laugh.

020—tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, ha-ha.

020.5—happy death day.

021—happy, happy worst day.

022—feel like.

023—tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la, ha-ha. (2)

024—happy death day. (2)

025—happy, happy worst day. (2)

026—i'm so sick of the fakes.

027—so sick of the fakes.

028—i'm so sick of the fakes. (2)

029—so sick of the fakes. (2)

030—run, run for your life.

031—run, run for your life. (2)

032—i remember the day.

033—when i was eight.

034—there was no laughter on the table.

035—in front of the dried-up cake.

036—smiling with pale lips.

037—now, hold your breath.

038—one, two, three, four.

039—i'm gonna run away.

040—farther, farther, farther away. (finale)

041—everybody blesses me. (epilogue)

lost hooks

ORIGINAL/PREQUEL: SWEET LIKE CANDY (hwang hyunjin's) SECOND SPIN-OFF/HDD SEQUEL: DON'T SHOOT ME (the story of han jisung)

CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT (HDD v1. basement extras)

(not a part of HDD but it's early revision before i changed stuff).

1

2

3

(mm/dd/yy)

date started: 01/10/22

date finished: 04/29/22

taglist: (open!)

networks: @ficscafe

[breads-bakery]

- EUPHORIA

O6 - pilot !!

warnings: afab reader!!, time stamps might be a little jumbled up, description of birth , mental illness implied ,profanities,  slice of life , angst, mentions of drugs.  if any of these topics make you uncomfortable please do not read!

note : this is not proof read !!! SMALL CHAPTER, You can call it a filler ig :( TIME LINES ARE AND WILL BE JUMBLED UP ON PURPOSE !!! as i said before the series is v inspired by euphoria!! we start on a flashback!!!! MORE WILL BE REVEALED ON UPCOMING CHAPTERS. ps.. sorry for the very late update 😅

y/n’s inner monologues (in italics ) , past conversations ( in bold )

taglist: @sunoobabie @sunooscheeks @leeknow-knows  @shiberrysan @kyrkitten , @skzoddinaries , @pjongbb204 ( taglist open for now )

previous  || masterlist || next

AUGUST 6TH, 2001

HYBE UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL - MATERNITY WARD - DAYTIME

bright , buzzing specialty lights and various types of hospital fuss filled the labor room.

in the midst; a woman in her mid twenties, giving birth to a fetus, a fetus like any other , as it curls up, bracing itself to be torn away from the comfort of its home.

each contraction felt as if a bowling ball landed full force on the woman’s spine; and then, with the initial force continued throughout, the bowling ball would roll down her spine , like it was crushing it the whole way .

each time she’s squeezed, her body shudders as if shot with a taser gun; over and over and over, until it landed in her pelvic area with double the initial force , until baby y/n finally makes her bone crushing descent through the dark labyrinth of her mother.

baby y/n , barely seconds old, her tiny body covered in amniotic fluid , vernix caseosa and blood. her lungs fill with air, and her eyes finally blink open. she soon begins to wail with terror as she peaked her new surroundings. the shrill and piercing cry filled the room, that had gone silent for a while.

suddenly, a nipple is shoved in her tiny mouth. she sucks, and in an instant her eyes roll back in a drug-like haze.

. . . . . .

DECEMBER 6TH, 2021

Y/N’S BEDROOM - NIGHT TIME

y/n , now 20 years old, sits cross legged in her bed, at the dorm. her hands busy keeping her hair out of her face, as best as she can , as she snorts the crushed klonopin off her black-polished vanity dresser .

she leans back on her chair , taking a deep breath, as the benzo’s take effect .

at some point you make a choice about who you are and what you want.

every mistake, every mis-step, every dumb decision or dumb fuck. just own it and wear it like a fucking honor badge . create your own confidence or whatever.

y/n’s ekes out a druggy smile.

she takes out her phone, inserting her password quickly, before clicking the library app, rapidly scrolling through it. years and years of memories.

from soccer games to birthday parties to her family. sleepovers with best friends and stupid little prank videos . dance routines. a bunch of selfies. makeup. school.

from growing up to drinking excessive amounts of alcohol and restless nights.

the photos become more sexual, more obsessive, more focused on how she looks.

and then she stops on a specific picture, a messy haired teenage boy with his arm slung around her.

i had my first kiss at the age of twelve with my then best friend , park sunghoon . he was my only friend at the time, and i used to trust him wholeheartedly.

well i used to … until he replaced me with his new, better friends, who “weren’t fuck ups” and “bad influences ” - so lee heeseung a good influence haha - I FUCKING HATE LEE HEESEUNG

but don’t feel bad, park sunghoon became a part time alcoholic, part time stoned and a full time fucking asshole

y/n's phone dings several times indicating she received a few notifications, pulling her out off her thoughts .

her eye sight a little blurry as she clicks on the message notification, she blinks several times to try on focusing on the text messages in front of her.

y/n groans lowly, trying to get off her black-polished chair, her legs are a little wobbly. she leans against the wall for a minute, taking a few deep breaths before she opens her bedroom door.

she starts to head down the hallway, trying to find her balance and footing as the drug took effect.

she miraculously ends up to her front door, without stubbing her toes in any corners and opens the door to a freezing chenle. she grins widely at him, as if lost in a trace for a bit.

chenle pushes her aside as carefully as he could, entering the house and closing the front door.

" god it took you ten whole minutes to open the fucking door " he started complaining as he placed the bags he was holding on the ground, so he can take off and hang his coat .

y/n grins once again looking at the paper bags, snatching and running away with them to the kitchen. chenle blinks dramatically and following her.

" you whore those are for the both of us "

[ramzawrites]

Hey, so I'm having a really rough time rn (dealing with bs from my friend group, we have to take my really old dog to the vet today bc we found blood in her pee and we're scared that she won't make it this time, I'm struggling with my mental health, I'm just kinda goin thru it rn ig) so I would love a comfort fic with the sbi maybe with the reader as their sibling where the reader is the one that always comforts the fam, but hides their emotions until (1/2, very sorry about splitting it)

(2/2) something happens that makes the reader have a full on breakdown? I'll leave the rest to you, it can be a good or bad ending, headcanons or one shots, anything. You can ignore this request if you want/if it makes you uncomfortable. Please don't feel pressured/guilt tripped to write anything from this, your mental health comes first and I'm sure you're already really busy. Reminder to eat something today if you haven't yet and get a drink of water <3

We are family - Reader and SBI!Brothers

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Wilbur, Technoblade, Tommy, (mentioned) Niki, (mentioned) Schlatt

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request <3

Summary: Y/N came back from an errand and surprises their brothers with their weird behavior. Trying to put on their usual smile, trying to hide away their real emotions but their brothers know them better than they inititally suspected. They could immediately tell that something must have happened.

Words count: 2060

Authors Note: I’m so sorry this took so long! I hope you and your dog are doing better! 💙 I wish I could give you more than words of encouragement and that I managed to get faster to this request, I apologize Please make sure to take care of yourself, alright? Take time for yourself to deal with the stress and anxiety! Make sure to stay hydrated and remember to eat! Even if it’s just something small!

Once again I apologize for the long wait, I felt really bad already and then I kinda put it off because I felt bad.

adhd hit hard again and haven’t checked for typos yet, but will get on it as soon as I can o7

On another note if you want to read another comfort fic; I have a small series called “A Painful Reminder” which is more angsty but the 2nd part is more about the comfort, if that is something for you 

Living in the SMP was chaotic, turbulent and at times downright painful.

Most people tended to gravitate to one cause or other people to deal with this. Holding on to something so they don’t get pulled under. Get buried beneath the chaos and the violence.

So having people like Y/N around was like a godsend. They were one of the few people that seemed to be able to withstand the constant waves of misfortune and stand strong. Be the rock to hold onto when everything got too overwhelming.

Wilbur, Technoblade and Tommy loved their sibling for it.

After Wilbur and Tommy got exiled with Y/N out of L’Manberg, they were there and cheered both of their siblings up. Immediately making plans on how to set up a safe home and collecting ideas on how to get back. They were the one who managed to get a message out to Technoblade and asked him to visit them. Maybe help them.

Wilbur often jokingly said that Y/N was the glue that held the family together, to which they would always reply with the warmest of smiles “I’m glad.”

And what he said was true. Whenever the family fell on hard times and they began to drift apart it was Y/N who pulled all of them back. Pulling them back to reality and giving solutions for their problems if needed.

Sitting down with Wilbur when things got to much. Listening to his thoughts and worries, letting his emotion run freely without judgement. While they looked worried for him, their comforting smile never faltered. Offering him solutions to problems if he wanted it, otherwise they gave him the chance to just air his own thoughts out. To be angry with him. Sad with him.

Working with Tommy on his own projects. Listening to his ideas and giving him a different perspective that could improve some things but also respecting it when Tommy wanted to do this his way. And while he liked to brag and pretend that some things didn’t hit him that hard, they were still patiently listening to him as he spoke about his own pain in a more roundabout way. Telling him that he was not alone and making him feel heard.

Talking to Technoblade whenever the voices got too loud or out of hand again. He would just walk over to them and nudge them away, asking them to talk about something, no matter what. He just needed to hear their voice and be able to concentrate on it. Tune out the garbled voices in his head with a familiar sound that calmed him down no matter what. Leaning against them, slowly falling asleep as Y/N told all about how they were happily working on their own farm and what shenanigans they got up to.

Y/N really was like the warm sun on a cold day. Warming them up and protecting them.

Yes, Y/N was strong. So strong that even Technoblade considered them stronger than him. Maybe not physically but mentally and emotionally.

A clanging of metal rung through the cave. Techno was training with Wilbur while Tommy was just watching. Cheering on Techno.

It wasn’t an unusual situation and something Y/N expected to see as they made their way down the staircase. Wilbur in full iron armor and weapon while Techno just fought back with his own iron sword.

“Hey, Y/N! Welcome back!” Wilbur breathed out. Sweat running down the side of his face as he stopped attacking his brother.

The three men looked happily over to their sibling who slowly walked towards them but soon their expressions fell. Something was off about Y/N and it confused the three.

Their smile was as always plastered on their face but it looked strained. Their eyes wide open, trying to look sincere and loving but the glassy look of them gave off a different picture.

“Y/N? You okay?” Tommy asked as he stood up from the ground. Taking a step closer to them which made them in return stop in their tracks.

Y/N was hugging themself, shakily opening up their mouth to answer but nothing came out. It was then when Techno got very aware of how they were shaking in general.

This all seemed so wrong. This shouldn’t be possible. It just didn’t seem to register fully inside their minds.

Wilbur made sure to get rid off his sword and armor as fast as he could, walking over to his sibling, trying to get a better look at them but they just avoided his gaze.

Staring at the ground, slowly shaking their head “It’s- It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t. You really aren’t. What happened? Did they find you?” Techno asked, his voice full with worry. A bit of anger hidden as well.

Y/N had their own little farm in order to support Pogtopia. The potatoes from Techno were great but variety is important after all. Though they also had an abundance of wheat they usually tried to smuggle into Manberg for Niki. Trying to help her out as much as possible with her taxes and work.

This time Y/N nodded “They did… It’s fine though. I’m fine. I’m not hurt. It’s all good.”

Wilbur’s frown deepened “Usually when people have to be so adamant about being okay something isn’t alright.”

Tommy nodded, supporting his statement only to whisper to himself “Adamant? What does-“

But Wilbur continued “We are your family, talk to us.”

Y/N licked their chapped lips “I’m-“

The tears finally escaped their eyes and begun streaming down their face. Sobbing they fell down on the ground. Wilbur immediately followed suit, laying his arm around them and pulling them against his chest. His hand flew up to their head and begun going through their hair, trying to calm them down. Humming a soft tune from their childhood.

It was the first time in their lives they saw Y/N break down like that and it was quite frankly shocking.

Unsure what to do with himself Tommy squatted down “Um, uh, what- what happened?”

Techno was still gripping the iron sword in his hand. Pacing up and down. Manberg found them? What the hell did they do to make Y/N break down like that? His own sibling! Whatever it was he would make sure to pay it back a thousand times over.

“Tommy can you grab them some water?” Wilbur laid his chin on top of Y/N’s head, rubbing circles now on their back.

He didn’t even hesitate, jumping up to run towards one of the chests with food items that Y/N had always ready for them. Grabbing a water bottle and running back over. Happy that he could do something else besides staring.

Tommy then pushed the bottle towards Y/N who gratefully took it, putting some space between them and Wilbur as they drank some of the cold liquid which helped them to calm down.

“You ready to tell us what happened?” Techno stopped pacing around. His gaze purely trained on his crying sibling. Anger still rising in him just like the voices.

Screaming things like “Technosib! How dare they hurt them! Protect them! I love Y/N so much! Why would anyone hurt Y/N! They always help us! Let’s help them for a change! Technosib! Let’s go out and fight them! Yeah! Blood for the Blood God and Y/N!”

Y/N’s voice was still wavering and a bit scratchy from their sobbing as they begun speaking “Hey, hey! Techno don’t concentrate on the voices. Listen to me. It’s all good.”

This somehow made Techno angry. He threw the sword away and finally knelt down next to them as well so his face was on the same eye level as theirs “Stop. Please. Stop thinking about us for one second. Stop trying to not make us uncomfortable or worried! Tell us what happened! Please.”

He was basically begging at the last part. All his worry packed into it.

“Yeah, honestly you trying to make sure everything is okay for us makes us even more worried.” It surprised the others a bit that this came from Tommy but he was correct.

Tears fell down their face again “I- I was just delivering more wheat to Niki and someone must have followed me. They followed me back to my farm and- and- they burned my fields down. There were explosions. I- it was just my farm. I did not harm. Just, why does it always have to end like this. Why do all the good things always end like this. Why can’t this place let something be. There is always something.”

The farm was so important to Y/N. It was their little project they put so much sweat, love and work into. It was their home away from home. A place to retreat and enjoy some peace. This obviously was devastating. It was their one thing they had for themself. The one thing that wasn’t there for anyone else but them.

It was also clear that this seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and it broke the three a bit that they only now seemed to notice this. That it took that long and their whole farm being destroyed for the realize this was heartbreaking.

“Who?” Techno urged but Y/N shook their head.

“I don’t know. Everything went so fast and I tried to save as much as I could but- but it’s all gone. It’s all gone.” Their voice jumped up an octave at the end, burying their face against Wilbur’s shoulder again. Silently sobbing.

It should have been impossible but Wilbur’s frown deepened and his expression turned more grim “Don’t worry. We will get back at them. We will get our revenge. They will see firsthand what they did to you, I promise.”

Shocked Y/N looked up, their red and puffy eyes wide open “Wil, that’s not what I- no revenge. There is already too much misery going around I just want this to stop. I just want all of us being able to live in peace.”

Wilbur should have known that Y/N was too good natured for that but he couldn’t help himself. He was just so angry. Angry at Schlatt and Manberg. That they went for him was one thing but to go out of their way to treat Y/N like this? Let’s just say he put it on the list in bold letters with reasonings on why he will get back at the Manberg faction.

“Listen Y/N.” Techno begun, his voice now calm again “Stop it. Just for once think about yourself. Stop thinking about others for once. You are also worthy of the same care you give us. Let us at least help rebuild your farm. You always help us with our projects, let us help you with yours.”

Tommy seemed to lit up at that “That sounds like a good idea! We could build towers around your new farm and make sure no one gets in! We could put down traps and all!”

He really wasn’t sure how to react but that was at least something he could do for them. As the past General’s right hand man, this should be something he can do. If he couldn’t protect his sibling how could he ever hope to get L’Manberg back.

Wilbur seemed to think about it for a bit but agreed “Yeah, how does that sound?” Though the dark glint in his eyes stayed. The cogs in head still running off with his own thoughts.

“You guys would? Since when can you guys build?” a dry laugh escaped them but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Both Tommy and Wilbur looked almost appalled at that claim while Techno just shrugged and nodded. Just looking around Pogtopia was more functioning than good looking after all. Y/N tried to pretty it up a bit but usually something always happened around here.

“Also Y/N, please talk to us more. Don’t bottle everything up. Please. We worry a lot about you and we love you. You always do so much for us, let us do the same.” Wilbur pushed Y/N a bit off of him and looked them deep into their eyes, hoping that this would really hammer in that this was a genuine plea.

As a respone Y/N wiped the tears off their face “I understand. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Don’t try just do it.”

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: angst, smut, fluff, platonic anthony beauvillier x reader, swearing, sexual/suggestive themes, and the whole fwb mess

↳ genre: roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+ minors dni*

↳ length: series; part one (3.1k), part two, part three, part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn 

↳ track: body language by big sean, haunted by beyonce, nobody’s business by rihanna

note: this idea came to me while i was working on another wip so kind of an impulse thing again ig zz this will definitely be a multi-part imagine tho still not sure how many but nonetheless this is part one! i hope yall would like it and do lmk what u think :’))

The first time was an accident. The second was a mistake. And the third, — is there even a word for it?

“I can’t believe I’m having sex with you for the third time.” you pant, catching your breath, rolling your eyes at the man playing off his signature smug grin on top of you. 

“Do you want me to stop then?” he teases, pulling half of his dick out slowly in the most antagonizing manner, letting you sit in despair for having made such an insensitive remark. 

“We both know you can’t.” you smirk. “You have the hots for me, Barzy.” 

You bite his lips when he leaned in for a kiss.

“Always so cocky.” he hums, voice husk and hot in agreement just as he puts himself back inside you— treating himself with what seems to be the best morning sex he’s ever had.

You wrap your arms around his nape and your legs around his waist. You moan in his lips all the while Mat continues to slam his weight against you, going at a pace quite moving for your morning affairs. 

But as the two of you drown in the heat of the moment, a knock on the door was more than enough to send shivers down both of your spine. You meet each other’s eyes, panic evident in an instant.

“Shit.” Mathew grunts.

“Y/N! You up?�� Anthony knocks at the other side of the door. You were fast to shot Mathew a knowing look, urging him to zip himself and utter no word. 

“Y-Yeah!” You caught yourself stifling a moan when Mathew did the exact opposite of what was asked of him and tauntingly moved inside you. You glare at him, uttering a silent “fuck.” when he takes your mouth yet again. 

“I’ll hit the shower then let’s have breakfast, ‘s that good?” Anthony asks, his voice loud in an effort to be heard. 

You reply carelessly, “Sure, yes! Be there in a minute!” 

You hold Mathew’s shoulder, stopping him from whatever madness he was trying to inflict on you before you completely lose your mind. He lets out a small laugh and starts nibbling your ear. His tongue draw wet circles on your skin whilst you make sure that the innocent left-winger is nowhere near your door.

Once you’re sure the two of you were no longer compromised, you release your hold on Mathew. You then let your hand travel back to his nape, the other settling on his strong arm. 

“You have five minutes, mister.” you say in command.

Knowing that he wasn’t one to back down on a challenge, Mathew’s lips crashed against yours seconds after you’ve given him an ultimatum. His hand carelessly grips on your waist as the two of you grind on each other, working to meet your own highs before Anthony steps out of his bathroom. You exchange suppressed moans in each other’s lips, whimpering at how good Mathew’s groans sound in your ear.

“Four minutes.” you remind him. 

“Would you stop counting? I’m trying to concentrate here.” Mat breathes at once; still with a mission in mind. His candidness makes you laugh. 

“My bad.” you cage his cheeks with both of your hands to lock him in another kiss. This time, your hips meeting his pelvis in sync as you finally feel yourself nearing your own edge. 

Mathew seems to have understood your body language and started to pick up at a progressive speed, burying himself further inside you in spite of your cunt constricting him whole. The warmth of your walls do unexplainable wonders for him. He knew he wouldn’t last long enough after you came. Once he meets your end with one final stroke, he lets himself go, exploding inside your walls, still with a whole minute to spare. 

He playfully bites your shoulder before pulling himself out, discarding the used condom and tossing it out straight into your bin. You watch him gather his stuff and start dressing himself; a sight laid forth exclusively for you. 

“I still have sixty seconds, wanna go again?” he kids amidst already putting his boxers and pants on. He runs a hand through his messed up hair once he was settled.

“You just never shut up, don’t you?” you sarcastically ask, throwing your head back with a small laugh. 

“Five minutes? On command?” He taunts, shaking his head with nothing but thick arrogance. “‘Course, I’ll never shut up, y/n.” 

“Well, Beau’s definitely not gonna if he ever finds out about this, so go and get your ass out of here.” you order, throwing his sweater that miraculously ended up on top of one of your lamp shades from your unexpected shenanigan last night.

He throws it over his head the moment he catches it with ease, “French toasts?” he asks, bobbing his pretty brows up and down.

“Fine. Now, get lost so I could get dressed.” 

𖥸 

You let the warm water hit your skin running like beads down every inch of your body. With closed eyes, you try to remove the image of you and Mathew running inside your head endlessly. The image of how he knocked on your door in the middle of the night, how you willingly gave in his kisses, how he effortlessly owned your lips without having to say a word, and how just like the other night, you’ve let yourself be lured by a man whose quirks you hated the most— maybe even a little too much for you to find yourself moaning his name first thing in the morning. Regardless of all that, no matter how much you tell yourself that it’s wrong, you just can’t. Because deep down, even if you haven’t realized it yet, it felt right. 

Things between you and Mathew have been in between exchanges of decencies and civility when he temporarily moved in with you and Beau. He decided to leave his apartment and find a better one after almost a year of living in that hell bent a few blocks away from you and Anthony’s. 

He wasn’t really fond of his former apartment being that his upstairs neighbor was obnoxiously loud and the man that lives from across the hall had badly trained dogs that barked incessantly at the tiniest sound in the middle of the night. Anthony didn’t even see the point of him living in that place. Nevertheless, he gladly took him in when he heard him talking about it with Marts in the dressing room.

You and Anthony have always dreamt of living in the city. You remember talking about it during afternoons spent over each other’s homes, doing each other’s homework or letting Beau force you to be his attending goalie just so he could practice his shots more. That’s why when you watched him go up that stage to receive his Islander sweater the night he got drafted, you knew you had to pull through and exert more effort in order to make that life long dream come true. 

Lo and behold, after his rookie year, a letter came in confirming that you’ve passed and got into a prestigious university in the city. Anthony was over the moon when you phoned him the night you got the confirmation. He immediately made plans and assured you that he already had prepared a place for you to stay in his apartment. No, scratch that, your shared apartment. 

You were just thankful to have him by your side all the way. He had been with you through all your highs and lows and the mere thought of working on your respective careers, all whilst still having each other’s backs, is probably what kept you going through all these years. 

He was the brother you never had. He was there to celebrate with you in your proudest moments, and he was there— in his sweatpants, holding a giant tub of your favourite ice cream even if it meant having to crush his body more in training just so he could be with you as you get through another one of your break ups. He was there. Both wins and losses, and all the ugly and the bad in between. He was there.

When you first got on the Island, Anthony had already taken care of all the stuff you were just worrying about back home. He picked you up at the airport with the same giant smile beaming on his face. There wasn’t anything much to do besides you finally moving in. He even had a whole closet designated for your clothes and a personal space you’d be glad enough to call your own so it would be convenient enough for you. However, when you did move in, it seemed that Anthony had forgotten about a minor yet significant detail that ought to change, perhaps even derail the whole dynamic between you and your best friend. 

Or in this case, his best friend.

To look back on all the years you and Anthony have spent together, you were most certainly sure about one thing. He was dumb. Although meeting Mathew years ago shed a different light, for that man, despite sharing most of Tito’s best qualities and appalling idiosyncrasies, was just what borderline stupidity that not even yours and Anthony’s awful quirks combined could justify how much Mathew’s dumbassery got into your nerves. That’s why when that night happened, you’ve sworn to yourself that you will never let Mathew lay a hand on you ever again.

Then again, promises aren’t meant to be kept.

The first time was an accident. 

The second was a mistake,— a mistake that you profusely shoved at the back of your head but still vividly remember. 

You have been avoiding Mathew for the past two days since the first incident. That, unfortunately, also includes the unusual kindness you spare your naive best friend out of guilt. You haven’t realized Mat was even at home when you came out of the kitchen, holding one of Tito’s guilty pleasures aka New York’s finest cheesecake.

“Oh.” Mat stops mid-sentence, unsure of how he’s suddenly at a loss of words to whatever the hell it was that he was telling Beau. 

“Hey.” he casually nods, dismissing the awkward air that eerily sat between the two of you, your chest calming the second you see that Tito didn’t pick up on any of it. 

“Hey.” you acknowledged with a tight smile. 

“Dessert?” you offer, putting the round diet-ruining piece of mouthful calories at the center of the table. Too much for living in a house with professional athletes, right?

You cut Tito a more generous sliver than what he would normally have. He shot you an unsure look but you insisted. After all, you were already feeling shitty for having nailed his other best friend, who at the time was shooting subtle yet hintful looks your way, trying so hard to avoid how incredibly hot you’ve become before his eyes. 

You feel so exposed under his gaze so you figured facing him and acting as if nothing had happened would be the best way to deal with whatever predicament you and Mathew were in. However, as if on cue, Anthony moans– his eyes closed, savouring a spoonful of light and moist cheesecake in his mouth, devoid of the madness unfolding exclusively for him.

“I swear on my life, it gets better when you get to taste it more than once.” he muses.

Mathew, who had his mouth latched on the rim of his drink, almost drowns himself and ends up coughing wildly, his chest burning under all the liquid he’s wrongfully inhaled.

“Barz, what the fuck!” Tito reprimands, putting more attention (mostly concern) to saving the cheesecake than his best friend. “The hell is wrong with you?”

You did nothing but hold the silverware tightly in your fist, forcing whatever normalcy you still have left for a reaction, choosing not to take part in any of Mat’s inexorable recklessness. 

“Sorry.” he apologizes half-heartedly, clearly saying the word Tito wanted to hear. 

Mat then clears his throat, unknowingly painting quite a sight for you as you watched the knob of his Adam’s apple move in a way that accentuated his chiseled jaw and his all too flushed cheeks, making you swallow hard– remembering what went down the day before yesterday.

In an effort to relieve yourself from the impending embarrassment you begin feeling in between your thighs, you stand, taking Tito’s half-eaten plate not caring about how he was far from being finished, “Do you really want to finish this or should I call your trainer?” 

Anthony only rolls his eyes, choosing his battles. 

“Geez. Relax, Mom.” he chuckles, earning himself a firm smack in the head from you. 

You pay no attention to his exaggerated wail nor the man sitting quietly beside him. The same man who was rather preoccupied in eyeing the flesh shining under the well-lit apartment, allowing himself a perfectly good vantage point of the tight shorts that embraced your all too immaculate ass.

Thank god Mathew had the initiative and presented to do the dishes himself. You were tired from whipping out dinner for the boys considering that they’re the same blokes that once attempted to teach you how to make a mean grilled-cheese sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil under the heat of a flat iron. Which, by the way, is a bad idea.

𖥸

You had just gone out the bathroom, relieved of the tension and stress from a warm bath you’ve thrown yourself. Your hands travel down your thigh, putting your favourite lotion on as you get ready for bed. Your mind, for one thing, was miles away. You were able to do the one thing you have explicitly told yourself not to when Mat moved into your home. Sure you shared the occasional banters and bickering and whatnot — maybe even argue throughout the process, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t find him attractive at all. 

You were a decent human being, yes. But you were far from being a saint.

You were already making your way to your bed, a hand loosening your night robe to reveal a matching satin sleep dress that mirrored the New York night sky however an unexpected knock on your door refrained you from doing so. You sigh, thinking what Anthony could have possibly wanted so late into the night. You begrudgingly twist and re-do the silk tie that held your delicates underneath as you make your way to the door. 

The cold brass knob enveloped your hands, “What now Beau— oh.”

“Hi.” he says at once, lips almost falling agape at the sight, immediately feeling his mouth dry. A shy smile compensates for it instead.

It’s not like you were so secretive nor subtle about it, but Mathew did pick up on the sudden change that befell the two of you after that night. Sure, he did want you. He still wants you in fact. But he wasn’t a total ass. He wanted to make sure that you were okay and that he’d gladly step aside because that night, despite giving him unsought boners quite recently just by thinking about it, still needed to be addressed so he could clear things out because the last thing he’d want to do was to ruin his friendship with you and Tito. He knew how much you meant to him. He has a sister, for crying out loud. He knew full well not to screw with women. 

Not unless he was given permission. 

“Hi.” you return his polite smile. 

“What– What are you doing here?” you try to act as candid as possible. Although, not helping at all if you had asked Mathew.

His hand instantly finds his nape, “I know I wasn’t the only one at fault here. But I—” 

You immediately cut him off, opening the door wider to invite him in. 

“Beau might get out for a glass of water.” you say, briefly eyeing the hallway.

Mathew obliged, clearly not wanting to be seen by the oblivious winger either. He makes his way into your bedroom. He runs his long and vice-like fingers on his lips, thinking about how he’d walk you through it. 

“Look, I know what happened the other night was a huge mistake.” he starts, gray eyes darting through yours, testing the waters. 

When you avoid his gaze and hug yourself to hold your composure before sitting at the end of your bed, he only follows and speaks again, “I just–” he takes a moment to breathe, “I didn’t want to mess anything up. And it felt like I did because if I didn’t, you wouldn’t be avoiding me, right?” he asks, his voice started in a definitive tone. So sure of himself, only to be rendered mute in the end. 

You let out a sigh, letting your guard down, tucking some of your hair at the back of your ear. You knew that this would eventually come up. If he hadn’t knocked on your door, sure enough you’d be finding yourself knocking on his for the same matter. 

“That night– ” you say, fidgeting with your fingers. “It shouldn’t have happened.” 

You look up to find his face inches away from you. Neither of you realized how the dip of your bed has made you close to each other, all stripped down of your personal spaces. You search for his eyes through the dim of your night light, his nose ghosting over your cheeks as Mat tries to pull his shit together. 

“It shouldn’t have.” he answers meekly, clearly his words going against what willed his body.

“Bad bad mistake.” you faintly whisper, your lips lingering too close to the fire.

Mathew needs to make sure. He knew he needed it bad. You just have to let him know you did too. 

Your eyes meet his but his irises flicker quickly to the soft material safely resting in between his fingers. Satin ties. 

You feel him tug onto it lightly, shooting his shot. If you take his hand, he’ll back away and he would no longer push it.

You didn’t.

“So bad.” he mutters, his lips stirring whatever it was that needed to be stirred.

This time, Mat pulls the tie further, loosening its hold around your waist. You don’t budge and he feels his chest tighten even more.

Instead you look down his alabaster fingers, watching the material weave through it as Mat extends it to push your loosened robe apart. You don’t say a word when you meet his eyes again. 

And that’s how Mathew knew you wanted the same thing too.

[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

[auramindedd]

I Like You - SMAU*

Part 10

CorpseHusband x FemReader - Y/N

warnings: cussing

notes: uhhh,, idk where to take this series, but ima just go w the flow igs �� also,, i completely give up on adding the small details like the likes, comments, replies, and the times on tweets so i’m super sorry if it bothers you lmao

it’s also pretty long,, mostly writing rather than the smau, butttt i really like this one 🥺

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“When’s Rae gonna be home?” Corpse asks, playing with his hands.

“She’ll be home tonight, I just don’t know at what time. Why?”

“Uh... I- I just... I don’t know? I’m kind of nervous?”

“Corpse, Rae is your friend. But if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get a hotel room for you not too far away from here?” You suggest, 100% willing to pay for a hotel room for him if he wouldn’t feel comfortable being here with Rae here.

“I wanna stay here- with you... If that’s okay with you, of course.” There’s a slight blush on his face, it makes you smile a bit.

“Yes, I want you to stay here, too. You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” You grab his plate, stacking his on top of yours, taking them to the sink.

“No, no. I can be on the couch tonight, I don’t sleep anyway.”

“Corpse, I’m not gonna have you sleep on that uncomfortable ass couch. Come on, we’ll figure something out. Wanna watch a movie?” He nods his head. You grab his hand, or more so his fingers, leading him to your room.

You turn the lights off, turning your fairy lights on instead. You tell Corpse to get comfortable, fluffing pillows for him, letting him lay back.

You know Corpse would be a bit anxious and nervous, not something you’d ever blame him for. You’re surprised you’re not being awkward or nervous. You’ve been trying your best to keep Corpse comfortable here, making sure he isn’t getting too nervous.

“Can we watch High School Musical? I have the stupid ass songs stuck in my head, childish me is coming...” You ask, not wanting to torture him with such a movie. Well, it’s not a bad movie, but you’d understand if anyone’d want to shoot themselves in the head while watching.

“Of course, baby.” You can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach from the nickname. You sit closer to the TV, wanting Corpse to be comfortable rather than you.

Suddenly, you feel a hand around your waist. Corpse pulls you to him, letting you lay next to him. He looks at you, smiling. You smile back.

“Corpse, can I ask you a question?” He hums, indicating for you to go on. “That one time, you didn’t answer me for two days... You told me it had been because I was too ‘pretty.’ I didn’t believe you, and I still don’t. Why didn’t you answer me, like for real?” You don’t ask this in a bad way either, you’re just genuinely curious.

“I- uh... I’m going to be 100% honest, Y/N, but I don’t wanna scare you away.” He says cautiously, hesitating to go on.

“Corpse, you could never. I’m too attached already.” He chuckles, letting out a sigh.

“I like you. Like, like like you... I liked you before even seeing your face, but after, wow.” Silence. Deafening silence. But honestly, you can hear your fucking smile. You don’t think you’ve ever smiled so hard in your life. “Y/N, baby, say something, please.”

“Corpse,” You look up at him, probably scaring him with your smile. “I like you, too. Like, like like you.” He chuckles, but it’s more of a chuckle of relief. If that’s a thing?

He pulls you close to him, letting your head rest on his chest. You listen to his heartbeat, his breathing, trying to match yours with his. You slowly drift off, your eyelids getting too heavy to keep open.

———

You wake up in Corpse’s arms. He’s gently stroking your side, looking down at you with a small smile.

“Good morning,” His voice is raspier and deeper than it already is. You didn’t know that was possible.

“Good morning,” You say, yawning softly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, snuggling closer to him.

“So fucking cute.” He mumbles, softly chuckling.

After a while of just laying there in Corpse’s arms, you decide to check social media and your messages. Already, Twitter is going crazy, assuming quickly that you and Corpse are dating. It’s not anything you didn’t expect, but it’d be nice if people didn’t jump to conclusions.

You decide to tweet a good morning, feeling good about today. And sadly, very unfortunately, you decide to text back the group chat - something you’ve been dreading to do.

Corpse is there, reading the messages, but you don’t mind.

You kind of, accidentally, and very stupidly put yourself out, but it’s all good, nobody said anything besides Brooke. You all have a drunk Among Us lobby to get to.

After getting ready, Corpse getting his laptop and mic ready in another room, you join the Discord call. Corpse joins quickly after. Surprisingly, nobody says anything about you two being in the same apartment while greeting each other. You don’t doubt that someone will say something soon.

“Let’s all take a drink - to Corpse and Y/N holding hands!” Alex exclaims, clinking his glass on his mic. The rest cheer, pretending to clink their glasses as well. You sigh and laugh a bit, but nonetheless, you’re gulping down a glass of champagne.

“Alex,” You say, catching his attention.

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey. No fucking.” Karl says, and you can hear him slap his hand to his mouth after realizing what he just said. The lobby bursts into fits of laughter, but the one you’re trying to listen for, Corpse’s. It’s silent on his end.

“Karl, how much have you had to drink?” Dream asks, slurring his words. Didn’t this game just start?

“I had like 3 beers?”

“You fucking lightweight.” You tease. “Dream, you’ve been drinking too...”

“Yeah, we might’ve pregamed an Among Us game.” He admits shamefully.

“Didn’t expect less from you two,” Rae says, adding a disappointing tone to her voice for effect. She starts the game, despite the sad protests from Karl and Dream.

Crewmate.

You pout, wanting so badly to be Imposter. You’re a good liar to say the least, and people easily fall for your sweet, innocent voice. It’s funny, pathetic even, which is why you want at least one good Imposter round.

“Whaddup, baby,” Corpse greets you in Nav. Dream follows behind him, Karl coming in shortly after.

“Hey, my beautiful alcoholics!” You greet cheerfully, earning groans from them both. Oh, how fun it’s going to be teasing them.

“At least she called us beautiful.” Karl says, walking out of Nav with Dream, leaving you and Corpse alone again. You get back to doing your task, connecting the ship with the dotted lines and whatnot.

“Am I beautiful?” You can hear the pout in his voice, it’s cute.

“Gorgeous, stunning even.” You say before walking out of Nav, smiling to yourself.

This round is pretty uneventful, along with the next few. But after about five rounds, you’re all incredibly drunk after playing some drinking games.

“No balls,” Rae dares. You’re Imposter this round, and Rae’s made you her personal hitman. She’s telling you to kill Karl, but he’s innocently doing his tasks.

“I have three actually.” You defend yourself, not making any sense at all.

“Three what?” Sykkuno comes in.

“Three balls,” Rae answers.

“Okayyy then...” Sykkuno drawls, leaving you two alone. Corpse comes along, the second Imposter. Oh, how convenient.

“Hey, Corpseee,” You greet, making it so fucking obvious.

“Oh my God!” Rae exclaims. You sigh, facepalming yourself. “Corpse kill Karl, Y/N kill Sykkuno.”

“Woah, since when did we become your hitmen?” Corpse backs his astronaut up.

“I’m not killing Syk!” You whisper-yell.

“Okay, then you kill Karl and Corpse can kill Sykkuno.” You can hear her shrugging as if it’s no big deal, but literally, Karl and Sykkuno are the sweetest people to you.

“No, I’m not doing it, Rae...” Corpse still hasn’t said anything. He’s watching you and Rae go back and forth, whisper-yelling even though anyone would be able to hear you.

“I’ll call you two out.”

“You’d never,”

“The emergency meeting button is looking real sexy right now.” Ugh, fuck the stupid smirk you can just hear in her voice.

“Fine, we’ll do it.” Corpse says. He goes and kills Sykkuno. You hesitate killing Karl, but he already watched Corpse kill Sykkuno so, unfortunately, you have to.

You and Corpse run away, leaving Rae to report the bodies.

After you and Corpse vouching for each other the whole round, nobody putting sus on you two because well, you sound so innocent and sweet even while being shitface drunk, you two win, earning groans from everyone in the lobby except from Rae.

“To be fucking fair, Rae had me and Corpse be her hitmen sooo, you can blame her if you died.” The lobby starts yelling playfully at Rae.

———

After finally finishing streaming, Corpse comes into your room, plopping down onto your bed.

“Gosh, I’m gonna have the worst fucking hangover tomorrow.” He murmurs into your pillow, hugging it close to him. You jump onto the bed, sitting next to him, playing with his hair. He doesn’t mind, or you don’t think he does.

“It was fun,” You say, smiling to yourself. You love spending time with your friends. You can’t imagine how much fun it’d be if all of you got together in real life.

“It was,” Corpse yawns, looking up at you, smiling as you keep playing with his hair. He gets up, settling himself into your bed again, pulling you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around him, snuggling yourself closer to him.

“We should probably eat something... And get ourselves some water.” You say, knowing that tomorrow’s hangover is going to be a bitch.

“I don’t wanna let go of you.” Corpse whines. You try getting up, but he almost throws a fucking tantrum. Quickly, you get out of his arms, running out of your room, giggling like a fucking maniac.

“Y/N! Please!” He shouts softly, trying not to wake Rae. He runs after you, following you into the kitchen. You run to the other side of the counter. He goes left, you go right - vice versa.

“Corpse, we need food and water.” You say, trying to grab pans out of the cupboards while he’s trying to get you. You can’t help yourself from giggling. Rae will kill you if you two wake her up.

“I wanna hold you,” Corpse pouts. Gosh, he’s going to be the death of you.

“In a sec, I can make us something real quick.” Drunk Corpse obviously equals Clingy Corpse.

“Fine,” He sighs dramatically, sitting on a stool. You grab pans from underneath the cupboards, pulling out some bread and cheese. Grilled cheese is easiest and it’ll take the least amount of time.

As you’re plopping bread into the toaster, Corpse snakes his arms around your waist, snuggling his face into your neck. There’s the slightest stubble, making you giggle.

“Corpse, I can’t cook with you on me.”

“Yes you can, I’ll help.” So stubborn...

You take the bread out of the toaster before it gets too toasted, putting it on the buttered pan.

It was a mission to finish the food to say the least. Corpse demands you eat in your room that way he can hold you. You put on The Promised Neverland, watching the TV as Corpse watches you. But honestly, you don’t mind.

You two fall asleep in each other’s arms again. And you don’t think you’d ever be able to fall asleep without being in his arms again.

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Taglist - comment or message me to be added.

Sorry for not updating, I have to go through a bunch of posts. I’ll update in the next post.

* if you’re name is in bold, i couldn’t tag you. *

@letsloveimagines @liljennyx3 @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @blackheartemojivibes @lo-manburg @walkingonchairs @strawberrydonkey @tayloryorkscurls @bluepancakemix @prettylittlealiengirl @yeetmymood @victoria-a567 @loraleiix @moonlightsimp @jades-bullshit @teenloves @greenie-of-shield @fanworrior @thefvckvp @bigdaddysatan @mirahg @rosy-feels @arossebyanyothername @kitsamii @lollipop0605 @happyyyandcrazyyy @maraudingmarauder @stickystrawberrysyrup @majasophieanna @ilovejjmaybank @starstruckllamapuppy @owl-llie @thurstyforholland @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @in-fucking-deed @a-dot-dev @rjsmochii @boiled-onionrings @neenieweenie @vvenusblue @bellomi-clarke @smiithys @londonskies @16marie @leah-0207 @officiallyunofficialperson @wineandionysus @fanficlover99

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Tags - ignore::

[slutdery]

Swimming in the money like royalty.

make a wish series.

A series (for each member of the unit) about their lines in make a wish (english version).

pairing | jaehyun x fem!reader

genre | smut, fluff (ig)

words | 2.2k

warning | exhibitionism, fingering, mature content, sex without protection (use condom pls!), degradation (just a little bit), dom!jaehyun.

author’s not | my native language isn’t english, so if there’s something wrong with anything i wrote tell me and i’ll edit it...

You had a pretty busy life, running all over campus everyday. It was actually really boring until the weekend arrived. Every weekend you traveled to Itaewon with your best friend, after all you needed to escape from your reality sometimes. Always the same routine: You get in Itaewon, meet a new girl/boy and tell them lies about yourself. You know it wasn't something nice to do but you couldn't stop doing it, after all it was pretty fun being someone you weren't.

Walking through the streets of the 'City that never dies.' trying to find a good club to go with your friend. After finding one you got on the line waiting for your time to enter. It was several minutes waiting with lots people behind and in front of  you, but finally it was your turn.

🌟

It was so crowded and the music was so loud that you could feel in your heartbeat, making you wanna just get out of there, but you didn't. You wanted to at least try to enjoy the night, but god there was so much people bumping into you.

"Drink. It'll make you feel better."

Your friend told you while giving you a cocktail, you took it from her hand and drank all of it in seconds.

"Like hell it would."

A song that you really liked started playing 'Finally something to enjoy.'. You walked through the club stopping next to the bar so you wouldn't have to walk to get the drinks, and it was a lot easier to dance since there weren't many people around. Dancing to your favorite song with your friend, your hips moving to the sides while passing your hands through your waist 'Tonight i'm a bitch.' you thought and made your moves even sexier. Maybe it was the drink going to your brain already or just you wanting to escape your 'Good girl' life. Your eyes met a interesting guy propped against the wall. He had a sharp face and thick cheekbones, his cupid bow's were the definition of perfection. He was looking at you as you moved, all of his attention on your body motions. Your moves stopped as the music changed, it was a really bad one that you didn't even wanted to hear it. You ordered a drink on the bar and drank a little bit as soon as the bartender gave the order to you. You didn't find the pretty guy when you looked at the place he was, he simply disappeared in the middle of the club. 'He was cute.' you thought and kept drinking the cocktail.

🌟

It got way more crowded than before and people started bumping into you again, it was so uncomfortable to the point that made you just leave the place. Your friend was still inside enjoying with some girl she met, of course you didn't wanted to disturb her so you just left. You stayed in the front of the club and closed your eyes as you felt the cold wind kiss your supple skin, it was so good the way that you felt free. You heard someone cleaning their throat and opened your eyes to look at the person, for your surprise it was the good looking guy from before. His face lighten by the streetlights made him even prettier than inside of the club. His face proportions was amazing, you were speechless. "Godlike" was the only thing that left your mouth while your eyes studied all of his face.

"Sorry, what?"

You got your hands to your mouth as soon as you realized that you said it out loud, but he just giggled making you feel comfortable with the situation. He had a cigarette on his nice lips. The smoke reached your face when he let it out, making you cough a little.

"You think i'm Godlike?"

"I wanna kiss you."

His eyes widened when he heard what you said. He wasn't expecting hearing such a thing from you, cause you didn't seem like a shameless girl. You didn't know if he was thinking about what you said or not, cause his face carried no emotions at all.

"Then be about it if you gonna say that shit."

"I mean it."

You took a step ahead and held his wrist bringing him closer to you. Your face was close to his that you could smell the mint of his menthol cigarette, it was such a nice scent.

"Oh, slow down there. I don't think this is the perfect place for this."

"Yeah?"

You smirked at him making his ears turn red by the sexy action. You placed a kiss in the tip of his pretty nose and stepped back to the place you were before.

"There's a park next to where we're, we could talk more comfortable there, if you want. Of course. My name is Y/N."

"Oh, i didn't know there was a park near. Yes, we can go there. My name is Jaehyun."

🌟

You were sitting on a bench with a awkward silence that made you feel like he didn't wanted to be there, but he surprised you getting closer to the spot you were sitting, suddenly putting his hand on your thigh. You gasped from the sudden touch, making him regret what he just did. But he didn't moved his hands, cause he was too afraid it would make the whole situation even more awkward than already was.

"I don't think this is something i need to tell you, cause i don't like bragging about myself. But i need to break the silence in some way. I'm a prince."

"Oh, seriously? How didn't i recognized you? I'm so dumb, oh my God."

He caressed your thigh, passing his thumbs slowly in the skin. He had soft hands and a lovely touch, besides his hands were pretty too. Veins jumping through his skin, making you think of what would it feels like having his fingers inside. 'No! You just met him, come on.' you washed your thoughts away and got back to paying attention to what the prince was saying.

"So every weekend i run away from the big house and come to Itaewon."

"Oh, i do almost the same, but without the 'Run away' part. I live alone actually so i don't have to ask for anyone's permission."

"I wish i had your life."

"And i wish i had yours."

His fingers moved for the first time, getting slowly closer to your groin, his hand spread your legs a bit, making you feel the cold wind in your clothed pussy. That sent shivers down your spine, his soft touch made you realize how wet you already were. His hands tracing your inner thigh, until he stopped next to your panty. His fingers palmed your clit at a slow pace through the fabric, as you felt the sensation of the touch you let out a moan in protest. He wasn't rushing to do anything, calmly stopping his motions and pulling your lingerie to the side. Now, the chilly breeze directly into your cunt, making you close your eyes and sight. Back again with his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin, but now without anything on the way, you felt a moan leaving your mouth as he started moving faster. His fingers sometimes teasing your entrance, until he finally entered his middle finger inside. He made it harder for you to hold back the moans when he pulled another finger, curling the two of them into you, touching the tip of it on your spot. One moment the two of you were making eye contact and the another one you were kissing. The kiss wasn't awkward at all like all the first ones should be. His perfect lips against yours while his fingers were inside of you, you let out heavy breaths into the kiss. Your hands moving until it reached his face, pulling him closer, holding each sides of his chubby cheeks. It was warm and perfectly matched, like his lips were meant to kiss yours. He pulled away after minutes kissing, chasing for air. But his hands didn't stopped moving down there, still making you groan every time he curled his fingers more.

"You look so good with my fingers inside you, princess."

His fastened his moved inside, hitting your G-spot so well. Your moans were so loud that he put his other hand on your mouth, making you just shut up. You felt a knot being made on your stomach, you were so close to get what you wanted but he stopped. Leaving you there without your orgasm, you sighed as you felt the feeling disappear.

"If you want to cum you better beg."

"Can you please just fuck me?"

"Here?" He widened his eyes thinking about the offer in such a place. The place you choose hadn't many people around, making just the two of you on that side of the park. But still it was something to be afraid of, but that aroused you even more.

"Yes, here."

"So needy, angel."

He got his fingers out of your hole, making you gasp from the sudden move, cause all of his motions were slow and calm. He unbuttoned his pants, pulling it just a bit down, he did the same with his underwear, revealing his hardened cock. His dick wasn't big, nor small. He had a pretty pink tip and lots of veins jumping through the skin, just like his hands. You got up from where you were sitting and stood in front of him, waiting for courage to do this on a public place. You quickly knelt on the bench, putting your legs on each sides of his body. After finding an comfortable position, you grabbed the basis of his dick and slowly sat on it, finally feeling the head of his cock entering you. His length invading your hole, making you form moans every time his dick entered more, finally all of it was inside.

"Move your hips like you did when you were dancing, baby."

You waited until if felt comfortable enough to move, resting your arms on his shoulders. You started wiggling on his lap, his dick was so deep inside of you that lots of moans left your mouth, it was so hot doing it on a public place. Your moves were calm, feeling all of his length on you, making you so vocal.

"You'd better be quiet or everyone's going to know what a naughty little slut you are."

His hands reached your waist helping you move better. Yours otherwise traveled from his shoulders to his hair, forming a little ponytail with his medium hair, then pulling his head closer. Face so close that you could smell the scent of his perfume, a sweet fragrance. In response of his piercing gaze on your lips you bit it in a teasingly way, making him eagerly put his lips together with yours. Groans from each side into the sloppy kiss. Your heart was beating so fast, the fear of being caught made you more wet. Always you heard an noise in the middle of the trees you moved faster, thinking of the sensation of someone looking you like this. He pulled his mouth away from yours, getting closer to your neck, with one of his hands he brushed your hair out of your neck and tilted it. His breath against your skin made your whole body shivers. He wet kissed all over it, leaving hickeys too.

"Cum for me, angel" He whispered in your ear biting your lobe and letting out a low moan.

"Can i?" You asked and got your moves faster as you saw that he nodded at you. His lips back to your neck sending you more pleasure. You found a move that the head of his dick started hitting your g-spot, you couldn't hold back anymore, feeling the knot being built again, but now you could let it out. You closed your eyes as you felt the orgasm finally arriving, your walls clenched around his dick, making both let out loud moans. His dick twisted inside of you, seconds later feeling his load fill you, it was so hot being like this. You rested your head on his and left a peck on his lips.

"You look so pretty like this." He told you while caressing your hair.

After some minutes like this you finally recomposed yourself and got out of his lap, letting a groan leave your throat as his length left you. He buttoned his pants and sat beside you again, resting his head on your shoulder and rubbing it like a little kitten.

"Can i get your number? Or princes shouldn't gave this to commoners?" You joked, making him chuckle and shake his head to the sides.

"No, but you're special." He picked his phone from his pocket and gave it to you after unlocking it, you wrote your number and saved as "Princess" giggling at your stupidity.

"I have to go, but my wish is to see you again. Can you fulfill it, prince?"

"Of course, my princess." Both of you laughed and got up from the bench. Leaving one last peck on his lips and walking back to the club to find your friend.

Maybe he was really different, since he were the only one you didn’t lied about yourself.