#the gangs favourite weather

[columba1234]

I love the cold darkness month you know...

the dead heat of summer vs the frozen wastes of winter idk i saw this before but with january and that just didnt sit right with me

[cowboygenesis]

18+ knuckle up | astarion x reader

summary: after a drunken night and a dumb bet you're left in an emotional (and physical) chokehold by your favourite vampire companion.

pairing: astarion ancunin x afab!bard!reader tags: 18+, smut, fluff, switch dynamics, m/f, fingering, unprotected sex, resolved tension, playfighting, sex after training session. word count: 7.8k notes: this fic was SO fun to write even if im a gale girlie myself. this is my first attempt at writing ANY bg3 character, so i really hope i did okay. if not, let me know! comments help me improve my writing (and warm my heart, seriously, thanks to anyone taking the time out of their day to comment). anyways gang, no beta as ALWAYS, you know how we roll. ENJOY! masterlist.

It still made little sense to you.

You had honed your skills at the most prestigious music schools in Faerûn for years, pouring your heart into every note, every chord, only to find yourself shamelessly ridiculed for an entirely different kind of performance. And by a man you’d grown to like, no less.

"Get up, darling," Astarion’s voice drips with amusement, the self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips with infuriating smugness. His crimson eyes watch you with a predatory glint, locking onto your vulnerable form sprawled in the dirt—a definitive result of his frustratingly agile moves.

You groan lowly, propping yourself up on bruised elbows, wincing as a dull ache pulses through your body. A stray lock of hair falls in front of your face, and you blow it away in frustration.

"I’m starting to think this isn’t educational at all." You glare at him with all the venom you can muster, eyebrows furrowed as his arms cross.

Your eyes absentmindedly scan down his body, taking note of his slightly disheveled shirt and tousled hair. He looks… good. Beautiful, even. Basking in the soft moonlight seeping through the vast greenery above, he stands there like he’s in his element.

He chuckles, seemingly unbothered by your vapid tone. "Oh, but it is, my dear. Think of it as a new, humbling experience. Valuable in its own right."

You bite back a retort as he offers you a hand, his expression making your eye twitch. You never thought you’d fall for arrogance, yet ironically it’s your own conceit that might have brewed your upcoming downfall.

After a particularly boisterous night of drinking in camp—brought on by the recent victory over a pack of gnolls—you foolishly accepted Astarion’s challenge to best him in hand-to-hand combat. Your alcohol-addled brain had been more confident than your body, and now, after a series of harsh jabs and sidesteps, you were being taught the harsh reality of “real” combat.

Defeated, you eventually obliged a quick lesson from the master himself, which he had (admittedly suspiciously) made you take after losing your bet.

At the very least, the bruising would rid you of your lingering hangover once you were done taking the thrashing. Plus, you hoped it would bring you two closer. Figuratively and physically.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your hesitation. "Come now, my dear, don’t be so stubborn. You seemed so eager at first,"

"You told me you’d teach me to fight, not fall on my damn face," you lament, but begrudgingly accept his help, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

His grip is firm, and the coolness of his skin sends a small jolt of electricity down your spine. You had often imagined what holding his hand would feel like during the colder nights alone in your tent, and while the circumstances ended up being less than ideal, it was good enough for you. For now.

You rub at your sore arm with a frown and catch that Astarion, unmistakably, stands completely unscathed, his pale complexion almost glowing in the ambient light.

"I’m thinking…” he muses, glancing at the weathered lyre resting peacefully by the roots of a tree. His lips curl into a smirk, and you can feel the teasing jab sting your pride. “Perhaps you’re better suited to the more... delicate aspects of life,"

Your jaw clenches. While bards famously went underestimated— a fact you were reminded of frequently— it hurt more coming from someone you so badly wanted to fuck.

"Oh, I don’t know," you say with a saccharine tone, brushing the residual dirt from your pants; your favorite pair, yet you’d probably end up having to toss them out after your poor performance today. "I think a harp string could make a fine garrote in the right hands."

Astarion’s laughter rings out clearly, and your heart skips a beat unbeknownst to you. "Dully noted. Fortunately for the both of us, we’re stripped of any weaponry in our current pinnacle."

Your eyes roll, running a hand through your disheveled, sweat-slick hair and adjusting your posture to the one he had taught you: one foot forward, back straight.

"Again," you demand, squaring your shoulders. If he wanted to mock you, fine— but you wouldn’t go down without a proper fight.

Astarion’s eyes widen, but his smirk never falters. He sighs in faux exasperation but quickly matches your posture. "So eager to be tossed into the dirt again, darling."

Your face flashes with heat at his painfully languid remark, your mind going places it probably shouldn’t. You knew the pet names were simply an inherent part of his vocabulary and that he used them generously, with everyone, yet a part of you liked to imagine they were reserved for you, and you only.

“Try me again,” you reply curtly, lowering your gaze as you feel the tension sprawling through your aching body.

He shoots you an arrogant smirk, his gaze penetrating your soul with an intensity you didn’t think possible. He bares his fangs, licking over his bottom lip lazily. “Let’s see it, then.”

Astarion approaches, but this time, you’re ready. As he moves to close the distance, you anticipate the first jab, ducking low before he can catch you off-guard. You dart to the side, aiming a swift thrust toward his midsection. It’s clumsy and unpracticed, but it seems to work.

Your fist connects with his toned stomach. He topples off-balance, but only for a fleeting second. His reflexes are too sharp, too honed through his century-long life for you to overcome with your pitiful attempt.

He catches himself with a graceful pivot, turning the stumble into a curt spin that has him facing you once more.

"Fast learner, are we?" he muses, watching you closely through his fists. "I might actually have to try now."

"Don’t flatter yourself," you shoot back, heart racing. At that moment, you recognize you can’t win. Not this time, probably not the next. But you don’t want to forfeit, even if it means enduring a day or two of terrible muscle soreness.

Every sidestep, every deflected blow, brings you closer, the air between you growing heavy with static. You aren’t sure if it’s the heat of the fight or the dangerous proximity, but you can feel it—an irresistible, undeniable pull.

"Careful now," Astarion purrs as you barely miss his face with a rugged swing. He catches your wrist, holding it tight as he leans in, breath ghosting over your ear. "You wouldn’t want to harm me, would you?"

You swallow hard, your body tensing under his tight grip. The closeness is intoxicating, but you force yourself to stay focused, pushing back against the growing heat in your chest.

"Maybe I would." You don’t.

For a moment, neither of you move. The world seems to narrow, the charged atmosphere thick with tacit suspense. You can feel your pulse hammering in your throat, senses sharp, attuned to every breath he takes as they intermingle with yours.

"Darling," a dramatic pout creeps onto his lips, only to be replaced by a sly grin seconds later. You feel his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to slip free. It’s a calculated move, once he grants you himself. "You wound me with your words."

You take a step back, breathless. This isn’t over, not by a long shot, yet your muscles fight against that thought. They scream at you with pain, worn and stretched by what feels like hours of sparring.

“Sounds like you’re the one trying to wound me,” you taunt, shooting him a lowered gaze. “Why’d you take me out here? Trying to make your next kill less obvious?”

The vampire had insisted you two train away from the bustle of camp, even if it meant missing out on tonight’s feast. While the rest of your companions enjoyed the finest ale Baldur’s Gate could offer, you were stuck trying to prove something to your crush.

Astarion's grin widens, his eyes flashing with amusement as he takes a slow, calculated step forward. “Now, now,” he purrs, voice dripping with mock innocence. “If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have seen it coming— no need for childish theatrics.”

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him see the slight tremble in your legs from the strain of the sparring—or maybe it’s from something else entirely, you can’t be sure. You know he’s dangerous, that this game you’ve been playing with him has always had its sharp edges. But there’s something about that edge, about the way he dances so easily between teasing and threatening, that weakens your knees and makes you breathless every damn time.

"Then why are we here?" you challenge, taking a step back to match his forward one. Your voice is steady, but your pulse is hammering in your throat. The woods feel like a world apart from camp, the sounds of chatter distant as you sit in your isolated little bubble of the world. “It’s a little… intimate, don’t you think?”

Astarion tilts his head, studying you with a curious twinkle in his crimson eyes. “That sharp tongue again,” he says quietly, “Do you truly believe I’d go through all the trouble of bringing you out here just to end you? If I wanted your death, I’d make it enjoyable for both of us.”

Your breath catches at his words. His words drip with venom, but somewhere deep down, in the depths of his blackened heart, you swear you feel an instance of temptation.

“What’s the game then?” you ask, holding his gaze despite the anxiety twisting in your chest. “Because by the Gods, I know you love those.”

Astarion’s smirk softens, but the intensity in his eyes never falters. He steps closer again, until there’s barely any space between you, his presence intoxicating. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’re capable of,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety. “Maybe I wanted to see how far you’d let me push you before you push back.”

His hand hovers near yours, fingers brushing lightly against your skin, but he doesn’t make full contact.

“And maybe,” he continues, leaning in just enough that his breath grazes your cheek, “I’m curious what could happen once we both stop playing.”

Your heart is racing now, and you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from the sparring or the charged air between you that’s making your head spin a hundred miles an hour.

“You’ll never know,” you murmur, meeting his gaze with a boldness you don’t quite feel. “Because I’m not backing down from this.”

His grin widens at your rebellion, and with a swift, fluid motion, the man’s playful smirk turns into a vicious one. Before you can react, he spins you around, movements smooth and practiced, making you lose your balance.

Your back hits his chest, and within seconds he wraps one arm around your neck in a tight headlock— his grip is firm, but not painful. Your mind strays to his other arm, feeling it press against your waist to keep you securely against him.

“Such a feisty little thing,” he purrs into your ear, his breath warm against your sweat-slick skin.

You struggle against his hold, trying to twist free, but his grip is relentless. “Fuck you,” you manage to scowl, though the words are strained by the pressure on your throat.

Astarion chuckles softly, and you feel it reverberate through your body. “Oh, she bites back,” he teases, his voice a dark, seductive buzz. “Are you taunting me, darling?”

You try to shift your weight, to find a way out of the headlock, but his grip doesn’t waver. “You’re projecting,” you growl breathlessly.

“And you’re persistent,” he replies, “Suits you well.”

You feel a warmth spread through your belly, tickling your nerve endings and making your thighs squeeze. You thank the Gods he can’t see your flustered face right now.

And suddenly, he releases. Not fully, but his grip weakens enough to allow you a moment to slip out again, stumbling over your own feet as you face him.

“Here’s your second freebie,” he chuckles, getting into position again. “Careful, next one might come at a price.”

“Like I need a third one,”

You recalibrate, then in the spur of the moment, pounce. Your arms extend as they barrel toward him. His eyes widen, but he manages to catch them mid-air; his hands clasping into yours and pushing against you.

“Fair strategy,” he commends, and you sense it might at least be partially earnest. “Desperate, but fair.”

You strain against him, breath hitching when he periodically pushes back. Whenever he does, you feel his gaze boring into you with a crazed intensity.

Then, you try not to think about the fact your digits fit together really damn well— and fail. Take what you can get, right?

“What’s wrong, my dear?” he sneers, slender fingers tightening around your palm. He leans in, your chests threatening to collide. “Getting distracted?”

You grit your teeth, leaning in with your full body weight, but he barely budges. “You wish,” you shoot back breathlessly.

“I feel it,” he corrects in a whisper, leaning in just enough that his lips hover dangerously close to your ear. “It’s in your eyes. You’re not even thinking about our little lesson anymore, are you?”

Your breath hitches at his words, the undoubted truth in them cutting through the haze in your mind. He’s right. The bet, your lesson —somewhere along the lines, your sparring posture went lax. All that matters to you now is the palpable closeness, your hands in his, and his hot, idle breath on your neck. Your throat threatens to cast a strained groan, but you withhold.

“I—” you start to protest, but your voice falters. His chest is now pressed flush against yours, pushing you forward.

“Admit it,” he murmurs, his voice low, seductive. “And I’ll let you win.”

Your hands tremble in the small space they lock with his, the smoldering red of his gaze telling you he knows exactly what he’s doing—how his actions leave you a mess in body and soul.

“I won’t, I— I can’t,” you manage to stutter, but the words sound weak and unconvincing even to your own weary ears.

He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through you like a slow current. “Liar,” he whispers, and you catch a glimpse of his pearly fangs in your hazed peripherals. “Not a good one, either. Another thing I should school you on.”

Your eyes roll, but the implication accelerates the growing tension within your guts. “Just how generous you are.”

His head tilts gradually, and you go pale as you catch his tongue running along the length of his bottom lip.

“No, darling,” he purrs, “I haven’t shown you generous just yet.”

And then, you catch his eyes darkening. There’s a certain mania to them when they widen, pupils blown out like a cat’s when he suddenly pushes firmly against you. Your feet stumble backward, staring into him as a wild grin plasters on his face.

You yelp when you lose balance, lips ajar and eyes closed shut as you feel your back crash into something soft, or at least, soft enough to leave you un-bruised.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s on top of you. You study his broad shoulders, the pale neck between them, and finally let your half-lidded gazes connect in a silent, tension-filled juncture.

The ambiance of dusk quiets down to a soft murmur, crickets chirping in the distance as his strong body hovers inches above you, hands placed firmly around your wrists to successfully lock you in place.

“Seems to me you’ve lost our little bet,” he purrs out, and your breath hitches as one of his legs slides between yours, slowly inching to put a distance between your knees.

All you can do is stare up at him hungrily, desperately, drinking in his weathered features and pray he’d let you run your fingers through his flaxen locks at some point in the night.

“No clever retort? That’s not the little bard I know and love,” he teases, and your hips almost buck into him at that one word. You know he doesn’t mean it, yet your teeth still clench when your body jolts in response to his familiar lilt.

“You’re playing dirty,” you finally breathe out, cringing at how strained your voice sounds as you lie under his weight.

“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” he retorts, his crimson gaze boring into you before gradually disappearing into your neck.

His lips hover over your skin, hot breath tickling the soft spot near your pulse point as you gasp quietly. You feel him hesitate, arms tensing and releasing over your own as if soaked in apprehension. You strain your muscles, eyes shutting in preparation for the inevitable, sharp bite coming onto your poor vein. Gods, was this his plan all along?

But then, you feel the grip on your wrists loosen.

Your eyes flutter open, and you quickly catch the tousled white locks in your neck as the vampire looms over you.

“Here’s your chance to run,” he hitches, and somehow he sounds just as out of breath as you do.

You lie on the blanket of moss, chest heaving and gaze tracing languidly over the treeline as you feel your body go limp. He’s giving you one last opt-out before… before something happens, be it a bloody massacre or... Or?

Your mind shrieks at you: take advantage, prove yourself on top in this stupid bet— but the little voice in your heart urges you to stay under his firm body; find out if your instincts rang true after all.

You stay. Not only that, but you let your hands slip out of his, one of them snaking down his shoulder while the other runs through his waves. They’re silky, and soft, and when you catch a whiff of rosemary in the air, your grip tightens.

“Astarion,” you whisper, voice surprisingly steady as your heart beats a constant rhythm into the space between you.

His body jerks abruptly, albeit subtly, and you feel him smirking— smiling— into the soft flesh of your neck. “So I was right, after all.”

His face withdraws from you slightly, the residual condensation of his warm breath leaving you shivering. You catch his gaze, half-lidded and scanning your expression with apt concentration.

“Feisty, spirited little thing,” he continues, inching towards you again.

Your stiff body jerks, grazing against him as your shaky hand snakes to his cheek. You cradle it gently but with urgency, and there’s a beat of silence before you finally understand what to do.

You inhale softly, catch his questioning gaze, and crash your lips onto his.

He groans softly when you meet in the middle, lowering himself with his arms. Your chest thrums with the beat of your heart, shooting waves of dopamine down your worn spine.

When you feel his nimble hand on your jaw, your lips part with a sigh. He matches your buzz with his own self-satisfied murmur, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

You smile. He’s sweet and bitter, and you whine gently into the kiss when you recognize brandy on his tongue.

This is what you’ve been waiting for all these lonesome months.

The culmination dawns on you like a powerful current, making your eyes squeeze and your hands tremble in his waves.

He seems to notice your tremor, but instead of slowing down or (Gods forbid) stopping, he dives deeper. You moan into his mouth as he wriggles a hand around your waist, holding you close to his hips and suddenly, you feel a steady pressure grinding into your crotch.

The movement is slow, precise, practiced. His hips buff into yours in a controlled rhythm, making you sense his already taut erection through the thick material of his linen pants.

“Do you get it now, darling?” he murmurs, breaking the kiss to stare lazily into your glassy eyes. “Look what you do to me.”

His hand snakes to your blouse, and before you can register what’s happening, you hear three ivory buttons pop off followed by the cool, evening breeze tickling your heated skin. You don’t need to open your eyes to know your nipples are standing taut in the chilly air, yet the image makes you redden.

“How— how unceremonious,” you croak out, moaning softly when his large hand begins palming at your right breast.

His thumb and forefinger squeeze at your erect nipple, toying with it in smooth, tactile movements and relishing the way his name sounds coming out of your kiss-swollen lips.

“Mm, forgive me,” he chuckles darkly, planting a quick, ardent kiss on your lips before lowering his face to your chest. His tongue licks a slow, tender strip up your sternum before he looks up to smile at you; it’s a genuine look of satisfaction, untouched by the plague that is his faux arrogance. “I’ll make sure to be good next time.”

’Next time?’

You look at him lazily, gaze puzzled and lips ajar to ask but he doesn’t even offer you the chance. His hand dips from your tits to the band of your pants, sliding underneath it with his finger, the coolness of his skin making you gasp.

His mouth assaults your other nipple with sucks, nibbles, and gentle bites, making you mewl under him as his hand continues to travel down the soft flesh of your thigh. He rubs it gently, lovingly, starting under your hip and slowly stroking his way toward the inner region, where you’re most sensitive.

“Divine,” he mumbles against your chest, pressing a kiss to your rib. “So divine.”

His free palm moves to your exposed belly, massaging it gently. You sigh at the slow, consistent pressure, moving your trembling hand to the back of his neck.

When your one eye pops open in curiosity, you see him snug against your body, face contorted with empathic fixation as he labors down your body. It’s intimate, yes, but also… loving. His tongue is warm against your breast, and his palms caress your skin with slow, delicate strokes; the same hands you’ve seen wield blood-soaked daggers and longbows.

He runs two digits along the stretchy fabric of your bottoms, lip caught between his teeth. He catches you staring and smirks up at you.

“Enjoying yourself?” he husks out, and you’re desperate enough to nod wordlessly.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, hand smoothing down the waistband of your panties that peers from behind your bottoms. Not even your cutest pair, but oh well. He doesn’t even seem to notice, as his digits play with the elastic.

You’re already so exposed, but nothing can prepare you for what he does next.

With a few more kisses to your breasts, he tugs at the two waistbands, pulling down your pants and panties in one go.

The material slides off your legs and you hiss out, feeling the coolness caress your slick core. Your hands instinctively reach to cover up, but you’re stopped in your tracks by a strong grasp around your wrist.

“Oh no, no,” He looks up at you with an arched eyebrow, and somehow, despite his collected mien, you catch a soft dusting of pink across his cheekbones. “Don’t you dare deny me this view. Not after I’ve waited for so long.”

Your face heats up at the brazen comment, but that only seems to draw him closer. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and he takes the hint immediately.

You connect in a heated kiss, and this time, Astarion is the one groaning against you. You work in tandem, like a gentle, effortless dance, heavy breaths intermingling in a sweet symphony of hums and sighs when…

You feel a touch against your heat. The contact is almost impalpable, yet your eyes flutter open in shock as the man’s fingers trace over your slit.

He withdraws from your kiss, hovering inches from your lips with a soft smile.

“S’unfair,” you slur, gazing up at him with a pleasure-drunken gaze. He exhales loudly, and you gasp. His fingers dip in, rubbing slow circles around your clit. “You— Gods—”

“Yeah? Tell me,” he taunts lowly, continuing his torturously languid movements with a devious smirk plastered on his perfect face. “What’s got you so bothered, my sweet?”

He dips down, teasing your entrance with his index. You pant softly at the prolonged stimulation, trying your damn best to stay focused on furrowing your eyebrows in mock anger.

“Got me so exposed and—” you trail tensely as his finger probes your entrance. “—And you’re still in your damn clothes.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but you doubt he’s even listening to you by how he surveys your body, bottom lip caught between his fangs. “I’m about to show you ‘generous’, like I promised.”

And then, he bottoms out. You moan, feeling two of his digits sliding into you, the slickness of your opening making it an easy feat.

You squeeze around him, and he pumps into you once, then twice for good measure. The sound of his movements is unbelievably and utterly obscene, making your stomach knot in delight.

“So wet already,” he purrs through a smirk, watching you writhe under him, “Don’t tell me our little sparring session got you this bothered.”

You roll your eyes, thighs squeezed tight around his wrist as you move your hips in tandem with his rhythm.

“Come on, talk to me,” he taunts again, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and letting his fingers fuck you in a steady, purposeful rhythm. “Now’s not the time to get coy.”

He switches gears, stopping his movement so he can curl his fingers inside you. He presses against the sweet spot, his thumb reaching to simultaneously rub slow circles against your swollen clit.

You cry out at the newfound pressure, the warmth in your belly twisting into a vortex of fiery delight.

“I—” you mewl against him, wrapping your fingers into the soft fabric of his shirt. “I’m gonna— c-cum—”

His movements quicken at your desperate words, digits working hard against your favorite spot.

“Cum then, my darling,” he taunts firmly, his free hand roaming under your jaw and holding it in place. “Cum for me. Let me— let me look at you, sweet thing.”

Your glassy eyes struggle to focus on his face, but once they do, he hits something white-hot inside you.

His lips crash desperately onto yours, but you struggle to kiss him back through the blinding pleasure of your climax. It thunders down your legs, up your belly, making you cry out against his mouth as everything melts away into a wonderful oblivion.

The last thing you see before your muscles go lax is red.

He rubs your clit methodically through your high, letting you ride it out peacefully as he burrows into your neck again.

When your breath steadies, you feel his fingers slowly withdraw. The emptiness that follows makes you cry out softly, helplessly watching as the man runs his palms up and down your sides.

He presses a soft, soothing kiss against your swollen lips, and you can’t help but glare when you see that he’s still fully dressed, even after your heated orgasm.

He catches your pouting and raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, darling?” he purrs, pulling away to take you all in. You’re caught speechless when his hungry gaze scans down your nude body; starting at your smitten face and ending with a lingering glimpse at your spent pussy.

“Please,” you mewl out, raking your hands down his clothed abs. “Gods— Please take these off, I can’t—”

He does.

His hands momentarily withdraw from around you, and with a swift, deft move, he tosses his shirt off.

The silken cloth comes flying into the night like a phantasmal figure, and you watch it catch onto a stray branch to your right.

Your gaze skims hungrily down his sculpted body, watching his muscles tense and release with every little movement. Yes, you’ve seen him shirtless before, yet the context of your current predicament somehow makes it feel like it’s the first time all over again.

Unbeknownst to you, his hands work at his bottoms, swiftly unbuttoning the waistband and letting it sit loose against his hips. You catch a soft, white trail against the edge of his undergarments, leading down to a straining, tented mess below.

Your hand reaches out absent-mindedly, still drunk off the high of your climax and so, so desperate to finally feel him for yourself.

“Not so fast, darling,” he scolds, gently slapping your hand away and letting it wither at your side.

“Let me touch you,” you retort desperately, but he only chuckles as his fingers begin working at his waistband.

“You lost our bet,” he explains, sliding a thumb under the elastic and letting it lower. You catch the very base of his straining erection, and that taunting alone makes you gasp. “Gives me the upper hand.”

“Says who?” you hiss under your breath, failing to give him the glare he deserves as your eyes bore into his.

He gives you a once over, gaze drawing languidly over your exposed body, and only then does the extent of your nudity finally dawn on you.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

You shift under him, shimmying within the small space he allows, and he takes your brief distraction as a moment to unravel his pants completely. They drop to the ground behind you, leaving him in his undergarments, and you bite your lip at how dangerously lax they sit around his hips.

“I think I’ve left you waiting long enough,” he mutters, and your lips go ajar.

The thumb hooked into his briefs starts sliding down his waist, lower and lower until you’re finally even in terms of undress— and you’re ever so starstruck by the sight of his bulging cock hovering over your belly. It stands thick and taut within arm’s reach and you find the fact makes your mouth water.

Then, before you can think of touching him, you feel him place either hand below your knees. He looks up at you with a sly smirk, and you gasp softly when he pushes your thighs flat against your torso, feet in the air and scandalously exposed in front of him.

“You’re playing with me,” you mutter breathlessly, hissing as you feel his length stroking against your inner thigh.

His arms compress you tighter as you feel him lowering, the underside of his cock slapping against your tummy. The gasp that leaves your throat at the sudden contact widens your eyes, and he catches your gaze with his self-satisfied one.

“Do you like that I’m playing with you?” he follows up without a beat, his hips rutting forward. The movement is gentle, yet the pressure is enough to make you whine out in desperation— it’s also the only answer you manage to choke up for him before his cock slides between your wet folds.

“A-Ah— you fucking— fucking prick,” you hiss at the vampire, and so he bears his fangs at you through a wide grin. You find that it makes your breath hitch even amidst your despair.

“Now, now,” he reprimands, words syrupy, “bold words coming from someone so vulnerable.”

His nails dig into the soft flesh of your legs as he slides back and forth, taking meticulous care so that the head of his cock butts against your clit with every dip. The stimulation feels electric, and soon enough, you feel your still-sensitive body ramp up with heated energy for a second time this night.

A minute passes, yet it feels like an eternity. The air between you is thick with tension and the soft, repetitive harmony of your strained moans and his little gasps. You watch his eyes close in concentration, and despite his otherwise relaxed facade, you can tell he’s struggling to resist you by the way his eyebrows knit in the middle.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out, one of your hands extending to claw at his withholding forearm.

When your gazes meet, he looks surprisingly spent; eyes glassed-over, mouth ajar, and the slightest hint of sweat glazing his pale forehead. You realize that his domineering act seemed to come at the expense of his stamina: a resource you had slowly replenished in your comfortable position.

“Not— not yet, darling,” he hitches out, but the words appear tender and helpless to your trained ears. “I— I want to enjoy this— enjoy you—”

Your grip on his forearm tightens, making the bucking of his hips stutter. His eyebrow raises at your touch, but before he can shoot you a witty comment, you’re pushing him forward.

It happens within seconds.

Your knees straighten, feet slamming into his abdomen. He coughs at the sudden, unexpected impact, and you take the opportunity to grab tight onto his forearms. He falls backward, and just before his spine hits the soil beneath, you use the momentum to push yourself onto him.

When his eyes flutter open, you’re straddling his waist.

He blinks in brief confusion, surveying his surroundings before the crimson gaze finally turns to you.

He surveys your face, and you let him. The moment is like a silent meditation, heavy breaths intermingling as he takes your raw beauty in; the longing in your eyes, the soft dusting of pink across your nose, and ultimately, the plush of your lips he had ravaged mere moments ago.

Next, he moves to your body. His eyes scan down your taut nipples, down your tummy, and to the softness of your thighs squeezing his midriff to the ground. When he reaches the junction between your bodies, your hips buck as if on instinct.

“My, just how courageous we are,” he purrs under you, hands reaching to rub down the outside of your thighs. “I wouldn’t be so nice about your dirty tricks if I didn’t find this view thoroughly delectable.”

You shiver at his honeyed words, yet your gaze stays determined on him. Your palms go to rest atop his, marveling at the eccentric softness of his knuckles and the polarizing edge of the nails.

“No one ever said this would be a clean game,” you grin playfully, rocking your hips back to feel his hard length against the curve of your ass. When a soft hiss escapes his lips, you feel your ego inflate. “Sound familiar?”

His eyes roll, but the grin creeping onto his lips deceives him immediately.

His head tilts at you, fangs bearing in the soft moonlight. “You’re trouble.”

The mischief of your smile spins into a warm fondness. Your cheeks warm, and your heart swells, but you don’t quite understand why. “Oh how rich that is coming from you.”

And then you’re rising on your knees, hips hovering over his throbbing erection. Your palms connect, digits intertwining with his as you lower yourself onto him.

You test the waters first, letting his tip brush over your slit with feather-like touches. You hum gently at the teasing pleasure, and so does Astarion.

When you feel your tummy tightening with anticipation, you dive in. With a light shimmy, you line your hips with his, and with more desperation than you planned, you slide down.

You both hiss as the head of his cock penetrates you, the stretch making your palm tighten against his. You bend at the knees, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the delicious sensation of being filled to the brim after such a long, lonesome time.

Finally, you let your hips slam against his. The sudden, harsh movement makes you gasp out into the tantric air as his tip pokes against your womb. The dull pain quickly shifts into a flat, resonant pleasure, and you waste no time.

Your hips begin to buck against his, building a slow, steady rhythm until you’re confidently riding your vampire lover with a self-satisfied smirk on your lips.

Each thrust makes you mewl, moan, and cry out into the night, that pleasant angle of his cock hitting that same spot his fingers did just minutes ago.

His head rolls back into the ground, and with the remnants of his energy, he issues an occasional, quick rut into you. As it’s rare, you decide to savor it. You squeeze around him with the thrusts, and soon, you feel yourself running out of breath.

“I— I could let you do this for—hells— forever,” he hisses out, and suddenly, you feel his hands unclasp from yours and snake around your waist. “Where have you been all these centuries?”

Your upper body is dragged forward, your tits colliding with his toned chest when he pulls you into a tight, possessive embrace.

You gasp at the warmth between you, and your eyebrows soon furrow when you realize the position limits your hip movement. As you’re forced into a pause from your delirious riding, his lips crash onto yours.

Your tongues share a private, slack dance, heads tilting to adjust as you both hum and groan into the fiery kiss. You attempt to rut into him, and soon enough he gets the hint.

Keeping you immobilized against his chest, his hips pound up into you. The first few smacks are scandalously loud, and you revel in the newfound angle.

You’re lost in him, completely and utterly. When he moans, you respond with a hum— when his embrace tightens around you, you kiss him harder.

The familiar, fiery heat in your tummy bubbles up again. You feel it amp up, grow, and send jolts up your spine when suddenly, you’re being pushed up. When your eyes flutter open, you catch his still closed.

His chest stays firm against yours as he positions you upright, letting you straddle his hips as you’re both left sitting in the soft patch of grass and wildflowers.

With your body regaining its mobility, you start grinding against him again. The position allows for a deliciously intimate closeness, his cock burrowing deep into you as you resume riding him.

The pressure within you grows, emerging as a knot— threatening to unravel with every other thrust. Your clit rubs against the base of his groin, amplifying the pleasure into a sensation you’ve long forgotten about.

“A-Astarion—” you mewl out between kisses, and his hot breath tickles your face when he chuckles.

“Cum for me,” he sighs out, and the assertion comes off soft and pleading as it settles into the groves of your heart.

“O-Okay— I… I—”

He tightens his hold on your waist with one hand, as the other moves to cradle your cheek. His touch is unbelievably delicate and affectionate, and out of all the stimulation he had so graciously provided you this night, it’s that soft touch that sends you over the edge.

Your lips connect in one last kiss, and you moan throatily into his mouth. Your hips still, thighs squeezing as your pussy tightens around his cock in a moment of pure bliss. The steadily rising pressure in your belly finally tips over, sending a wave of bliss down your entire being.

Still, he keeps moving. You almost want to scream against him as his hips begin pounding into you again, the soft slaps quickening as he slowly peaks with you.

Withdrawing from the kiss to lean against your neck, he cums. Hard.

Your slowly declining climax seems to slam the gas pedal as you feel him release deep into you, the warmth spreading through your body like a genial embrace, a fact that makes him groan loudly against your mouth. Your breath stills in your throat, before finally releasing into a long, guttural moan— it echoes into the night, and your vision blurs.

White-hot bliss envelops your body, and you melt into Astarion’s for solace. You feel him grip you, caress your face, kiss away your adrenaline-fueled tears, and pant softly against your lips as your pussy spasms again.

Your orgasm envelops you in slow, pulsating waves as it withdraws, and you’re soon left huffing into the vampire’s flaxen locks. You think you hear him speak, but the ringing in your ears is too potent to know for certain.

Then, as the ringing finally retires, you hear him whisper your name. It’s a soft, patient call against the burning skin of your neck, one you commit to memory as you’re finally awarded your senses back— if only partially.

The forest feels exceptionally silent as you fall into his arms. You recognize the soft chirp of crickets in the distance, perhaps a distant hoot of owls, but it all seems to blend into an indecipherable blur as exhaustion floods your system.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck, and your mind sinks into the soft, languid thumps of his heart. His hand caresses your back, and you sigh deeply.

You sit there for what feels like hours, drinking each other in. You’ve waited so long, and finally, you’re at ease— it’s a feeling you wish to cherish, and if it wasn’t for the pesky passage of time, you’d choose to stay in this damned forest for eons; with him.

You feel him shift against you. His hands withdraw from your waist, and he whispers softly against you. “Come, my love.”

You hum in disagreement, face burrowing deeper into him. Yes, rosemary and brandy— now it’s clear to you.

He exhales sharply, and you smile into his neck. He waits for a beat, before placing a soft kiss to your temple. “Wait here.”

You nod gently and finally allow him to withdraw. The separation makes you sigh, your body shivering in the newfound cold of the night, but you persevere. In the longing to hold on to the moment for a little longer, you keep your eyes closed and hope he’ll return before you open them again.

You hear him shuffle around, walking from left to right, before finally returning to face you. “Hands up,” he mutters softly, and you do as you’re told in your pleasure-drunken stupor.

You feel him drape something silken over your sweat-slick body, the soft material draping your hips before coming to a stop at your thighs. When you breathe in, you immediately realize it’s not your shirt, so you grin.

When you’re comfortably wrapped up, he leans in. Once you finally sense the familiar warmth of his chest, you lean against his shoulder and breathe in his scent.

You’re surprised he does this for you. Tenderness is not exactly something you’d connect with a man of his past, of his skill. Yet, when his hands move to rest under your knees and back, you don’t resist.

He lifts you off the ground, letting your fatigued frame rest against him. He takes it upon himself to get you back to camp, safe and sound, and only slightly perturbed.

You drink in everything you can, letting yourself be greedy for once. The steadiness of his breath, his warm chest, the crinkling of leaves under his feet— it’s an image you swear to place, no matter what difficulties might threaten to befall you in the future.

And he’s silent up until you reach the campgrounds. The chatter of dinnertime has long died down, and when you open your eyes, you spot the crackling embers of firelight flickering away among a circle of stones. The flames cast a soft, warm light onto the closed tents, and you revel in the intimacy of the moment.

“Everyone met their bedtime while we’ve been naughty sneaking out,” he murmurs with a chuckle, and you close your eyes hurriedly in hopes of feigning slumber. Still, you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face at his brazen comment.

You reach the outskirts and finally spot his tent just below an old, sturdy oak tree. You recall the talks you had out front so many times before, back when your feelings were just sparks of something much stronger and much, much warmer.

He crouches down and with an unsurprising agility climbs into the little shelter with you still in his arms. You lie slack against him, letting his arms lay you gently onto his woolen mat. You melt into the warmth almost immediately, sighing out dreamily when you feel his presence beside you.

It’s silent for a moment, and when your eyes finally flutter open, you catch him staring at you. His gaze is thoughtful but warm, lingering over your form with a certain glimmer.

“I guess it’s official, then,” you sigh out, closing your eyes again and letting a lazy smile drift over your features.

He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “What… what is?”

You chuckle softly at his awkward tone, shifting to the side and letting one of your eyes pop open to glance at him.

“My victory,” you state matter-of-factly before quickly shifting to your other side, facing away from him just to let a satisfied grin creep onto your face.

You don’t witness it, but his expression goes from tense, to disconcerted, to irritated in a matter of seconds. His eyes roll, and you suddenly feel a flat slap against your ass.

“Woah there, hey!” you gasp, followed by a cheeky giggle. Your head turns to face him from your comfortable position, and you catch him mirroring your grin.

“Quiet, now,” he commands softly, pivoting to lie beside you. His arm comes over your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Bet’s over, darling. I’m sorry to say, but you’ve not proven yourself capable. Shame, really.”

You blow a raspberry through your smile and shimmy closer to him, your body melting perfectly into his— a fact that has you near to falling asleep.

“Shame indeed. The look on your face was priceless when you ate dirt,” you shrug nonchalantly, “At least that’s the version I’ll be telling everyone come morning.”

He scoffs, the low rumble of it vibrating against your back, but his arm only tightens around you. You feel his face in your hair, breathing in your scent.

“If you do that, I might just have to kill you,” he mutters, but despite the intensity of the words, his voice is soft and loving against your head. His hand drifts to your belly, fingers tracing lazy circles against the soft skin there.

“You would never.”

He’s silent for a beat. Your lips open to build on your clever retort before you feel his sharp exhale on your neck.

“Sleep, darling,” he reprimands, squeezing your midriff gently.

You sigh contentedly, your lips brushing against the pillow as you settle deeper into his embrace. The tent is cocooned in warmth, but you feel the cool kiss of the evening breeze filtering in through the small opening at the entrance. Outside, the campfire crackles faintly, the last embers glowing like distant stars before fading into fine ash.

As you drift closer to sleep, wrapped in the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the world around you blurs into the peaceful haze of near-dreams.

Just as the veil of slumber begins to pull you under, you feel his lips press against your hair, a soft whisper brushing against your skin.

“As long as I'll live, I never could.”

[hxnbi]

⸻ ɞ how they would show their love ﹒﹒wind breaker boys

꒷꒦ pairings: haruka sakura, hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame, toma hiragi, choji tomiyama, ren kaji, kyotaro sugishita x gn. reader (separate)

did i wound up going overboard with all the characters i like and proceed to write over 2k words? yes. am i going to stop? never

HARUKA SAKURA | 桜 遥 ─ ♬﹒♡

Attempting to flirt with a guy like SAKURA, or even show any kind of affection, is already beyond hopeless, for the second you approach him with the intention of initiating affection, regardless of what it is, his entire face goes crimson. The guy's flushed face is redder than a traffic light, you like to say, only to then get a mouthful from Sakura that he isn't blushing, and it's just that the weather feels hot. It’s not him. So stop looking at him like that!

Yeah, right. Hot in the middle of the damn winter.

Sakura loves and shows affection through his actions, most of them somewhat unintentional and subconscious. He might brush a stray hair from your face while you're eating together, make sure you're walking on the inside of the sidewalk, or quietly leave your favourite snacks where you can find them—only to then flush into a deep crimson when you bring up his romantic gestures. Because to him, he really doesn't think before he acts, and yet does so tenderly when with you and you only.

It's these small gestures that speak volumes about his feelings for you. And lord take mercy on anyone who decides to poke fun at you or comment on a singular "bad" thing about you. Whoever makes fun of you or even dares to comment on what he deems as poorly about you and your delightful character is in for a world of hurt. He can and he will throw hands. Sakura's protective side surfaces, and he will immediately start burning up like a wildfire you can't put out, ready to defend your honour at a moment's notice, even if that means firing back against his own gang members and friends.

HAJIME UMEMIYA | 梅宮 一  ─ ♬﹒♡

The physical manifestation of a lovebug. Hugs, kisses, cuddles, and more—you name it. Did I mention that he loves, loves, loves physical affection? UMEMIYA is all over you, to the point where you can hardly move whenever his arms encircle you, just like a little cuddly bear. It certainly gets more than a little awkward when the other Furin members are around, watching your and their leader's affectionate moments and PDA happen in real-time, but Umemiya doesn't care. If anything, he’s all for it! That just means that others will for sure know that you’re taken and you're his.

His love is open, unrestrained, unabashed, and utterly shameless, a stark contrast to his model demeanour as the leader of Furin. How this guy can act like this and also beat people half to death is beyond comprehension in their eyes. And as the leader of Furin, he's also like your protector. You would never need a bodyguard when you have your boyfriend by your side at all times of the day, one way or another. He's there from dawn to dusk, from sunrise to sunset. His presence may be both comforting and overbearing at times, yet you wouldn't trade his ceaseless companionship for the world, knowing he'll always be there, and likewise, you'll always be there for him. 

HAYATO SUO | 蘇枋 隼飛  ─ ♬﹒♡

SUO is calm and calculating, his sharp mind is always a step ahead of others, but most importantly, he's loyal to a fault. His ability to anticipate your needs and understand your emotions without you saying a word is both a blessing and a curse. Suo is intelligent but arguably one of the most mysterious guys in Furin. A complete "stick in the mud," Sakura would say with a peeved expression of distaste. He can read you like a book, which can be irritating at times—the way that he purposely acts like a know-it-all, all with the intention of pissing you off that day—all the while keeping his own thoughts private. While you appreciate his attentiveness, his tendency to withhold his own feelings can be frustrating, especially during the times when you need his emotional support the most. 

Despite this, Suo's actions speak volumes about his devotion. There was more in his mind than you originally thought of him. Suo might not verbalize his true feelings often, often masking them feom under his aloof facade and honeyed words, but his loyalty ultimately shines through in the little things he does for you. Because when it matters the most, Suo is there, all behind that expression of his. His faint, knowing smile and just the air that surrounds him only deepen your curiosity about what was behind that eyepatch of his. But only you could see the vulnerability hidden beneath his composed exterior, his silence often hiding a plethora of emotions that not even words could ever fully begin to express.

JO TOGAME | 十亀 条 ─ ♬﹒♡

If Umemiya is considered protective over you, TOGAME is even more so fiercely vigilant in his watch over you. At first glance, he appears stern and unapproachable—it certainly was to you—with his glasses covering the hearts in his eyes. However, once you got to know him, you discover a sensitive, caring guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. And that is precisely who Togame was.

His affections are subtle but deeply felt. He remembers the most minor details about you that many would either forget or deem as not important, but not to Togame. From your favourite book to the way you like your tea, he's always there to lend a hand or offer a quiet word of encouragement when you need it the most, and his protective nature means he's always looking out for potential threats, ensuring your safety without ever making a fuss about it. All your pretty little head needs to worry about is feeling cherished and loved.

TOMA HIRAGI | 柊登馬  ─ ♬﹒♡

If there's even a slight chance that someone or something even laid hands on you with the intention of hurting you, HIRAGI would never in his life let that happen, even if it meant using his own body as your shield. He knows that being in a gang attracts a lot of enemies, and through that, increases the possibility of putting you in danger. Because of that, Hiragi is always on high alert. And if he’s not around, he’ll either ask Sugishita, Umemiya or “Othello-kun” to help out and ensure your safety. Why they even bother to accept his request is beyond me, but his concern for you was always evident, and they knew that. Hiragi puts your safety above all. You hate that he puts himself at risk, but you can't deny the comfort his presence brings.

Hiragi’s anxiety manifests as hyper-vigilance, which can sometimes backfire when you become hyper-sensitive and worry about his health. Your love for each other goes deep, as, despite his protectiveness, there are times when Hiragi needs your comfort, too. He's practically a bundle of nerves all, for better or not worse, wound into a singular individual, partly due to Umemiya's constant nonchalance, which only heightens his anxiety. You often find yourself being the one to soothe him, reminding him to breathe and take it one step at a time. His commitment to your safety and peaceful life away from all the chaos he is entrenched in is firm as a rock, even if it means pushing his own limits to ensure that happens.

CHOJI TOMIYAMA | 兎耳山 丁子  ─ ♬﹒♡

His constant mood swings are something that you were well aware of when you started seeing the boy, for sure, but CHOJI's love for you is undeniable. No one could ever doubt that. Not even Togame, who witnessed firsthand how devoted Choji was whenever in your presence. It was refreshing, in a way, to see Choji like that. To be truly carefree and unburdened and not compelled by the turmoil in his own mind. He wasn't driven to seek solace in conflicts and fights or to find joy and his longing for “happiness.” For whenever he found himself in your company, happiness was not just a possibility but an inevitability.

He's always ensuring, whether you like it or not, that you are aware of his feelings and affection for you, even if it means drilling the same ramblings into your ears for hours on end. Despite his erratic moods, he's a sweet presence to have around. His ramblings often turn into heartfelt confessions and declarations of love, making you smile even on your worst days. Moreover, Choji has a knack for lightening the mood, and his energetic personality is a welcome contrast to the more serious members of your inner circle.

Did I already say that he's energetic? Well, Choji is a ball of exuberance, and he doesn't take no for an answer when it comes to making you feel loved. He's like a burst of sunshine, brightening your day with the infectious enthusiasm that can make anyone smile. No matter how anarchic his emotions get, his love for you, regardless of circumstance, will never change. 

REN KAJI | 梶蓮  ─ ♬﹒♡

KAJI is the kind of guy who silently stays by your side. It's a comfortable silence that you've grown to love and appreciate, with his quiet presence being a constant source of comfort. He's not one for grand gestures or flowery words of affection, and you're well aware of that, but his advice and insights are invaluable. Whenever you face a problem in your life, Kaji is there, offering a solution with a calm, measured approach, even if he does throw in a couple of swear words and cusses here and there when at times losing his cool. It's the thought that counts.

His silence is not a sign of indifference but of his thoughtful nature. He listens far more than he speaks, and his actions reflect his deep care for you far more than anybody else by a landslide. Even the man-child that is Umemiya notices. Though he may not be as outwardly affectionate as others, his loyalty and his presence alone at your side speak volumes about his love for you, nothing more. Kaji's quiet strength is a pillar you can always lean on, his love expressed through every considerate action, whether big or small. 

KYOTARO SUGISHITA | 杉下京太郎  ─ ♬﹒♡

Another one who cannot physically use words to communicate for the life of him. Everyone has seen SUGISHITA's loyalty to Umemiya, but how exactly would that loyalty manifest if it were directed towards you, his significant other, arguably the most important person in his life? He's fiercely protective, and that's putting it lightly. Whoever dares to harm you or speaks to you deplorably, there will be hell to pay. Quite literally.

Sugishita the definition of "actions speak louder than words." He's not a romantic, he's not a flirt, but what he is—more than what everybody else is—dependable to a fault. Any kind of affection will have this boy's brain reloading and scrambling. Sugishita is more similar to Sakura than most people may assume, something that Sakura will never admit to, not even on his deathbed. And the one time he did, using the nickname "baby" all the while saying all that with the unintentional expression of a homicidal maniac had not only Umemiya (the idiot who gave him the "advice" to try being romantic for once) bawling his eyes out in laughter but also made your face flush red in embarrassment, unable to utter a word.

...Was this really your boyfriend? 

His gestures, though subtle, are filled with meaning. Whether it's fixing something for you, helping to carry the heavier stuff for you, ensuring you have everything you need, or simply being there when you need him, Sugishita's actions are his way of showing he cares. Not even Umemiya could look and claim that he treated others, including himself, the same way he treated you. Sugishita’s not one for grand displays of affection—if he's even able to comprehend how to present that without having an expression that he's about to snap at any time—but his reliability and steadfastness are a comfort that Furin as a whole, and you, his one and only lover, appreciates greatly.

In a world of so much uncertainty, especially in such a gang-centric environment, Sugishita's consistent presence is a reassuring and refreshing constant. He's your silent guardian, always watching, always protecting his love—what was to you, an unspoken promise, but to him, a forever vow.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[moonlit-escape]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ⩩ Laurance Mystreet headcanons !!

my first favourite character. i love him way too much i get so excited and so embarrassed it sucks

6'0.7 (184.7cm)

hawaiian

bisexual (but he thinks he's the hetero one) (stupid bitch)

malewife by chance, manwhore by choice

still has punk ideals, just doesn't dress like it (the cons of growing up with a fashionista)

listens to grunge and punk rock bands (nirvana, green day, pearl jam, joy division. ykno, stuff i put in his playlist)

loves killer thriller movies the most, but he does really enjoy his and garroth's chick-flick movie nights

his favourite one is 13 going on 30 (jennifer garner and mark ruffalo,,, mm)

very adamant about equality and fairness. he has absolutely No Tolerance for stuff like misogyny, racism, or any sort of bigotry. everyone should be treated with basic respect, and he gets very cold and pissed off when he sees that they're not (yes, i loved the halloween episode where he got ticked off w ivan like yes king GET HIS ASS)

that's part of the reason why he left the shadow knights in hs; gene would lie and cheat and belittle people, and he wasn't about that

nowadays though, the two have more of like a friendly rival relationship now. they bond over bullying each other and beating each other in competitions (housewife competitions, mostly. but also video games) (and, on exactly One (1) occasion: drag)

he and gene also gang up on garroth for liking pokemon more than digimon

farm boy loves the smell of dirt and leaves and straw and grass and sun

has necklaces with feathers from all the chickens who have passed. any time one goes, his mom sends him a new necklace in the mail

favourite season is autumn because it has all his other favourite things: halloween, bats, roasted marshmallows, acceptable hoodie weather, and earthy smells

listened to a lot of fall out boy when he was a shadow knight. it used to be his favourite band, but since it was something gene hooked him on, he couldn't listen to it after he left which pisses him off so much bc he still thinks theyre really good

he does have an anxiety disorder, but sometimes uses a mask of smugness and egotism to cope with it. another thing he learned from gene

actually, from a young age up until about junior high, he had always been a very shy and reserved kid. cadenza was always trying to get him to come out of his shell, and she did manage to do most of the work (including getting him in trouble at home a few times), but it wasn't until gene, sasha, and zenix came along that gave him that final push

gets his baby brother once every month for a weekend to a whole week, depending on everyone's schedule. he Never lets the kid out of his sight now, and Absolutely doesn't leave him alone with anyone else but aphmau and zenix

despite his.. connection with gene, zenix was actually the closest to him in the group. and they quickly became friends again when they moved in

has a collection of fun novelty mugs (and a few that are handmade from his mother)

he was a cartoon network kid. i mean cmon, look at him.

he and katelyn gang up to dump adventure time lore on unsuspecting friends

not huge on superhero stuff, but he does prefer marvel (comics) over dc. the only dc thing he liked was the teen titans show

his favourite genre is apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic settings. especially ones where there's creatures (zombies, aliens, some horrific eldritch spawn, etc)

he would never admit it, but the feathers do actually work on him in a roundabout way.

i refuse to believe he doesn't have the finest ass.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you. 

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers. 

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment. 

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow. 

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.” 

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it. 

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth. 

“Jihoon, wait-” 

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!” 

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd. 

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here. 

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?” 

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?” 

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket. 

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.” 

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh. 

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that? 

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit. 

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!” 

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.” 

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little. 

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!” 

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students. 

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit. 

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4 

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage. 

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!” 

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully:  “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…” 

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-” 

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss. 

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly. 

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?” 

“Yep.” 

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.” 

“You’re not.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?”  _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.” 

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.” 

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board. 

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows. 

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await. 

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.” 

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?” 

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you. 

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies. 

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.” 

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..” 

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair. 

“You can’t tell anyone.” 

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.” 

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.” 

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her? 

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!” 

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips. 

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more. 

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!” 

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-” 

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.” 

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.” 

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you. 

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.”  _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed. 

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?” 

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!” 

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.” 

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.” 

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you? 

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?” 

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed. 

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?” 

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.” 

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!” 

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.” 

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation. 

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?” 

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.” 

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.” 

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you. 

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you. 

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims. 

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?” 

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.” 

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!” 

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!” 

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points. 

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!” 

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker. 

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…” 

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too. 

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?” 

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!” 

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.” 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?” 

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.” 

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!” 

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!” 

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.” 

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.” 

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes. 

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!” 

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…” 

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!” 

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’. 

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich. 

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!” 

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily. 

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?” 

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.” 

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.” 

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!” 

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.”  _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening. 

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on. 

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you? 

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..” 

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-” 

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this. 

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice- 

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!” 

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?” 

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-” 

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!” 

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”  

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?” 

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you. 

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.” 

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?” 

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.” 

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?” 

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word. 

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet. 

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.” 

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.” 

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh. 

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!” 

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile. 

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?” 

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.” 

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?” 

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where- 

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house. 

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have. 

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him. 

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?”  _____________________________

“Jihoon?” 

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers. 

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.” 

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.” 

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?” 

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.” 

“Oh.” 

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street. 

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor. 

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-” 

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-” 

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-” 

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him. 

There are flowers in his hands. 

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code. 

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.” 

He nods. 

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers. 

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?” 

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?” 

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?” 

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?” 

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you.  He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest. 

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted,  cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love. 

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.” 

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.” 

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy. 

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you. 

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again. 

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy. 

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it. 

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy. 

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him. 

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?” 

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-” 

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts. 

“Sorry, it was just-” 

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.” 

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?” 

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers. 

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously. 

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit. 

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?” 

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth. 

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side. 

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.” 

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling. 

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again. 

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.” 

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile. 

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.” 

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.” 

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.” 

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.” 

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan. 

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-” 

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?” 

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?” 

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.” 

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.” 

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you. 

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively. 

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious. 

“... Are you still hard?” 

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised. 

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along. 

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.” 

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing. 

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.” 

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..” 

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse. 

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior. 

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.” 

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins. 

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

[anouchard]

hey! “Redistribution of matter” is a Secret History by Donna Tartt reference isn’t it? That is my absolute favourite book!

Who would the Protocol gang be if they were the TSH gang? And, out of the OIAR crew, would be most likely to perform a baccahanal?

Mine too! Nearly took Classics at uni. Realised I'd have to do an extra year to learn Ancient Greek. Took English instead. Am now learning Ancient Greek anyway. Always the way.

I've really had to ponder this one!

I feel like Sam is a fairly obvious Richard, Celia is Camilla, Lena is Henry, Gwen is Francis ... which I guess makes Alice Charles or Bunny? Neither feel quite right, but maybe some combination of the two?

As for a bacchanal ... Gwen would approach it like Henry, looking up the weather and whatnot. I might throw this one open to the other actors, actually. I feel with the Greek Gang it definitely took that specific combination of people for events to unfold as they did.

Gosh, I've missed talking about this book.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hi! How are you? I love your blog a ton! Can I please ask for some Kakucho headcanons? Thank you 💙

Thanks, glad you like them! Got a bunch for Kakucho, he's such a fun character!

Used to make Izana crayon birthday cards each year as a kid

Enjoys long walks and hikes when the weather's good.

He doesn't tell anyone this but he sometimes get's a bit nervous during car rides (Izana notices)

When in a relationship he likes to show off his strength a lot, does things like carry all the shopping bags inside at once. 

Likes to spend time with Pah and Draken in the good timeline (he joins their arm wrestling competitions).

If he's hanging out with the guys and one of them falls asleep (most likely Ran) he'll put his jacket over them like a blanket

Still keeps in contact with the workers at the orphanage, he likes to make sure they're ok and when he's in a gang he makes sure they get no trouble.

Knew Takuya and was friends with him too

Holds Izana's umbrella for him when it's raining (it comes naturally for him to do this when he starts dating someone too)

Shion won't stop challenging him to random battles like press ups and arm wrestling (Shion loses every time)

Frequently cooks dinner for Izana and occasionally the other S62 members.

Blushes easily 

The first time he fought against yakuza was because of a sarcastic comment Izana made after Kakucho asked him how to get stronger.

He's been practically adopted by the Haitani brother's but doesn't actually realise that's what's going on.

Kakucho was actually super excited to take Rindou with him to exercise. He wants to do it again and assumed Rindou loved it.

Can surf well

Hearing Izana play the guitar is one of his favourite things.

He actually ended up liking South and felt bad about his death

Continues to practice running on a track so that he can one day beat Ran and Izana. 

In the good future he's one of the kid's favourites, he's always up for playing games with them. 

Drinks a lot of water, he's the friend who's always reminding others to stay hydrated 

In a relationship he's a big fan of showing affection through touch. He loves hugs, and grabbing his partners hand when walking. He also loves sleeping while having someone in his arms.

Is stubborn when it comes to his injuries, ignores them a lot.

He wasn't sure of his birthday so Izana assigned him one

If he finds someone he likes he immediately goes to Izana for advice, even if Izana has never been in a relationship himself. 

Is bad at keeping plants alive, he gets a bit enthusiastic and tends to overwater them

Whenever it snows he builds an igloo to remind him of before (Izana also joins in)

Is a very thoughtful gift giver, always puts so much effort in. Even as a kid when he was hand making gifts.

He's very physically hot (not in the way you're thinking!) he just gets hot easily, sleeps with the windows open even in winter.

Was very disappointed when he heard Takemichi had joined brahman, kicked a chair in frustration (he just wants to be in a gang with his friend)

[fictionalmenxyn]

¡𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮!

Pt.3

Pairing: Rafe x reader

Warnings: language

-❂❂❂-

It was finally the weekend, the weather was nice, as usual. Wearing your blue and white cami tee and your army green cargo pants. You pulled in your boots. Grabbing your keys, you pulled your tote bag over you shoulder. Heading out the door and to your car.

You headed over the record store, your place. A place kids in your grade don’t go, cause girls your age ‘don’t listen to that old stuff’.

You walked in. Smiling at the cashier, who’ve you friended due to the amount of time you spent there. You flicked through the record vinyls, you asked “hey Denny? Have you finally got that Cranberries album??” He nodded “yeah, it’s behind the counter, saved it for ya.” You smiled and thanked him.

Rafe was told by Topper, that you liked going to this record store. So he decided to see if you were there. He was in the ‘town’ (the store filled streets of outer banks) anyways. So he’d swing by, see if you were there.

You walked into the instrument sections. You walked over to the dark red and white pearl fender. The six string guitar, hooked up onto the wall of the store. Your fingers brush what could be yours. If it wasn’t for stupid money. Don’t get me wrong, you had money. Well your dad… but you wanted to save and get it yourself. Your money, independent money. That’s why you worked at the country club. Behind the bar. Your dad’s friend allowed you to have the job since he was low staffed and knew you wanted to earn your own cash.

You smiled at the guitar, Rafe noted. You turn the price tag over to look at the price. Shit, it hasn’t gone on sale. You sighed quietly. You walked back over to the record section.

Rafe used that as his cue to enter. He entered the store, the small bell above the door rang. You didn’t look over your shoulder, why be nosy?

You continued to flick through the records. You heard a voice to the side of you “come here often?”

You look to Rafe then back to the records in front of you “I do, what’s it to you?” He grinned “was looking for the Tidal album, you know? By Fiona Apple?” You scoffed “you? Listen to her?” You keep flicking through the records.

He leaned against the boxes “what’s it to you, huh? Can’t a guy listen to her? She’s good…” “what’s your favourite song of that album?” “Shadowboxer…” “hm…” you playfully roll your eyes. You weren’t buying this shit. “What’re you really here for, Cameron?” He chuckled “the album, sweetheart” “oh yeah? Who for? A girl? Hook up?” He playfully scoffed. You pick up a record and gently shove it to his chest.

He looked down at the album that’s now in his hands. The Tidal album in his grasp. Damn. She actually knew her stuff. Of course she did you idiot.

As she headed over to the cash register, he quickly followed. “So I saw you eyeing that red fender, back there…” you look up at him “oh so you’re stalking me now?” He chuckled “no, unless you’re into that??” You roll your eyes at his tease.

You handed Denny ten bucks, Denny raised an eyebrow. Who was this guy talking to her? And how is she still talking to him? She’s never like this…

Denny placed the ‘everybody else is doing it, so why can’t we?’ Album on the counter. You slipped it into your tote bag. Rafe asked “is that The Cranberries??” You nodded and headed outside the store. He followed, you spun on your heel and looked up at him. “Are you gonna keep following me?” He laughed “nah, just saw you and thought I’d say hey…”

“Hey. Bye”

“Woah, not so fast, can’t I have a conversation with you?”

You opened the drivers door and put your tote bag in the passenger. You look at him “what’d you want to say anyways??” He leaned against your car “you hear about Fred’s party?” You raised an eyebrow “you mean the snobby gang and their snobby cult leader, Fred??” He smirked “yeah, them” you raised an eyebrow “they’re through a party?? Seriously?” He nodded. “What about this party?” You crossed your arms and lean your hip into the side of the car. He looked down at you “wanna go?”. You chuckled “really? You’re asking me? And not some stupid bimbo girl from our grade??”

He nodded “that’s right, wanna go?” You shrug “I’m not much of a party-goer…” “aww c’mon-” he playfully nudged you “-it’ll be fun…” you shrug again “we’ll see…”

You get into your car. He replied “see you at nine thirty, sweetheart.” You squint your eyes, nodding and giving a fake smile. Rafe walked off. You reverse and head back home.

-❂❂❂-

Sitting in your room for a couple hours, you felt thirsty. Heading downstairs and into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass, putting it under the fridge water dispenser. You press the button and fill it with water.

Your father entered the kitchen, putting the newspaper on the island counter. Taking a seat in the stool. You see your sister and her friend try and sneak down the stairs. Then her friend knock over a pair of shoes on the shoe rack.

You chuckle, your dad looked over. “And where are you two going, especially dressed like that?”

Gab replied “uhh there’s this party… it’s only a few people.” Your dad looks to you “is that true, you hear about this party?” You nod. Sipping your water, then placing the glass in the counter. “You mean the boy filled, drug overload and beer chugging party?? Yeah I heard of it.” Gab glared at you. Your dad looked to Gab and her friend “is that so?” Gab answered “no! I mean.. yeah, but she’s being over dramatic, daddy!”

After your sister and dad go back and forth. Gab walked up to you, holding your arms in her hands. She begged “please, if daddy says if you go, I can go, can you pleaseee go?” You shook your head “no chance, I’d rather stay intoxicated free, thank you very much.” Gab rolled her eyes “can you just be normal for once?! God! Please! I wanna live a little and you’re being selfish!”

That kinda set you back, you knew what parties were like. She didn’t. You thought for a moment, a few nags later you sigh.

“Fine I’ll go..” you walk over to the front door. Grabbing your boots. Pulling them in along with your leather jacket. Your dad gives your sister the run down of rules. You open the door seeing Rafe there. His famous smirk slapped on his face. “Hey sweetheart, you ready?” You asked “what’re you doing here?”

He looked at his phone “it’s almost nine thirty…” you roll your eyes “yeah, whatever.” You step out the house. Rafe saw your dad put a fake baby belly on your sister. Rafe joked “who knocked up your sister?” You tug on Rafe’s arm. “It’s my dad’s tactic for not getting my sister into any ‘teenage trouble’ c’mon. Let’s go before he does the same to me.”

Rafe laughed, damn. This was gonna be fun.

-❂❂❂-

[koiiiji]

The Flakes Are Goin’ Up

my favourite russian songs + lookism boys (pt.1)

хлопья летят наверх (by FEDUK) = Kim Joon Goo

tw ; pure fluff, ooc Goo(?), established relationship, helpless romantic, wedding

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

0:21 - 1:01 "Where did you come from here? Cool shorts - former Levi's jeans Simple makeup You smell just like the first lily of the valley, I won't tear you down Where did you come from here? You smell just like the first lily of the valley, I won't tear you down I thought about you and it started snowing Cold weather warms us: closer to family All this vanity, where we are not New texts, but not about you The flakes are flying upward"

Goo caught himself thinking that he could never imagine himself at his own wedding, this was the last thing on his mind in a series of fights, showdowns with gangs, counting cash, and entertainment with his secret friends and Gun. And now here he is, standing at the altar and can’t take his eyes off you - in your beautiful, light, white dress, walking down the aisle along the rows of invited guests. Under your feet the path is lined with flower petals, everything around is decorated with white flowers, light fabrics and candles, Goo chuckles at his memory - it was your great wish for the wedding planner to create a light and bright atmosphere as much as possible.

1:05 - 1:30 "Magic and light are everywhere Why are you here alone? Hello, Let's go to the planet parade I'll give you a warm scarf: it's cold out there in space And we meet the dawn Wrapped in the clouds"

As Goo stands at the altar with you, the air is thick with emotion, anticipation, and love. The words he prepared for this moment swirl in his mind, but as he looks into your eyes, all thoughts seem to evaporate, leaving only the overwhelming feeling of adoration and commitment.

"From the moment I met you," Goo whispers into your ear as pastor keeps reading his words, "I knew my life would never be the same." He smiles so brightly, looking down at you.

"In a world of chaos and uncertainty you are my guiding light, my rock, and with you by my side, I am whole. I promise to stand by you, to protect you, and to cherish every moment we share together. You are my partner, my confidante, and my love, now and forever." As you exchange your vows, the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure bliss. And when the moment finally comes to seal your promises with a kiss, time stands still. As if by some unseen force, you are drawn together, your lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

2:27 - 2:53 "New era of love New life, you choose Something painfully familiar, but we don’t know each other I want to kiss you again and again These cozy days The flakes are falling - and we are with them Slowly melt like our kiss All our dreams are slowly melting away"

Amidst the applause and cheers of their friends, Goo and you emerge from the ceremony as husband and wife, greeted by the smiling faces of those who have stood by their side through thick and thin. Despite his ties to the gang, Goo's friends show nothing but respect and admiration for the newlyweds, offering their heartfelt congratulations and well wishes.

As the evening unfolds into a lavish wedding dinner, filled with laughter and camaraderie, Goo and you steal moments together, savoring the quiet intimacy of being newlyweds.

As the evening progresses and the festivities reach their peak, Goo and you find yourselves lost in each other's embrace on the dance floor in newlyweds dance. The room fades away, leaving only the soft strains of music and the gentle rhythm of your bodies moving as one. Goo holds you close, his touch igniting a fire within you, a passion that burns brighter with each tender caress. In this moment, there is only you and him, the rest of the world melting away into insignificance.

With every step, every movement, you feel a deep connection between you, a bond that transcends words and defies explanation. Goo's eyes meet yours, filled with a love so pure, so profound, it takes your breath away. And as the music swells and the night stretches out before you, you surrender to the magic of the moment, allowing yourselves to be swept away by the tide of emotions that threatens to consume you both. In this dance, in this embrace, Goo and you find a sanctuary for both of you, a place where time stands still and the worries of the world cease to exist.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

author’s note ; i know that’s not how traditional Korean wedding goes, but i decided to go with something more familiar for everyone, sorry hehe

author’s note 2 ; this song… ahhh, it’s such stereotypical choose for wedding i think, but it’s so beautiful, author wrote this song on his own wedding if i not mistaken and honestly this song def will be on my own wedding😭🤧😋💒✨

also!! i used Bella’s and Edward’s wedding from twilight as reference, so you can check it on pinterest or on yourude if you don’t remember!!!

author’s note 3 ; planning to do same with Jake, Sammy, Gun, Zack and Vasco

💒💐🎀🎗️

[mixsethaddams]

Soft Steddie summertime ficlet. Pure fluff. ~1700 words. No ratings or warnings.

Twitter got it first but tumblr got spellchecked 😹

One of Steve’s favourite things to do on a hot summer morning, was to stay in bed.

It was his own little form of rebellion. After years of being forced to get up at the crack of dawn to ‘not waste the weather!’ as a kid, he loved nothing more as an adult than to listen to the bird song through the window, muffled by the closed drapes.

He wasn’t always able to break the habit of a lifetime. He spent a long time after his parents stopped coming home still hauling himself up with the sun and berating himself into doing something that was worthy of the good day.

Some people didn’t have the luxury of getting up and going out to enjoy a hot day, so he should just be grateful. He spent more days than he could count sitting at the edge of the quarry, watching the gang play in the water. They loved it when Steve called to see if they wanted to do something for the day. They’d still be half asleep whereas he would’ve been awake for hours, waiting for a reasonable time to pick up the phone.

He would sit with a hot coffee, another little ‘fuck you’ to his mother. He loved warm drinks on sunny days, the way the extra heat made the tip of his nose prickle. His mother insisted he only ever have the awful homemade lemonade she never made sweet enough and steeped the peels in for too long. It was bitter enough to make Steve gag if he didn’t brace himself properly for it.

It wasn’t until the arrival of Eddie Munson that things started to shift for Steve.

He noticed it for the first time when, at one of the many quarry days, Eddie stole a long mouthful of Steve’s coffee before lighting a cigarette and settling down onto the rocky beach next to him.

“Fuck that’s good,” muttered Eddie, wiping a stray drop from his chin.

Steve stared in half-disbelief. Everyone made fun of his little thermos before now.

Steve felt a familiar flutter in his chest.

He’d been ignoring it up until now, convincing himself it was nothing because how could it be, they had nothing in common? Surviving a bizarre mind wizard’s attempt to end the world doesn’t exactly count as a ‘shared interest’.

Steve tested the waters slowly throughout the rest of the day. Nothing too crazy, nothing too deep. Just to see how close to his own opinions Eddie’s answers would land.

“Ed, I’m gonna do an ice cream run. Whats your favourite?”

“Anything lemon lime, man, thanks”

Steve’s favourite was the lemon lime popsicle.

“I got some snacks too, here, which one do you want?”

“Oh shit is that a Baby Ruth? I’m taking that, fuck the kids”

Steve had bought himself that same candy bar.

But Steve shook himself off again because come on, really? They were like, the two most popular things out there.

Only when the kids emerged from the water for their lunch did Steve see a little more of what they had in common.

There were pouts all round when the rules of an on-the-spot game were in dispute.

Voices spoke over each other to get the adults to agree that they were right and their rules were the ones that should be followed.

Steve sighed and prepared himself. Of course, the only options were to either find a new game entirely, or figure out the rules again together as group, right from the beginning.

Steve was used to being fought every step of the way on things like this. Robin and Nancy would make unhelpful comments in jest, and Steve would end up the bad guy for at least two of the gang.

He was about to open his mouth to propose his solution, when Eddie beat him to it.

“So find another fuckin’ game?”

Eddie said it so easily, licking melted popsicle juice from the side of his hand.

“But-!” The protests came immediately. Steve readied himself to dive in.

But Eddie spoke first again.

“If you can’t agree on this one, find another one,” he said firmly. “You wanna sit out here and talk about rules for an hour until its all straightened out?”

Heads shook.

“Didn’t think so. Now fuck off, you’re in my sun,”

Steve watched with wide eyes as the kids, who were really almost college aged by now, went happily back to the water.

“How did you do that?” asked Steve.

“Do what?”

“Make them listen!”

Eddie laughed.

“They had two options, they picked one, simple,” said Eddie with a shrug.

Steve watched Eddie carefully, waiting for more of an explanation that never came.

“What, you had a different solution?” asked Eddie.

Steve shook his head.

“Thats exactly what I was going to say,” said Steve, looking out to the water where they were playing together merrily.

“We good?” asked Eddie slowly, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah, yeah!” said Steve quickly, realising he’d been staring. “Not used to having someone on my side when they start fighting, thats all,”

Eddie hummed and went back to his candy, occassionally stealing more of Steve’s coffee.

When the sun was finally lowering in the sky and the water was getting that little bit too cool to be enjoyable, Steve and Eddie shared the last cigarette in the pack while everyone else towelled off and gathered their stuff.

“So what, uh…” started Steve. “What would you usually do on a day like this? Or is this your thing?”

Steve was curious if all the little shared enjoyments and opinions of the day would continue. If it would amount to the thing at the top of Steve’s list, that he’d been bred to believe as ‘shameful’.

Eddie hummed around the butt of their cigarette before passing it back to Steve, giving him the last drag.

“Big plans for days like this, Harrington,” said Eddie, stretching out and resting back on his elbows.

Steve felt his stomach twist. He’d gotten it wrong. That was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. Steve was used to thinking he’d found someone he could be himself around and then realising he was wrong.

“I would’ve stayed in bed all damn day,” said Eddie, smiling softly up at the sky.

Wait. What?

“You…bed?” stuttered Steve. “Seriously?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” mumbled Eddie. “Don’t waste the day or whatever. You ever stayed in a dark room when its sunny out? Life changing, man. Ultimate relaxation knowing you’re choosing comfort over convention. Trust me,”

Steve was stunned.

“I…I was thinking the same,” admitted Steve.

“It’s nice,” he muttered, not looking up at Eddie and feeling embarrassed somehow. “I like listening to the, um, to the birds, you know? But still being in bed,”

Eddie nodded his head.

“I totally get it,” agreed Eddie, smiling wide. Steve’s chest felt like it was about to burst when they made eye contact.

“Wonder what else we have in common,” said Eddie coyly, leaning in to knock his shoulder against Steve’s hip.

They found out later that night that they both liked a lot of the same things.

They liked how each other sounded when they giggled softly through their first kiss, sitting on the roof of Eddie’s trailer and watching the stars.

They found out they both liked teasing fingertips and gentle pushing and pulling in the right direction.

They found out they both liked to sleep holding hands to ground them against the anxiety that still plagued their little group.

They liked the bubble they created between themselves, and filled it quickly with love.

And now, late into the morning of a blazing hot mid summer day. The phone off the hook since the night before and the walkies designated for emergency use only.

They were lying together, curled up and bordering on too hot under the blanket, listening to the birds.

They listened as the rest of the neighbourhood woke up and spurred to life, cars starting and families yelling.

It was a few weeks since that day at the quarry.

Steve and Eddie had spent every night and most of every day together. They agreed on everything. Well, except pizza toppings, but Eddie would eat all the olives so it was fine. Steve’s dad had once told him that in a business if two people agree on everything, you don’t need to keep them both around.

Steve wrapped his arms tighter around Eddie and said a silent prayer that he never tried to treat a relationship like a business. That was his parents’ mistake, he thought.

It was all very new. Some people still didn’t know the true nature of their increased ‘sleepovers’, but Steve was already aghast at the idea of being without Eddie again.

He knew they’d argue eventually. They’d find a tipping point on something that they wouldn’t see eye to eye on. Steve was ready for that day. He didn’t want to think of them ever fighting but he was realistic. Steve just knew he would never make the same mistakes as his parents did, and he’d do everything he could come out the other side with his Eddie still under his arm.

Eddie stirred fully awake when a car horn blared from down the street.

“Mmmmph!” he whined. “They scared the fucking birds away,”

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighed and nuzzled in closer, settling himself in Steve’s neck with a contented hum.

“We doin’ anything today?” murmered Eddie.

Steve stroked his back in long, slow waves.

“Just this,” he whispered.

Eddie nodded, and his body soon went lax as he he drifted back to sleep.

Steve felt like crying, in fact he thought he might. He closed his eyes and rubbed his nose into Eddie’s hair. Steve was almost surprised at the overwhelming wave of contentment that crashed over him.

Years spent feeling guilt for not ‘enjoying the sun’ were slowly ebbing away. How could he feel bad over what he was doing now? How could the love, and safety he felt now, be bad?

Steve selfishly thought he would sacrifice ever seeing the sun again, if every morning was like this.

And it had been, hadn’t it? For weeks now. Steve woke up feeling just like this, for weeks.

Steve smiled to himself and tightened his hold on Eddie’s body. He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he settled himself into his pillow.

The birds returned and resumed their song.

And for hours, Steve listened.

[vintagelacerosette]

Tag game 🌱🎃

I was tagged by these spooktacular treats

Jess @jrooc @Jen @wehangout Pie @gallapiech

Evie @energievie Kat @mybrainismelted Deanna @deedala

Jessica @guinguin1984 thanksss 🍂☘️

Name: Myn

Location: Sydnaahh

Favourite season: Tbh there's not a huge drastic change in the weather in Australia so I always find this question hard lol. I usually like when the weather is sunny but not scorching with a cool breeze & having longer sun. So maybe Spring but I can get allergies lol

Favourite hot drink: A chai latte

Pumpkin: Not really bc I've only had it in salad & it can be too rich for me I'd love to try a pie!

If no? Another fall flavour you prefer: Something caramel

If yes? What is your favourite pumpkin treat: Sadly none but I hear good things about pumpkin pie & I love a good pie 🥧

I'll be in solidarity with Jen talking about spring time bc I'm in the southern hemisphere 🌏

Favourite Fall Spring activity: Visiting botanical gardens that are in full bloom of vibrant plants

Favourite Fall Spring Movie or Show: I googled this & one of the suggestions is The Secret Garden & yes definitely!!

Fave Fall Spring Fanfic: I can't think of one at the top of my head gang but if y'all have suggestions I'd love to hear them! 🥰

Fave outfit: A flowy dress (floral optional 😆 I know revolutionary)

Do the leaves change where you are in the world? Yeah but it's not a cool as it looks in America & Europe

What are you most looking forward to in the next couple of months: I have a friend's wedding where I'm gonna be a bridesmaid for & it's the 2nd time I'll be apart of a bridal party. First was when I was maid of honour for my sister! The friend is currently in London with hubby to be so we've missed her. Can't wait to do wedding celebrations

What's your one hope for Fall Spring? Make & share more art & maybe hopefully share some writing 👉👈

Tagging these darling blossoms under the cut 💐

@deathclassic @burninface @iansw0rld @sirrudo

@crossmydna @look-i-love-u @creepkinginc

@suzy-queued @ian-galagher @michellemisfit

@too-schoolforcool @francesrose3 @samantitheos

@whatwouldmickeydo @sweetbee78 @sam-loves-seb

@stocious @sickness-health-all-that-shit @mmmichyyy

@doshiart @sleepyheadgallavich @lupeloto

@sgtmickeyslaughter @mickittotheman

[beefrobeefcal]

Dark!Frankie Saga: III

Chapter Three: Sweet Dreams

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 2,720

Content Warning: Not smut yet (apologies), references to SA, almost SA, violence, threats of violence, crime, weight talk, eating, belly admiration, cooking

Author's Notes:

Thank you for your patience, Friendos! I promise to make it up to you for missing a week.

Once again, a gigantic and orgasmic thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for contributing ideas, being a sounding board, essentially co-writing this chapter and beta'ing this. Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

And thank you to @theywhowriteandknowthings for their love and support.

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

Beefro’s Master List | Previous Chapter

--------<3---------

The next week went on like it had that first day. Will would come collect you, have you help him with bookkeeping and filing, provide lunch, and eventually deposit you back to your quarters. You had no further run ins with Pope or Frankie, but Benny would come sit with you if Will needed to step away. You were falling into a routine and making the best of it.

It was later in the afternoon, coming close to the time that Will would be telling you to wrap it up when Benny came into the office.

"Hey honey...”, he smiled at you, then quickly turned his attention to Will. “Fish’s sayin’ we’re needed.”

Will looked up at him, over his ledger he had resting in his lap on his crossed leg. “Needed?”

“Yeah. All hands on deck.”

Will swore under his breath and motioned at you. “And her?”

Benny looked at you with a nervous smile, then back to Will. “Fish wants to handle her.”

Both Will and Benny looked at you when your breath hitched in your throat. Your face and neck bloomed with a red blush, and you quickly averted your eyes back down to the stack of receipts for the bowling alley in front of you.

Will let out a soft huffing laugh and twirled his pencil in between his fingers as he watched you, and Benny looked you over sympathetically.

“Won’t have Benny here to help clean up your mess, honey.”, Will chuckled.

“He wants her in the kitchen.”, Benny added in a soft tone.

Will scoffed as he stood up. “Last thing he needs is that... Jesus...”

“Dude...”, Benny sighed, then turned to you. “Come on. I’ll help you get this put away then take you down.”

*****

After being taken to the kitchen and given a quick rundown of where everything was, Benny left you alone to sort out dinner. He gave no instructions other than to make ‘a lot’, and you assumed he meant enough for all four of the men.

Frankie had yet to arrive, but Benny had said he wouldn’t be too long. It didn’t matter. Your insides were churning; you were mentally preparing yourself for his intimidation. The way he hollered at you, the way his eyes sized you up, the way he stood so close but never touched you. You didn’t know if you were terrified of him or turned on by him... maybe it was both. Either way, you gave yourself a mental peptalk while you sorted through an old recipe book you found in the cupboard above the fridge.

Deciding that despite the unseasonably warm fall weather currently outside, you were going to make an autumnal favourite of yours – shepherd’s pie. You found all the ingredients you needed and a large casserole dish to assemble it in, and you got to work.

As you got started on peeling potatoes, you heard the door open and close, followed by heavy footsteps. You kept your back turned, wanting to seem aloof and unphased by him as long as you could manage, knowing the risk this would entail as it would either impress or enrage him.

After feeling his eyes boring into you for a few moments, you heard his footsteps move and a stool pull out. The metal stool squeaked and groaned under his weight as he sat on it, you felt his eyes on you again.

It was a battle of wills; who would break first?

After peeling and dicing the potatoes, putting them into a large pot on the stove, you began cutting up carrots and onions.

You felt his eyes on you the whole time and you refused to turn around. At this point, you would have preferred him to corner you and holler, intimidate you, make you call him Mr. Morales. Goddammit, you remembered how he looked at you when he told you want to call him - his voice pitching deeper, his eyes getting darker, his large frame dwarfing yours in more ways than one. Christ, you could feel your legs getting weak under you just thinking about it, and how he looked watching you. Were his eyes dark? Was his lip curled? Was he sitting back in the stool, resting his thick, veined arms over his middle, making his stomach more prominent, or was he leaning over the counter letting his belly hang?

But you were also nervous. What if he was glaring at you, eyes full of disdain? What if he was waiting for you to turn around so he could ridicule you, belittle you, make you feel insignificant? What if he decided you weren’t worth it and you were taking up precious space when you were of no use to him? What would he do with you? What would he do to you?

Your mind began to creep to dark places as you tried keeping your composure. Thinking about what he would do to you or what he could have someone else, like Pope, do to you made your hands tremble as your breathing became shaky. You prayed he didn’t notice, but you knew he would. He didn’t get to where he was by not being perceptive and he was watching you carefully.

Finally, after cooking the beef and other vegetables then mashing the potatoes, you could assemble the shepherd’s pie. The problem was that the casserole dish you wanted to use was on the counter directly in front of Frankie.

You debated looking for another dish but knew this was the only one that size based on when you found it in the first place. That, and where the dishes were stored still would have you facing him. You sighed to yourself and turned around.

Despite your attempt to keep your eyes aloof and away from his, as soon as you turned, you were met with Frankie looking right back at you. He was sitting forward leaning on the counter, eyes meeting yours, and his mouth in a neutral line. You must have kept his gaze for a beat too long because he raised his eyebrows in a question, but you quickly grabbed the dish and returned to your workstation.

Once you’d assembled the different layers, you put the dish in the oven and set the timer for 30 minutes. You could still feel his eyes on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to turn around, your hands on the counter in front of you, leaning forward.

Before you could do anything further you heard Frankie breathe out and then the stool creak as he lifted himself off it. His footsteps moved towards the barracks and the door closed behind him. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

****

You spent the 30 minutes the food was in the oven mindlessly cleaning the kitchen up – not just your mess, but the neglect this room had received from only being used and not cared for.

You weren’t quite done cleaning when the timer went off, but enough was done. As you pulled the casserole dish out of the oven you heard it: the door opening. Heavy foots step came towards the kitchen and you almost dropped the dish.

Placing the dish on the stove top, you refused to look up at him, instead looking for a serving utensil and a plate for him. You waited for the creak of the metal stool, but nothing came. After finding what you were looking for, you finally turned and found him standing at the door of the kitchen, watching you.

He looked down at the casserole dish then back at you; his eyes dragged up your body, lingering at your chest then back up to your face. He smirked and huffed a cold laugh, then moved towards the two-person table in the kitchen and sat down. It dawned on you that he was waiting for you to serve him, to bring him his dinner.

If it wasn’t for the fact that that having his full attention made you wet, you would have scoffed at his audacity. Instead, you plated a serving and brought the food to the table and placed it in front of him. As he picked up the fork and took a bite, you turned, heading back to the kitchen.

“Bring the rest.”

You jumped at his voice, then looked back at him, noting he’d consumed a good chuck of his food already.

“M – Mr. Morales… it’s dinner for every – “

"Fuck’em!”, he snarled. “They can have ramen. You feed me, honey.", he grunted as he shoveled another forkful into his mouth.

Your core grew hot, and your face flushed at his command. You grabbed the dish, brought it to the table and loaded up his plate again. Once his plate was loaded, he tugged you closer to him, pulling you onto the chair next to him. You felt your body catch on fire as his eyes raked over you again.  He let go of your wrist and picked up his fork to eat.

As he ate, he would periodically look up with a slight grin and make sure you were still seated and watching him, like he wanted you to know he was enjoying what you prepared for him.

“Tell me, honey…”, he said between mouthfuls. “Will being good to you?”

“He’s been decent. Quiet. Only speaks to me when he needs to.” You withheld telling him about the clear annoyance Will harbored against you, apparent in every glace he shot your way.

A small smile blooms on his face and he huffs a laugh. “Sounds about right.” He takes another bite and after he swallows it, he continues. “And Benny. He seems to be treating you good. Anyone else causing issues? Anyone touch you, honey?”

“Other than you? No.”, you said flatly, not realizing the mistake of your candor.

He looked up at you, fork suspended with a warning eyebrow raised at your tone. You felt yourself shrink under his stern gaze, and you couldn’t pry your eyes away from him.

“Sorry. I - I meant… no one other than you, Mr. Morales.” Your voice was small and pathetic, but under that glare, you had no other way of getting your voice out.

“That’s better, baby…”, he said in a lower voice, his eyes going back down to his plate of food as he took a mouthful. “Mind your manners with me. Last warning.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gave you a small nod and ate a few more forkfuls in silence before talking again.

“You don’t have anything to say to me? No questions, honey?”

You stared at him, debating asking the question that you wake with and fall asleep to chanting in your mind. You didn’t want to anger him… or did you?

“How… How long am I going to… be here, Mr. Morales?”

He didn’t look up at you. Instead, he reached across the table for a napkin, and he wiped his face.

“You ready to leave so soon?”, he said with a smirk. When he saw that you were looking back at him nervously, he chuckled and licked his lips.

“Baby, you’re here until your brother’s debt is paid.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a finger to silence you.

“And how long that will be… not sure yet, honey.” He smiled and picked up his fork again.

*****

The casserole dish was empty, and you stared at his empty plate. Frankie sat back, toothpick in his mouth as he stifled a burp. He’d eaten the whole thing, and the swell of his stomach was proof. Swell was putting it mildly. His belly was pulling the buttons of his bowling shirt to the max, and his belt was digging into his waist.

He shifted with a wince in his chair, trying to get comfortable.  Taking that as your cue, you stood up and began to clear the dishes when he grabbed your wrist again.

“Honey… no.”, he said in an unnervingly soft voice. “No, sweetheart. That can wait. Benny’ll handle it.”

He released the grip, but kept his fingers on your arm, gently touching your skin. At the involuntary goosebumps he drew out of you under his touch, he gave you a lopsided grin while keeping eye contact. He then moved his hand down to adjust his belt, even though it didn't budge under the weight of his belly. You watched his big hand wiggle the belt and adjust himself over his worn jeans.

“Need your help, honey.” He spoke in that unnervingly quiet voice.

“Yes, Mr. Morales?”

He chuckled and gave you a menacing grin. “Help me to my room, baby.”

Your blood froze in your veins. Despite how hot he made you, you didn’t want this. Not like this. You hesitated.

The grip on your wrist returned, even firmer; his large hands enveloping your arm. An ounce more of pressure and he could probably snap your wrist, no issue, and you looked at him, eyes wide and breath quick. His eyes darted to your heaving chest then back to your face, and his eyebrow, once again, raised in warning.

Maybe this was part of the debt you were paying for your brother. Letting this goliath of a man turn you into a hole he can abuse at his leisure. Your mind raced, and you worried that you’d underestimated Frankie and what he was truly capable of doing to you with no repercussions.

You nodded quickly, feeling your body begin to tremble. His glare never broke from you, but his hold relaxed. He gave you a curt nod and put his hand on the table to steady himself as he used his grip on you to hoist himself out of the chair. If you thought his belly was impressive before he ate, you were astounded at it now that it was full. A dinner for four full-grown men sat heavy in his middle, and his shirt pulled tight across it. He groaned once he stood up and pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and encasing you against his side.

“That was good, honey. Shit… you might actually be useful.”, he grunted as you walked with him to the door to the barracks.

Once in the hallway, you tried to put some distance, even a fraction more, between you and Frankie, but he held you firm against his side. His body pressed against yours as he unrelentingly guided you towards his room. His scent was overwhelming you; sandalwood, clean laundry, his natural musk all rolled together and forcing itself into your memory banks. Your body once again trembled, but also were losing your resolve to fight this. Your mind reeled at the seesaw of wanting and not wanting what he was going to do to you.

As you approached his door, he stopped at yours and opened it. You stood next to him, not sure what to do. He moved around to face you, keeping a grip on your shoulder.

“Just too fucking pretty…”, he crooned lowly to himself, his free hand coming up to gently touch your jaw.

You were staring right into his eyes and suddenly, any and all softness and warmth disappeared, replaced by a cold, hard, menacing stare. He gripped your jaw hard.

“You ever hesitate when I tell you to do something again, I’ll fuck that pretty mouth yours till your teeth break. Is that understood?”

Your breath came out in short, labored pants through your nose, and you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Say it.”, he growled.

“I… I w-won’t hes - hesitate again, Mr. Mor-Morales.”, you sputtered out, whole body shaking.

He huffed and tightened his jaw. Eyeing you one more time before shoving you into your room and slamming the door.

You stumbled in and heard his door open and slam as you stood in the dark of your room alone. You listened and heard the dampened sounds of him grunting and groaning as he flopped hard onto his bed.

You didn’t even bother turning your lights on as you crawled into your bed. You fucked yourself with your fingers, his furious “Mind your manners with me” playing over and over until you came, biting on your pillow to muffle your whimpers and you calling out his name.

--------<3---------

TAGLIST:

@theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @toxicanonymity @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal

[tortugatalks]

𝗧𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 #𝟭 - 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗞𝗿𝗮𝘁𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘀. 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱|ᴴᶜˢ

in which you and your favourite kratt share a rather domestic moment. the subject? the tiny pricks of hair that have begun to poke out from the lower half of his face <3

a.n. tfw you write "hcs" but they're literally just bullet point outlines for oneshots - GAH!! ...anyway, GOSH such lovely weather we're having today, huh? =]

𓆉 gender neutral reader

𓆉 established romantic relationship

𓆉 no warnings!

Martin Kratt

━ if you're gonna get a good and thorough shave out of him, it's gotta be first thing in the morning when the rest of the gang is asleep; which is nice for him, being the early bird and all. you? mmn not so much.

━ you'll have him sit on top of the toilet lid before you work your magic with the mini razor at hand, his lower face already covered in fluffy white shaving cream. he tries his best to stay still for you, honest! but when your fingers grab the other side of his jaw and leave ghostly touches on his neck? he's bound to get ticklish! and cue the chuckles reverberating in his chest.

━ very smiley and shifts quite a lot. it's very hard to keep the razor steady when he's squirming, and your stern chastising can only do so little to keep him still. he's softly laughing—telling you through wheezes that he'll calm down, just give him a sec! yeah, nooo, once this guy has got his smileys on, it's nearly impossible for him to undo all that.

━ it's way too early for this; six in the morning to be exact. you're half asleep and the last thing you wanna do is end up slitting his cheek on accident. let out a sigh, pull his chin gently towards you and he, with a teasing grin, will joke about how serious you look right now. your eyebrows are furrowed in deep concentration, tongue poking out through your lips and to him, it's the cutest thing ever! thing is, you have no intention of paying him any mind as you continue on with your cycled movements (perhaps you'll retort back with a quip or a small hum, perhaps not.)

━ there'll be a brief silence—eerily calm—and it doesn't take long for you to feel that inkling of suspicion, and so? you lift your gaze from the skin near his jaw to meet his eyes of ocean blue. he'll look at you as if your eyes were specked with the morning stars—his sun bursting with life, bringing him warmth in the form of serenity. when your eyes meet his own, his lips form a soft, amused smile. he'll instantly press them together tightly, like he'd rather bite them than smile as if to not interrupt your concentration, but of course, a snicker escapes him, and so does a sweet “hello," (save for the wiggle of his eyebrows.)

━ realize that theres no point in trying to stop his antics. he's the wave at high tide; cathartic and consuming. he's the crash that kisses the sand; urging you to take a step forward before it swallows you whole. realize this: that'll do it. swipe a glob of shaving cream off his cheek and smear it across his nose. his eyes will widen in surprise, every laugh of his resonant and unapologetically carefree soon after! he'll grab a handful of cream off his face and smudge it across your own cheek and yep, you two are now officially at war. he's quick to think, will grab the shaving cream canister and will plan on chasing you around with it. you can try reaching for the canister all you want, but he'll block you with his body at every chance! so caught up in trying to get the shaving cream to pour away from your hands that the dork forgets to look where he steps and falls butt-first into the bathtub, letting go of the canister and pulling you down with him. nobody gets hurt, but it does elicit a boom of uncontrollable laughter. he'll tightly encircle his arms around your waist and lean his head into the crook of your neck, completely disregarding the leftover shaving cream on his face thats rubbing off on you. his laughs tickle you silly, and just before the energy simmers down, he'll tilt his neck upwards to meet your lips in a chaste kiss, the palm of his hand cupping your cheek! with all that said, you two will get back to tending to his face... eventually.

Chris Kratt

━ yet another early bird, but unlike his brother, he's a bit more easier to cooperate with. though, that doesn't necessarily mean that there won't be any mishaps along the way. on the contrary!

━ sit him down on the toilet lid and his natural instinct is to rest his hands on your hips. he knows you're tired, and holding you like this is the least he can do. keeps you still, keeps you close. but then? he's slightly red in the face when your fingers tenderly touch the skin of his neck, chin and cheek. he chuckles a bit, but it's more of a hum than a full on laugh. apply the shaving cream to his face and he'll jolt in his seat—cold! his eyes will slip shut, instantly leaning into your touch though; once again, anything to make it easier for you.

━ when he opens his eyes, however, he is faced with a rather embarrassing predicament: where is he supposed to look? he could keep his eyes on you, yes, but wouldn't that be distracting? he'll opt to look to the side opposite of you, but it's more than obvious to you that he's having quite the difficult time. his actions beckon you to gently laugh, and your laugh beckons him to raise a brow at you; a slight hiccup in the way he's snickering out a light "what?" with a small tug to your hips.

━ call him out on how's he's acting like an awkward mess and all this guy can do is playfully roll his eyes and come clean. advise him to not think about it too much and that if he'd like, he can keep his eyes on you—now and whenever he'd like. alright then, he'll muse aloud, he'll keep that in mind.

━ now in theory, that should've been enough for you to proceed with smooth sailings, but, you're with a kratt brother—there is no such thing as "smooth sailings". he'll look at you as you glide the razor under his chin, and then you'll look back up at him which will instantly prompt you two to chortle and cackle at each other. your laughs dance with one another before they fade. for a minute, it seems like everything is back to normal, but take one quick look at him and that's all it takes for you two to become a giggling mess again. goof around and tell him that he's making it hard for you to concentrate and he'll respond with a lively "me?", stating that he hasn't even done a thing! if anything, you're the one making it difficult!

━ he'll talk on and on trying to defend himself with pointless reasoning, the smile he has on display never faltering. at this rate, you'll get nowhere with him constantly blabbering. gently smush his lips together to get him to stop talking, and he will… but hear him out! nonno, listen, listen! and theeere he goes again :') playfully and softly pat his cheek to the side and he'll chuckle out a hearty "fine, fine. you win." with the both of you having agreed to keep your guys' composure, and him having compromised to keep his eyes shut in the meantime, you're off tending to some finishing touches. it's quiet, but your silence isn't empty. it's the kind that allows you to bask in each other's presence. his hands are still planted firmly on your waist, one hand tracing patterns into your hip while the other keeps your body close enough to feel your warmth. once you're done, press a kiss against the corner of his mouth and his eyes will practically shoot right open! he's all set and ready to start the day, but before that, he'll make sure to reciprocate the gesture and give you a quick smooch on the lips—a symbol of his gratitude! <3

[insertdisc5]

Devlog #10: Questions and Answers

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, which is the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!).  You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!! 

LET’S GET TO IT. This devlog is all about questions!!! So many questions!!! I’m gonna answer them all!!!

Happy 2023, everyone! It’s the year of In Stars and Time! In Stars and Time will release sometime this year on PC and Nintendo Switch! I hope you’re excited!!! In the meantime…

Nothing much to talk about this month! I am still fixing bugs, playtesters are still playing, etc. So… here’s another Q&A (Tumblr asks edition)! They're mostly characters/story based, because that's what Tumblr is all about. No spoilers though, I promise!!!

(PS: you can ask me questions whenever on tumblr btw teehee)

Anonymous asks: Hi!! Thank you for making such a wonderful game with lovely little characters!! I spin them in my head like microwaved macaroni. Can I ask what everyone's hobbies are? And their deepest fears? (If that's not too spoilery) Also have a good day!!

Siffrin likes to do wood carvings! Isabeau likes fashion, designing clothes, sewing them, that sort of thing. Bonnie likes to cook! Mirabelle and Odile both like to read- Mirabelle is a horror fan/YA type stuff, while Odile prefers non-fiction.

As for their fears, most of them are spoilery, but Odile is really afraid of heights.

Anonymous asks: I am DYING to know what that rope is on Mirabelle's outfit is, it's sometimes visible and sometimes not and I don't know what it's attached to?? I want to draw her but this rope!! Is getting me

It’s a rope that works as a belt! It goes around her waist, not her hips. It’s so her dress isn’t all flat and boring

Anonymous asks: oh DOES Sif like wearing slippers?? They seem like a slippers guy. Also what small things ticks the characters off?

YOU FELL INTO MY TRAP!!!!!!!!!!! Siffrin prefers socks. Mirabelle is the one who wears slippers.

Hm… I think saying those would be spoilers also, so I’ll just say that Odile hates when people keep secrets from her.

Anonymous asks: What is each party member's favourite season? While we're at it, what's their favourite kind of weather?

Hm… I think Siffrin is split between winter and summer (they have a good cloak that works for all kinds of weather!). Mirabelle’s and Odile’s are fall. Bonnie’s is summer (coastal kid!). Isabeau hears everyone say every season except spring and picks spring.

They all prefer sunny weather for different reasons. Siffrin because it’s easier to travel when it’s nice outside. Bonnie because they like the sun. Mirabelle because she likes to read outside under a tree, same with Odile. Isabeau because “being under the sun gives your skin a healthy glow!”

Anonymous asks: Questions! Do you have a rough estimate for how long the game will be? If this isn’t a spoiler, how did the gang all first meet? And if it is a spoiler then… what’s each of the gang’s favourite colour? 

I don't want to give any numbers just because playtimes will vary drastically depending on the way you play, but I can confirm ISAT is SIGNIFICANTLY longer than START AGAIN: a prologue!!!

For the gang meeting, first Mirabelle went traveling to try to save Vaugarde, then she met Isabeau in Jouvente, then they met Odile while traveling, then they met Siffrin, and then they met Bonnie. The nitty-gritty details aren’t really that important so I haven’t thought about it much. Most of the details on how they met will be found early in the game, so you won’t have to wait hours to know!

As for their favorite colors (Looks at the game. The game is in black and white) Think you’re funny, huh? HUH!?!???! NEXT QUESTION!!!!!

felikatze asks: how did siffrin obtain their fantabulous hat? and who is your favorite character to draw?

Siffrin was born with this cool hat. Popped right off with it on. And Siffrin is my favorite to draw, with Mirabelle a close second. Bonnie is my least favorite to draw within the gang but I still love them dearly. The King is my least favorite to draw period

inverts asks: why does siffrin wear gloves? what's loop's favourite food? what's the KING's favourite food? teehee

Bunch of reasons, but really the two main ones are 1. Looks cool and 2. Keeps them from biting their nails.

Thank you for the Loop question. No one asked about Loop!!! If Siffrin asked them their favorite food, Loop would say “bananas”. But is it true? Yes. But is it? Yes, for sure. But? Yes.

The King’s favorite food are uuuh (I go through my rolodex of foods) carambolas. Yeah

Anonymous asks: what are the gang's favorite hot cocoa toppings?

I don’t know enough about hot cocoa toppings to answer this, so have their favorite nonalcoholic drinks instead. Siffrin doesn’t think they have a favorite drink but really it’s sugarcane juice, Mirabelle’s is either tea or orange juice, Isabeau’s is probably milk or something, Odile’s is tea (but it’s gotta be expensive), Bonnie’s is pineapple juice.

Anonymous asks: whos the shortest (besides the kid) and tallest of them all?

Within the crew, Siffrin is the shortest (besides Bonnie), and Isabeau is the tallest! The real tallest is the King, of course.

Jovial-gender-jester asks: did the kid & their sister ever cook together?

Their sister taught them how to cook, so yes!

Anonymous asks: will we learn more about how Siffrin damaged one of their eyes? 

Yes :)

Anonymous asks: what’s your opinion on speedrunning isat/saap from a lore perspective? as in, what do you think goes through siffrin’s head when they decide to do it?

>:3c teehees evil-y (⬅has added an item and lore made specifically for speedrunners)

Anonymous asks: is the gang gonna be okay. are they gonna be happy

>:3c I teehee evil-y once more

Anonymous asks: Is there a map of the world? Where are things exactly (e.g. where is Ka Bue compared to Vaugarde (?) ?)

Have this map I drew early in development of the countries around Vaugarde. The story doesn’t really need me to know about The Whole Map so I didn’t think about it. I only figured out two neighboring countries’ names too so I could say other countries’ names for Worldbuilding Reasons (as in, to show Vaugarde is a country inside a world, and not just The Only Country In The World), but I do see Vaugarde as being surrounded with many other ones. Could’ve figured out more country names, but two is a good number. Ka Bue is on the other side of the world- Odile has been traveling for A While. For country sizes here, think European countries!

jovial-gender-jester asks: is it alright to ask how you came up with craftonomy? it was cool realizing it's different from craftology, and maybe has no bearing? the concept's fascinating!

Welcome to insertdisc5’s brainstorm theater

Hi I am insertdisc5 and I am making the prologue> ok i need a magic system for this world > fuck i can’t use basic fire water grass because one of my puzzles is all around finding a fire > ok well every magic system in rpg games is just rock paper scissors really > so… why not… just… rock paper scissors > ok but what kind of world comes up with that tho > so maybe it’s all around Creating Things… you can make all kinds of art with rock (sculpting) paper (art, writing) and scissors (uh… idk cutting things) and i kind of like the idea of magic being something similar to art, so let’s call it Craft > ok now i need to create events with every fucking thing i added to the maps, and also explain the world a bit more > the study of craft… craftonomy > hey you know how you have astronomy (studying space) and astrology (adding meanings to constellations, horoscope) so it’d be funny if it was the same, it would be a funny joke > craftonomy (studying craft) and craftology (“if you’re rock type you’re probably very strong but gullible hehe”) are born

Punkitt-is-here asks: How is RPGMaker treating you ⬅(best wishes)

Rpgmaker is my little cat that stays on my lap cutely and doesn’t even scratch me anymore. This is in big part thanks to my programmer who takes care of the really hard code for me teehee (THANK YOU ISABELLA!!!)

hummingcrows asks: How do you stay motivated!

I genuinely don’t have a helpful answer for this, I don’t find it hard to stay motivated to finish things in general… The few times I felt discouraged, I just either went “ok what’s like A Small Thing I can finish today, so this day isnt a total wash” even if it’s just doing one sprite, or “what’s one thing that would make me really happy to add” like a small scene or something, or just making the chairs’ backs rounder for Lore Reasons, and then I do it, and I am happy, and I am motivated

Anonymous asks: what was it like converting the character designs to game sprites? did they transfer easily or was it difficult?

Pretty easy! Outside of Siffrin (who already has a very simple design), I knew I would have to convert them into sprites, so I knew I couldn’t go too detailed with them. Even with their first concept art, I made sure to doodle them as sprites as well so I could make sure they would look distinct from one another!

(Very First Concept Art for everyone except Siffrin. Got their faces first try! (Except Bonnie))

Honestly the main problem was with their height… In the prologue, they all are very small, since I used a 48x48 size, and Siffrin has a MASSIVE hat that takes almost half his size, so all the other characters had to be drawn relative to Siffrin’s size, which meant I couldn’t add as many details as I wanted. I’m glad that for In Stars and Time I found a way to make the sprites taller (they’re 48x96 now, but I’m not using the full height), so now they are all cute and not squished.

(Some of the first sprites I did for the prologue. Look at how squished everyone looks!)

(Profile sprites for In Stars and Time)

roebeanstalk asks: Have you run into any mechanics you've been excited about, but have decided it's better to save them for a future project to keep this one going? Kind of a "kill your darlings" but for game mechanics?

I’m very happy to say that I’ve managed to add all the things I wanted to add to the game! It helped that there weren’t that many mechanics I wanted to add in the first place lol. I even had time to add one I scrapped early in development because it wasn’t that important! But it made me happy to add it so it’s in now!!!!

galaksyz asks: how many siffrins must be stacked on top of each other until they overtake the eiffel tower in height (ok i just wanted to give you the mental image of the Siffrin Pillar)

actual question: once the game is released, what part of fan reactions & creations would you look forward to most/what would you hope for most?

i think it would be awesome to see fan comics or animations, or OST remixes, or YT playthroughs, analysis/essay videos, maybe AUs... if you had to pick just one of those sorts of things, what would it be that you'd like the most?

212.9 Siffrins. Thank you for asking

And I genuinely love every single fan reaction/creation I've seen so far!!!! I have many folders filled with everyone's reactions/creations that I love to look at when I feel down :')

Fan comics definitely have a special spot for me in my heart tho... Those were always my favorite kind of fanarts to make, as a fanartist myself. The comics I’ve seen from the prologue already make me so so so happy!!!

And also, people just writing about the game… Like, just about things they like, things they’ve noticed, or theories they have, there’s also been a few and they just make me so happy. My brain goes on a loop of “yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah”. This is why I love the theories channel on the discord so much hehe, I tried really hard to add little breadcrumbs so it makes me happy when people pick up on it!!! And someone made a post that was just a list of everything they liked about the prologue and it made me so happy it felt like I was floating for a week hehe

pixxyofice asks: I am always curious about gamedev struggles. So... how hard is it to fix bugs for this game in particular? With the time looping I bet it would be hard to figure out maybe.

Uhhh and also what are each member's favorite colors?

Not that hard! I haven’t done a lot of Big Weird Code inside of rpgmaker, so any bugs are usually because I messed up a switch or variable, so it’s just a matter of figuring out the problem and changing one (1) thing. As for finding out there’s even a bug, that’s what QA and playtesting are for!

Bugs related to the time loop mechanic have (FOR NOW?!?) all been taken care of, so the bugs now are mostly related to choices, since some choices appear/disappear depending on where you are in the story. So sometimes I get a playtester like “hey Adrienne, i don't understand this choice i'm getting here”, and it’s because i messed up and it shouldn't be here yet. OOPS!

As for their favorite colors (I look again. The game is STILL in black and white. I try to run towards you but I'm held back) lemme at ‘em, LEMME AT ‘EM– (a few minutes pass, I calm down) Ok. What's the last question?

itr13 asks: what's everyone's favourite colors?

…..

Mirabelle’s would be a warm pink, Siffrin’s black, Odile’s dark green, Isabeau’s sunflower yellow, and Bonnie's black (but really, light blue). ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!?!?

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

[queen-of-meows]

Cassandra Nova/witch!reader

For @tadssstrange . I hope you enjoy ! Part 2 coming tomorrow.

You have lived in the Void for so long you barely remember your life on the timeline, but you know it's probably better this way. Born with the power to control the elements, you built yourself a comfortable living in this lawless place. Cozy little cottage, lovely garden... some would say you have it all. Except that you feel a little lonely with your cats and Void turkeys.

Until one day, you are summoned by the queen of the borderland herself. What does Cassandra Nova might want from a lower class mutant like you, and is she as terrifying as poeple whisper around the camp fire ?

Cross-posted on AO3

If you enjoyed, please toss a kudo to your writer !

You have lived in the Void for so long you barely remember your life on the timeline, but you know it's probably better this way. Born with the power to control the elements, you built yourself a comfortable living in this lawless place. Cozy little cottage, lovely garden... some would say you have it all. Except that you feel a little lonely with your cats and Void turkeys. 

You live on your own, in a house buried under a mountain. You decorated it with things you gathered along the year. You realised pretty quick that time doesn't pass in the Void, so maybe you've been here for centuries. Who knows ? It's quite a pleasant life, if you know how to avoid Alioth, and more importantly, the petty territorial wars between clans. Humans are so silly. As a mutant, you've learned to mind your own business for as long as you remember.

You control the elements, not on a big scale like Storm or Pyro, but you have enough power to influence the local weather and the quality of the soil. That makes you the most extraordinary gardener in the Void. You prefer the title of witch. You're pretty sure you were some sort of herbalist in your previous life. If you miss anything from your timeline, it's the night sky and the planets. Here the lights in the sky are foreign, like stream of light or branches of a tree. You've learned to know it and work with it, but sometimes you would give your kingdom for a good old astral chart.

Sometimes fruit from your garden disappear. You don't mind, you know marauders are hungry and sometimes you feel bad for them. Until one day, a scary looking man knock at your door.

"Are you the Witch of the Lost Woods ?" he asks, pointing a weapon to your chest. You clench your fists and try to think about an escape plan.

"This is one of my titles. Do you need anything ? If you put this ugly thing down, I will give you what you need. Do you need medicine ? A healing spell ? A fortune reading ?"

"Cassandra sent us to get you."

You frown. So they're members of Cassandra Nova's little gang of bandits. You don't like it. You've heard terrible things about those poeple who dwell in the borderland. Some even say the Deadpool Corp joined their ranks. Not the sort of poeple you want to get associated with.

"Is she sick ?" you ask a bit curtly.

The man laughs.

"Cassandra ? Sick ? Don't make me laugh, she would survive a nuclear apocalypse."

"Then I don't have anything to do with you."

You close the doors, but the man blasts it open with a kick and takes you by force. You scream, but he knocks you out. When you wake up, you are tied up inside a spherical cage, pulled through the desert towards Nova's citadel. For the first time since you learned how you avoid Alioth, you are scared.

 

Cassandra Nova made her lair inside the dead remains of a gigantic man in an armour. Once the initial disgust dissipated, you find it quite interesting. Ingenious architecture is one of the things you enjoy the most in the Void. That, and all the different versions of your favourite books and movies.

You are dragged across the main yard to the entrance of the skull. The bandits send you dirty looks, some of them make rude or violent gestures to you.

The inside of the skull looks nice than you imagined. A metallic structure ornated with scattered panels of yellow stain glass hide most of the bone walls and a selection of imposing looking furniture makes it vaguely homely. Nothing close to you quaint Hobbit hole, but not everyone has your elegant tastes.

It takes you a few seconds to notice Cassandra Nova. The man makes you kneel before a massive stone throne and you notice the figure sprawling leisurely on the piles of furs and cushions. Her boot clad lower legs are thrown over the large armset and there's a arm dangling from a heap of beige suede.

"I brought her, madam."

The hand makes a dismissive gesture. You notice it looks a little strange, but you can't see well from where you are. Your chains fall and the man disappears in a corner.

"So you are the Witch of the Lost Wood ?" a nonchalant voice asks.

You can't see her face yet, but the voice suprises you. She sounds young, almost girlish. For some reason, you always imagined Cassandra Nova as a an older woman, maybe because you associate her with her twin brother Professor Xavier.

"Is there anything I can do for you ?" you ask with your professional witch tone.

Cassandra rises slowly and takes support on her elbow. Your heart misses a bit when you see her face. You've heard a lot of things about her, mostly terrible ones, but no one ever told you she how pretty she is. She makes a pouty face and your heart melts. Shit, she's really, really cute.

"I am in desperate need for your craft, witch."

You stand up and manage to get a better view on Cassandra's figure.

"Last week, my men went back from a raid on your lands."

"So you are the one to blame for stealing my peaches !"

A wry smile creeps on Cassandra's pink lips.

"Yes, it was me. Aren't I naughty ? But now I tasted to the delicious fruits from your garden I am longuing for more."

"You don't have much fresh fruit in the desert, right ?"

She nods and you understand her gang must be scavengers. It is the path most poeple chose to follow, and you can't blame them. The TVA prunes whole buildings on a regular basis, and even after Alioth passed, there is always a bit of food left. Dumpster diving is the easiest way to survive, and even you enjoy doing it once in a while.

"Maybe we could do business, then" you offer.

Cassandra giggles.

"Business ? I don't do business, witch. I got you and now you are mine. You're going to grow a beautiful garden for me and for me alone."

You've met poeple like her before. Kings, mobs, faction leaders who think they can own the land and the poeple on it. All fools who eventually met their end while you are still here to tell the tale.

"I can't grow a garden in the desert, and even if I could, my gifts are not yours to hold."

Cassandra tilts her head and without warning, she jumps on her feet. She's taller than you imagined, but her petite silhouette and spindly limbs makes her look delicate. You've learned to be wary around unassuming mutants, though. Especially psychic ones.

"Everything in this place is mine, dear."

Usually, this is the kind of discourse you dispise the most, but coming from Cassandra, those words sound almost... cute. You have heard enough gory tales to not underestimate her. You take a firm posture and look at her in the eyes.

"If you let me go back home, I can send you regular deliveries of fruit. And if I manage to get my hand on a few more time stones, the harvests could come faster."

"Hard in business. I think I like you, witch."

Cassandra walks closer, until her face is only a few centimeters away from yours.

"Show me your garden" she demands.

"Do you want to come with me ?"

"Nah thank you. I am an indoor girl. I want to see it here and now" she sings softly

Without a warning, she grabs the back of your head and you can feel her finger dig in your hair, under your skin, and through your skull ? You realise with horror that her fingers are prodding through your face. Images slide if front of your mind, merging with the present moment. You feel Cassandra rummaging through your memories like pictures in an album. You hate telepaths with bad manners, but she has a hold on your mind, in a very physical way. You can't deny her little trick could feel quite pleasant if Cassandra wasn't this rough. A very stupid part of you thinks you might teach her a better way to use her lovely fingers.

When she finally gets off your head, you take a long breath to recover and keep a firm look. Cassandra smiles and stares longuingly.

"So pretty. I've never seen anything this pretty before."

"If you let me go, you can come visit whenever you want. Do we have a deal ?"

She nods.

"Deal. John, drive the lady back to her land and make sure no one ever come to bother her. She's under my protection now."

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond!: Sonic Anniversary Broadcast

OMT!Mina: Is the equipment all ready?

OMT!Tails: Cameras live, microphone prepared, tracklist set...

Nine: And today's weather bulletin is set up. Seems like we're all good to go!

Mini Sonic: Excellent!

D-Sides Mighty: Okay. We're ready to start recording.

BK!Amy: We're going live in 5... 4... 3... 2...

OMT!Tails: Good morning, speedsters and music lovers, loud and proud from the Blur HQ, and you're listening to SEGAVerse Blur Bangers! I'm your host for today, Tails from Dimension MP-2021!

OMT!Mina: And I'm your co-host, Mina Mongoose from the same place!

OMT!Tails: And boy, have we got some exciting things lined up for today! Today is June 23rd, the official anniversary date for Sonic the Hedgehog, which kickstarted all of us, in a way.

OMT!Mina: A lot has happened in the past 33 years, and it's those 33 years that brought us as the Blur Gang together today. We've undergone a lot of adventures across different worlds in our image, and met tons of amazing friends in general!

OMT!Tails: Before we continue, I wanted to thank my fellow Blur Gang teammates in the recording studio today for helping set up the whole operation for us!

Nine: Heh, you got it, Tails! It's a pleasure to be doing this today with you all.

OMT!Tails: Now, you might be wondering; "Tails, why have you and your team started a radio station today?" Well, partly because of the anniversary, and also because of the radio venture the Sonic and Tails from Dimension GB-2024 have done. You guys, if you're hearing this, keep going strong with Spin Dash Radio!

Nine: That's why he came to me today. I set up the radio station since I finished preparing the Blur HQ for us, but it hasn't gone into use until today, in part thanks to all the craziness we endured in the last 8 months, and I'm happy to get it going! And so here we are, bringing you the music that keeps the SEGAVerse's heroes going strong over the years!

OMT!Mina: So, whether you're getting work or school assignments done, getting ready for a jog around your homeplace or just here to enjoy some fun music, we'll be sure to bring you on a fun journey of awesome beats together, all on SEGAVerse Blur Bangers.

EX!Alice: Okay. Let's get the song list ready while we wait for Sonic Prime to get here. This is our Retro Nostalgia Mix, right?

OMT!Tails: Yep! Now, before we get started, let's address the elephant in the room; Green Hill Zone won't be the first song you'll be hearing today. Just to subvert your expectations for once! Now, we're taking it back to the classics, but with some remixes from guys like Tee Lopes, Jahn Davis and Jun Senoue! You're listening to the one and only SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Go here for the Retro Nostalgia Mix!

OMT!Tails: Hey, everyone! Welcome back! Hope you all enjoyed that trip down memory lane so far.

Nine: Sonic's made it!

OMT!Tails: Brilliant! Come on up, Sonic!

Sonic Prime came onto the recording stage.

Sonic Prime: Hey, everyone! The original Sonic the Hedgehog here! Fastest thing alive, Blue Blur, speed demon, yeah, you get the idea. Thanks for inviting me onto this event, guys!

OMT!Tails: No problem, Sonic!

Sonic Prime: Heh, the popcorn on the way in was sweet! The chilli flavour's gotta be my favourite.

OMT!Mina: So, Sonic. We called you here for a small interview for the audience listening out there! Just a bit of a sum-up about how you've been doing as of late.

Sonic Prime: Ah, sweet! Not too different from the Sonic Takeovers on Twitter and TikTok, huh?

BK!Amy: C-Can we still call it that?

Sonic Prime: I'm definitely still calling it that.

OMT!Tails: Anyways! So, what's your latest outing been like?

Sonic Prime: Well, of all things, Eggy's been trying to stop me with these strange figurines of us and my friends and rivals. Not sure what he planned out about it, but it was quite the fun trip down memory lane, and I hope you guys out there will have fun checking it out on your mobile devices!

OMT!Mina: Sounds pretty interesting! How've your friends been doing back home?

Sonic Prime: Well, just the same as ever, of course. Tails, Knuckles and Amy have definitely grown a lot since I last saw them. Tails has been doing plenty of solo ventures, Knuckles has been seeing the world, and Amy's definitely been doing well in sharing her love to the world.

Mini Sonic: And I'm guessing Baldy McNosehair's barely changed much?

Sonic Prime: Eh, you could say that. Hey, didn't you say there was one region of Little Planet I somehow skipped out on entirely?

OMT!Tails: Dubious Depths, right?

Sonic Prime: Yeah, that's the one! Only thing I remember about it was avoiding a pit trap laid there, and I quickly got on my way after that. I'm sure the Time Stones quickly undid any meddling Eggman did there.

OMT!Mina: Mhm.

OMT!Tails: So, last question before we let you get back to your daily routine of running around; what kind of advice do you have to share to the audience out there?

Sonic Prime: Well, I say keep your will to achieve your aspirations high, fellow speedsters! The road to get there is a tough one, I'm not gonna lie, but if you believe in yourself and have the drive to overcome the hurdles in your way, you can do anything!

OMT!Tails: Excellently said, Sonic!

Sonic Prime: Well, guess that's my time to get back home!

Nine: I'll lead you back to the teleporter, Sonic.

Sonic Prime: Sweet! Thanks for the help, Nine! Stay cool, everyone!

They headed off.

OMT!Tails: Well, let's get started with more hearing from you guys and taking some calls. Whether you've got any questions, like we mentioned before, feedback or just wanna chat, now's your opportunity to dial in! You Tumblr/Tumblelogs users out there can use the ask system as usual, while anyone in the SEGAVerse can dial in using the communicator system. Our number is MP-211192. That's 2-1-1-1-9-2. And for anyone asking for donations to help over at Palestine in Earth-0, though we can't send anything over, rest assured that we've got you guys' back the whole way!

OMT!Mina: While we hold the line for some calls and asks, let's get going with some more music! For this next playlist, we're bringing in some alternate themes heard across the Floating Island, courtesy of Leliani Wilson and John Tay on two sides. Let's get right back to it on SBB; SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Go here for the Alt Angel Island Mix!

Nitro: You guys finished that mix of tracks?

OMT!Tails: You got it!

Nitro: Got our first caller for the day!

OMT!Tails: Sweet! Let's put them up on the TV!

BK!Amy: This one over here, right?

Mini Sonic: Yep, that's the one!

Amelia appeared on the screen.

Amelia: Hi!

Nitro: Heh, Amelia!

OMT!Tails: Great to see you, Amelia! How does it feel being on live radio?

Amelia: Feels pretty cool! You guys are doing well over there! I just wanted to say how much I'm enjoying the event so far!

BK!Amy: Thank you! I see that's Music Plant you're at right now.

Amelia: Heh, yeah. I've been looking after April and Feral for the day and thought it'd be sweet to say hi!

Nitro: Glad to hear it! Are they both doing okay?

Amelia: Of course!

OMT!Tails: So I heard you got a cat that accompanies you quite often, right?

Amelia: Mhm. Her name's Rose, and I've had her since I was a little girl!

BK!Amy: Aww, that's such a nice name!

Amelia: Thanks, Amy. I named her after my late grandmother, Rosemary Walten.

OMT!Tails: Rosemary, huh? I'm guessing you saw the tapes and files your mom had, right?

Amelia: Yeah. It's... really tragic how low the Bon's Burgers stuff fell when those who would've been my uncle and auntie got killed by accident.

Mini Sonic: Man, that sounds nasty. I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am.

Amelia: It's alright. I'm sure they would've wanted me to stay strong for their sakes, like how my mums did when they adopted me as a baby.

OMT!Tails: I'm glad to hear that, Amelia. Hope you enjoy the rest of the event today!

Amelia: Thank you! Bye, Chris! Love you~!

Nitro: Heh, love you too, Ami!

The call ended there.

OMT!Tails: Heh, that was such a sweet start. Well, time for a bit of a cool-off after all those exciting songs before. As fun as it is to have a blast from the past in our previous two mixes, it's only fitting that we shift gears into the here and now of music.

CR!Sonic: Yeah. I only just got here, but I felt it'd be fitting for us to start the next mix with my introduction. Running's great and all, but when I'm not doing that, I see myself on a beach or under a tree's shade chilling out and watching nature thrive. So this next mix will comprise of some more tranquil melodies, both from our games and from SEGA as a whole.

OMT!Tails: So sit back, relax and take a little break as we share the Relaxation Mix with you. And where can we do that, guys?

Nitro: Heh, only on SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Go here for the Relaxation Mix!

OMT!Tails had fallen asleep during the Mix, with OMT!Mina sitting next to him.

OMT!Mina: Heh, looks like those songs tired Tails out a little bit. I'd say we'll let him enjoy his nap while we continue the show from here.

BK!Amy: So, what's next on the agenda?

D-Sides Mighty: How about catching up on some of the newer Sonic and SEGA releases as of late?

Trip: Including the game based on the Starfall Islands?

OMT!Mina: Heh, yep!

CR!Sonic: Well, I'm sure many of you are no stranger to the upcoming port of Sonic Generations with that Shadow sidestory, right?

OMT!Mina: Mhm! With the Shadow costume Superstars Sonic got the other day, this is definitely the Year of Shadow at the moment.

Wacky: Too right. I'm proud of the guy for coming this far already!

Hog: What's so hype about Shadow, anyway? Well, aside from what I saw him pull off during EggOmega's madness.

CR!Sonic: Well, he's proven a match for any Sonic, sacrificed himself to stop the ARK destroying a world, and even pulled off attempting to redeem villains in different dimensions!

Hog: Now, that's pretty impressive stuff there.

Nitro: Isn't there also that new Super Monkey Ball game coming out on the Switch in a couple of days?

OMT!Mina: Ah, yeah! I really like how it's still respecting the roots of the stuff while not being a remaster of a prior game.

Wacky: Me too. The story's pretty neat as well, with all those cutscenes and dialogue to do with them. I'm looking forward to seeing how it comes along!

OMT!Mina: Me too!

BK!Amy: You know, why don't we have some more calming songs to continue the relaxation period?

OMT!Mina: Good thought. This time, we're gonna be picking some lo-fi beats from the SEGAVerse for this next Mix. Don't touch that dial, folks! Keep it with us on SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Go here for the Lo-Fi Beats Mix!

OMT!Tails: Hey, guys! Hope you enjoyed both those mixes. Heh, sorry I nodded off before. Anything important I missed?

CR!Sonic: Aside from discussion on the latest SEGA releases, nothing much.

OMT!Tails: Ah, well. This is definitely a fun endeavour thus far! I'd say we're really hitting our stride!

EX!Alice: Yeah. I'm still getting used to audio mixing, but this is absolutely fun! Who knew working under some pressure would be a bit more exciting?

Mini Sonic: And thanks to the support of our listeners out there, there's no telling how far we can get to.

OMT!Tails: With that, where do we go next for our event today?

Punching is heard to the right with Mr. Needlemouse trying to smash the piñata apart.

Mr. NM: Hah! Take that! You want some of this, mister?

OMT!Tails: NM? You found your way in here?

Mr. NM: Yeah. I heard you were all up here doing this, so I thought... why not?

OMT!Mina: Fair enough.

Nine: Don't tell me you've gone and smashed that vase in the living room again.

Mr. NM: Er, hehe... Whoops.

Nine: Rats. This is, like, the seventh vase I'm gonna have to replace. Next time, I'm getting one that's nowhere near as fragile as the others.

Mr. NM: So, we're celebrating the 33rd anniversary of the guy that inspired my design? Awesome! What are we doing next? A rematch with the Ring Racers?

OMT!Mina: Ah, yeah. That reminds me about the game's release based on them. It wasn't received all too well upon launch, and even with its patches to fix issues, people have still been bashing it for how technically-complex the vehicles are compared to your run-of-the-mill kart racers.

OMT!Tails: It's a shame, really. The game's been in development for a whole five years, and I get the contentions people had with it, but it didn't deserve that much backlash.

Mr. NM: Not even with the cheating CPUs and the difficulty of the... you know.

Nitro: Those points aside, the art direction is really good, porting Genesis levels into 3D no problem, and downgrading the Dreamcast levels with little to no issue. If anything, the single-player content made it more than worth the wait.

OMT!Tails: And the music as well! Speaking of which, this is gonna be our next destination; original music from some of the big Sonic fan games out there. Hope you enjoy this next mix, only on SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Mr. NM: That's the name of this thing?

CR!Sonic: Just roll with it, man. The mix is starting.

Go here for the Fan Creations Mix!

OMT!Mina: Man... These guys really have a good hand in composing original music for their Sonic fan projects.

?????: Wholeheartedly agreed there, Mina!

OMT!Mina: Wha-? Oh, Lilac!

Lilac: Greetings, everyone!

OMT!Tails: Hey, Lilac! Glad you could come along too for the big anniversary!

Lilac: Considering my past discovery of me and Sonic having those connected ties, this is something I couldn't miss out on.

Trip: You're always welcome here, Lilac!

Lilac: Heh, thanks, Trip!

BK!Amy: So, I take it you've been hearing the past mixes we've been throwing out?

Lilac: Yep. And I recognised the last one in the previous mix as being composed in the past by the lady who had a hand in making my game's soundtracks. That's why I decided to come straight here!

OMT!Mina: We're honoured!

Trip: So if you're a dragon, and I've been meaning to ask this for a bit, but are you able to breath fire?

Lilac: Well, that's a bit different. I'm a water dragon, so I'm not really capable of it. I'm really good at swimming, though!

Trip: Cool! I can breathe little fireballs out! Watch this!

She puffed and blew one into the air that went out very shortly after.

OMT!Tails: Woah! I never knew you could do that! Great work, Trip!

Trip: Heh, thank you.

Lilac: Well, how about another set of songs? Sonic himself has definitely inspired other developers to make their own games based on the high-speed he's often involved with, so I thought this next mix could be dedicated to any indie games that have top speed as the aim of their game!

OMT!Mina: That can be arranged!

OMT!Tails: Well, you heard it, folks! It's time to fire up our indie game music mix. Stay tuned into SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Hog: Comin' through!

Hog charged up a spindash to hit the piñata, only to crash into Mr. NM and cause them both to tumble to the ground.

Hog: Ow... Sorry!

Mr. NM: Aw, come on! >:(

Go here for the Indie Grooves Mix!

Lilac: Heh, what a trip down memory lane that was.

Mr. NM: "Trip down"? I'm still all in a tangle thanks to the tenrec over here.

Hog: You know, honestly, man, you do enough bad stuff in your dimension that it's warranted.

OMT!Tails: You had a whole 25 minutes to get yourself sorted out. Plus, you're a cartoon. Can't you flip yourself back into shape easily?

Mr. NM: Oh, yeah! (does so) Why didn't I think of that before?

OMT!Mina: I mean, any cartoon with those physics is capable of doing that.

CR!Sonic: Alright. So, we're nearing the end of the event now, and there's only one more mix we've got lined up.

OMT!Tails: Before we do that, though, it's time to give today's Gallop Lotto numbers a spin! Mighty, could you fire up the machine?

D-Sides Mighty: You got it!

He leapt into the Gallop Lotto warper as the lotto machine dispersed the balls that rolled around. The winning numbers were deposited out one-by-one.

OMT!Mina: Alright, folks. Today's winning numbers are... 04, 05, 2X and 03! And the winnings are 24 rings to whoever got the numbers today!

OMT!Tails: To whoever got those numbers on their lotto ticket today, congratulations!

D-Mighty came back out of the warper, landing safely down afterwards.

D-Sides Mighty: That should do it!

BK!Amy: Great work, Mighty! Alright, that just leaves our last mix before we wrap this up today.

OMT!Tails: You got that right! And for this last mix before we go to our regular broadcast period, we're gonna be focusing on some modern-day beats for you all to enjoy! Our Modern-Day Mix is sure to get the groove going to wrap up our event for today! It's our longest one of all, reaching 11 different tracks from the modern and Adventure eras! Are you ready? Only on...

OMT!Tails and OMT!Mina: SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Lilac: Here we go!

Nitro: Let's rock!

Go here for the Modern-Day Mix!

CU!Sonic and CU!Sonia arrived during the last song.

CU!Sonia: Woo! That was awesome!

OMT!Tails: Heh, hey, guys! Just in time to see the station in person!

CU!Sonic: Heh, I'm honoured. Sorry we couldn't get here before the event came to a close, but we really enjoyed listening on the way here.

OMT!Mina: Glad you had fun, Sonic!

CU!Sonic: Where's the other me's kids, by the way?

CR!Sonic: They stayed at home to listen to the radio, but they've both been rootin' for me today.

OMT!Tails: Sweet! Well, I guess that wraps up the main event. I know not all of us could be here for the event itself, but it was definitely a great time all around!

EX!Alice: We should definitely find a way to make more room for our radio station. More comfy seats, a green room for guests, catering from across the multiverse...

Lilac: And we could definitely invite some of our friends from the Quill Society to have interviews from time-to-time. Heh, Carol would be geeking out just thinking about being on radio.

Mini Sonic: Well, I'll be the first to say that this radio station experiment turned out to be a success!

BK!Amy: Absolutely! Trip: Yeah!

OMT!Tails: Wholeheartedly agreed! Thank you guys for joining us today, and we hope you enjoy the rest of the day with an even mix of different music! This has been Tails from Dimension MP-2021, having come to you live on SEGAVerse Blur Bangers!

Everyone: Bye for now!

Mr. NM: Be sure to tune into the next one, folks!

OMT!Tails: After our ad break, BK Amy will take over with our next programming block; Amy's Cooking Tips. My Amy will be joining her, too, once she makes it down here. See you then, everyone!

"This is SEGAVerse Blur Bangers! On FM, online and on your smart speaker!"

Happy 33rd Anniversary, Sonic the Hedgehog!

Other Songs:

Main Programme

Sonic Prime Interview

Starcrossed Lover Call

Upcoming SEGA Games

Ring Racer Discussion

Lilac's Arrival

Goal Post Near

Gallop Lotto

Wrapping it Up