#the money to move and everyone is trying and trying and working themselves until their exausted and stressed and sick and mom is struggling

[pointyfruit]

Just imagined a complex animated short about Bloodmoon huntin for ye good ol blood except it was in the perspective of one of the children that get hunted.

I almost made myself cry.

[elikajinnie]

Heyyy could you do a oneshot of sh or hs inspired on the song what you need by the weeknd

I Am Everything You Crave - L.H

P: Player!Heeseung X Fem!Reader (recommended age 18+)

Warnings: Non-Idol!au, Suggestive Content, Situationship?, Pursuing, Possessive Behaviour, Begging, Alcohol Consumption, Jealousy if you squint, Mature Content, he kinda down bad.

Synopsis: Working at the campus café was fine—until Lee Heeseung entered the picture. A colleague with a reputation, Heeseung had made it his mission to add you to his collection of women. Much to his surprise, you rejected him. That is, until one party changed everything. You thought you could forget what happened and move on, but Heeseung? He has no intention of letting you go so easily.

a/n: This is very suggestive okay?? since the song is freaky :3

now playing: what you need by the weeknd | fuck yeah by ballinciaga | rude boy by rihanna | shameless by camila cabello

--

Life had its ups and downs. Right and wrong. Yin and yang. It had always been like that, and it would always be like that. Life isn’t easy, and everyone experiences it differently. People make decisions—some good, some bad—and they live with the outcomes.

Your latest decision? Getting a job at the small campus café tucked between the library and the science building. It seemed easy enough. Take orders, make drinks, serve a few pastries, smile. You needed the money, and the huge gaps in your class schedule meant you either spent hours scrolling on your phone in the student lounge or aimlessly wandering around campus. You figured it was time to be productive.

Simple. Easy. A perfect plan.

Yeah, right. Super easy until the news that someone new was starting, and the worst part? You had to train them.

You found out the hard way, too—your manager casually dropped it into conversation while wiping down the espresso machine.

“Oh, by the way,” they said nonchalantly, “the new hire’s coming in tomorrow. You’ll show them the ropes, yeah? You’re good at this stuff.”

You blinked. Good at this stuff? You’d been working here for all of two weeks. Sure, you hadn’t broken the coffee machine yet, but that hardly made you a veteran barista. You wanted to argue, to say there was no way you could teach someone else when you were barely keeping yourself afloat, but the words never made it past your lips.

So, here you were—standing behind the counter the next morning, mentally preparing yourself for a complete disaster.

The door jingled, signaling someone’s arrival, and you looked up with a sigh.

And you physically recoiled, because why was Lee Heeseung standing right in front of you?

Your brain short-circuited for a moment as he stood there, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, looking around the cafe like he owned the place. Out of all the people on campus, it just had to be him. You’d rarely spoken to Lee Heeseung, he wasn’t worth your attention—one of those guys always surrounded by people, mostly girls, and partying like it was his full-time job.

And the worst part? He was good at it. Heeseung had that effortless charm, those annoyingly good looks, and he knew how to use both to his advantage. He could flash one of those lopsided grins and suddenly everyone in the room was falling over themselves to talk to him. Successful without even trying.

You narrowed your eyes as he stepped closer, stopping just short of the counter. For a second, it looked like he was sizing you up, like you were the one out of place.

“Uh… are you the trainer?” he asked, his voice smooth, as if he wasn’t about to ruin your morning.

You stared at him blankly, the words barely registering. This couldn’t be happening. Heeseung—the Lee Heeseung—was the new hire. The guy you were supposed to train.

And just like that, your “simple and easy” job turned into your personal nightmare.

You slowly nodded at first, then answered, “Yeah,” your voice as flat as your enthusiasm. You gestured for him to come behind the counter.

He made his way around to the small door flap on the side, moving with that casual confidence that you already found irritating. You led him to the back, pointing out the row of lockers shoved into the corner.

“You can set your stuff in there,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Aprons are on the hook.”

He nodded, tossing his bag into one of the lockers with no hesitation. Then he grabbed an apron, slinging it over his head and tying it around his waist in a way that seemed far too graceful for someone doing something so basic. Of course, even putting on an apron looks good on him, you thought bitterly.

Wordlessly, you grabbed a name tag from the counter nearby and handed it to him. It was generic, just the word Assistant in bold letters, no real customization. He took it with a small smirk, pinning it to his chest like it was some kind of award.

“Assistant, huh?” he said, glancing down at it. Then, he looked back up at you with a grin that had trouble written all over it. “Does this mean I’m your sidekick now?”

You stared at him, unamused. “It means you’re here to learn, not mess around.”

“Got it. I’ll be the best assistant you’ve ever had,” he replied, throwing you a mock salute.

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, heading back to the counter. “We’ll see about that. Come on, I’ll show you how to use the register.”

He followed you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smug energy radiating off him. This was going to be a long day.

You led Heeseung back to the counter, pointing to the register like it was some holy artifact he’d need to respect.

“This is the register,” you said, tapping the touchscreen. “It’s straightforward, but don’t let that fool you. People will make it hard for no reason.”

He nodded, leaning in a little too close to the screen for your liking. His shoulder brushed yours, and you instinctively stepped to the side, putting some much-needed space between you.

“Here’s how it works,” you continued, ignoring the way he casually leaned against the counter like he had all the time in the world. You ran through the basics, showing him how to input orders, handle different payment methods, and deal with the occasional glitch.

“And this,” you added, pointing to the small clipboard tucked in a corner, “is where we keep track of special requests. You’ll hate this thing within a week.”

“Good to know,” he said with a small laugh, like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

Next, you moved to the shelves and machines behind the counter, pointing out where everything was.

“Coffee beans are in these bins,” you said, lifting a lid to show him. “Pastries are in the display case—use gloves if you’re touching them. Cups, lids, straws, napkins… all in this section here. And the espresso machine—” You gestured toward it like it was a ticking time bomb. “—don’t touch this yet. Not unless you want to break it and have the entire staff hate you.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Got it. Hands off the espresso machine. Anything else I’m banned from touching?”

“Pretty much everything until I say so,” you shot back, turning to face him. “For the next three days, you’ll shadow me. Watch what I do, ask questions if you’re confused, but don’t try to take over. Once you get the hang of things, you can start doing some tasks on your own.”

He tilted his head, his lips twitching like he was holding back a smile. “So, I’m basically your personal assistant for three days?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re here to learn the job, not to entertain yourself.”

“Right, right,” he said, holding back a chuckle. “Serious business.”

“Exactly.” You folded your arms, watching as he leaned against the counter again, a smug glint in his eye.

Something about him made your patience wear thin, and you already knew these three days were going to test every ounce of your self-control. But you weren’t going to let Lee Heeseung get to you. Not a chance.

The door opened, and the bell above it gave a cheerful ding. Immediately, your customer service smile snapped into place, and you turned to greet the new arrival.

“Hi! Welcome in,” you said brightly. “What can I help you with today?”

The student—a guy in a hoodie and glasses—gave a polite nod before stepping closer to glance at the menu board hanging above the counter. After a moment, he pointed. “I’ll take a medium latte and, uh… one of those chocolate croissants.”

“Got it,” you replied, turning to the register. But not before noticing that Heeseung was watching you intently, his expression curious, almost amused. Ignoring him, you quickly entered the order, your fingers flying over the screen as you spoke. “So here’s how it works,” you said to him, motioning toward the display. “You tap the drink size, then pick the pastry from the bakery menu. Easy.”

He nodded, his eyes following your movements as if committing everything to memory.

Once you’d printed the receipt, you handed it to the student with another practiced smile. “Your total is on there, and I’ll bring everything out to your table in just a minute!” The student murmured a thank you before heading to a nearby seat.

Turning to Heeseung, you gestured toward the pastry display. “All right, rookie. Go grab that chocolate croissant and give it to the customer. Just use the tongs and put it in one of the small paper bags over there.”

He gave you a mock salute, grinning. “Yes, boss.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning to the espresso machine. It hummed quietly as you prepped the steam wand and started on the latte. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung make his way to the display case, grab a pair of tongs, and carefully place the croissant into a bag like it was some precious artifact.

When he finally handed it to the student, you couldn’t help but listen in as he said, “Here you go. Chocolate croissant, fresh and perfect. Just like I made it myself.”

The student chuckled awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond, and you had to fight the urge to laugh. Of course Heeseung couldn’t resist being a show-off.

“Good job,” you muttered under your breath as he came back to the counter.

“Thanks,” he said, leaning against the counter again, that ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. “See? I’m a natural.”

You ignored him, focusing on finishing the latte and pouring the steamed milk into the cup. Sliding the drink onto a tray, you carried it over to the customer, who smiled and thanked you.

As you returned to the counter, Heeseung was watching you with an amused expression.

“What?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Nothing,” he said, clearly lying. “You just take this whole customer service thing really seriously.”

“It’s called doing my job,” you shot back. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “I’m already learning from the best.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself for how long the rest of the day was going to feel.

For the rest of the shift, you took Heeseung through the rest of the basics. You showed him how to restock the pastry display, explained the cleaning routine, and gave him a quick rundown of how to prepare simple drink orders. At first, you were all business—focused on making sure he didn’t screw anything up. But after a while, you started to notice something… entertaining.

Heeseung didn’t just follow your instructions—he did it almost eagerly. Whether it was wiping down counters or organizing cups, he jumped at every little task you gave him. It was, admittedly, kind of fun ordering him around.

“Go grab the cups from the storage room,” you said at one point, just to see how he’d react.

Without hesitation, he nodded and walked off to fetch them, returning a minute later with the stack of cups in hand. As he set them down on the counter, he turned to you, that expectant look back in his eyes.

You frowned slightly. “What?”

“Did I do good?” he asked, his tone light but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

You blinked at him, caught off guard. Did he just… ask for praise?

“Uh… yeah,” you said, a little unsure. “You did good.”

The way his face lit up at that simple acknowledgment made you pause. Heeseung looked… happy. Actually happy. Not smug.

From then on, you couldn’t help but notice it. Every time he finished a task, he’d glance at you like he was waiting for approval. And every time you gave him even the smallest bit of praise, his smile would grow, and he’d seem even more motivated to keep going.

“Nice job restocking the pastries,” you said after he carefully arranged the croissants and muffins in the display case.

“Thanks,” he said, his grin widening as he shut the glass door.

“Good work wiping down the tables,” you added later, watching as he gave the last one an extra wipe just to make sure it was spotless.

“Thanks, boss,” he said, standing a little straighter.

It became a game in your head, almost without you realizing it. Every time he did something right—or even just passable—you threw him a little compliment.

“Great job with the lids.”

“You’re getting the hang of the register.”

“Nice work steaming that milk.”

Each time, he’d light up like you’d just told him he’d won a trophy, his energy growing as the shift went on. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was… kind of cute.

By the end of the shift, Heeseung was practically buzzing, his earlier smugness replaced by something more genuine. And you couldn’t deny it—it felt oddly satisfying to see him so eager to prove himself.

As he pulled off his apron at the end of the shift, he glanced at you one last time, his expression hopeful. “So… did I survive day one?”

You smirked, tossing your own apron into the laundry bin. “You survived. Barely.”

He laughed, his shoulders relaxing. “Good. Can’t wait to see what you make me do tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

You quickly grabbed your bag from the locker and didn’t waste any time heading out the door.

You slipped your phone out of your pocket as you walked, scrolling mindlessly through notifications and you were halfway through reading a message when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Hey, wait up!”

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Sure enough, Heeseung jogged up beside you, falling into step like he’d been walking with you all along.

“What, no goodbye after all my hard work?” he teased, his tone dripping with mock offense.

You glanced at him briefly, then back at your phone. “Goodbye,” you said flatly, earning a soft chuckle from him.

He didn’t take the hint. Instead, he kept talking, launching into some story about how he almost burned down his dorm’s microwave last week because he forgot to add water to his cup noodles. You hummed in acknowledgment, barely listening, more focused on the text thread in front of you than his words.

But even as you tried to tune him out, you couldn’t ignore how close he was walking next to you. His arm brushed yours more than once, and he seemed to lean in slightly every time he spoke, like he wanted to make sure you heard him—even though he was plenty loud already.

And then there was his tone. It wasn’t just casual conversation; there was something… different about it. The way he dragged out certain words, the way his smile lingered as he glanced at you, the way he leaned a little closer when he joked—it all felt too deliberate to be innocent.

You finally tore your eyes away from your phone, catching the tail end of whatever he was saying. “…but honestly, I think the ramen was just defective. You ever had something like that happen?”

“Hm,” you hummed again, your answer vague.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his grin widening. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

“Not really,” you admitted without hesitation, slipping your phone into your pocket as you approached the entrance to your building.

He laughed at that, completely unfazed. “Wow, I see how it is. I pour my heart out, and you just ignore me. You’re cold.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ignore you if you had something important to say,” you shot back, finally giving him a proper glance.

“Everything I say is important,” he said, flashing you a playful smile that you could only describe as shamelessly flirty.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his smile lingered just a little too long. “Well, thanks for walking me to class, but I can take it from here.”

“Oh, so now I’m dismissed?” he teased, taking a half step back but still lingering just close enough to make his presence known.

“Yep. Bye, Heeseung,” you said, your voice pointed as you turned toward the door.

“See you tomorrow, boss,” he called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother looking back, but you could practically feel his grin as you walked away.

--

After your morning classes, you made your way back to the cafe, already bracing yourself for another day of dealing with Heeseung. When you stepped through the door, the first thing you saw was him leaning casually over the counter, his apron already on, talking to a group of girls.

You sighed to yourself. Typical.

From the way they giggled and leaned in, it was obvious they were eating up every word he was saying. And Heeseung, of course, seemed to thrive under the attention, throwing out a smirk here, a playful laugh there, and just enough charm to keep them hanging on his every word.

It wasn’t until you caught bits and pieces of his smooth, too smooth tone—compliments that were barely disguised as flirty remarks—that you really rolled your eyes. You weren’t surprised. Flirting was practically his second language.

When he finally noticed you standing there, his entire demeanor shifted in an instant. He straightened up quickly, waving at you with an almost boyish smile. Gone was the smooth talker leaning on the counter; now he looked like someone who’d just been caught red-handed.

You gave him a small, unenthusiastic wave back, not bothering to stop as you headed straight for the back room.

Inside, you grabbed your apron from the hook, tying it around your waist, and leaving your bag in the locker.

But when you turned around, ready to head back out, you nearly jumped.

Heeseung was standing in the doorway, blocking your path, a smug smile already plastered on his face like he’d been waiting for you to notice him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your tone edging into annoyance.

“Just wanted to say hi properly,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “You rushed off so fast, I didn’t get the chance.”

“You were busy,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “Looked like you were having fun.”

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “They were just asking about the menu. Nothing serious.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, unimpressed. “And I’m sure all that flirting was part of the menu explanation?”

He grinned, not even trying to deny it. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward. “Move. I have work to do.”

But instead of moving, he stayed firmly in place, blocking the door like he had no intention of letting you pass.

“Wait,” he said, his grin softening into something more playful. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

You froze, blinking up at him. “Jealous?” you echoed, then let out a sharp laugh. “Not even in your dreams, Heeseung. Now move.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender but still smiling as he stepped aside. “No need to threaten me, boss. I’m just messing with you.”

You gave him a pointed look as you brushed past him, heading back to the counter. But as you did, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grin lingered, like he’d just gotten away with something.

The rest of the shift carried on as usual—or at least, you tried to make it usual. Heeseung, of course, wasn’t making it easy.

He followed your instructions like he had yesterday, doing everything you asked without hesitation. But you couldn’t help but notice… changes. Subtle at first, but as the hours went on, they became impossible to ignore.

For one, he’d started staring. A lot.

You could feel his eyes on you almost constantly—when you were at the register, when you were showing him how to steam milk again, when you were wiping down counters. It wasn’t just a casual glance, either. No, this was the kind of stare that felt heavy, like he was watching you. Like he was noticing things he probably shouldn’t be noticing.

And when you did catch him looking, he didn’t even try to hide it. Instead, he’d just flash you this lazy grin, like he wanted you to know he’d been caught.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked pointedly after the third—or was it fourth?—time you caught him staring.

He shrugged, unbothered. “Just observing. You know, trying to learn from the best.”

“Sure,” you muttered, turning back to the espresso machine.

But the staring wasn’t even the worst part. It was the way he spoke to you. Everything he said was low, smooth, and infuriatingly deliberate.

“Hey, boss,” he said at one point, leaning just a little too close to you as you refilled the sugar packets at the counter. “You always look this focused, or is it just when I’m around?”

You didn’t even look up. “It’s called doing my job, Heeseung.”

He chuckled, his voice warm and annoyingly charming. “Just trying to make it more fun.”

When you showed him how to set up the sandwich press later, he leaned in closer than he needed to, his shoulder brushing yours as he peered at the controls.

“So, when do I get a promotion?” he asked, his voice low enough that it sent a faint shiver down your spine.

“A promotion?” you repeated, rolling your eyes as you stepped back to put some distance between you. “You haven’t even lasted a full week yet.”

He smirked, straightening up. “Yeah, but I’m doing a great job, aren’t I? You tell me all the time.”

“You’re doing the bare minimum,” you said flatly, trying to ignore the way his smirk made your stomach flip.

“Still counts,” he replied, winking.

By the time your break rolled around, you were honestly ready to strangle him—or maybe strangle yourself for letting him get to you. You’d only known him for two days, and yet he was already worming his way under your skin in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

You sighed as you finally sank into the chair in the back room, a half-eaten sandwich on a napkin in front of you and your laptop open to a half-finished school assignment. Break time was supposed to be your one reprieve from Heeseung’s constant attention, and you were determined to make the most of it.

The cafe wasn’t busy, and you’d left him at the front with strict instructions to just hold down the fort, take simple orders, and not burn anything. He had nodded enthusiastically, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving him alone might have been a mistake. Still, you couldn’t babysit him forever.

With a deep breath, you focused on your laptop, determined to finish at least a paragraph of your essay before your break ended.

But, of course, Lee Heeseung had other plans.

Not even five minutes into your break, the door creaked open, and there he was, leaning casually against the doorframe with that infuriatingly smug grin on his face.

"Shouldn't you be up front?" you asked without looking up, your tone flat as you typed out another sentence.

“I am,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Just came to check on you. You know, make sure you’re not slacking off back here.”

You gave him a deadpan look, your hands hovering over the keyboard. “I’m the one slacking? You’re the one who left the counter unattended.”

“It’s fine,” he said, waving you off as he stepped further into the room. “There’s no one out there right now. Plus, I work better when I know my boss is doing okay.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your screen. “I’m fine. Now get back out there before someone walks in and thinks we don’t know what we’re doing.”

But instead of leaving, he sat down in the chair across from you, propping his chin on his hand as he watched you with a lazy smile.

“What are you working on?” he asked, nodding toward your laptop.

“Schoolwork,” you said shortly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

“Wow,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “So hardworking. Do you ever take a break, or is that not a thing for you?”

“This is my break,” you snapped, glaring at him. “Which you’re currently ruining.”

He grinned, completely unfazed. “Come on, boss. You’ve gotta learn to relax a little. Life’s not all about essays and coffee orders.”

“It is when you’re trying to pass your classes and keep a job,” you retorted, taking a bite of your sandwich.

He let out a low hum, watching you with an intensity that made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You know,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting into something softer—almost teasing, “you look kinda cute like that.”

You froze mid-bite, your eyes snapping to his.

“What?” you said, your voice flat but your ears burning.

“Just saying,” he said with a shrug, his smile widening as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’ve got this little furrow in your brow when you’re focused. It’s cute.”

You stared at him for a moment, debating whether it was worth throwing your sandwich at his face.

“Heeseung,” you said finally, your voice low and warning.

“Yes, boss?”

“Get. Back. To. Work.”

He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender as he stood up. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Don’t miss me too much.”

You groaned as he sauntered out of the room, leaving you alone again—but not before tossing one last wink over his shoulder.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the door and wondering how you’d managed to get stuck with the most annoying coworker on the planet.

You tried to push Heeseung’s antics out of your mind, refocusing on your laptop. But it wasn’t as easy as you’d hoped. Every time you typed another sentence, your mind wandered back to the way he had called you cute. The audacity of him, the nerve—he just said whatever came to mind, didn’t he? Like there were no consequences.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus. Heeseung was just being Heeseung—cocky, shameless, and way too full of himself. You weren’t going to let him get under your skin.

Another five minutes passed. Your essay was slowly taking shape, the sound of typing helped you settle into a groove. Finally, some peace and quiet.

But, of course, that didn’t last.

The door creaked open again, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“Heeseung,” you said sharply, “if you’re not coming back here to tell me the cafe is on fire, I swear—”

“Relax,” he said, stepping into the room with a to-go cup in his hand. “Just thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You glanced up, and sure enough, there he was, holding out a cup of coffee like it was some grand peace offering.

“What is this?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Coffee,” he said, completely unbothered. “I made it myself. Thought you’d want a break from whatever sad sandwich you’ve been eating.”

You looked at the cup suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything weird in it, did you?”

“Wow,” he said, clutching his chest like you’d just insulted his honor. “No faith in me at all. That hurts, boss. Really.”

You rolled your eyes but took the cup anyway, cautiously bringing it to your lips. The coffee was… actually pretty good.

“Not bad,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Heeseung’s face lit up like you’d just handed him a gold medal. “See? I’m a fast learner. You might be stuck with me, but at least I’m good at what I do.”

“Barely,” you muttered, but your lips twitched upward despite yourself.

He pulled out the chair across from you again, sitting down with that same cocky grin.

“Don’t you have work to do?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

“The front’s all clear,” he replied, leaning back in the chair. “And besides, I’d rather hang out here with you.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of the coffee. “You’re strange, you know that?”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you turned back to your laptop. But even as you tried to focus, you couldn’t ignore the way he stayed there, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“So, there’s this party on Saturday,” he suddenly said, breaking the silence that had been hanging over the room for minutes, his tone easy but clearly fishing for something.

You paused mid-motion, glancing over at him. “A party?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straight now and looking at you. “It’s at my friend Jay’s place. Big house, lots of people, good music… You should come.”

You blinked, surprised. Heeseung inviting you to a party wasn’t something you’d expected, especially since you weren`t close.

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“What?” he asked with a small grin, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t like parties or something?”

“I didn’t say that,” you replied, crossing your arms. “I just wasn’t expecting you to invite me.”

“Why not?” he asked, leaning a little closer, his grin widening. “You’re cool. And besides, I figured you could use a break. You know, have some actual fun for once.”

You scoffed, about to reject him outright with a “Sorry, I’m busy,” but the words caught in your throat.

The truth was, you weren’t busy. Your weekend was looking painfully empty, and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d gone out for something other than groceries or school. You’d been drowning in assignments and deadlines for so long that the thought of getting out, even for just one night, sounded oddly tempting.

And besides, you’d heard about Jay. The guy was rich—practically loaded—and you knew his parties were worth it. You weren’t exactly a party animal, but a night with good music, decent booze (and not the cheap stuff from corner stores), and a chance to let loose didn’t sound half bad.

You leaned over the table, pretending to think it over, and caught the way Heeseung’s eyes flickered to yours. He almost seemed… eager, like he was waiting on the edge of his seat for your answer. His gaze lingered just a second too long, and you noticed the way he leaned in slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.

Was he… entranced?

The thought made you pause for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Alright,” you said finally, sitting back in your chair. “I’ll go.”

His face lit up almost immediately, and you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was.

“Really?” he asked, his grin growing.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, trying to keep your tone casual. “Why not? I could use a night out.”

“Great,” he said, his excitement obvious. “You won’t regret it. Trust me, Jay throws the best parties. I’ll text you the details.”

“You don’t even have my number,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Not yet,” he said smoothly, pulling out his phone and holding it out to you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but took the phone anyway, typing in your number before handing it back to him.

“Don’t make me regret this,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him.

He grinned as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I won’t. Promise.”

The next few days passed in a blur and as much as you hated to admit it, Heeseung was actually learning everything pretty quickly. Sure, he still made the occasional mistake—like giving someone oat milk instead of almond milk—but those moments were fewer and farther between.

You had to give him credit: when he focused, he was good at what he did. The problem was getting him to focus.

Heeseung always found ways to make things interesting. Whether it was asking too many unnecessary questions just to mess with you or deliberately trying to get a reaction out of you with his relentless teasing, he kept you on your toes. And yet, he still managed to meet all the training goals you set for him, almost like he wanted to impress you.

Finally, by the end of the week, his training was officially done. He knew how to use the register, make all the drinks, handle pastries, and even clean up without leaving a mess behind. So, when the time came to hand him his permanent nametag, you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment.

You stood behind the counter as Heeseung wiped down a table nearby.

“Hey,” you called out, catching his attention.

He turned toward you, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, boss?”

You held up the shiny new nametag with his name etched on it in neat, bold letters: Heeseung.

“Congratulations,” you said, holding it out to him. “You’re officially not the assistant anymore.”

His eyes lit up when he saw it, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost… touched?

He took the nametag from your hand and stared at it like it was some kind of trophy. Then, with no hesitation, he ripped off the old “Assistant” nametag and tossed it on the counter.

“Finally,” he said, grinning as he hooked the new nametag onto his apron. “I was getting sick of being ‘Assistant.’”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still the newbie.”

He shot you a playful look. “Yeah, but now I’ve got my actual name. Feels good.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you teased. “You’re still not getting a promotion anytime soon.”

“Aw, come on,” he said, leaning against the counter with that familiar lazy grin. “You know I’ve been doing great. Admit it—you’re impressed.”

“I’ll admit you’ve survived training,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s about it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re tough to please, boss. But don’t worry—I’ll win you over eventually.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Get back to work, Heeseung,” you said, brushing past him to restock the pastry case.

But as you moved, you caught him staring at his nametag again, his grin still firmly in place.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you stood in front of your mirror, adjusting your outfit for the third—no, fourth—time. Your hair and makeup were done perfectly, your clothes hugged you in all the right places, and yet, you found yourself staring down at Heeseung’s message with a sense of hesitation.

Heeseung: Party starts at 8. Jay’s place. Don’t be late, boss

He’d attached the address below, followed by another string of teasing texts you hadn’t bothered to reply to.

You bit your lip, the urge to second-guess yourself creeping in. What were you even doing? Parties weren’t exactly your thing—not anymore, at least. You’d spent so much time lately focused on school and work that the thought of walking into a house full of strangers felt overwhelming.

Maybe you should cancel. You could just text Heeseung, say something came up, and spend the evening curled up with your laptop and a blanket instead. He’d probably roll his eyes, call you boring, and then leave you alone.

But then again, when was the last time you let yourself actually have fun? You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out, much less to a party. And besides, Heeseung had been so weirdly persistent about you coming. You could already picture his smug little grin when he saw you show up.

You shook your head at yourself, sighing.

“Get it together,” you muttered, turning back to the mirror.

You straightened your outfit, smoothing out any wrinkles and with one last glance at Heeseung’s message, you took a deep breath and grabbed your bag.

It was just a party. You’d go, stay for a little while, maybe have a drink or two, and then leave. No big deal.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you locked your door and headed out.

When you arrived at Jay’s house, you weren’t surprised to find it exactly as you’d expected: massive, loud, and packed with people. Music thumped through the walls, and the glow of colorful lights spilled out through the windows and onto the front lawn.

Though the moment you stepped inside Jay’s house, the sheer size of the place struck you again. You’d been to a few big houses before, but this? This was something else entirely. The ceilings were impossibly high, the decor looked like it had been ripped straight out of a magazine, and the crowd of people packed into the house made it feel like a full-blown club instead of a casual get-together.

You maneuvered through the throng of people, recognizing a few faces here and there—some classmates, some mutual friends, and plenty of people you didn’t know. A few offered you quick smiles or waves, but most were too busy dancing, drinking, or talking loudly to notice you weaving through the chaos.

You found a massive coat rack—overflowing with jackets and bags—and hung yours up carefully before stepping back into the crowd. The noise was almost overwhelming, but you quickly found your footing, asking a couple of people nearby where the kitchen was.

“Down the hall, to the left!” one guy shouted over the music, pointing in the direction.

You nodded your thanks and headed that way, weaving through more bodies until you finally reached the kitchen.

And just like you’d predicted, it was a dream come true for any broke college student.

The massive kitchen island was completely covered in bottles of alcohol—every drink you could dream of—all the expensive brands that only the rich could casually stock up on without a second thought. There were mixers, fruit garnishes, pre-made cocktails, and even a blender shoved to one side.

Your eyes scanned the island, and you couldn’t help but smirk. Jay definitely wasn’t messing around.

You made your way to the fridge, pulling it open to find even more options stacked neatly inside. After a moment of deliberation, you grabbed a cold bottle and popped the cap off with a satisfying snap.

You tossed the cap into the trash, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a long sip. The sweet taste was like heaven, and you couldn’t help but hum in satisfaction.

“Enjoying yourself already?”

The familiar voice came from behind you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Heeseung.

Of course.

You sighed, lowering the bottle and glancing over your shoulder to see him leaning against the doorway with that same lazy grin he always wore. He looked effortlessly good, as usual, in a casual black button-up and jeans that fit him a little too well. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he hadn’t bothered trying too hard—but somehow, that only made him look better.

“Didn’t expect to see you here already,” he said, pushing off the doorframe and strolling over to you.

“Didn’t expect you to find me so fast,” you shot back, taking another sip from your bottle.

“What can I say?” he teased, grabbing a random bottle from the island and inspecting it. “I’ve got good instincts.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother responding, instead focusing on your drink.

Heeseung unscrewed the cap of his bottle, taking a swig before leaning against the counter beside you. “So,” he started, glancing at you with a sly smile, “what do you think? Not bad, huh?”

You gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “It’s… a lot.”

He laughed. “Yeah, Jay doesn’t do anything halfway. Wait until you see the backyard. He rented a whole fire pit setup and some fancy outdoor lights. It’s insane.”

“Of course he did,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Heeseung tilted his head, watching you closely. “Not a party person, huh?”

“Not at the moment,” you admitted, taking another sip. “But… I figured I could use a break.”

Heeseung’s smile softened, just slightly. “Well, you came to the right place. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’re gonna be glad you showed up.”

“Confident, aren’t you?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, raising his bottle in a mock toast. “Always.”

You clinked your bottle lightly against his, rolling your eyes but unable to stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

Heeseung downed the rest of his drink, then nudged you lightly with his elbow. “Come on, boss,” he said, flashing you his trademark grin. “I gotta introduce you to the crew.”

“Your crew?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, my friends,” he clarified, already motioning for you to follow him. “Don’t worry, they’re cool. You’ll like them.”

You trailed after him through the crowded house, sidestepping groups of people until you reached a section of the living room where a group of guys stood huddled, laughing over something you couldn’t hear over the music.

“Yo!” Heeseung called out, catching their attention.

The group turned to look, and almost instantly, they greeted Heeseung with wide grins and casual fist bumps. Then their attention shifted to you, curious but friendly.

“This is my boss,” Heeseung announced, slinging an arm over your shoulder with no warning. “You know, the one who’s been making me work my ass off all week?”

You stiffened under his arm, giving him a pointed look, but he didn’t seem to care.

The group laughed, and one of them—a guy with bleached hair and an easygoing vibe—stepped forward. “Ah, so you’re the one Heeseung’s been talking about nonstop,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Sunoo. Nice to meet you.”

You hesitated for a second, then shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

The rest of the group followed suit, introducing themselves as Jake, Sunghoon, and Jungwon.

As they started chatting, you found yourself relaxing a little. They were cool, just like Heeseung said. You even caught yourself laughing at a few of their jokes.

But after a while, you excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to yourself. The noise and energy of the party were starting to catch up to you, and you figured a quick breather would help.

But by the time you came back, though, the group had completely disappeared.

You frowned, glancing around the living room. Nothing. No Heeseung, no Sunoo, no one you recognized. Shrugging, you decided not to overthink it. Maybe they’d moved to another part of the house.

Instead, you headed back to the kitchen, grabbing another drink from the fridge. This time, you opted for something stronger, figuring you might as well enjoy yourself while you were here.

With the bottle in hand, you made your way to the main area where most people were dancing. Leaning against the wall, you watched the crowd sway and move to the heavy beat of the music.

But then someone approached you.

“Hey,” a guy’s voice said, drawing your attention.

You turned to see a soft-looking guy with an easy smile standing next to you. His energy felt entirely different from the usual partygoers—calmer, more approachable.

“Hi,” you replied, tilting your head slightly.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said, offering you his hand. “I’m Shotaro.”

You shook his hand, noting how friendly his smile was. “Nice to meet you, Shotaro. I’m—”

“—Heeseung’s boss, right?” he finished for you, grinning.

You blinked in surprise. “Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”

“Heeseung’s been talking about you,” he said casually, leaning against the wall beside you.

You felt a twinge of something you couldn’t quite place. “I see.”

“So,” Shotaro continued, taking a sip from his drink. “How’s it been, working with Heeseung? He’s not causing too much trouble, is he?”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh, he’s definitely trouble. But he’s not… terrible.”

Shotaro chuckled, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “That sounds about right. Heeseung’s kind of a handful, but he’s a good guy.”

“Is that your way of warning me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” Shotaro said quickly, his tone light and playful. “Just… preparing you for what you’ve probably already figured out.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself enjoying his company. But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a familiar figure lingering near the edge of the room, watching.

Heeseung.

His expression was unreadable, but the way his eyes stayed locked on you made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You tried to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that crept over you, focusing back on Shotaro’s words. He was still talking, casually, but your attention kept drifting. Your eyes flicked back to Heeseung, who hadn’t moved, still standing in the same spot with his gaze fixed on you.

There was something about the way he was looking at you—intense, but not quite… angry? Maybe it was something else entirely. You couldn’t tell. It wasn’t a look you were used to seeing from him, especially not with the easygoing vibe he’d always had around you.

You couldn’t look away. Not at first, at least.

Shotaro noticed your distraction, following your line of sight and smiling knowingly. “I think he’s waiting for you,” he said, his tone light but laced with something that you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from Heeseung. “What?” you asked, momentarily disoriented.

“I said,” Shotaro continued with a slight grin, “I think your friend is waiting for you.”

You could feel your cheeks warming slightly. "He’s not—"

But before you could finish, Shotaro waved a hand dismissively. “No need to explain. It’s pretty obvious.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your thoughts were a tangled mess now, and whatever you’d planned to say evaporated when you saw Heeseung take a few steps toward you.

Shotaro noticed the change too and gave you a sly smile. “I’ll let you handle that.”

You barely had time to react before Heeseung was standing in front of you, his posture still casual but something about his energy shifted the moment he stood near you.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little more self-aware. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung didn’t immediately answer, instead studying you for a moment as if he was trying to figure something out. His eyes flicked over to Shotaro, who had already started talking to someone else close by.

“I thought you were having fun,” Heeseung finally said, his tone softer than usual.

“I am,” you replied, a little defensively, but the way he looked at you made the words feel like they didn’t hold much weight.

He chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “You know, you don’t have to be so uptight. Relax. This is supposed to be fun, right?”

His closeness made you feel like your skin was on fire, and you took a small step back, instinctively trying to put a little more space between you. “I’m fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “Just getting a drink and talking to people.”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, but it was subtle, like a flicker of something deeper, something that was just below the surface. You tried to ignore the sudden heat building in your chest. “I’m sure you’re having a great time,” he replied, his voice low but just loud enough to make you question if there was something more to his words.

You shifted, glancing around the room again, feeling uneasy under his intense gaze.

“So,” you began, trying to change the subject, “how’s your night going?”

Heeseung shrugged, not answering immediately. Then he flashed that signature smirk of his, though it looked a little more forced this time. “Better now that you’re sticking around.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Yeah, sure."

He stepped a little closer, almost uncomfortably so. "You should stick with me tonight," he said, as if it were a casual suggestion, but there was something to his voice that made it feel like an order.

“Maybe later,” you replied, forcing yourself to stay casual even as you felt the pressure of his proximity.

But Heeseung didn’t move away. Instead, he held your gaze for a long moment. “I’ll be waiting.”

Before you could react, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there.

You stood there for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling, you made your way to the kitchen. You needed a minute, maybe something a little stronger to clear your head. The noise of the party faded as you opened the fridge, scanning the shelves for something that might do the trick.

You reached for a bottle of something dark and smooth—whiskey, you thought, perfect. The cap twisted off easily, and without hesitating, you brought the bottle to your lips, taking a deep swig. The burn was immediate, scorching your throat, but you welcomed it. The heat spread through your chest, distracting you from the confusion still swirling in your mind.

You winced slightly at the strong taste, but it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. In fact, you felt a little relieved.

With the bottle still in your hand, you moved to the counter, leaning against it as you wiped your hand across your forehead, pushing your hair back from your face.

Was Heeseung always like this? So… forward?

And why did it bother you so much?

--

You stood there in the bathroom, leaning over the sink as you splashed cold water on your face. The bitterness of the drinks still lingered in your mouth, and you couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You rubbed your lips together, trying to rid yourself of the aftertaste, all the while trying to steady your breath. The last thing you needed was to get sick and ruin the night.

Just as you finished wiping your mouth with a tissue, you heard knocks on the door.

“Give me a minute,” you shouted, your voice a little tighter than you intended as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were trying to compose yourself, trying to act like everything was fine, even though you were sure it wasn’t.

You grabbed your lipstick from your bag, carefully applying it to your lips. Then, before you could finish, the door suddenly swung open, and you froze.

Standing in the doorway was Heeseung, his expression unreadable as he stepped inside, blocking the exit with his body. You blinked, unable to mask your shock.

“Heeseung—”

He didn’t let you finish. Without a word, he closed and locked the door behind him, the click of the lock echoing in the small, quiet room.

Your heart raced, and you instinctively took a step back, eyes widening as you tried to process the sudden change in the atmosphere.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you’d intended.

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his eyes scanning your face as if he was taking his time to study you. The playful smile that was usually on his lips was gone, replaced by something more serious, more intense. He took a slow step toward you, and you instinctively stepped back, your back hitting the sink with a small jolt.

“You’re avoiding me,” he finally said, his tone low and steady.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you protested, though even you could tell it didn’t sound convincing.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “Then why are you not beside me?”

You swallowed, the heat of his gaze making you feel trapped in the small space. “I am—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, his voice soft but insistent. “I know what you’re doing.”

Your chest tightened as the distance between you grew smaller. You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to his proximity—how your breath caught in your throat, how your pulse quickened.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything to break the tension, but Heeseung cut you off. “I’ve been waiting for you to stop running from me, to give in and see,” he said, his voice smooth. “And I’m not going to let you get away tonight.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and the world around you seemed to narrow down to just Heeseung, his gaze never leaving yours.

Your mind was racing, thoughts scattered in every direction as Heeseung closed the distance between you. His bottle was placed carelessly on the counter behind you, the sound of glass clinking against porcelain barely reaching your ears over the pounding of your heartbeat. His eyes never wavered from yours, as he leaned down, his arms caging you in against the sink.

You couldn’t help but look down at his lips. They were so close—too close—and you felt the pull toward them. Was it the alcohol clouding your thoughts? Or was it simply him?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the bathroom suddenly felt unbearably hot.

Your mind screamed to pull away, to stop this before it went any further, but your body betrayed you. The space between you closed completely, and before you could say anything—or even fully register what was happening—Heeseung kissed you.

It was fast, surprising, and far more urgent than you expected. His lips were warm against yours, and for a split second, you froze. The kiss was deep, his hand coming to rest beside your face, his thumb brushing against your jaw. You could feel the force of his kiss, the way he was pulling you into him, and something inside you stirred.

You couldn’t think. You couldn’t focus on anything but the heat of his kiss, the way it made your heart race.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours. His eyes were hungry—more intense than you had ever seen them before.

"You don’t have to say anything," he murmured, his voice low, almost like a warning. His lips brushed against yours again, a fleeting touch that made your stomach twist. "I know what you’re thinking."

You swallowed, your mind a blur as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. But the only thing you could focus on was him.

Heeseung didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, his fingers brushed against your skin, tracing a path down your neck as he moved to kiss you again, more slowly this time, as if savoring the moment.

And despite everything inside you telling you to stop—to pull away and think—you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

Your hands instinctively moved to his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back, the feel of his lips against yours made everything inside you tighten. The kiss deepened, and that was when you felt him shift, his hands slipping under your thighs and lifting you effortlessly off the ground. The action caught you off guard for a moment, but you didn’t have time to process it before he set you down on the counter, careful to avoid the sink.

His body moved in between your legs, and you instinctively parted them to make room for him, while his hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing the curve of your waist.

At that moment everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. But instead of pulling away, you found yourself leaning closer to him, your hands tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for more contact.

There was no going back now, no hesitation.

The only thing that mattered was the way his body pressed against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. You weren’t quite sure who was losing control more: him or you.

Your hands, naturally, found their way to his biceps, grasping tightly as if to anchor yourself.

Heeseung's kisses became more intense, his tongue dancing with yours, and you could feel his hands, warm and strong, as they slowly made their way under your shirt.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of his hands on your skin. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, a delightful sensation.

As Heeseung's hands continued their journey, his moan escaped his lips, a low sound which sent a jolt of electricity through your body, and you couldn't help but grip his biceps tighter, your nails slightly digging into his skin.

Heeseung's moan turned into a growl as he felt your response. With a sudden movement, he ripped off his shirt, a few of the buttons flying in all directions.

The sight of Heeseung's bare chest took your breath away. His muscles, defined and strong, glistened with a slight sheen of sweat.

As Heeseung's shirt fell to the ground, he pulled you closer, his lips never leaving yours. His hands, now free, roamed over your back, tracing the curve of your spine, and then down to your waist, where he gently squeezed.

Heeseung's lips left yours for a moment, only to trail kisses down your neck, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin there. You let out a soft whine, your body arching into his touch, inviting him to continue.

Heeseung's hands, slowly and deliberately pulled up your shirt, gently sliding the garment off your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.

With a subtle smile, Heeseung slung your shirt over his shoulder, his hands, now free to explore, slipped up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You leaned back against the mirror, your legs parted slightly as Heeseung's hands continued their journey, their grip tightening as they reached the top of your thighs.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked down at Heeseung, his chest, still heaving from the intensity of the kiss, rose and fell with each breath. You could feel his fingers trace the curves, his thumbs gently massaging.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I could look at you forever."

"I could say the same about you," you replied, your voice soft. "Every inch of you is perfection."

Heeseung's lips twitched into a soft smile. "Don't say that unless you mean it," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.

You tilted your head slightly, your hands looped loosely around his neck. "I do mean it," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. "Every word."

For a moment, Heeseung didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly.

"You have no idea what you’re doing to me," he said finally, his voice low, almost a whisper, like the words weren’t meant for anyone else but you.

Your lips parted, unsure of how to respond. But before you could say anything, he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as if he was savoring every second.

His hands slid up to cradle your face, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but melt into him. The way he kissed you made your head spin, every thought slipping away until all you could feel was him.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you," he admitted.

You breathed out shakily, leaning forward to kiss him again, unable to resist. Heeseung groaned softly against your mouth, his hands tightening around your waist as if he never wanted to let go.

But the sudden, rapid knocking on the bathroom door shattered the moment like glass. "Come on, man! Some of us need to pee!" someone shouted, their voice muffled but impatient.

You both froze, and then, as if in sync, you both pulled back with a wet sound, the abrupt loss of contact leaving you cold. You quickly slid off the sink, your legs shaky as you adjusted your balance. Heeseung stepped back to give you space, his lips slightly swollen, his hair tousled from your hands.

You grabbed your shirt from where it had been discarded and slipped it back on with trembling fingers, avoiding his gaze as your heart pounded in your chest. Heeseung, meanwhile, reached for his own shirt, pulling it on hastily as the knocking grew louder.

"You guys gonna stay in there all night?" a different voice called, followed by a round of laughter from the hallway.

Your face burned as you yanked open the door, not sparing a glance at the group of people gathered outside, their expressions ranging from amused to curious. Shouldering past them, you strode down the hallway and out into the main area of the party, your breath still uneven, your mind racing.

You didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around to see if Heeseung was following. The music felt too loud, the crowd too suffocating, and you needed air. Pushing past the groups of people dancing and talking, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting it open with shaking hands.

Taking a long sip, you leaned against the counter, trying to calm the chaotic mess of emotions swirling inside you. What had just happened? One minute, you were at a party, trying to have a good time, and the next…

"Hey," a familiar voice said softly, and you stiffened.

Turning slowly, you saw Heeseung standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his expression unreadable. His shirt was wrinkled, his lips still slightly parted as if he’d run after you but didn’t know what to say now that he’d found you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tentative, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to gauge how you were feeling.

You let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through your hair. "I… I don’t know," you admitted, your voice quieter than you expected. "I just needed a second to breathe."

Heeseung nodded, stepping further into the room but keeping a careful distance, as if he didn’t want to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry if that was… too much," he said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Don’t apologize," you interrupted, surprising both of you with the firmness in your tone. "It wasn’t just you, Heeseung."

Your words seemed to relax him slightly, his shoulders easing as he took another cautious step closer. "Still," he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile, "next time, maybe we pick a place with fewer interruptions."

His playful tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "Next time?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

Heeseung grinned, his confidence creeping back as he leaned closer. "Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that."

You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as Heeseung stood right in front of you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His grin softened into something more intense as he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly under your jaw, tilting your head up so your eyes met his.

“Why so quiet now?” he teased softly, his voice dipping lower, his lips just a whisper away from yours. “You’re usually so good with comebacks.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Heeseung’s gaze flickered to your lips, and before you could think or speak, he leaned in, so close your noses brushed. “You drive me so crazy,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the thump of the music in the other room.

And before you could react, his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs.

It was different this time—not hurried or rushed like before, but deliberate, as if he wanted to make you feel every second of it. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly as he kissed you, and your body responded almost instinctively.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back, your head spinning. Heeseung let out a low hum of satisfaction, the sound vibrating against your lips as he deepened the kiss, his other hand settling on your waist.

You barely registered the cool surface of the kitchen counter pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently but firmly against it, his body close enough to make you feel like you were burning up from the inside out.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to catch his breath, his lips hovered near yours, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. “See?” he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, you didn’t trust yourself to speak, so instead, you reached up and pulled him back down into another kiss, your answer clear in the way your lips moved against his.

Heeseung chuckled softly against your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening like he didn’t want to let you go.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice reminded you where you were, what you were doing, and how very public this all was. Reluctantly, you broke the kiss, your breathing ragged as you pushed lightly against his chest.

“Heeseung,” you started, your voice shaky, “we’re in the middle of the kitchen. Anyone could walk in.”

Heeseung smirked, clearly unbothered, as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Let them,” he said, his voice low and full of mischief. “Maybe they’ll finally understand that you’re mine.”

Before you could even form a response, Heeseung’s lips crashed into yours again, more desperate this time, as though he couldn’t stand the idea of even a few seconds without kissing you. His hands cupped your face, holding you firmly in place.

Your protests—if there had been any—dissolved almost instantly, and all you could do was cling to him, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as his body pressed closer to yours.

You felt his hands slide down from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he needed to feel you, to confirm that you were there, that this wasn’t just some dream.

“Heeseung—” you tried to say, breaking the kiss briefly to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you get far.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, as if he was barely holding himself together. “Just… don’t. Please.”

Before you could think, his lips were on yours again, and this time it was slower but no less intense. His hands tightened on your waist, grounding you, and you found yourself sinking further into him.

You didn’t even notice the kitchen had gone quiet until the sound of someone clearing their throat broke through the haze.

Your eyes flew open, and Heeseung reluctantly pulled back, his breathing heavy as he turned toward the source of the interruption. Standing in the doorway was Jay, a drink in his hand and an amused smirk plastered across his face.

“Should I come back later?” Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your face burned with embarrassment as you quickly pushed Heeseung away, smoothing your clothes and trying to look like you hadn’t just been thoroughly kissed. Heeseung, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered.

“Not at all,” Heeseung replied smoothly, leaning casually against the counter as if nothing had happened. But the slight curve of his lips told you he was very aware of what just happened—and that he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest.

Jay chuckled, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, don’t let me stop you two. Just don’t break anything, yeah? I’d rather not explain that to my parents.”

You shot Jay a glare, but he just grinned and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before leaving you alone with Heeseung again.

As soon as Jay was gone, you turned to Heeseung, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Heeseung just shrugged, his smirk widening. “Not when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Let’s get out of here. I’m not done with you yet.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you let him take your hand, curiosity and excitement bubbling in your chest as he led you out of the kitchen.

Heeseung led you up the stairs, his hand firmly wrapped around yours as he maneuvered through the crowded hallway. The music downstairs grew fainter with every step, fading away until it was just the two of you at the end of a dimly lit corridor.

He stopped in front of a door, glancing back at you with a small smile before turning the handle and pulling you inside. The room was quiet, smelling faintly of cologne and freshly washed sheets, and you barely had a moment to take it all in before Heeseung closed the door and locked it with a soft click.

When he turned back to you, his eyes were darker, filled with an intensity that made your stomach flip. He didn’t say anything as he took a step closer, and then another, until there was barely any space left between you.

“Heeseung—” you started, your voice a mix of hesitation and anticipation, but he silenced you with a kiss.

His lips were on yours in an instant, firm and unrelenting, as if he’d been holding himself back for too long and couldn’t wait any longer. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you kissed him back just as fervently. It was like he had unlocked something inside you, something that craved the way he made you feel—like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

Heeseung broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this… wanted you… for so long.”

His words made your heart race, and before you could even process them, his lips trailing down to your jaw and to the curve of your neck, his movements slow, like he was savoring every inch of your skin. The soft warmth of his mouth sent shivers down your spine, but it wasn’t until you felt him suck lightly at a tender spot just beneath your ear that you gasped, your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair.

Heeseung hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, the sound vibrating against your neck. His hands gripped your waist firmly, keeping you steady as his lips latched onto your skin, sucking just enough to leave a mark. You couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped your lips.

Your grip on his hair tightened, pulling slightly, and he groaned against your neck, the sound low and raspy. “Do that again,” he muttered, his voice husky.

You tugged again, this time more intentionally, and he responded by nipping gently at your skin before soothing the spot with his tongue. His lips trailed lower, finding another spot on your neck to mark.

“Heeseung,” you breathed out, your voice trembling as he continued his assault on your neck, leaving a trail of small, dark marks in his wake. You could feel the way his breathing grew heavier.

“Say my name again,” he murmured against your skin, his voice full of need.

You tugged on his hair once more, tilting your head back to give him better access, and whispered his name again, this time softer, more breathless.

He pulled back for a moment, his lips glistening, his eyes heavy-lidded as they met yours. His gaze dropped to the marks on your neck, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perfect,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over one of the fresh hickeys. “Now everyone’s going to know you’re mine.”

--

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, rousing you from your sleep. You blinked groggily, taking in the unfamiliar room for a moment before the events of the previous night came rushing back to you.

Your body felt heavy, weighed down by something—or rather, someone. Turning your head slightly, you froze as you saw Heeseung sleeping behind you, his face peaceful, lips slightly parted, and his arm draped securely around your waist like he was afraid to let go even in his sleep.

Your eyes widened, and your heart started racing. Oh no. This can’t be happening.

You carefully reached down, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, and began to lift his arm off you. It was slow, nerve-wracking work, but as soon as you managed to free yourself, Heeseung let out a soft whine, shifting closer to where you’d been lying.

Panic flooded your veins as he reached out in his sleep, clearly searching for you. Without thinking, you grabbed one of the pillows on the bed and gently tucked it in your place. He relaxed immediately, his arms wrapping around the pillow as he snuggled closer to it, his breathing evening out again.

You released a quiet sigh of relief, grabbing your scattered belongings from the floor. You didn’t even bother putting the heels on, instead clutching them tightly in your hand as you made your way to the door, tiptoeing as quietly as possible.

The hallway was eerily silent compared to the chaos of last night. When you reached the staircase and descended into the main living area, the faint sound of movement caught your attention.

Jay stood near the kitchen island, tossing empty bottles into a garbage bag. He looked up when he heard you approach, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Morning,” he greeted, his tone light and teasing. “Sneaking out?”

You hesitated, your cheeks burning as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I’m just… heading out,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Jay leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here, honestly. Heeseung seemed pretty determined last night, though.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you quickly waved him off. “It’s not what it looks like,” you said, although even you didn’t sound convincing.

Jay raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Right. Whatever you say.” He didn’t push any further, thankfully, instead returning to his cleaning.

You hurried toward the door, slipping out before anyone else could see you. As soon as you were outside, the crisp morning air hit your face, and you let out a shaky breath.

What the hell just happened?

--

You ignored the buzzing of your phone as Heeseung’s name lit up the screen again and again. Calls, texts, and even voice messages you refused to listen to—all of them went unanswered. You couldn’t deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened.

Luckily, it was Sunday, and you had no responsibilities to worry about. After taking a long, scalding shower to clear your head, you threw on your comfiest pajamas and climbed back into bed.

You tried to distract yourself with movies, mindlessly scrolling through streaming apps until you settled on something you’d seen a dozen times before. A large bag of chips sat open next to you, along with a collection of candy wrappers and an empty soda can. It was the perfect lazy day setup, except for one problem—you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the movie, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung.

You groaned, shoving your face into a pillow in frustration. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? Heeseung was trouble, plain and simple. You’d known that from the start, and yet you let yourself get swept up in him anyway.

Your phone buzzed again on the nightstand, and for a moment, you considered throwing it across the room. But your curiosity got the better of you, and you reached for it, unlocking the screen to see yet another text from Heeseung.

Heeseung: I know you’re ignoring me, but can we talk? Please?

You sighed, locking your phone again and tossing it aside. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, but you weren’t ready to hear it.

Instead, you burrowed deeper into your blankets, determined to get through the rest of the day without letting him take over your thoughts again. But no matter how many movies you watched, or how much junk food you ate, the memory of him lingered like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be ignored.

So when Monday rolled around, you made it your mission to avoid Heeseung at all costs. You checked the cafe schedule first thing in the morning and made sure your shifts didn’t overlap with his, swapping one with a coworker to make sure you wouldn’t have to see him.

On campus, you were extra careful, keeping your head low and staying alert as you navigated between classes. You stuck to the edges of crowded hallways, dodging places you knew he might linger. Every time you rounded a corner, your stomach tensed, half-expecting to see him standing there, waiting for you.

It wasn’t easy. You’d catch glimpses of him now and then, whether it was through a classroom window or across the quad, but you always made sure to duck out of sight before he noticed you. You couldn’t risk talking to him—not yet.

By the time your shift at the cafe rolled around on Wednsday, you were already exhausted from the mental effort of dodging him. Walking through the door, you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized it was just you and a coworker, Jisoo, working the evening shift.

But the relief didn’t last long. Midway through your shift, while you were wiping down the counters, the bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer. Without looking up, you called out your usual greeting.

“Welcome! How can I can help—”

The words died in your throat when you glanced up and saw Heeseung standing there, his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

He was dressed casually, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he looked like he hadn’t slept well. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hand through it a dozen times.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm as he took a step closer to the counter.

You froze, your rag still in your hand, unsure of what to do. Jisoo was busy stocking pastries in the display case and didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension in the air.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out a little shaky.

“I came to talk to you,” Heeseung replied, his tone calm but insistent. “You’ve been ignoring me, and I don’t like it.”

Your grip tightened on the rag, your mind racing for an excuse, a way out of this conversation. “I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “School, work... you know how it is.”

Heeseung didn’t budge. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, leaning on the counter slightly. “But I also know when someone’s avoiding me.”

You glanced nervously at Jisoo, who was still oblivious, then back at Heeseung. “This isn’t the time or place for this,” you hissed under your breath.

“Then when is?” he shot back, his voice low but sharp. “Because I don’t think you’ll give me the chance if I don’t force it.”

The determination in his eyes made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. But before you could respond, Jisoo turned around, finally noticing Heeseung.

“Hey, Heeseung!” she greeted cheerfully. “You’re not working today, are you?”

“No, just stopping by,” he said smoothly, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jisoo shrugged and went back to her task, leaving you alone with him once again.

“Please,” Heeseung said softly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Just give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You huffed, feeling cornered with no way out, and agreed to his request, deciding that five minutes would be better than dealing with him here in front of Jisoo. The tension in the air thickened as you both moved to the back of the cafe. Heeseung’s presence loomed behind you, his silence heavy as he followed you through the narrow hallway.

Once the door to the backroom shut, you leaned against the counter, trying to gather your thoughts, but Heeseung didn’t give you a chance to breathe.

“Why did you leave so early that night?” His voice was steady, but you could hear the hint of frustration in it. “Why are you ignoring me now?”

You swallowed hard, pushing aside the thoughts of the night before. It was a mistake, you told yourself. A moment of weakness. You needed to stay firm.

“It was a mistake,” you finally said, your voice coming out a little softer than you meant. “One-time thing. It won’t happen again, Heeseung.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, and then another, until you were pressed up against the wall. You tried to breathe steadily, but your heart was racing now.

“Is that how you really feel?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, eyes locked onto yours. “Do you really think it was a mistake?”

Before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. You flinched for just a moment, but the warmth of his touch pulled you in, and you could feel his soft exhale against your mouth.

You tried to push him back, to remind yourself of the resolve you’d spent all day building, but his hands were on you, pulling you closer, and despite everything, you felt the tension in your body break. Slowly, hesitantly, you kissed him back.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself losing control of your thoughts, of everything you’d promised yourself just minutes ago. It was impossible to think straight when he was this close, his hands gentle but insistent, his lips insatiable.

Heeseung broke away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both panted for breath. “You don’t have to keep pretending,” he whispered, his voice rough. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this as much as I do.”

You tried to argue back, to remind yourself that this was wrong, that it couldn’t happen again, but Heeseung wasn’t giving you a chance. His lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss, silencing any protest you might have had. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips again but then his attention dropped lower.

You couldn’t help but gasp when his lips brushed against your neck, gently revealing the marks from the night before. His fingers trailed up your skin as he pressed his lips against the sensitive spot on your collarbone. You felt a rush of heat flood through you, making it harder to focus on anything other than the way he was making you feel.

His lips moved with purpose, leaving a trail of fresh hickeys on your skin, each one more darker than the last. You gripped his shirt, the fabric twisting beneath your fingers as you tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was slipping away.

"How could this be a mistake when it feels this good?" Heeseung murmured between each kiss, his voice husky. "You don’t have to lie to yourself. I know you want this just as much as I do."

With every word, every kiss, your resolve weakened, until you couldn’t remember why you wanted to fight this in the first place. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel alive. You wanted him, and there was no denying it anymore.

“This isn’t just a one-time thing, not for me,” he murmured as he kissed his way back up to your lips. "I’m what you need," he said quietly, his eyes locked onto yours with an almost pleading look. "I’ll give you what you need—what you’ve been craving, even if you don’t realize it yet."

You opened your mouth to argue back, to remind him that you weren’t looking for this, but your words caught in your throat as he suddenly knelt down in front of you.

You gasped, the shift in position catching you off guard. His hands moved quickly to grip your waist, his touch firm yet gentle, as he looked up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before.

"I’m not asking for anything from you," he whispered, his voice laced with a quiet desperation. "I just want to be what you need. Please, don’t push me away. Let me give you what I know you want."

He leaned in closer, just enough to close the distance between you, but he didn’t move further. Instead, he let his head rest gently against your legs, his hands still holding you steady, waiting for your response.

His voice softened. "I’ll be patient. But please… don’t push me away again."

He was begging you, and the intensity of his words seemed to shake the very ground beneath you.

"I can be good for you," he said softly, his voice trembling slightly. "No one else will make you feel like I can. No one else understands you the way I do. I promise, I’ll treat you right, I’ll give you everything you need. Just let me."

You could feel his hands tighten ever so slightly on your waist, his desperation evident. "I’ll make you happy. I know I can."

His words were persuasive, yet you remained uncertain. Was this what you really needed? What you really wanted?

Heeseung must have seen the conflict in your eyes because he softened even more, lowering his voice as if speaking to your heart. "I’m not trying to force you into anything. I just want you to know that I care about you… more than anyone else could. Please, just trust me."

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, trying to process his words. His eyes searched yours, full of hope, waiting for you to say something, anything.

Eventually you let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of the decision settling on your shoulders. After a moment of silence, you met Heeseung's gaze. "Alright," you murmured, your voice almost a whisper. "I’ll give you a chance."

Heeseung's eyes lit up instantly, the tension in his body melting away as a smile broke out across his face. Without warning, he stood up, his hands reaching to cup your face gently as he leaned in. His lips pressed against your forehead first, then, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips. Each kiss was quick but filled with so much happiness and relief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"I’m what you need," he mumbled against your skin.

What you need.

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[burningembers91]

Outside Looking In - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Nam-Gyu has always been an outsider, watching as everyone passes him by. He spends his days trying to make a name for himself, and trying to show the beautiful hostess with a broken heart that he'd love her until the end of time, if only she would let him.

A/N: Based off of this ask. I wanted to say a HUGE thank you the anon who asked that I write for Nam-Gyu. I didn't really like his character in Squid Game, but I am SO happy with how this turned out. I wasn't planning on writing this so quickly, but the ask gave me such a good idea, I couldn't resist. Thank you, Anon. I hope you enjoy!

Park Nam-Gyu had spent his entire life desperately waiting to be noticed. Waiting to be noticed by his parents, his siblings, his class mates, employers, and women. But no matter how hard he tried he always just seemed to be on the edge of everyone’s periphery. He tried to be bolder, louder, a little more cocky; he’d met so many people like that who commanded attention, so he couldn’t understand why it didn’t work for him.

He'd taken a job as a Club Promoter to meet girls, but also on the hope that people would want to hang out with him, even if was just for discounted or free bar entry. He would spend all week advertising clubs and bars on Instagram, promising his old classmates he would be able to get them tickets for the hottest places in town, even the ones that were exclusively guest list only. It had worked for a while, and Nam-Gyu found himself basking in the popularity he’d always craved. But people were fickle, and once they got what they wanted, they soon left. There were hundreds of club promoters in the city, and most of them had better connections that he did. He never gave up though, spending each weekend following the crowds of drinkers that flooded through Seoul. He never quite managed to attract enough attention though, left to stand on the pavement clutching his leaflets as everyone passed him by.

Nam-Gyu knew he should throw the towel in. He didn’t make any money as a club promoter, still living in the tiny box room at his mum and dad’s house. He should really focus on a proper job, something in insurance or accounting; but then he really would be a nobody. Just another faceless ghost in a suit, robotically moving through life. He knew he was destined for greater things, if only he could just be noticed.

You were the other reason he didn’t want to quit the job that made him no money. You, the beautiful hostess, whose job it was to entertain the richer clientele who frequented the bars he promoted. Night after night you would bend to every will and demand of drunk men, smiling politely as they groped you, called you hideous names and tried to force themselves on you. You were tired of this life, tired of being nothing more than a pretty girl in a tight dress and pair of heels whose name no one bothered to learn. Except for Nam-Gyu; he knew your name; he saw the sadness harboured in your eyes. He watched as you stood in all kinds of weather, smiling and greeting people through gritted teeth. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he was so madly, so deeply in love with you. He could try and bullshit the drinkers with his false bravado, but he could never fool you. “What are you doing after work?” he asked you one night as you stood shivering on the pavement, savouring the last fewminutes of your break. “I’m going home,” you sighed, “I finish at 3am.” “Maybe I could walk you home,” he offered, taking in the goosebumps that littered your delicate skin. You shouldn’t be standing out here freezing. You should be inside, curled by a fire with someone who doted on you, cared for you. Nam-Gyu wished he could be that person. “I’m getting a taxi,” you told him. “Thanks though.”

You’d noticed Nam-Gyu plenty of times. He’d been working as a club promoter for as long as you’d been working as a hostess. He’d always seemed sweet, but he tried so hard to impress people who didn’t deserve his attention. He always looked out for you, keeping you company on quieter nights, buying you dinner if your tips didn’t cover your meal. You doubted he made much money either, but he always made sure you didn’t go hungry. He made you laugh, and when it was just the two of you, he was so different to the brash, cocky persona he adopted when he was working. You wondered why he felt the need to act like someone he wasn’t.  You wished you had his never-ending enthusiasm, his ability to keep a smile plastered to his face no matter what. People spoke to him like shit, and yet he never let it phase him. You on the other hand, you were finding it harder and harder to deal with the men who grabbed at you and treated you like a life-size Barbie doll, simply there for their amusement. Your dream was to become a florist, to open your own shop. But dreams required money, and you spent all yours just trying to get by each month. You knew how much Nam-Gyu cared for you, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wasting his time. You were damaged goods, too broken to ever love again.

Nam-Gyu wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting outside for when he saw you. It was raining, a constant drizzle that soaked through his shirt and jeans, plastering his hair to his cheeks. He’d tried to gain entry to the very bar he’d been promoting, but the bouncer wouldn’t admit him. “We’re full,” he was told, despite the constant stream of patrons entering. He didn’t want to go home though, didn’t want to face his parents to whom he was a constant source of disappointment. So, he sat in the rain, waiting for you to show up on your break. This time however, you weren’t alone. There was a man with you, his hands round your waist. You were pushing him away, but he’d just grab you again, clearly unfazed or unaware that you weren’t interested in his advances. “Please stop,” you snapped, pulling your arm away as he tried to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Seriously, fuck off!” “Hey!” Nam-Gyu stood up, marching over to where you stood, his fists balled. “Leave her alone! She said she’s not interested.” He couldn’t make out the man’s response; the guy was too drunk to form words coherently, but apparently not to drunk to harass you. “It’s fine, honestly,” you told him, “I’m used to it. My manager has called him a cab, he’ll be gone soon.” But your eyes were so sad, your mouth trembling as you held back tears. Nam-Gyu wished he could take the sadness away from you, wished he could see a smile light up your face.

He waited for you until the bar closed, just in case anyone else tried to take advantage of you. “Why are you still here?” you sighed, pitying the rain-soaked man who never gave up on you. “I wanted to make sure you got home ok,” he told you, trying to hide the shivers that wracked his body. “I’m fine, honestly.” You started walking, your tips not enough to pay for a taxi, and Nam-Gyu followed. You wished you could open up and let him in; you wished you weren’t so broken. But a lifetime of toxic relationships had left you damaged. You were so used to being hurt that you didn’t think anyone could fix you, not even the sweet club promoter who stood waiting for you in the rain. You walked home in silence, enjoying his company but too scared to admit it to him. You stopped as you got the front of your apartment, turning to say goodnight to the man you desperately wished you could love back.

“I wouldn’t treat you like those men do,” Nam-Gyu whispered, “I’d make sure you never had to work in a place like that ever again. I’d hold you every night and tell you how lucky I was to have you.” “If you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did.” You smiled sadly, your hand gently clasping his cheek. He leaned into your touch, relishing the sensation against his freezing cold skin. You left him standing out there, watching you as you made your way up the stairs to your place.

He forced himself to turn and walk home, the rain never once ceasing. Nam-Gyu would probably always be a nobody, but to you, he was desperate to be a someone.

[mynamesaplant]

Forgiveness is Electric

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Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. This is between the Volume Control and Volume Control (Reprise). Just a tiny change, Emmet caught Tynamo bc I sort of forgot when he did... My bad. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

I lied about posting to AO3 last time with Yearning for Wood Floors, but I will update that soon along with this one.

Enjoy!~

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“I do not think she will like those.”

“Who doesn’t love sweets?”

Ingo argued, plucking a box of Snom-Caps and turning it over and over in his hands. He contemplated the choices of candy in the aisle, the teenage clerk puffing their long, purple-streaked hair from their eyes behind the counter as the two children agonized over their decision. The clerk, Dakota, saw Ingo and Emmet in here all the time, the former had something of a sweet tooth and the latter… Well, whatever the opposite of a sweet tooth was, that was Emmet. The kid just loved sour things.

It wasn’t unusual to see them, but it didn’t usually take this long for them to make their selection. They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes, painstakingly reading each and every label and discussing them in hushed undertones. That was unusual by itself. Ingo was not known for his volume control.

Although unusual, they weren’t worried about them doing anything shady like stealing or being careless and knock things off the shelf. Might as well let them go about their business. To pass the time, they watched the fretful newly acquired Tynamo circle around them faster and faster until Emmet snatched the Pokémon deftly from the air and soothingly stroked its back.

“I am Emmet. We do not know what she likes.”

“We must do something! I just feel so dreadful.”

Emmet could see Ingo working himself up over this, just as he had a few hours ago, and Emmet placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. His smile and eyes softened as his twin turned to him, Ingo’s eyes glittering with emotion and whatever proclamation dying on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. He always got too loud when he was excited.

It had just backfired on him horribly.

Ingo cringed even now as he remembered the tears in her eyes, her hands slapped over her ears, and eyes huge with confusion and pain. She had run off before he could even apologize, and that knowledge was eating him alive all day.

Candy wouldn’t fix this. In his heart of hearts, he knew that, and maybe he had come here to grab himself some of his favorite snacks to ease the pain of losing a potential friend.

It was hard for them to understand others. Emmet and Ingo were so in-sync with each other that everyone seemed to be moving so much slower by comparison. It was like playing charades with someone who was underwater, the twins made perfect sense to one another, but it was unclear to everyone else.

This was not new to them, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

With their moms being busy with work and their uncle who didn’t have much interest with them most times, Emmet and Ingo came to rely on each other almost exclusively. Drayden would give them a little bit of pocket change, but never much. They had to be ultraconservative with what he gave them and had taken it upon themselves to run around Anville Town to take little odd jobs.

Leaves to rake? Oran berries to pick? Snow to shovel?

Emmet and Ingo did it all and saved what they could. They barely scraped together the money to purchase the Pokéballs needed to catch Tynamo and for additional balls to try and catch Ingo a starter.

Even though they knew everyone, they weren’t really close to anyone in town.

That could have been different if Ingo hadn’t ruined everything!

“Perhaps sweets are not the solution…”

Ingo finally admitted, setting the box down and rising to his feet. Readjusting his cap on his head and dusting off his knees to unconsciously tidy his appearance, Ingo’s frown deepened in thought. Even if he and Emmet apologized to her, Miss Elesa would not understand them. Drat! If only he had remembered her hearing aids, he had completely forgotten them tucked behind her black hair.

Emmet watched his face scrunch up, clearly having a long inner dialogue with himself where he alternatively berated himself and told himself that there was no crying over spilled milk. Gray eyes scanning the shelf, he took a bag of sour gummy-Bewear for himself, and chocolate covered pretzels for his brother, before hauling them to the counter where Dakota waited.

Tynamo drifted just below his elbow, still quite nervous around new people and often retreating to its ball when too anxious. Emmet’s soft encouragement was the only thing keeping the EleFish out while Dakota rang up both bags.

“Tynamo? Good for you, kiddo. I hear they’re not easy to catch.”

They rested their elbows on the counter, chin resting atop with a kind smile to the quieter twin. Dakota could see him beaming with pride, but he merely nodded, shuffling on the spot while he fished in the pocket of his overalls for some money. His Tynamo, like its trainer, seemed a little bashful at their words, and retreated into its ball.

“200… I think you brother is comatose over there.”

Dakota said not unkindly. Emmet jerked his head to where his brother stood motionless in front of the candy.

“Ingo!”

It was Ingo’s turn to jerk out of his, as Dakota had put it, “comatose state”. He trotted over to his side, staring at the bags of candies with confusion before it all seemed to click into place.

“You did not have to spend your pocket money on me.”

Emmet’s smile softened at the bashful note in his sibling’s voice. He wanted to. Ingo was feeling down, his twin often overthinking problems and burning himself out in the process. Emmet liked to take a step back to listen and reflect on people and conversations. A little break would do Ingo some good, so he insisted on the treats.

“I am Emmet. I wanted to. Yup!”

While Dakota bagged their treats in a small brown paper bag, they couldn’t help but lean over the counter to examine them. Although many people didn’t understand the secret code that the twins exchanged between glances, mouth twitches, and hand movements, Dakota could tell something was awry. Withholding the bag, they leaned over the counter with a faintly curious expression and a light tone.

“You guys alright?”

Unsurprisingly, the two exchanged looks, and a wordless conversation was held between them while Dakota waited. It was Ingo who swiveled his head back to face them, his face knit into a calculating grimace that seemed a little less friendly than usual, but only marginally.

“Yes,” he said slowly, eyes not breaking with the clerk, but they could see him shifting uncomfortably. “Emmet and I are attempting to right a wrong. However, we are encountering several roadblocks.”

There is a pause. Dakota still held the bag just out of reach as they gnawed on their lower lip. This wasn’t really their business, and they weren’t the type to stick their nose in where it didn’t belong… They thought of Drayden, who spent a lot of time in Opelucid and not watching his nephews – he barely spent any time with them.

They’re just kids.

“Do you need some help? It’s my job to help customers in the store y’know.”

Another pause. Another exchange of glances.

“I-” Ingo tries to being, already hard pressed to say anything and even less so when his sibling elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a look. He wouldn’t be allowed to take all the blame. “We upset one of our classmates with our carelessness. We think she was attempting to befriend us, but- uh… there were a few errors on our part.”

“And you’re trying to get candy for her to forgive you?”

“We thought about it, but it grew too complicated. We do not know what candy she likes, but more importantly, we do not think it’s a suitable apology.”

The clerk nodded, tapping the counter in thought as they tried to piece together some genuine advice for the boys.

“I think it’s a nice peace offering, but I think an apology would be better.”

“We broke her hearing aids… Yep…”

Emmet croaked suddenly, shrinking back in shame at the same time that Ingo grabbed the brim of his hat to tug it lower over his eyes.

“Ah,” Dakota hummed, tapping the counter even faster. They meant the new family that moved in from Sinnoh. They remembered their dads talking about the new signs that had to go all over town for the girl’s safety. Dakota couldn’t remember her name. “How did you break them?” They asked, already knowing the answer.

“Volume control.”

Ingo cringed, remembering his uncle’s warning about his naturally loud voice. Inside voice, Drayden had been emphasizing, and Ingo was trying to take those words to heart, but it was difficult. Since Ingo’s face didn’t emote well, he relied on his voice and his movement to articulate his emotions to others. They nod sympathetically.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No…”

The boy was squirming now, his shame and embarrassment with the situation reaching an all-time high. He felt Emmet moving to his side, reassuringly pressing against his arm, and resting his head on his twin’s shoulder. A flood of comfort helped Ingo release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Behind the counter, the clerk was rummaging through something – although tall for their age, Emmet and Ingo couldn’t see what they were doing. They heaved a box onto the counter, tipping it so the contents spilled out for them to see, and the boys were confused.

“Headphones?”

Emmet leaned forward on his tiptoes to look at the colorful array of boxes that ranged from normal headphones to ones that had Pikachu and Eevee ears topping them.

“Yeah, uh, maybe if she wears these, you’ll remember right away that she has headphones in.”

It was a half-baked idea. In truth, Dakota felt a bit sheepish about it now that the idea was out of their head, but when they looked up, the boys were beaming – well, Emmet beamed. Ingo reminded of them of their friend’s Purrloin in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“Bravo! What a marvelous suggestion!”

Ingo practically cheered, stepping beside Emmet to look through the headphones. It was probably going to cost them a bit from the tags on the boxes, but it would be worth it. The headphones would immediately remind Ingo that she had hearing aids in so he would be more inclined to get Miss Elesa’s attention in a different fashion, but it also might do the same for others who were unaware of her deafness.

“Sure – er, thank you…” Dakota was looking at the prices now and mentally smacked their forehead. They probably couldn’t afford the headphones. “I’ll-” They hesitate. It almost pained them to say what they were going to next. “I’ll pay for them so you can take them to her now.” The twins’ eyes went wide, both about to protest when Dakota interrupted, “In exchange, you can do a few chores for me at my place. I need to do some yardwork, but it always gives me hay fever. Sound like a deal?”

The answer was easy for them. Dakota told them to pick ones that they thought Miss Elesa would like.

“I think these ones are quite dashing.”

Ingo said, picking up the box with the Pikachu ears. Emmet pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Nope. Too big. Not a gamer girl.”

They continued to rummage through the boxes. They agreed that she must like Electric types. She had a Blitzle as her partner after all.

“I cannot recall, she is from Hoenn, correct?”

Emmet shrugged, unsure himself because they had both been looking through a magazine with an expose on the newest train lines running out of Nimbasa when she had been introduced. That just meant to them that, when the time came, going on their Pokémon journey by rail would be all the easier.

“Not sure.” He looked at the box Ingo had in his hand and his smile broadened, nodding in agreement to his brother’s unasked query. The perfect balance of subtle but stylish. “I am Emmet. Those are perfect.”

Plusle and Minun headphones.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + two

authors note: wow! so humbled by people's interest in this one! forgot to mention that i'll be playing around with joe's career, in terms of the timeline and whatnot.

also, if ya'll ever watched the bernie mac show, i was very much inspired in one section by that scene where vanessa and them was doing that car wash at bernie's house lmaooo

in addition (last point, i swear lmao), i can do faceclaims for the character, mainly mariella's family. if ya'll want. i know some people prefer to visualize for themselves. just lmk.

i don't own any lyrics used.

previous chapter

words: 7k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language, fluff, some angst, blink and you'll miss it sexy time.

Spring, 2005

Spring break.

The time looked forward to by most students, especially college students, who are granted a free week to get into all kinds of trouble, mischief and then return to campus like nothing ever happened. 

Joe and Byron can’t deny that they’ve definitely had their fair share of that the first part of college, but now with two years under their belts and only two years left to go, they’re focused on having killer seasons and landing their dreams of going into the NFL.

It’s why when coach decides to give the players a break, canceling all practices during said break, there’s not even an initial question about what they should do with their time.

Home.

They’re going home.

Because while being away is nice at times, there’s absolutely no place like home and being surrounded by the people you love the most.

Byron glances at Joe who’s looking down at his phone. “You gonna see Brianna while we in town?”

Joe looks up. He can’t say he hasn’t thought about it. Brianna, Joe’s last high school girlfriend, was inarguably the easiest of all the girls he’s ever dated. And if not for him not wanting to be tied down while away at college, he would have tried to make it work. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, truthfully. “We’ll see.”

“Well, I’m definitely hitting up Tamia. Heard she and ole’ dude broke up.”

Joe shakes his head. Tamia has been Byron’s on and off girlfriend since freaking middle school. They date, break up, date other people, break up with said other people and start right back over. Truthfully, Joe can see Tamia being the one for Byron considering how long they’ve been in this little cycle. 

“Just make sure you’re safe, man.”

Byron looks like he’s just been told to make sure he wears a seatbelt. “Always, bro. You know me.”

Joe knows him alright. Knows he can be reckless at times. And with so much at stake in the next upcoming two years, they can’t afford to be reckless. 

“I do. That’s why I’m saying it.”

“Man….” Joe laughs at Byron’s dismissal. “What do we have here?” Joe turns his attention to where Byron has set his gaze only to quickly scowl with disgust. “Ugh, they in high school.”

Joe is also instantly repulsed. “That’s fucking gross.” 

Byron shakes in his seat, as if trying to shake the disgust off himself when he sees something. “Wait a minute…” Joe again tries to see what’s triggered the exclamation of irritation. “Oh hell no.”

“What are you—what the hell!” Joe shouts out as Byron suddenly swerves into the next turn lane, barely missing hitting a car. “The fuck are you doing, man!”

“That’s Ella out there!” He answers, speeding near the station where a bunch of high school girls are operating a car wash, trying to raise money for who knows what. 

At the mention of Ri, Joe’s attention is snatched. “What?” He’s looking around as Byron looks to quickly park the truck, clearly eager to get out. Joe doesn’t see her just yet. It’s not until they’re parked and out of the car that his eyes land on her.

Her smile is the first thing he notices. She’s laughing. Not surprising. For as long as he’s known her, which has been his whole life essentially, she’s always the one in the group to make everyone laugh.

Usually from her klutziness. 

It’s never a dull moment with Mariella Holmes. 

Moving closer, he can see that it’s definitely Ri, and she’s giggling along with the other girls, dancing to what he recognizes is Black Eyed Peas latest song, “My Humps.”

It’s that realization that helps Joe understand why Byron is so annoyed.

The dancing could be seen as a bit provocative.

“Ella!”

Her head snaps up at Byron’s voice, easily landing on him. Joe watches her mouth drop open in shock before she shouts, “BJ!”

Dropping the soapy rag in the bucket, she’s nearly sprinting over to the two of them, tackling Byron with a hug first. “What are you doing here?”

It’s when she steps back that she moves over to him. She smirks, crossing her arms. “Should have known you wouldn’t turn down a chance to come see me.”

Joe laughs, pulling her in for a hug. “Never.”

“What am I doing here?” Byron cuts in, angrily gesturing to her. “What are you doing out here dressed like this?”

She looks down at her outfit, frowning. Joe does the same. It’s a bathing suit top with jean shorts and flip flops. What’s so bad about that?

And she expresses as such.

“Ummm, the dance team is having a car wash. We’re trying to raise money for travel costs this season.”

This doesn’t seem acceptable to Byron as he asks, “well, you ain’t having nothing else to wear? All exposed and everything.”

That’s when she rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so annoying.” 

He starts to pull his shirt off when even Joe chimes in, “dude, come on.”

“She’s half naked!”

“I’m wearing a bathing suit, BJ.” Mariella says it like he’s slow. Like he was on the short bus. “I know you’ve been away at school, so you haven’t been around as much, but I have boobs now—”

At that, both Joe and Byron turn up their nose. The last thing they need is that type of visual.

She continues, gesturing to her body. “I hit puberty, and allll the areas started filling out. It happens!”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Byron covers his mouth. “I don’t give a damn. You’re sixteen, not twenty-one.”

She gives a sly smile. “That’s not what my fake ID says.”

Joe catches her gaze, seeing that she’s just messing with him. It makes him laugh. 

“Your what? Girl, you done lost your damn mind.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Relax, BJ. You know I can’t get a fake ID. My dumbass would feel too bad and turn myself in.”

“That’s true,” Joe chimes, and she glares, reaching over to hit him. She starts to say something, only for her eyes to go wide. “What’s wrong?”

She says nothing, just awkwardly shifting her weight from one leg to another. He starts to ask again when a new voice joins the conversation. 

“Hey, babe.”

Byron jumps to a new level of annoyance. “Babe?” He and Joe watch as some scrawny looking little boy, who’s really not that scrawny in actuality but looks it compared to Byron and Joe, walks up to Mariella, kissing her. 

Byron looks like he’s about to have a stroke. He asks with all the smoke. “Who the hell are you?” 

Scrawny scoffs and has the audacity to throw the question back at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh my god.” Mariella murmurs, slapping her hand against her forehead. “BJ, this is my boyfriend, Derrick—”

Mariella having a boyfriend makes sense to Joe. She’s 16 now. Why wouldn’t she be dating? It’s normal and expected. 

If only Byron saw it that way. “Boyfriend? Since when do you have a boy—”

“Derrick, this is my brother, BJ or Byron, and basically like my non-blood brother, Joe.”

Scrawny AKA Derrick looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Oh shit, my bad—”

If only he knew that Byron doesn’t forgive nor does he forget when it comes to his little sisters, especially Mariella. 

He steps toward the shorter young man. “Naw. You bad. You wanted to know who the hell I was, so let me tell you, I’m the nigga that’s gon fuck you up if you ever—”

“Byron!” Mariella is now fuming, grabbing him by his arm as she tugs him in a different direction. “Give us a couple minutes.” She flashes a sweet smile at Derrick and a pleading expression to Joe for him to also be nice.

Joe waits until they’re out of hearing distance. He then slaps Derrick on the arm. “Don’t take it personally. That’s just Byron. He’s always been a hothead.”

Derrick gives a nervous laugh, showing off braces that Joe didn’t notice before. He refrains from frowning. Ri could definitely do better than this dweeb. “You like Ri?”

Derrick shrugs, offering an unimpressive. “She’s alright.”

And that’s all Joe needs to hear to know what this kid is really about. Stepping toward him, he keeps his voice leveled and expression ice cold. “Do anything to hurt her, and you won’t have to worry about Byron.” He gives a steel smile. “I’m the one you’ll never see coming.”

———-

Present 

Post-traumatic amnesia (PTA) 

Or some milder form of it. 

Amnesia, at the very least.

That’s what Dr. Reynolds says is the cause of Mari’s complete loss of memory. A result of the head trauma she received from the accident. A prognosis that somehow feels almost worse than the coma, at least to Joe.

Because for the life of him, he doesn’t know how to look at the woman he’s known his entire life, and have her look back at him like he’s a stranger, like she has no idea who he is. 

Because she doesn’t have any idea who he is.

As devastating as that blow is, he knows it hits harder for her parents. April nearly collapsed in Byron Sr’s arms as Dr. Reynolds informed them of Mari’s memory loss.

She was in tears, desperately asking, “but—but she’ll get them back, right, doctor?”

And Joe only has to glance at the doctor, the way his lips press together before he informs sympathetically, “we don’t know. Some patients do eventually retrieve their memories. Others….others never do.”

Joe can’t even allow himself to think of the latter option. 

A couple days post coma, he knocks on her door, seeing she’s alone, her parents most likely grabbing food or something.

She glances at the door offering a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. It’s insincere, and he doesn’t know how to feel about that either, because one of the things he’s always loved about her has always been her smile. So big and infectious. Just like her personality. 

“Hey.” There’s nothing big and infectious about her almost unsure tone. 

“Hey.” He doesn’t wait for her to welcome him in, just walks in, taking the seat on the side of her bed. “How you feeling?”

She gives a one sided shrug. He notices the cuts and bruising on her face have gone down tremendously. That's a plus in a situation full of minuses. “Don’t know.” After obviously thinking about the question more, she offers a more descriptive answer. “Very...confused.”

“About?” He then adds. “Maybe I can clear it up for you.”

“I don’t know. It’s….it’s mostly about who I am.” He could definitely answer that one for her. She shakes her head, providing an example. “Like, I’m apparently this big singer, but I can’t even think about singing right now. It doesn’t—it doesn’t even feel like me.” She chuckles bitterly. “Not that I know who me is.”

“You love music. Always have. And you’re good at it. Singing. Writing. Producing. Dancing. All of it.” She looks over at him as he says with all the honesty and sincerity, “there’s nothing, creatively, you can’t do.”

Mariella nods, as if taking in the information to analyze later on. “What about you?” She asks. “What do you do?”

A lot of things. A lot of things he now regrets deeply. But, that’s not her question. “Professional wrestler.” He starts to say WWE to see if she knows what that is, but that isn’t important. Shit about him isn’t the priority. 

Mariella looks him over, nodding. “It fits.”

He smiles a bit. The first he’s done in weeks. “What else do you want to know?”

She’s quiet for a few moments before asking the question he didn’t know he was dreading until now. “How did I end up here?”

What a loaded question he was absolutely not prepared for.

There’s a lot of things that led them to where they are right now. A lot of which he blames himself for, and her as well, but not nearly as much as he blames himself. They both played a role in how badly their relationship deteriorated, but Joe puts the bulk of it on himself. 

He’s older and should know better.

But, the specific incident that resulted in her accident, the blowout that ended with her requesting the one thing she always swore she never wanted to have happened when they got married…that’s it.

That is the truth she is probably looking for. It’s a truth, however, he can’t find it in him to tell her.

Because selfishly, he doesn’t want that to be the thing to trigger her memories, or any memories of all the things that have gone so terribly wrong the past two years. He doesn’t want that for her.

Doesn’t want it for them.

It’s why he settles on an answer that’s neither a lie but also not the full truth.

“You had a lot on your mind and went for a drive.” His voice shifts into something quiet. He’s still trying to process his feelings about that part of this whole thing. “You were hit head on by a drunk driver.”

Silence.

For a brief second, he’s unsure if he should have just told the truth. Been honest with her and let the cards fall as they may.

And then she speaks.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” He looks up. Joe sees it. That sense of humor that some could only take in doses, but for him, it’s always been a highlight. She’s always been able to put a smile on his face even in the darkest of his days. “How long have we been married?”

Another unexpected question, but he answers truthfully. “This March makes 11 years.”

“Wow.” This seems to take her by surprise. “And how long have we been together?”

“That….that’s a bit of a long story.”

She lifts her brow, gesturing to her hospital bed. “Not like I have anywhere to be.”

He chuckles. She has a point, but the story of them…that seems too complicated or detailed to share in a freaking hospital. Because in his mind, he’s started to sort the different ways and things he can do to help remind her of who she is. 

Of who they were. 

Finally, he answers, “I just—I think you should—” 

There’s a knock on the door, Joe turning to see April and Byron Sr.

April is the first to speak, walking over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She’s almost hesitant to move too close. Joe can see she wants nothing more to engulf her youngest in a hug but recognizes the same almost uncomfortable expression Mariella wore the minute he walked in.

“It’s okay.” He assures, going to stand up. “I’ll leave you guys—”

“Actually,” Byron Sr. interjects, shooting Joe a sympathetic expression. “We were hoping to speak with you.” He looks toward Mariella, and Joe hates it. Hates the almost discomfort that exists between them. She’s always been super close with her parents. Especially her dad. “If that’s alright, sweetheart?”

Mariella shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Sure.” She starts to lay back in her bed a little. “I’m kinda tired anyway.”

Joe wonders how much of that is truth, and how much of it is her just wanting to be alone from people who are virtual strangers.

Strangers…

That’s definitely a word he never thought could be used in any context regarding Mariella.

Once outside the room and in the private waiting area, her parents wait until a set of nurses pass before April is the first to speak. She reaches over and places a comforting hand. “How are you doing, Joe? Really?”

A mess. He’s a fucking mess. Joe has seen much, much better days than the past few weeks. But, he also doesn’t want to make this about him, about his mental state, so he provides a half truth.

“Been better.” His response is gruff as he quickly moves to change topics. “What about you guys?”

Having his wife have no idea who he is is brutal, but he can’t even begin to imagine what it’s been like for two parents to not have their youngest child recognize them, to have no idea who they are.

Byron Sr. is the first to answer, mirroring his son-in-law’s words. “Been better.” 

April shifts in her seat, bringing her hand back to her lap. “We umm—we spoke to Dr. Reynolds earlier today.”

Joe looks up, partially wondering why he wasn’t present for that meeting. “Okay.”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Joe. Not her childhood. Not her family. Not…not even us.” April voice breaks at the end of her statement as Joe looks away. Hearing this again isn’t exactly helpful, though he would never disrespect her parents by asking them to shut up. Even if it’s what he wants. “And we—well, we just think—”

Byron Sr. cuts in, hand on his wife’s knee. “We want to take her back home with us, Joe.” Joe’s stomach drops. “We want to take her back to Florida.”

———-

Spring, 2022

Cameras.

That’s the one thing Mariella, Mari, still struggles to get used to. The bright lights flashing in her face as her photo is taken, whether on the red carpet, on the stage, or even when she’s just making a run to the grocery store. The latter one hasn’t happened as much as it used to, for which she’s grateful, but still.

So there’s a bit of an adjustment as she looks around the room, the hair and makeup team touching up her face once more before they kick off the segment.

She doesn’t regret it. Doesn’t regret it at all. It’s a good look for him. For her too. And beyond any type of benefit for their careers, she’s just happy she gets to see him.

Because that’s the part she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly get over or be okay with.

The distance.

As directed, she walks down the hall, making sure not to look directly into the camera. This is made infinitely easier by pretending she’s shooting a music video. Which, truth be told, it isn’t very different. 

Mari wears the confused expression perfectly, looking down at her phone as if it has information that could help her when she ‘accidentally’ walks into him.

Head up, she gasps and immediately gets to apologizing, just as was in the script. “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I wasn’t even looking where I was going.”

His eyes widen as he ‘realizes’ who she is. “Wow. No, you are absolutely fine. Wow. You’re Mari!”

Smiling, she points at him, “and you are…..”

He seems a bit taken back at first, like he’s waiting for her to also recognize him. When that doesn’t happen, he offers his hand. “Sami Zayn. Master strategist and locker room leader.”

She nods, perfectly conveying another confused look at just what that means. “Does—does that mean you’re good with directions? Cause I suck at them.”

“It absolutely does, and you are in luck, because I just so happen to be free right now and would love to give you a tour.”

She opens her mouth to protest, “oh, that’s so sweet, but I really should—” she looks down at her phone. “You know what, I’m a little early, so why not?”

“Awesome.” He claps his hands together and offers his arm. Mari smiles and links hers in his as he starts leading them down the hall, pointing out the most obvious of things. 

The camera cuts, and she engages in conversation with Sami, who’s actually a lot like the ‘character’ he plays. Super charismatic and engaging. Kinda reminds her of herself. So much so that before she realizes, they’re back to recording after having moved across the arena. 

“And lastly we have—” His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes where they are, Sami moving his hand to her back as he directs them in the opposite direction. “Wait, we do not want to go—”

“There it is!” Mari, however, is smiling brightly as she walks toward the door.

Sami looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, frantically warning, “Mari, I know you’re like an international mega star, but trust me, you do not want to bother that man—” He’s silenced by her knocking on the door. 

His face is turning red as he urgently whispers to her, “we should really get out of here. Like right now!.”

She turns to him, confused. “Why?”

And before Sami can respond, the door is ripped open, the scowling faces of the Usos the first thing Sami lands on. He’s preparing to get chewed out only for them to look at Mari and instantly start smiling.

“Whassup, Mari!” Jimmy is the first to greet her, pulling her in for a hug. Followed by Jey, the two of them engaging in some secret handshake that ends with a ‘Yeet’.

Sami, however, laughs nervously, gesturing between the three. “Wait, you—you guys know Mari?”

Jimmy answers, slinging his arm around her. “Man, of course. This family!”

“You’re related to them?” Sami asks, eyes wide. 

Mari opens her mouth to answer when another person emerges from the private locker room, taking up almost the entire door frame, face stoic and eyes cold. 

Sami looks like he’s about to piss himself. He swallows. “My Tribal Chief, I’m so sorry—”

He’s interrupted by Mari who smiles and pulls away from Jimmy to walk up to Roman.“Hi, baby.” Sami looks on stunned as she leans up and kisses his cheek, pressing her body into his, hand on his abs. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.” She grins over at Sami. “Sami was giving me a tour of the place.”

The reddening of his cheeks is about what and what with the red of his hair. “I don’t—I’m not—”

Playfully rolling her eyes as Roman continues to look like he’s contemplating murder, she lifts her left hand, showing off a beautiful diamond ring. “Roman’s my husband.”

Mouth open like a child who just found out Santa isn’t real, Sami does his best to reel in his surprise. “Of course, you’re married. I totally knew that!” He laughs nervously, hands on his hips. “That’s why I gladly brought you to the Tribal Chief myself. Wanted to ensure nothing but the best for the Bloodline’s first lady.”

“That was really sweet of you. Thank you.” She continues to smile, and Roman continues to send daggers with just one, stolid expression. Mari peers up, kissing him again as she reaches for his hand. “Come on.” She tugs him toward the inside of the locker room, Roman finally budging as he gives Sami one last look that has the redhead contemplating requesting a switch to Raw. 

However, as Jimmy and Jey go to follow along with their cousin, Roman is quick to slam the door in their faces. 

“Hey, Uce, uhhh,—” Jimmy tries to jangle the knob only to realize it’s locked. He starts knocking. “Roman! Hey, you gon let us in?”

A couple seconds later the door does open, but it’s Solo, followed by Paul Heyman. Wise Man closes the door behind him. He looks around, briefly bewildered and clears his throat, announcing, “The Tribal Chief has requested to be left alone this evening.” 

Sami is the only one to laugh, playfully shoving Solo and pointing to the locker room. “I bet he has.” Solo, however, also looks like he’s also contemplating murder. Sami coughs awkwardly and turns to walk away, just as the camera crew announces ‘cut’.

The remaining men share laughs about the promo, meanwhile inside the locker room Mariella relishes in the feel of being reunited with her husband in real life, and now in the WWE kayfabe verse.

She’s pressed against his body, arms around his neck with his locked around her waist, holding her to him. “Hey, Big Daddy.”

Roman, Joe, rolls his eyes. Mariella giggles. She knows he has such a love/hate relationship with the term of endearment, one of many she has for the massive man before her. “You miss me?”

He makes a sound, leaning down to connect their lips. “Always, baby.” 

She smiles into their kiss, “good answer.” His big hands venture down to squeeze her ass, Mariella moaning into his mouth which triggers something for him. He lifts her up, her legs locking around his waist as he goes to sit back down in the big leather chair. Joe’s tongue entering her mouth is enough to elicit another moan but also alert her to the fact of where he wants to take this.

“Baby, we cannot do the nasty at your job.”

“I don’t know why you still call it that.” His fake irritation makes her giggle. It’s an inside joke between them that she’ll never let die so long as she lives. “And who says we can’t?”

“I don’t know. The FCC?” He rolls his eyes as she grasps at his beard that she can tell he dyed recently. Most likely because of his job. She wishes he could leave it be. She likes the gray. It does….things to her. “Besides, you know the deal. If we do it right now, we can’t do it tonight.” He continues to move his hands across her ass. “Mama’s got a show this Sunday, and I’d rather not be rendered immobile because my husband impaled me on his big ole’ dick.”

Again, Joe rolls his eyes, even though there’s more truth to her statement than the typical playful jokes she cracks at any given time. Joe has a high sex drive. She’s known this for some years. Mariella, however, does not. And it’s not even that she doesn’t enjoy sex with her husband. It’s that her husband doesn’t know how to stop, doesn’t know how to come, make her come one time for the one time, and just be done with it.

No. This man wants rounds. And truthfully, she just doesn’t have the stamina to keep up with him. Outside of porn stars, she doesn’t know who would.

Man is an absolute beast.

“So damn dramatic,” he chuckles against her neck. “You know I be doing most of the work anyway.”

She opens her mouth to protest. “Okay, that may or may not be true.” She can feel him smiling against her. It’s not like he minds. Joe is dominant in the sheets, wanting to be in control at all times. Her preference given he’s much more well versed in the sexual arts than she is. “But, in my defense, you’re built like a Greek god.” A Samoan god. “I get winded walking up the staircase in our house.”

“Bullshit.” He pulls back, pointing out. “You be on that stage dancing your ass off for damn near three hours.” 

She rolls her eyes, murmuring, “okay, that also may or may not be true.” Mari’s eyes flutter as he moves his hand under her dress. Long, thick fingers easily pushing aside her underwear, feeling the pool of her arousal. She squeezes his shoulders. “Joe….”

He grunts almost, gliding his fingers across her wet folds. She exhales sharply. “You this wet already and really want me to think you don’t want Big Daddy to fuck this tight lil’ pussy?”

Whining against him, Mariella unconsciously tries to move around on his lap to get his fingers back on her. In her, preferably. And it’s when he enters one of those deliciously talented fingers inside of her gushy opening, she caves. “Fine.” He smirks as she warns, “but you’re pushing me around in the wheelchair after!”

———-

Between a rock and a hard place.

That’s how Joe has felt the past few weeks, maybe even longer. But especially now.

He knows Ri’s parents are right. That they have every right to want her to spend time at home with them, in the place where she grew up, where most of her formative years and subsequent formative memories lie. Logically, it makes sense.

But, he can’t seem to get past his discomfort at the fact that Ri won’t be getting discharged and coming home with him. No, she’ll be discharged and hop on a plane with them back to Florida. Selfishly, he was hoping the doctor wouldn’t clear her to fly, but that plan went out the window. Dr. Reynolds is clearly on the same page with her parents about the potential benefit of being around constant triggers. Triggers that could help generate memories.

And Joe isn’t against that. At all. 

It’s just the fact that he won’t be there that rubs him the right way. 

“Joe.”

His eyes shut, an instant headache coming on. This is the last thing he needs. 

Turning around, he’s met with Olivia “Liv” Holmes default stare of icy indifference. Out of all of Mariella’s siblings, her family in general, Liv has always been his least favorite.

For a lot of different reasons. The main one being how she always treated Mariella when they were younger. Not mean, per se. But not kindly either. She always acted like Mariella was annoying, and she definitely could be at times, but not to the extent that Liv made it seem.

Like Mariella was just this big nuisance. It’s part of the reason she always wanted to hang out with him and Byron when they were growing up, because Liv spent most of her time with her twin sister, Everly, and her own friend group.

“Liv.” He really doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, let alone her. Their interactions have always been brief and limited to what is essential. For good reason too.

“I take it my parents told you we’re taking Ella back home to Florida with us.”

Joe has to bite back a smartass comment. Liv’s smirk and the almost smug tone of her voice isn’t what he needs right now.

“Yes.” He matches her energy a bit, reminding. “For the first couple weeks, at least. Then I’m going to bring her back home with me.” 

Where she belongs.

Liv smiles, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “We’ll see.”

Joe gives her a look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know she called me.” He freezes. “The night of the accident.” Joe manages to keep a calm face despite his surprise at her words. Mariella has never been close with Liv, most of their communication occurring via texts and family group chats. 

There’s only one reason she would call her sister who happens to be a divorce attorney.

“I want a divorce.”

Liv continuing to speak is ironically appreciated, as it pulls him from the memories of what is now an infamous argument. “I was sleeping and missed her call, but she didn’t leave a message. Kinda wishing she did, because I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell she was doing out on the road that late at night.” 

He keeps his cool. Somehow. “I already told you—”

“I know what you said, Joe.” Her interruption is sharp. “I also don’t believe you, because what the hell could she have so heavy on her mind after winning 5 Grammys?” She crosses her arms. “It doesn’t make sense.”

When he doesn’t say anything, she continues her accusatory assault. “You seem to forget that we were in high school together, Joe. I know how you were.” At this, he can’t say anything, can’t necessarily defend himself against truth. “You and Byron fucked damn near half the girls in our school, probably at college too, and then all of a sudden you turn in your hoe card to be with my baby sister? Because you love her? I never bought that shit for a minute.”

While he can’t deny his promiscuous past, Joe isn’t about to stand here and let this woman act like he’s this horrible person who took advantage of Mariella. “What’s your point, Liv? Huh? I’m not fucking stupid. I know you never approved of me being with Ri, but just like I didn’t give a fuck then, I still don’t give a fuck now.”

Liv does relatively well hiding her disapproval among her family, to some extent. But Joe has always been hip to her truth. She thinks Mariella should have gotten with someone else, anyone else probably. Anyone who wasn’t him.

Liv, who has never done well with being challenged, steps forward, glare intense and purposeful. “I’m gonna find out what happened that night, Joe. Because I know there’s something you’re not telling us.” He keeps up his unreadable expression, though there’s a small chunk of guilt swimming around the back of his head. Not even about not being completely honest with Mariella’s family.

More about not being honest with her.

She lowers her voice. “And when I do find out—”

“Liv.”

Joe and Liv turn to see Byron Jr. standing before them with a disappointed expression.

Arms crossed, he steps toward them, focused more on Liv than Joe. “Don’t be starting no shit today, alright? This the last thing we need.”

In recent years, especially since becoming a father, BJ has matured from his hotheaded days, often even a voice of reason. One of the reasons he’s been voted Locker Room captain for his team, the 49ers, 3 years in a row.

Liv rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been blinded by your friendship with him—”

“Hey.” Byron raises his voice a bit. “I mean it. You blaming people doesn’t change what happened, and you know damn well Ella would have a fit at you coming at Joe like this.”

Not really. Maybe before. Before everything collapsed so tragically between the two of them.

“Whatever.” She gives a final almost warning glare to the two of them before stalking off, probably to go see Mariella.

BJ places a comforting hand on Joe’s shoulder once she’s gone. “You good, man?” 

Not at all. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. 

BJ gives a sad smile. “Don’t let Olevil get to you.” Her nickname from back when they were in high school makes Joe chuckle. “You going back to work next week?”

Joe blows out a breath. That hasn’t even crossed his mind the past couple weeks. He doesn’t even really know what storyline they came up with to cover his absence. Nor does he care really. “I haven’t even thought about that, man.”

“I think you should.” And before Joe can protest, Byron lifts his hand. “Hear me out. She’s gonna be with our parents for a few weeks, so you know she’ll be in good hands. What you gon’ do while she’s gone? Sit around the house sad and moping and shit? You know she would be chewing you out for that, telling you that you gotta get back in the game.”

Joe gives a bit of a smile. Byron is right. Knowing Mariella, she’d have a whole theatrical ass presentation as to why he should return to work, song and dance included. 

“Yeah…”

Byron slaps him on his shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?” 

Joe nods, because he will. And not for himself, not even for his job, because he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now.

But for Mariella.

His Ri. 

Because she’ll always be his Ri.

And he’s determined to make sure she doesn’t forget it this time.

———-

Spring, 2022 [cont.]

“Baby!” It’s a distant voice that becomes closer as it's repeatedly conjoined with a small hand shaking at his shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

And he does. Eyes fluttering open, his vision is blurred initially, gradually clearing up to reveal the face of his beautiful wife. Cognizant of his surroundings, Joe realizes she’s sitting on top of him, notebook and pen in hand.

He smiles. It’s been a while since she’s woken him up for this. And while he’ll regret it in the morning, he’s grateful for it now. Grateful for these little callbacks to when they were broke, living in a crappy apartment, trying to chase the dream as inspiration struck her at all hours of the night. And she would wake him up, wanting his feedback. 

He didn’t really mind then. 

And he doesn’t really mind now.

That’s just his Ri.

Eyes squinting, she asks, “you up?”

He chuckles, also enjoying the sight of her straddling him wearing only his shirt. “Yes, baby. I’m up.”

“About time,” she complains, and he rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. “I’m feeling inspired.” She says it while giving almost jazz hands, pretty brown eyes landing back on him. “Wanna hear the lyrics?”

He yawns, glancing at the digital clock that reads 2:37AM. “What else would I be doing at this time?”

She glares. “Is that sarcasm I detect, mister? Is it my fault my musical muse comes alive at night? That she flourishes when most—”

“Ri.”

“Huh?”

He closes his eyes. Joe loves Mariella with everything in him, but he’s not in the mood for one of her theatrical tangents at damn near 3 o’clock in the morning. “Lyrics.”

“Oh! Right!” Chuckling, he watches as she reads over whatever she’s written to herself at first. A bit of a habit. She’s always initially self-conscious about her lyrics. “Now, it’s just off the top of my head, so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice to you, Ri.” It’s the truth. As annoyed as he can get sometimes, she’s never been on that list. “And I’m sure it’s fine.” 

She smiles appreciatively, slightly taking him by surprise as she quietly sings the lyrics versus just reading them to him.

Yellow diamonds in the light

Now we're standing side by side

As your shadow crosses mine

What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny

But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

Finished, she looks down at him, expectantly, “well?”

“I love it.” He loves most of what she writes though. He especially loves to hear her sing. “What inspired it?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about us. About how far we come.” She shrugs, his hands rubbing circles on her hips. “Your show was sold out tonight, Joe. Mine is sold out too. Like, we both sold out Madison Square Garden. That feels almost too perfect to be true.”

He makes a sound. “But, it is, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily and asks in a partial hypothetical tone. “We’re like really hot shit, huh?” Joe chuckles as she gasps and places her tablet down on his chest, quickly writing something down. He says nothing, having been with her for so long that none of her quirky ways really surprise him anymore.

“Also.”

“Also?”

She glares but moves to place the notebook and pen on the nightstand, resting her hands on his chest. “I was thinking about our conversation earlier…” He’s quiet, waiting patiently for her to finish her sentence even if it does have him a bit on edge. He’s never been good with waiting. “Let’s do it.”

Her answer takes him by surprise. “You sure?”

She nods, tugging at his beard. “We’re not getting any younger.” She giggles, eyes playfully narrowing. “Especially you, old man.” 

At that, he sucks his teeth. “Who you calling old?” He squeezes her side, and she squeals. He knows that’s where she’s ticklish. She falls out, laughing, and he takes the advantage of her being distracted to flip them so she’s flat on her back. “Naw, say it again. I ain’t hear you.”

“Joe, stop,” she giggles as he hovers over her, tickling her until she pushes back against his shoulder. He grabs her hand, restricting her when she opens her eyes. Her laughter quietly dies down when their eyes lock. 

Love. 

So much love.

Joe leans down and connects their lips, softly, slowly, just as meaningful as any other kiss they’ve shared. She moans into his mouth, feeling his hardened length graze against her opening, her essence already making its way down her inner thighs.

He feels this too, groaning and lifting her thigh to widen her as he carefully enters her, watching her arch her back at the entrance. She whimpers, hands moving around his shoulders.

He kisses her wrist, watching the pleasure on her face as he gives her deep strokes, slow and plunging, just how he knows she likes it. “Shhhh….let me take care of you, baby.”

And he does.

He always has.

He always will.

[ranhaitanisgf]

hi hana! congrats on 2k followers once again and if it’s not too much of a bother, i’d like to have a mikey fluff/crack “oblivious best friends” & “stuck together” scenario/hc (whichever works for you) where it was after school hours and everyone in toman is looking for mikey ☺️ i really hope this combination is something new skjdjsjss thank you in advance!! 💕

—manjiro [mikey] sano // oblivious best friends // stuck together

☆ ˎˊ˗ KATIEEE hiiii im sryyy i took sooooo long for this my disappearance from tumblr messed things up 😔 idk how i did on this tbh !! i hope youve been doing well !! and also ur idea was so cutee wahh i hope i did it justice !! xoxo

☆ ˎˊ˗ gn!reader

☆ ˎˊ˗ wc ; 1.5k+

masterlist || 2k masterlist

“...mikey.” 

“yeah?” 

“how long are we gonna stay here?” the boy in front of you hummed, thinking for a moment as he swirled the lollipop in his mouth. 

“until they find us.” you sighed at him, leaning your head back against the wall. you could hear rapid footsteps in the hallway, people running around yelling mikey’s name, unaware of the fact that he was sitting in the classroom they just passed by. 

he hadn’t given you much explanation when he grabbed you and pulled you into the classroom, though you think you have a basic idea of what was going on; all you could say was, it was very mikey.

“so, what exactly is the point in hiding from everyone?” 

“it’s funny!” he grinned, crunching down on his lollipop. “but also ‘cause the doors in this classroom are broken; they only open from the outside, so i’ve been waiting for someone to come by and open them from the outside.”

“huh?! why’d you drag me in here then? wait, how did you even do that?” 

“i dunno, but i just saw you and it was boring here by myself.” he shrugged, not seeming to think it was a big deal. “aaand you’ve skipped out on the last couple of meetings, so i missed you.” he pouted, a childish look on his face. “where were you?!” 

“mikey, i told you weeks ago that i would be busy studying for exams…don’t you remember?” you sighed. “i even texted you before all the meetings that i wouldn’t be coming!” 

“whatever.” mikey said flippantly, the same pout still on his face. “you owe me snacks for not showing up.” 

“okay, okay, just stop making that face.” you said, pulling at mikey’s cheeks. “you’re making me look like a bad person.”

“oi, stahppp, it hurtsss!” he grumbled. you eventually relented, sighing as you looked around the classroom. 

“even being here with someone else is boring. can’t we just leave and go get food?” 

“but i’m testing them! they have to know how to find their leader!” mikey insisted, crossing his arms. 

“but you’re literally hiding from them on purpose. how are they supposed to find you?” 

“they can figure that out themselves!” 

“right…” you answered, giving up on trying to make him see reason. you really were hungry; you hadn’t eaten since you had that milk bread from lunch, which wasn’t a whole lot of food. “if you’re insisting on keeping us here, then you’re gonna pay for my meal after this.” 

“ken-chin will pay for it, but okay!” 

“no, you’re going to pay for it. i don’t care if you’re broke; you deserve to have no money for keeping me here.” 

“hey, that’s so mean!” 

“yeah, and you’re being mean right now by not letting us go so i can eat. i ought to just-” you stood up from where the two of you were sitting to avoid being seen, “-let them see me and then tell them where you are!” mikey’s eyes widened, motioning for you to sit back down, but you stood firm, not moving from your spot. 

“oi, sit down! they have to find me on their own!” 

“no! this is ridiculous! i’m hungry and i shouldn’t have to be kept at school any longer-agh!” while you were talking, mikey grabbed your hand, pulling you down with a surprising amount of strength, making you lose your balance and topple over. 

“urgh, what the hell-...” you suddenly cut off your words when you realized the position you were in. 

because mikey had been sitting right next to your standing form, you had fallen right on top of him, the space between your faces being very small as the two of you stared at each other. the space between your bodies was even less, and you swore that he could feel your quickening heartbeat from how close the two of you were, (you didn’t even want to think about how you could feel the warmth from his body right now). 

you knew that you should probably be clambering off of him right now and bonking him on the head for pulling you down so hard, but for some reason, your body was frozen, not knowing what to do. on the one hand, you knew you probably shouldn’t be staying here for so long, but on the other hand, you wanted him to do or say something, anything, to make you think that he wasn’t just an oblivious teenage boy, (how could he have not noticed your feelings this whole time?!)

“(y/n)...” he whispered, his breath fanning against your cheeks due to your close proximity. 

“y-yeah?” 

“can you get off? you’re kinda heavy.” at his words, you immediately scrambled off of him, your heart beating a million beats per minute, this time due to embarrassment. as soon as he got up, you slapped the back of his head, making him yell a loud ‘ow!’. 

“that’s what you get for pulling me so hard, asshole! i don’t get why you’re so adamant about staying here!” you yelled, feeling more shame and embarrassment than anger. you leaned your head back against the wall, wondering why you thought that anything would be different this time. 

it’s not normal for best friends to have feelings for each other, so why were you mad at him? 

this time, you felt the silence between the two of you to be unbearable, almost enough to make you scream with frustration. you didn’t though, instead choosing to just have your own internal monologue until you could make it out of the classroom. 

“(y/n)-chan? what’s wrong?” 

“nothing, i’m just tired as fuck. wake me up when we get found or whatever.” you murmured, laying down on the floor, not caring about the dust and first getting on your uniform. maybe if you laid down like this, the earth would swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment. 

you weren’t sure how much time passed like that, though you were sure that the silence filled the room for quite a while, only being interrupted by draken and takemichi’s yells in the hallway. suddenly, you heard some shuffling, wondering if maybe mikey was going to give up and let the two of you finally be found. 

you’d already gone too long pretending to be asleep, so even though you wanted to see what mikey was doing, you didn’t make a peep even when you could feel him getting closer to you. 

what is he doing? 

your question was answered just a moment later when you felt his hand on your cheek, brushing some of your hair out of your face, (you were hoping that your cheeks weren’t getting flushed right about now). 

“hm, i was able to hold back this time, but you really test me sometimes, (y/n).” after that, you felt his hand pull away, leaving you in much more confusion than before. what in the world was he talking about? 

a few minutes later, you heard him opening the window to the classroom, yelling for draken. when he arrived, he started chewing mikey out for disappearing for so long, which was when you decided to ‘wake up’. 

“hmm, you finally decided to give up that little stunt, mikey?” you asked, standing up and rubbing your eyes to make it seem like you were actually sleeping. “took you long enough.” 

“it got more boring sitting there since you fell asleep.” mikey answered, shrugging his shoulders. he kept the same lighthearted expression on his face as he started to get another earful from draken.

“you did this on purpose?! we’ve got stuff to do!!” he yelled, his face twisted in frustration. “it’s been a whole goddamn hour!!” 

“sorry, sorry.” 

you walked away from the two over to the door, trying to open it just to see. much to your surprise, it opened up, not showing any sign of the locked issue that mikey had claimed it’d had earlier. 

when you looked over at him, all he did was shrug, a smug smirk on his face. 

“you little shit! it was open this whole time?! i’m gonna actually kill you this time!!” you yelled, running at mikey. he swiftly dodged you and went out the door behind you, running into the hallway to get away from you. 

“catch me if you can!!” you heard him tease in the distance, fueling your anger even more. 

“when i catch you, it’s so over for you!!” you shouted, sprinting out of the classroom after him. 

as you chased him, he looked back at you, laughing and saying something that you couldn’t catch. despite the fact that you were acting so mad at him right now, you couldn’t help but admire how the light from the sunset reflected off of his skin, highlighting his playful smile and blonde locks bouncing in the air. 

you supposed that this was fine, for now. 

(mikey ended up paying for your entire meal out of his own pocket, leaving him with 200 yen to his name).

[syoddeye]

the warren, ten - curious

price x f!reader | 3k words | series page | ao3 tags: mine/underground, gaslighting, minor injury, dual pov a/n: john takes you on a trip.🔪

"There she is. Mind locking it behind you, darl? We're closing early."

John doesn't look up from the register drawer. The bills of cash look like monopoly money in his hands. He licks the tip of his thumb and sorts through the stack, the creases in his brow cutting deep. When he's done, he tucks the tender into a scuffed leather envelope.

Embarrassment warms your face as you realize you've never handled this part of the job before. Not even when you've closed alongside him. He must always take care of it, or leave it undone until later. It stings a little. Peels up a sticking corner of your faith. He must not trust you to manage the till. You bite back a comment, shelving it for later. You have enough on your mind, thoughts teetering precariously like a cup filled to the brim, held in only by surface tension.

"Heard you went on an adventure today."

"I did."

"Gotta tell you, love, hate that you didn't ask for a ride," He sets the envelope down and slots the register back into place. He fixes you with a heavy stare, chin tucking toward his chest. "And that you went on foot."

"It's not that far. I've walked further, in the desert." You smile, trying to ease his mood, and remind him you aren't as helpless as he may believe.

But it doesn't work. If anything, your nonchalance hardens him further. 

"Yeah? Are there bears in the desert? Cougars?"

It's strange. No, not strange. This is not out of character. John's been like this since you met. Set in his ways, immovable in his convictions, the master of his domain. However he thinks things should go, how the world should spin, it's only a hair beneath the natural laws themselves. Still, you thought you moved beyond that with him and fell outside his mantle of authority. The slight condescension in his tone and body language? It needles you. Your hackles rise. It makes you think of your dad. Of Dusty. 

"There are cougars, actually. Coyotes, too. Snakes, bighorns…" You fold your arms. "Even met a surly jackrabbit, once."

John stares hard, thumb picking at a sliver of laminate peeling loose. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring. When he finally speaks, his face softens, tired lines overtaking the sharp ones. Worry seeps through the cracks like water through stone. "That so? Well. If you've taken on the desert before…"

He pushes off the counter then steps around and into the gap. The offer is clear, and you meet him halfway, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's a quiet thing, your apology tucked between tongues. When you part, you rest your head on his chest. His hand glides up your spine.

"Sorry to make you worry."

"S'alright. Stopped worrying when Soap texted that he ran into you outside the library. Bookworm couldn't wait for her next read, eh?"

That sneak. Soap must've texted when you were distracted on the drive.

Your eyes fall to the tortoiseshell button on John's shirt, rising and falling with his breathing. A loose thread sticks out from it. You relate to it.

"Yes and no," you say, lifting your head. "I woke up curious." You lick your lips, thinking about what you'd told Soap in the truck. How he reacted when you said you might get to know everyone better, should you winter in the Panhandle. "If I'm going to stay here, I want to learn more about the area."

"S'pose the library's the place to learn. Though, you could've asked me, too."

All roads lead back to John, and you'd taken the turn willingly the moment you got on your knees for him. The moment you fell into his bed.

"You were busy."

"You couldn't wait?" He echoes and it purses your lip. 

Your hackles stir again. Your fraying nerves are to blame, not him. You'll feel better once you let it out.

"Are you busy now?"

"Need to make some deliveries. Ride with me."

Another truck, another conversation about madness. You help load the bed with odds and ends. John's occupation as shop owner and local Renaissance man keeps him busy. He points out a lamp he rewired. Hand tools he sharpened. A bicycle, sporting a new chain and front tire.

The comfortable rhythm between you returns, but you feel his thumb at the edges of you. Prying like he did with that bit of laminate on the counter, trying to ease you open. He wants to know what compelled you to walk the miles to Ponderosa, to sit in the library all day.

He knows you well enough to give you space, to make you feel safe before asking. That's one of the reasons you think you might love him.

John drives, you talk. You tell him everything, skipping over Phil's ominous text and the hold waiting under your name. The hold becomes a random book plucked off a library shelf and how its defacement spurred a morbid fascination with the collapse that swallowed nearly a hundred men.

The lie slips out smoother than you'd like. You hate that it's easier now, that you can meet his eyes as you reshape the truth. He doesn't twitch or look over suspiciously. He just listens. It makes it easier to tell yourself that omission and white lies—they're not deceit, not really.

But when you get to the part about your discovery, you waver. You stumble over your words, starting and stopping like burrs catching and pulling at the fabric of your story.

John glances at you then, quick but pointed. You tugged a thread and he felt the give.

Your explanation is shoddier the second time around. 

"...and he looked exactly like Alex. I swear." 

John doesn't respond immediately. He pulls the truck off to the side of the road, stopping in front of a mailbox at the end of a long drive. Without a word, he turns the engine off, climbs out, and heads to the back.

You hear the faint click of the bicycle wheel as it spins, the dull thunk as he pulls it free. Watching through the side mirror, you see him push it to the mailbox and prop it there. He stands beside it for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, shoulders slumped.

When he turns back and catches you staring, he gives you a small, uncertain smile, sheepish and laced with pity. You drop your gaze to your shoes.

He thinks you're crazy, too. Perfect.

You're a quarter mile down the road when he finally speaks.

"That's quite the claim."

"I know. I know how it sounds. But John, if you saw him, you'd think the same thing. It's uncanny." You sigh. Every word is a shovelful of dirt. "Soap suggested it was his grandfather or something. Do you know if Alex has roots here?"

"Well, we all have roots here," He smiles a little and reaches over, brushing a hand over your knee. "But if I remember correctly, I believe he was born and raised here."

You nod. That is a comfort. It should be a comfort. It's not that you don't believe John. It's more so you want proof and know you're not sure you want to ask the man in question. Are you from here? Did your grandfather nearly die in a mine collapse?

Frustrated, you lay a hand over John's, tracing the cracks in his knuckles.

"That disappoint you?"

You shrug. "I guess I wanted a mystery."

He chuckles. "Like one of your books, no doubt."

"I suppose so." Though the unease lingers, stitched tight to your stomach lining and unwilling to unwind, you manage to smile. "I heard there's a memorial."

"There is. It's not for—"

"Tourists. Yeah, I know." His lip twitches, and you rush an apology into the gap. "Sorry for interrupting. It's just—who knows. I might not be a tourist in a few weeks. I want to know this place and the people."

That lands differently and with intent. It instantly smooths over your poor manners. His fingers stretch, drumming thoughtfully on the inside of your knee.

"We can visit, if you'd like. You'll see why they don't put in the brochures."

Your eyes widen, surprised he's indulging your curiosity.

"I'd love to. When should we go?"

The truck jerks as he brakes on a patch of gravel, a small spray of rocks pinging against the undercarriage. Dust blooms behind you like smoke.

He grins, a glint of something wild in his eyes. It's conspiratorial like the two of you are teenagers sneaking off to do something you shouldn't.

"Still light out, isn't it?"

~~

The Sawtooth Crest Mine doesn't feel so different from the ghost towns scattered across the Great Basin. A handful of sagging structures, burnt or crushed into rubble by weather and time. Others lean precariously on the verge of collapse.

You pass signs designating offices and a warehouse, bunkhouses, and a rec hall. You scan the empty windows and doorways as if you'll find answers or at least a hint.

The woods creep in, decades of reclamation around you.

After all the effort to get here, the memorial feels like a joke. A slab of stone with a tarnished plaque bolted onto the front. The text is largely illegible, worn down, and that's what's left. It looks like someone took a pickaxe to the rest of it.

You step closer, brushing your fingers over the pitted stone. John stands back, letting you have the moment. It feels intrusive, like standing at a stranger's grave. You suppose you are, in a way. Some bodies are reported unrecoverable.

The thought makes the back of your neck itch.

John waits until you're done, then gestures toward the mine itself. The main entrance gapes wide, its opening barred with iron rods and sheet metal, wired tight like a broken jaw. While you stare through the gaps, imagining further in, John steps to the side, casually working the padlock on the access door. A click, the chain slithers to the ground in a pile, and the door swings open.

"What are you—Isn't it dangerous?"

"Been here loads of times," he grins. "Drinking with the lads, mucking around. C'mon, we won't go far."

The grin isn't much comfort, but when he beckons, you follow. He leads you into the yawning dark, pulling out an emergency light clipped to his keys, throwing a small pool of light that splashes over your feet and up the closest section of wall. You stick close, your shoulder brushing his arm as the daylight behind you fades.

As you walk along, he talks. He points out the skeletal remains of machinery, rusted carts, and tools that have sat untouched for decades. The damp air thickens with the smell of soil and rust. You reach a junction where two tunnels branch off from a central chamber, a lift cage sitting in the middle, waiting.

John points to it, voice bouncing off the walls as he explains how it worked, how the whole system of pulleys and tracks kept the mine running. About the hoist operators, and how they were 'jokingly' referred to as Saint Peter. 

It's leagues more than Dusty ever shared, more than you ever overheard at the company picnics where he kept you in the dark as his smiling but simple wife. The irony isn't lost on you—standing here now, in the dark, learning more about your husband's trade from another man than you had in years.

"How do you know so much?"

John shrugs, his proud smile cast in shadow. "Talking to old-timers at The Fox Hole. They've got stories for days, especially after a few pints." His hand worries the cable like he's feeling for a pulse. "Nikolai's worse than me. The know-it-all." Then, he steps closer, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you to him. He presses a brief kiss to your forehead.

"Hate to be crass, but I've got to take a leak. Got your phone?"

You fumble it out of your pocket, holding it up. The model is too old for a flashlight, but you turn the brightness up as far as it'll go and point it at the ground.

"Good," He sounds far too at home as if you're not both standing in the belly of a dead mine. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

He glances between the tunnels, making his choice, before he starts down the left passage.

You watch the dark swallow him whole.

"Don't go too far."

There's an answer, but it's more sound than speech and further away than it should be. 

And then his footsteps recede.

The glow of your phone barely lights your shoes. You shift your weight, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the low simmer of unease in your stomach from boiling over into something embarrassing. The flesh clenched between your teeth heats anyway.

John isn't far. He's just around the corner. If you walk down that tunnel, you'll see.

Your feet move, body ahead of your brain, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up.

Then you catch it—nostrils flaring. Wet dog, mixed with straw. Brimstone and iron. Your shoulders tighten, a shiver running down your arms, goosebumps raising. Folding them across your chest, phone pointed out, you continue, taking tiny half-steps. Shuffling.

The tunnel warms as you go. The walls sweat. Silver flecks reflect the dim light like the creature's eyes you saw out your window.

"John?" You mean to call out, though it shakes out in a whisper. It's like trying to scream in a nightmare, stuck under the thick ice of sleep. You try again. "John?" No better.

Behind you, a metallic creak cuts through the silence. You freeze. Then your feet find full strides, the shuffle turning into a hurried walk. Pebbles slide underfoot, and you glance down, stopping short when you see it—a sandy tuft of hair, coarse and matted, lying just beside your foot.

The phone light trembles as you crouch, about to pluck the tuft from the ground.

And then another noise.

A low, guttural rumble rolls through the tunnel. You snap upright, spinning toward the direction you came from, holding your phone out as if it's an actual torch. The light catches nothing, and the growl comes again. Deeper. Closer.

You run.

The light swings wildly as you stumble forward, colliding hard with a set of support beams. They groan and slightly give at the impact, a thick cloud of dust erupting straight into your face. You cough and spin, lunging down the left passage when the tunnel splits again, painfully aware of how hopelessly lost you're becoming.

Something brushes your elbow, and every nerve in your body sounds the alarm. You jerk forward instinctively, your feet sliding on loose gravel. The ground shifts, and suddenly, you're falling, the cold floor of the mine rushing up to meet you in a bone-rattling thud.

~~

You wake to a hand stroking your head. Your cheek rests on denim, rough but warm beneath you, and the rumble of an engine. You realize you're horizontal, stretched across the front seat of John's truck, your head resting on his thigh. The road bumps and jars you as the truck barrels forward.

"John?" Your voice cracks on his name.

The hand on your head pauses, then resumes, gentler. You tilt your head, blinking spots from your vision, and catch his worried glances. His face is tight, his jaw set. "You're alright. Took a spill, I think. Found you halfway down a tunnel in a heap."

You push upright despite his protests, wincing at the pull in your muscles. Your hand drifts to your forehead, where it throbs, and you flinch at a smear of sticky, drying blood. "What…?"

"Just a scrape. I checked it. Must've clocked yourself on the way down."

The truck jolts over a bump, and you steady against the door, staring at the trees blurring past. The sun is dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet as John speeds down the logging road. How long were you out?

"Thought I told you to stay put," John chides softly, a nervous smile twitching his lip. "What were you doing?"

The memory floods back. The growl. The chase. Something touched you.

You stare straight ahead, fingers feeling nothing when you check your elbow.

Sometimes our minds play tricks.

"I…I don't know." You force a shrug, licking your lips. "I don't know."

~~ 

John sees to your forehead. He dabs at the wound with a damp cloth, then spreads a layer of antibiotic over it with the tip of his finger. Twice, he asks if you're up to date on your tetanus shot, and twice, you confirm you are. 

When he smooths the bandage on, his thumbs press it into place. He gently kisses it, then tilts your chin and kisses your lips the same way.

"Skittish thing," he teases, though his eyes carry a tinge of regret. "Shouldn't have left you alone."

Before you can respond, he's kissing you again, deeper, his hands sliding down to steady you atop his kitchen table like you might slip away.

You don't slip at all. You end up underneath him.

~~~~

While his girl sleeps off the consequences of her walk, his lesson leaking out of her, John summons his Watcher.

Kate is a good woman. Useful. Steady under pressure, keen as her old man, maybe more. She shoulders the responsibility and knows better than to complain. Her father wore his duty like a crown and bore it as a source of pride. Kate treats it as a job. One she always gets done.

But she pushes it.

"Why the fed, John?" she flicks ash from her cigarette. "He was bound to give up and leave."

John picks his teeth. "Didn't like the way he looked at her."

Kate narrows her eyes, dragging smoke into her lungs. "Looking at a pretty woman isn't a crime. There'd be plenty more carcasses if it was." She exhales sharply. "You broke the conditions of the pact."

"The conditions," he sneers, "state I can harvest the unfortunates and ne'er-do-wells. Vagrants. Show me an agent of the state with clean hands, and I'll cough Mr. Graves up right now."

Her lip curls at that, distaste evident. "A technicality, then. Still don't like it. All it got you was one meal, and it invited attention."

He ignores her insubordination. "You got information on the second course?"

"Kyle Garrick. Sent to investigate Graves's disappearance…" Kate reads, stubbing her cigarette on the edge of the counter. "And to look into other disappearances in the area." 

John takes the picture Kate offers and stares at the younger man, oblivious to his new headshot. "He's looking for me, I presume?"

"Naturally, but…"

"But what?"

"He's looking for her, too."

Smoke curls between them. This fed business—it's irritating, inevitable. They've done this song and dance before. No matter the reason, the thought of some young buck sniffing around his doe sets his teeth on edge.

"Let's orchestrate a meeting then," John finally says, peeling the loose strip of laminate off in one smooth go. "Use this curious streak of hers to our advantage."

[furiousgoldfish]

Did my parents use cult techniques of abuse on me?

Or, did I grow up in a cult-like environment?

Control of appearance

my parents would berate me for my choice of clothing and accessories

my parents would insult me, call me names or slurs or make inappropriate comments if I dressed in a way they disapproved of

my parents would refuse to take me places until I dressed the way they required

my parents would shame me for my appearance and say they're ashamed to be seen in public with me

my parents would require me to look similar to what they look, even if it wasn't my style

my parents would take away pieces of my clothing and destroy it if they didn't like it

my parents would blackmail me or force me to wear a certain piece of clothing against my will

my parents would physically force me into clothing they decided I should wear

my parents berated, insulted and shamed me for the length, color and the style of my hair, if it wasn't what they thought I should look  like

only certain styles of clothing, hair, and accessories were acceptable for me to wear

Control of information, isolation and 'them versus us'

my parents would ask me 'where did you learn that?' whenever I would say something they didn't like

my parents would blame the school/my friends and say 'is this what they taught you?' if I didn't comply with their requests

my parents would disprove of reliable sources of information; they would insist they're right even when their information was directly against science, common sense, school or expert opinion

I was restricted or heavily discouraged from absorbing certain sorts of media (tv was forbidden, or certain books were forbidden, or the internet)

my parents were happy to expose me to information on how others live only if they were showing me worse abuse than what was going on at home. my only references were people who hurt their children much worse

my parents didn't like me spending time with my friends and would criticize those friends harshly in front of me

my parents considered anyone who isn't like them stupid, undesirable, less worthy and irrelevant, they wouldn't take in new information about them and instead considered themselves superior

my parents insisted that there isn't a place for me in the 'outside world' and that I'm only ever going to be a burden and a liability to everyone

my parents convinced me that people in the 'real world' were cruel and dangerous, and that I was likely to get killed, kidnapped, robbed, sexually assaulted or taken hostage by them

my parents believed anyone who fell victim to homelessness, addictions, abuse, poverty, illness or misfortune was stupid, worthless, lived their life wrong, and it was all their own fault that this happened to them

Control of location, financial abuse and life decisions

my parents would take any money I receive as a gift away from me

my parents would take any money I earn away from me

my parents would find a way to 'borrow' or 'keep safe' the money that was supposed to be mine, and I would never see it again

my parents would employ me to do work that would otherwise be paid work, but I would never hear about the money, they would just say it would go to 'the cost of keeping me'

my parents required me to work to 'deserve to live', I would have to do extensive physical work in order to deserve food, shelter, and basic resources I needed for school

my parents didn't give me proper working conditions, when working I wasn't allowed to complain of being tired, hungry, needing the toilet or a break, I had to work silently

my parents wanted me to work for them even after coming of age

my parents wanted me to only work somewhere close to the family (in the same town/city/district, or in a relative's home) and would sabotage me getting jobs that required me to move away

my parents threw tantrums or had extreme anxious reactions if I were to try to move somewhere away from them (insisting I'd be hurt, kidnapped, killed, robbed, sold into slavery, etc)

my parents wouldn't allow me to make life decisions on my own even when I was of age, and insisted that they know what is right for me instead

my parents would withdraw their support from me, or do intense shaming, guilt-tripping, acting hurt and betrayed and blaming me for their own bad psychological state, if I tried to make my own life decisions the way I wanted (even when I'm an adult)

if I needed to move for school/work, my parents insisted on being in as close contact as possible, they wanted me to call them daily or would call daily

I felt that my parents did not trust me to know how to take care of myself and they felt it was necessary to control all of my decisions for me, or I would go directly into my own doom

Strict patriarchal standards

my family believed that the father is supposed to be the 'leader' of the family and that other members of the family, specifically children, were to listen to his orders obediently or be punished

my family allowed the father to use extremely cruel punishments if he wasn't obeyed instantly

there was a double standard for what the family was free to do, and what the father was free to do; he could act as he pleased, but for the rest, there were strict rules of behaviour and limited freedom

while the father in the family was allowed to criticize, humiliate, guilt-trip and demand labour and resources from anyone in the family, he himself was above criticism and was not to be questioned

there was a double standard for girls and boys in my family; girls needed to be submissive, pleasing to look at, work endlessly for others and act like helpers and resources for other members of the family. boys were valued for toughness, durability, aggressiveness.

controlling, bullying and assaulting girls would be forgiven and dismissed, but girls would not be allowed to fight back.

boys were encouraged to fight and were not supposed to complain about injuries or fear physical violence at all

girls were valued for chastity, virginity and appeal to men, while boys were valued for physical strength, leadership, agression and decision making

extensive shame was put on any sexual desire, curiosity or even requests for information about sex

it was assumed that the goals for the young girls in the family was to become married and were trained for 'serving their future husband', to the point where they would be criticized and humiliated for anything 'their future husband wouldn't like'

my family did not give us any resources or information that would teach us about sex or protect us against sexual abuse

there was sexual abuse of children in my family (by adults, or by other children) and it was ignored, dismissed, either never brought to light or the perpetrators were protected if it ever was brought to light, and the entire thing covered up

Breaking (tw torture, tw murder attempts)

I was denied food or shelter if I would disobey my parents as a child

I was locked up somewhere if I would disobey my parents

I was hit, chased, threatened with violence, had things thrown at me and had people scream at me in rage if I disobeyed them as a child

I was beaten, to the point where I had marks on my body, as a punishment for disobedience

I was starved as a punishment for disobedience (my food intake was limited, a meal was withdrawn every day or multiple meals were, or my meals were less than what everyone else was allowed to have)

I was sleep-deprived as a punishment (allowed less than 8 hours of sleep at night)

I was overworked as a punishment (forced to do long or unusual cleanings or other menial labour)

I was exposed to life-threatening situations as a punishment (someone would try to drown/choke/injure me, or put me in a situation where I would likely get injured)

Punishments would not be over until I would break down unable to bear it any more and I would apologize and beg for it to stop, sometimes it still wouldn't stop

After punishments, nobody would speak to me, look at me, pay attention to me, or give me any comfort or acknowledgment, everyone acted as if I was poisonous or toxic (this is shunning)

After punishments, I would be isolated, without any human contact, for prolonged periods of time, I wouldn't be allowed back into the family until they decided it was time

I was exposed to extensive shaming and contempt for disobeying (I was told I was the worst, most selfish creature to live, that I was evil, possessed, demonic, I was called slurs, animal names, monstrous names, compared to the devil or worst humans to exist, blamed for everyone's suffering, accused of causing suffering on purpose and enjoying it)

intimate, sexual or extremely uncomfortable punishments were done to me for disobeying or talking back

I believed that the members of the family were all-powerful, and that there was no way of escaping their punishments, or for them not to find out if I've done anything wrong. I became terrified of making any mistakes and couldn't see a world where they wouldn't find out

I was scared that the family members could read my thoughts and was forbidden to think anything ill of them

Religious and Spiritual Abuse (control of thoughts)

I was supposed to accept the same religion my parents believed in, and anything else was unacceptable

I was forced to participate in church going, religious activities and rituals even if I strongly did not want to be involved

I was taught extensive religious or spiritual beliefs from the start of life, and would be judged on those standards/had to prove my faith in various ways

I was forced to 'confess' my thoughts and beliefs to a member of the family or the church, who then judged me and 'corrected' my way of thinking, telling me how I should (must) think

my place in society was dictated by my religion, if religion said my purpose is to have a family, or have children, then the only way for me to exist would be to follow that purpose

I was taught that laziness is a sin and I was to work every moment I possibly could, or I would be shamed as a sinner

I was told I was impure, sinful, that certain parts of human nature like curiosity, desire for knowledge, critical thinking and indulgence in my interests and desires was 'against god', and I had to give it all up in order to be a good person

I was taught to fear god's wrath and that punishment would come for anything that could possibly be perceived as wrong

I was taught that suffering is necessary and good for us, that the more we suffer in this world, more will we be rewarded in the next one, and that being put through extensive and prolonged pain would actually save me and give me good graces with god

alternatively, I was told that any suffering was my fault and only here because 'I didn't believe enough' or 'my faith isn't pure enough' and if I only did everything right, then I would have no suffering, no illnesses, no problems and no bad moods ever

I was told there was something demonic and evil inside of me, and had to bear punishments to 'exorcise the possession'

I was told I was so evil, selfish and demonic that I could not be loved, or could only be loved under certain conditions, and if I'm continually punished

I was introduced to a 'new age religion' or a specific spiritual belief by my family and was then groomed to participate in it long term, not realizing that it was done for a purpose to benefit a certain cause that was ultimately exploitative and deceptive

I was shamed and told I was doing harm to the world for arbitrary things, like having my own stuff, eating certain foods, participating in certain harmless activities or buying certain things

limits and restrictions would be placed on completely harmless things for which I would then be persecuted

Escape prevention

I was told that I was not capable of living in the normal world and that I would die if I ever escape

I was told I would commit suicide if I escape

I was told that the world outside is life-threatening, that people are dangerous, prone to attack, murder, rob, assault or kidnap me

I was told that I was absolutely unwanted, burden and a waste of space if I'm outside of the family

I was told there was no way for me to become a part of any other group or have a place in any social circle outside of the family

I was terrified that there would be revenge if I ever escaped, and that someone would come and attempt to take my life

(in case of escape) extensive measures were taken to try and get me to come back, I was searched for, contacted and harassed by multiple people trying to find me and bring me back home

(in case of escape) my relatives, friends, acquaintances and peers were harassed and manipulated to believe they need to bring me back and that I'm making a mistake

I was extensively shamed, told I was being cruel, in the wrong, that I needed to forgive and forget any wrongdoing, that I was doing damage and hurting people, if I ever tried to escape

I could feel that I would be shunned, everything I had would be taken from me and I would be left without any family, any resources or any safety net if I ever escape

(in case of escaping) I became shunned and unwelcome in my own family

(in case of escaping) the worst rumors and allegations were spread against me, my family told everyone made-up stories or exaggerated lies of how awful, cruel, selfish, crazy, distorted, sick and psychotic I am

(in case of escape) after escaping, I was hit with severe terror and trauma, and was barely able, or completely unable to function for a period of time, I didn't believe I would survive, and I didn't know how to function in the world

(in case of escape) after escaping, I realized I had nothing to my name, no skills for survival outside of the family, and I needed to re-learn everything, from socialization with people to financial skills and self care, I wasn't taught anything that would help me live in the outside world

*if someone other than your parents did this to you, you can substitute 'parents' by 'abuser'. Sometimes cults will cut family bonds and convince you that the cult community is your only family

If you've scored high on this list, it doesn't necessarily mean you were brought up in a cult, because cults often use tactics of domestic abuse, and the reverse is also true, domestic abusers often use cult tactics of abuse. It also doesn't mean that you weren't brought in a cult, if most of this is applicable you could potentially benefit from reading resources about cults and how they function, and how to recover from them and clear your mind of their control.

Most families raise their children in their own religion, and by patriarchal standards, it doesn't mean that it isn't religious and sexist abuse, because children are often not free to choose their beliefs or live freely of those standards. It's a societal type of 'accepted abuse'. However, you had anything from 'Breaking' category true for you, you were severely abused and someone attempted to take your free will completely from you, and take control of you. Everything in there counts as torture, is illegal, and is not in any way acceptable to do to a child, or adult, and none of it could ever be done for your own good. Also, control of your appearance, finances, information and escape prevention are strong signs of exploitation and being held hostage and used against your will. Control of appearance is mostly done so that nobody in the outer world could recognize that you're not there by your free will and as a part of that family/community, it's to make your abuse invisible and undetectable. Control of information is there to make it invisible to you, so that you can't figure out whats happening to you isn't normal.

If you've scored high on this list, it means you've been through extensive and terrifying levels of abuse, and that strong measures were taken to prevent you from escaping. This type of abuse has long-lasting effects and is not something one can easily recover from. Nobody deserved anything on this list to be done to them, every point is abuse.

[punksocks]

My Opinions on the Moon Signs

(Btw I’m going to reply soon, sorry life and work has been very busy this June ;0)

Aries moon- The definition of passionate. They can be outgoing and a lot of fun. Definitely super charismatic people. Determinators (more than Aries sun sometimes imo), they’re going to get what they want done. They also really hate not being listened to or treated as the leaders in the room. When they’re mad they get passive aggressive asf and so pissy. Every Aries moon I’ve known has basically refused to be personable while they’re upset. No matter if they were older or younger than me (my grandfather was an Aries moon). They’re loud when they’re happy and loud then distressingly quiet when they’re upset. They stay mad until they decide not to be mad anymore. Then they’ll never talk about it again and be so jovial you could never guess they were upset 2 minutes ago. Good time friends and great at entertaining a crowd though.

Taurus moon- I’m biased bc my partner has this and I love them :0. Softies. They’re grounded and caring, like no one will help soothe you more than a Taurus moon. They’re really giving but it depends what they feel resource rich in. Like if they have a lot of control over their time they’ll spend days on you. But if they grew up during constant instability and financial stress they have a hard time being flexible with giving money or moving house or things like that. They’ll come around if you can show them that they can keep their physical safety. In fact, I think it’s easiest to change a Taurus moon’s mind out of all the fixed moons (in my experience).Also, They really like it when you call them on their shit and shoot straight with them. Also food, they love good food. Any tactile good time really. They’ll make you feel special if you give them affection.

Gemini moon- I don’t have a ton of experience here. Chatty but keep more to themselves than Gemini suns. Only shows you certain parts of themselves, they always have a lot on their minds. The poster child overthinkers of the zodiac (and virgo moons too ofc). Funny tho, always a sense of humor and philosophy about just about every situation.

Cancer moon- Sweethearts. Exalted placement for a reason. Really good at sensing problems/insecurities and putting words to them. They can catch crushes easily. They need to get as much validation as they give. Like a lot. That’s one of their emotional love languages. Can be comforting or very manipulative it depends on how developed they are. One of the most creative people I ever met was a cancer moon, they were super talented and recieved a lot of praise for their great work. A sweetheart that had a lot of creative hobbies and was close to their family. Daydreamed quite a bit, but no more than any other water sign placement.

Leo moon- They don’t need to be the center of attention as often as people think, but they do need to be listened to. It means a lot to them. Can be really aggressive as kids for a period of time then they grow into themselves and can be pretty chill. Maybe a bit too chill about things they aren’t passionate about. They light up when they’re excited though. Also, they can be super competitive, like they can get in their feelings about losing at something they’re trying to show off in. (Like a video game or team sport or what have you)

Virgo moon- Very thoughtful and insightful people. They’re able to pick through and see little imperfections in people that others can not. Whether they use those powers for good or evil is truly up to them. (I have had many friends use this power for good and a relative or two use this power for evil). Everyone I’ve met with this placement has been so seriously beautiful and so aesthetically put together, idk how they do it. Doesn’t love to be called on their shit lol, you must be gentle with criticism unless you know them very very well. But they have a lot that’s on their mind and a bit they’re insecure about so you may accidentally start beef by saying something. But super perceptive people, a delight to gossip with (mercurial moons love to bond over gossip) and they have great ideas. If you have a problem to solve or analyze they’ll often have a set of solutions.

Libra moon- don’t know a ton of them. Not super well anyway. They can be very intelligent and understand a lot about the things they like. And they bluff/charm their way through everything else. Most likely to act differently around different people to try to be the person they think whoever they’re talking to will like.

Scorpio moon- usually very goth/dark style, or they’re drawn to it. Usually just radiate intensity. But also more detached from more situations than I expect every time? They have had a lot of emotional hardships growing up and so they kind of expect to get hurt again by those they’re close to. It’s like a callous for them. If they let you in you’re very special. The developed ones are such sweethearts. Knew a manipulative one that was underdeveloped and crazy tho ngl. Like that person seemed violent and like they wanted to burn the world to feel warm. So either very sweet and stand-offish or just destructive asl.

Sagittarius moon- not my cleanest set of experiences ngl. If you’re like having a good time with one then they’re funny and can be the life of the party. Can also not know how to be emotionally supportive, but will attempt it. But my mom was my bad experience and there was a lot of explosive anger at little things mixed with being immature about others emotions. Throwing a book across the room because she didn’t understand what her (post grad) homework was or coming home angry and yelling after a bad day of work without so much as saying hi. And a lot of being mad at me and other kids for not being instantly emotionally soothed yknow? Like if I needed to sit in silence and process that would tick her off and set off a chain reaction. Explosive anger. Also forcing themselves to laugh loudly after an argument to feel better (Aries moon grandfather did this too I don’t get it). This is mainly underdeveloped energy though. I had a friend with this moon placement and they had a hard time processing their emotions and would usually breakdown for a moment then get back up again. Also people with this placement tend to get most romantically interested in unavailable people imo.

Capricorn moon- me! And a lot of people I connected with briefly and deeply. Having terrible mothers and bonding over it lol. High standards for others even higher standards for themselves. Seems emotionally distant but will break down and cry when they feel safe and are probably alone. And they have a playlist for feeling sad I bet. You either are someone that they tell when they cry or you never know. Has to work out of seeing emotions they were shamed for as a sign of weakness. Gifts are their love language and if they can’t find the words to tell you how they feel about you they will often buy you something you mentioned you always wanted or something you needed off hand. Sentimental types, trouble right expressing it. Will talk to you about everything if they like you and nothing if they don’t. Capricorn placement most likely to go into isolation mode to really consider their relationships and place in life. Might grow suddenly distant if they feel neglected or betrayed. Underdeveloped ones are removed from their emotions in a dangerous way and in denial about all the healing they need to do.

Aquarius moon- also another set of messy personal experiences. Can come up with really out of the box solutions. Seem to either be revolutionary or very very conservative. Like most of the Aquarius moons I’ve known have been men so grain of salt but they would be the ones to most constantly say “a good woman does x” or “if you have that attitude you won’t get married” or throw shade on “girly” hobbies. You can’t change their mind. Even if you present evidence or a sound argument, hardest to get through to of all the fixed signs imo. Sometimes they’ll come back having changed their own mind. Maybe they googled whatever you said and started to believe you. But they’re not going to say you changed their mind. It’s something that they have to believe they made themselves come around on. They often have an independent sense of right and wrong. Sometimes very intelligent, sometimes just bluffing their way through it. Always will respond to opinions though. Can be really funny people, sometimes on accident. Allergic to routine and desk jobs. Usually… detached. Like if they care about you, they’re going to express it in an abstract or private way. Can be hard to tell if they care at all in my personal experiences ngl. My dad is an underdeveloped Aquarius moon and he’d often tell me to swallow my emotions and repress them and go with the way things were. (I don’t talk to my parents anymore lol, they’re narcissistic people)

Pisces moon- I’ve only known a few personally. Sometimes really surprisingly basic. Sometimes they’re just made of magic and they see the world in a whole different way. Emotionally in-tuned with people around them. If their environment is misanthropic then they’re more likely to be. If their environment is upbeat then they’re more likely to be. Most likely to grow up to be like their family/peers but assume they’re not imo. Sentimental with the folks they’re close to.

[warmblanketwhump]

this was originally written for the sicktember prompt “I should have stayed home” but I forgot about it. so enjoy it now!!!

A raises their eyebrows as they see B dressing to go into town. “B, are you sure you don’t want us to to stay home and rest for another week? I can handle it.”

B shakes their head, pulling on their coat and winding their scarf around their neck. “I’m fine. I’ll go mad if I have to stay inside another day, and I want to help.”

A sighs, trying not to notice the dark shadows under B’s eyes. B’s been under the weather for the last week and a half, battling a terrible cold that hit along with the sudden cold snap. After nearly a week of being too weak to leave their bed, B had been getting restless, their mind tired of being confined to the cabin even while their body struggled to recover. But A wants to trusts B’s judgement of their own body and how they're feeling, so they let the matter drop.

Besides, A thinks, with the smallest tinge of guilt, we really do need the money from this market—maybe they really are ready to help. The doctor’s visits and bottle of medicines had stretched them thin this month, and there were only a few markets left to sell as much as they could before winter would set in.

On the ride into town, B seems alright—a bit more talkative and a few more smiles and rough-voiced laughs at A’s banter. And for a moment, A wonders if B’s just feeling better than they look.

But when they arrive at the town’s weekend market and start to set up their wares, A notices the way B struggles to lift even the lightest of the crates, how frequently they stop tug their scarf closer against the damp, misty air, how hunched their shoulders are. A says nothing, but tries to move the other crates as quickly as possible to ensure B doesn’t have to work as hard.

“You sure you’re okay, B?” A asks as they unload the final crate. They look exhausted.

B nods, though A notices they’re a few shades paler than when they left home. “I’m alright. Just not used to this much activity.” They try a weak smile, but it only serves to underscore how worn out they already look.

“B, if you need a break, you rest, alright?” A’s voice is stern, but they let their hand gently squeeze B’s shoulder, and B nods again. “And if you're not feeling well, you tell me.” B nods, their gaze already slightly glazed, and A fights back the urge to head for home right that moment. Trust them. They’ll say something.

The market opens, and soon A’s swept up in orders, chatting with friends and neighbors, hurriedly moving about their stand to ensure everyone has what they need. Out of the corner of their eye, they see B seated on one of the barrels they brought.

Good, A thinks as they take the money from another customer. They're taking a break like they're supposed to.

The morning continues, cold and cloudy and breezy, with a steady stream of customers buying their goods. It isn’t until a lull in the customers later in the morning that A sees C, a fellow vendor and friend from a neighboring farmstead, come by with a grey wool blanket tucked under their arms.

A shakes hands with C and the two exchange pleasantries about the weather, the harvest, the town news, and everything in between as A gathers up C’s usual order.

Then, C holds out the blanket. “For B.”

A takes the blanket, a puzzled expression on their face. “What?”

C gestures behind them. “Poor thing’s looked miserable all morning, and we had an extra blanket in our wagon. D said they couldn’t bear to watch them freeze for another minute.”

A whirls around. Sure enough, B’s curled up on the barrel, visibly trembling and clutching their coat close to themselves, and most definitely not the picture of health.

A takes the outstretched blanket and hurriedly nods to C in gratitude, then rushes back to B, who looks awful. All the color is gone from their face, their lips are a faint purplish-blue, and their teeth are chattering. When A takes B's hands, they feel like ice. A should have known that B would be too easily chilled in weather like this, especially considering how under the weather they’d been.

“B, what happened?” A briskly rubs B’s hands before tucking the blanket around B, then rubs their shoulders for good measure.

B tugs the blanket closer, shrugging. “Got c-cold.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“D-didn’t want t-to bother you. We need the money.”

A curses under their breath, wrapping their arms around B and pulling them close, wincing as they feel how frail B is in their arms, the near-constant shivers that wrack their frame.

B’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “I s-should have s-s-stayed home.”

They weren’t better after all, A thinks grimly. Helplessly, they look around the stand—boxes of goods that need packing up, loaded back into the wagon—and then there’s B, who’s practically collapsing in A’s arm, who A desperately wants to get out of the wind—

Before they can even begin to feel the full weight of the crushing guilt, C’s in their line of vision, eyes full of concern. “Go home. We’ll take care of this.”

“C, I can’t—“

“A, don’t worry. We’ll pack it all up. You can stop by the farm whenever to get it.”

A can barely whisper a thank you through the lump in their throat, then turns to B. “Alright, B. Let’s get you home and warmed up.”

Gone is the easy chatter of their ride into town—now, B just curls into A’s side, face buried in the blanket, soft, keening whimpers as they press their body closer to A and their warmth. Around them, the smallest snowflakes begin to fall, little glittering shards that dust A’s coat and make them will their horse to go faster.

When they arrive home, A practically leaps out of the wagon, B in their arms. A hurries B inside, setting them in a chair and stoking the coals to get the fire high. B’s trembling from head to toe, and A hastily covers them in another blanket, vigorously rubbing their arms. “There you go. I’ll get something hot for you to drink, then get you in a warm bath. How does that sound?” A tries to keep their voice even. B’s teeth are chattering too hard to respond.

After putting the horse and wagon away, A gets to work heating some canned broth from their pantry, then helps spoon feed sips through B’s lips when they’re shaking too hard to hold the bowl.

When they’re finished, A realizes that B’s ghostly pallor had been replaced with glassy eyes and high spots of color on their cheeks.

“B…how are you feeling?” A’s tone is cautious, warning.

“Cold,” B rasps, and still they shivered and clung to the blankets as they hunched close to the fire. “Need…need the hot bath.”

A palms a cool hand on B’s forehead, and their worst fears are confirmed. Whether B’s fever had never been gone or had relapsed when B had gotten chilled, it was back with a vengeance. They’re sicker now than they had been all week.

“B, you’ve got a fever. I….I can’t.”

B’s eyes are wild, feverish, desperate. “Please. Even a minute or two.” Their voice cracks on the last word, and they cough feebly.

“B, I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

After a few minutes of desperate pacing, a compromise was reached: a small washbasin filled with heated water so B could soak their feet and hopefully take the edge off their chills.

After being dressed in the softest clothes A could find, B’s tucked into bed under two quilts pulled up to their chin.

B coughs feebly and tugs the blankets over their nose. Outside, the wind howls as a fall storm blows through, small icy pellets pelting the windowpanes, and B shudders weakly. “The wind. I can still feel it in my bones.”

A doesn’t feel a draft—only the stuffy air of an overheated cabin. Still, they smooth the quilts over B’s body before covering them with a third blanket, gently hushing them. B grasps the covers, squeezing their eyes shut as a single tear escapes.

“Please, A. I’m so cold. I want to go home.”

Great. Now they’re hallucinating.

“You’re alright. You’re inside where it’s warm.”

“Please, A. I want to go home.” B’s voice cracks on the last plea, and A can’t take it any more. They crawl under the covers with B, wrapping them up in their arms and hugging them close, feeling the fever burn through the layers.

“I’ll keep you warm, B. Just try to sleep.”

B rolls over to face A, and A can just catch the tear tracks in the flickering light of the fire. But it’s only a moment before B buries their face in A’s chest. So A hugs them closer, whispering soft, encouraging words as they try and lull B to sleep.

[themagicalwriting]

Open letter to all GL fandoms with a dive in the Thai GL History created by @Kguardian0805 on X

Each GL brings something different to the table that helps to expand the industry that until 3 years ago was non-existent, only served for secondary characters with 10 minutes of screen time. FreenBecky not only designed but also built the table and they were the first to serve the main dishes and prove to everyone that it was possible, necessary and profitable.

And I'm not eliminating the importance of Tina & Aom, their film was Thai's first success in GL, so much so that it even won a sequel, but despite the international success, it failed to open the Thai industry to GLs. Because after Yes or No sucess GL entered a limbo for more than 10 years, with GL only appearing with secondary roles and seconds on screen.

It was only in 2021 with Chen, Saint and FreenBecky that things started to change because they announced Thai's first GL series and no one I repeat NO ONE but themselves believed it would work and there was worth it do it. Producers, companies, sponsors, fans even other actors continued to say that it would be a fiasco, a disaster so they all refused to support or be minimally associated with FreenBecky at that time.

But the girls and IDF were producing GAP for the right reasons and they didn't give up no matter the difficulties and the no's. Saint used all his money and his mother's savings to produce GAP and if he failed IDF would go bankrupt along with them. And was with a that perseverence and good representation mentality that GAP, the underdog show, beat all BLs in 2023 become a phenomenon and opened up the industry to GLs.

it was due to the success of GAP's exhibition on CH3 that made the channel want to produce and invest in their 1st GL; it was the success of GAP that moved Blank's CEO to make the series happen using a direct continuation of the story on her own terms and artists; it was FreenBecky's phenomenon that proved to GMMTV that GL is worth it so they finally stopped rambling and unshelve ML and their fandom unleashing their 1st GL; and the list of impact could go on with several other names and situations like the government support bc either directly or indirectly it was the success of GAP and FB that start the GL wave and made viable and visible our needs and existence as an audience to the Thai Industry.

admitting that DOES NOT make inferior your favorite couple/GLs because now with the industry growing many fans entered the industry for other artists/series and thats is a big win cuz was always the main goal of FB/IDF see that happening when they produced GAP, but please don't try to rewrite history or erase, belittle the sacrifices made by FB and IDF so you could today have a wave of GLs to choose your faves from; being true to this fact, liking FB or not, only proves your character and respect for the GL history.

So if u are a multifandom or just a GL enjoyer, respect everyone equally without differential treatment; if u are fans of other couples/series focus on them and appreciate their work, no need to minimize FB, their importance and work to value your fave,there is room for everyone. Remember if everyone always occupies different seats at this table, making different dishes, if the artists can respect each other and support, the fandom should at least respect each other or stay, know their place.

also stop harassing artists and their companies for things that don't belong to them, dont match their profile, each duo and company works in a different way; just demand for better productions and representation, better management of artists and not about other things. Lets make this space the most health possible we will disagre in a lot of things, we will fight over awards but pls be smart about it cuz a lot ppl, especially men, would love to see us fail, so stop playing their games but just uplift the woman in this field and the GL wave.

I wish all the best to all artists in GL world with special shoutout to MilkLove and their new series and Englot with Petrichor cuz I've been following their fight, struggles since 2022 and only wish the best for them over their really difficult company. Lets keep growing, all of us!

I wish all the best to all artists in GL world with special shoutout to ML and their new series and Englot with Petrichor cuz I've been following their fight, struggles since 2022 and only wish the best for them over their really difficult company. Lets keep growing, all of us

PS: I decide to share this thread here cuz dont only I agree but the GL world need that positivity and also really know their history and real adversaries which is a industry full of men, people who make GL and woman work difficult. Within our comunity and as woman we need at least respect each other and fully protect us from a place who always use and belittle our work and value.

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Prostitution, Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5 (WIP)

AO3 Link

For @whatishowedyouinthedark because she wondered when we were going to get a Pretty Woman AU. Well, my dear, that day is today.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Chapter One

If I Got Me a Wealthy Man

Feyre tried not to let the dread and panic choke her as she walked down the street.

Everything had been fine until that text. The one from her landlord informing her that no, she could not extend her late payment any later, and yes, she would be facing eviction if she didn’t cough up the now three thousand dollars she owed for both this month’s and last month’s rent.

And, at any other time, this might’ve been doable. Difficult, but doable. Normally her sisters were there to help pay their fair share of the rent and cover for each other any time one of them was a little short. But now that Elain had moved out to live with her boyfriend, and Nesta had disappeared to lord knew where again, their little sister had suddenly found herself on the hook to cover everything herself.

And she was struggling.

She was already working two jobs and even then she was just barely getting by. Even if she managed to fit in a third job somehow and started today, by the time she received her first paycheck she would’ve already been booted onto the streets.

How did one even make that kind of money in a few days? Become a hit man? Did she need to become John Wick for a night? She briefly considered drug dealing…until she realized that she didn’t actually know any illegal drug suppliers. Which was, you know, probably important.

She ended up going with the next best (and illegal) thing.

Which was how she ended up here, on the street corner on the bad side of town, wearing the shortest, sluttiest thing she could find in Nesta’s closet. After all, how difficult could it be for a nineteen year old to find some horny old men to pay her for sex?

Rather difficult it turned out.

Three hours in and she was now beginning to regret her hasty decision. Three hours and she hadn’t seen a single man wander past and give her so much as a creepy stare. Instead, she’d had the local corner shop owner ask her four times in the last hour if she wanted to come inside.

“You look cold dear,” the woman insisted for the fifth time as she closed up shop for the night. Feyre suppressed a shiver as the early spring air gusted over her bare legs.

“I’m alright,” she said while trying not to let her teeth chatter. That probably would’ve been a dead giveaway that she was not, in fact, alright. God, why hadn’t she thought to bring a coat?

Because coats hide the goods, that infuriatingly rational part of her brain supplied.

Not that anyone besides Mrs. Nosy had seen the goods the entire time she’s been out here.

“It’s fine,” Feyre continued. “Really. I’m just waiting for a friend.”

This might’ve been convincing if it hadn’t been the exact same story she’d given this woman every time she’d asked. Said woman looked at her disapprovingly, but seemed to sense she wouldn’t be winning this battle and so left with a parting, “If you say so dear.”

Forty-five minutes later, Feyre wondered where she’d gone wrong in her life. If it hadn’t been apparent before that she was ill-dressed for the weather, then it certainly was now that the sun had set. It had to be near freezing.

And still she hadn’t seen hide or hair of a single horny man ready to throw money at her. She’d barely seen anyone out here really, save for passing cars and the odd homeless person muttering to themselves. God, had she picked the wrong day or something? Did she miss the memo? Was there a prostitute group chat she wasn’t a part of that told everyone which street corner was the busiest? Did prostitutes even have group chats?

These were the questions she was asking herself when he appeared.

“Excuse me, do you know the way to the Four Seasons?”

Feyre startled.

A man had joined her under the flickering street light. A man who was talking to her. And asking for directions.

A handsome man.

…Maybe even too handsome.

“Oh, umm…” she blinked at him stupidly.

“I’m sorry to ask, but I seem to be a bit lost. I swear I was downtown an hour ago but now I’m not really sure how I ended up here. I’d just call an Uber but unfortunately I left my phone at the hotel so…” He smiled at her sheepishly as if to say, ‘what can you do?’.

Feyre studied him thoughtfully. He was tall and impeccably dressed. He certainly looked like someone who could afford to stay at the Four Seasons so that part of his story was likely true.

Which also meant…the wheels started turning in her head.

“…And what’s that worth to you?”

It was cruel. Normally Feyre would’ve just walked the poor man to his hotel herself or offered for him to use her phone….but she was desperate. And from the looks of his shiny shoes and expensive peacoat…he could afford it.

The man looked at her then. Really looked at her, with her ill-fitting cheap dress and haphazard attempt at gaudy makeup…and something suddenly seemed to click in his brain.

“I see.” And he did. His entire demeanor had changed. Where once he had seen a young college student who could give him directions now he clearly saw her for what she truly was.

A whore.

Even if only for the night.

“Do you?” Feyre lowered her voice as she straightened her spine a little. Anything to make herself appear older. Sultry. Unconcerned. As if she weren’t about to be homeless in five fucking days.

“How much do you charge?”

The question caught her completely off guard when it absolutely shouldn’t have. This was exactly why she was here. And yet, when actually faced down with a living, breathing man ready to pay for her services she couldn’t think of a single fucking number. What did sex workers usually charge? It’s not like she knew a lot of prostitutes she could ask. And what if this was the only man she managed to snag in the next five days? She needed to get as much out of him as she could. She needed…she needed…

“Three-thousand dollars.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth she desperately wanted to take them back. Was she fucking insane? Nobody was going to pay three-thousand dollars for her!

“Three-thousand,” the man repeated. His face was infuriatingly blank. Was he angry? Upset? Convinced this was all a joke?

“Yep,” Feyre confirmed, figuring she was already in too deep. Might as well commit.

After all, the worst thing he could say was no…and then she would have to go ask that nice homeless man who’d been circling the block for tips on how best to survive on the streets.

“Per?”

She blinked. “…Purr?”

Like…like a cat? Was that something he was into? Was he seriously asking if she would be willing to purr in his lap like a kitten for three grand? Because if so, the answer was definitely-

“Per hour? Per night? Per week?” The man clarified, face still blank.

“Oh…” She suddenly wished lightning would strike her dead right then and there. “Umm, per night?” It came off as a question even though she hadn’t meant it to.

“Three-thousand dollars for the entire night.”

Feyre was deeply annoyed by his ability to make his questions not sound like questions. As if question marks didn’t even exist in his vocabulary.

“That’s…what I said.”

Maybe she needed to revisit the drug dealing idea again. Surely that was easier than standing in front of this stranger and negotiating her worth like she’d never done it before. Which…she hadn’t. But still.   

He stared at her for a moment with those intense dark eyes of his. She couldn’t really tell under the flickering light, but she thought they looked almost…purple? Violet maybe? Which was stupid because neither of those were actually a real eye color.

“Tell you what,” the man said pulling his hands out of his pockets. In his right he held a leather wallet that looked as if it were brand new. He plucked several bills out and held them out to her. Her heart stuttered when she saw the number 100 on each of them. “I’m afraid I don’t have three thousand dollars on me at the moment, but I do back at my hotel. I’ll give you five-hundred now if you agree to take me there and the rest when we get back to my rooms. Do we have a deal?”

Feyre felt faint.

She hadn’t actually believed he’d give her three-thousand dollars! That was just…a Hail Mary! A dumb, impulsive shout into the void!

“Just to get you back to your hotel?” She asked, eyeing the bills greedily.

“Just to get me back to my hotel,” he confirmed.

She took the money.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

As they made their way downtown, Feyre thanked her past self for having the foresight to wear her ratty converse instead of squeezing her feet into Nesta’s too-small heels. Not exactly the sexiest shoes ever, but they were saving her from the blisters she likely would’ve had by now after walking the last six blocks so she wasn’t about to complain. And it wasn’t like men were going to be staring at her feet all that much anyway. Or, at least, that’s what she had assumed.

Because he was staring at them.

She’d caught her strange companion (Rhys, he had introduced himself as shortly after she’d snatched the money out of his hand) staring at her shoes at least three times now. If she were anywhere else, doing anything else she might’ve confronted him about it, but he had also just paid her five-hundred dollars and was planning to pay her another two and a half grand more once she got his ass back to his ritzy hotel so she was willing to bite her tongue.

“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow my coat?” He asked her for the second time in the last twenty minutes.

And even though she was freezing her tits off she was just stubborn enough to give him the same answer she had last time.

“I’m sure.”

He kept doing that. Offering her things. Asking her questions. Normal questions. Like how old she was and how long she’d lived here.

It was kind of freaking her out.

She had lied of course. She couldn’t exactly have some strange man knowing who she was or where she lived. This was only temporary after all. What would Nesta think if she knew her baby sister had dressed up like a hooker and propositioned a man on the street corner? What would Elain think? No, better none of this got back to them. Better she got her money from him as soon as she deposited him at his destination and then went home and forgot all about this hare-brained adventure of hers.

Thankfully they wouldn’t have to travel much further. The buildings had gone from old and neglected to shiny and new rather quickly. Once upon a time Feyre used to come here often to visit her father in his swanky office in the financial district, but those days had come to a very sudden close after the market crash. Now she was lucky to come here whenever her job at the local bistro needed extra help on the weekends.

She spied a passerbyer give her a judgmental look as if to illustrate just how much she no longer fit in here anymore. Or, you know, it was probably the skimpy dress she was wearing in freezing temperatures. Who could say really?

The entrance to the Four Seasons wasn’t all that difficult to find amongst the busy streets of downtown. Honestly, Feyre sort of wondered how on earth Rhys had managed to get lost when all he’d really done was walk in a straight line away from his hotel for about a mile. It almost felt a little unfair to be taking so much money from him over something he could’ve easily figured out himself but, then again, any man willing to throw three-thousand dollars away over something so minor probably deserved to get scammed.

The man in question stared up at the entrance and then back at her curiously, as if surprised she had actually kept her word and done what he had asked. Then, without a word, he opened the door and waltzed inside.

She stood there for a moment, not sure what she was supposed to do now. Did he expect her to follow him up to his room? Or did she wait outside and hope he returned with the money? Thankfully, he saved her from fretting for too long because she saw him reappear, holding the door open for her.

“Aren’t you coming?” He arched an eyebrow at her as if to say ‘well?’.

She supposed that was as good an invitation as any and followed him inside.

The lobby was enormous. That was her first thought. Her second thought was that she absolutely did not belong here. Everything looked so…expensive. And white. Spotlessly white. White walls. White marble floors. White furniture and decor. White, white, white. Rhys, however, seemed completely unfazed by all the luxury around him and headed straight for the gold elevator, Feyre scrambled after him and desperately hoping her grubby shoes weren’t leaving dirty shoe prints on the pristine floor (they were).

They were quiet on the ride up and she watched the number slowly rise and rise and rise the higher they went. Just how far up was his room? When she saw the number go past forty her mind really started to boggle. What on earth was past the fortieth floor?

The fucking Presidential Suite, it turned out.

No wonder he was willing to throw thousands of dollars around for some directions. This place had to cost at least three times that just for a single night!

Rhys, oblivious to her inner turmoil over his clearly considerable wealth, wandered in almost aimlessly, dropping his coat on the back of a chair and loosening his tie as if returning home after a long day at work.

“Make yourself comfortable. Give me a moment and I’ll grab the rest of your money.”

Your money. As if it were already hers and he was just returning it to her.

She just nodded dumbly, but he was already disappearing around the corner into what she assumed was the bedroom. She tried to do as he said and briefly sat down on the couch…only to shoot back up moments later, afraid to sully the spotless brocade with her…with her what? The miasma of poverty she carried with her?

“Here,” Rhys reappeared carrying a large stack of crisp hundred dollar bills and handed them to her without fanfare. “That should be twenty-five hundred but feel free to double check. I wouldn’t want to cheat you out of what you’re owed.”

He was right. She should count the money just to be safe. She needed it to keep the roof over her head after all.

She didn’t.

Because it suddenly occurred to her…she had the money now to pay this and last month’s rent…but what about next month’s rent? And the one after that? She still had to cover Elain’s portion of the rent now that she had moved out. And Nesta was still M.I.A. and thus unavailable to pay her half. So where did that leave Feyre? Stuck covering the entirety of their fifteen-hundred dollar rent bill all by herself for the foreseeable future, that’s what. She needed some sort of buffer to fall back on while she waited out the last few months on her rental agreement and Nesta figured her shit out.

She needed more money.

And, she thought as she looked up at the handsome man before her, it looked like she might just have someone willing to give it to her.

“Is that all you want?” She tried to sound sultry but Feyre had a feeling she sounded less like Jessica Rabbit and more like Velma from Scooby Doo. Awkward. And incredibly young.

Rhys gave her a strange look. It wasn’t turned off exactly, but it also wasn’t exactly turned on. He seemed…searching. Like he was trying to figure her out.

“Isn’t that all you want?” He asked, turning the question around on her.

“I could…do more,” she said clumsily. “For a price of course…”

He didn’t answer her, just hummed thoughtfully. She pressed forward, hoping he just needed more convincing.

“You could have me for the whole night this time. I can do whatever you like…”

“How old are you?”

The question caught her completely off guard. He had already asked this on their walk and she had already given him an answer. She’d told him that she was twenty-four but it was clear now that he hadn’t believed a word she’d said. And, looking up at his inflexible features, it was even more clear that this time he wanted a real answer. A truthful one.

Feyre glanced down nervously. Would he continue if he knew her real age? Her real name? Her real reason for being here? Or would he kick her to the curb?

She really, really needed the money.

“Nineteen.”

He nodded, as if this were what he’d been expecting.

“And is your real name Vivian?”

“…No.”

“And would you rather I called you Vivian?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered meekly.

“Why were you on that street corner Vivian?”

She hesitated. Did she tell him the truth? She’d already divulged more than she likely should have…but he was being strangely sweet to a random stray he’d found on the side of the road. So what was the harm in giving him at least a little more? Not all of it though. She wasn’t that stupid.

“I was going to be evicted and needed the money. I still need the money.”

“I see,” and just like before, he did. He wasn’t pitying exactly, but he had a look of understanding. “And do you want to have sex Vivian?”

The answer to that question should’ve been ‘no’. She absolutely should not have wanted to have sex with a much older man just so she could pay her rent. It was wrong. It was illegal.

And he was really hot.

And nice to her.

“Yes.”

Shockingly, he didn’t immediately turn her down. He just said, “Are you sure?”

“Will you be paying me?” This was, after all, why she was here. Even if she also selfishly wanted to know what he looked like without his clothes on. If she had to earn her paycheck on her back, at least it was underneath somebody who wasn’t a completele asshole and looked like he stepped out of a perfume commercial.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Then I’d rather earn my money, if you don’t mind.”

He just nodded.

And that was that.

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

They didn’t immediately jump into bed, as it turned out.

As she soon discovered, there were negotiations to be made. Prices to agree upon. And limits to discuss. Honestly it felt a lot like that Fifty Shades movie she had guiltily watched on her laptop and then told everyone she hadn’t seen.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?”

Truthfully, her sexual experience was rather limited so it was hard for her to answer that question. She’d only ever had sex with two people a handful of times before deciding that maybe she just wasn’t that into it. But he was also paying to use her body so it really didn’t matter what she was into. Just what she absolutely wouldn’t be able to stomach.

“Just…no kissing.”

In hindsight, it seemed like a stupid rule but it felt right to her. Sex was sex. But kissing made it…real. Like feelings were involved.

He didn’t argue. Only gave her a curious look before moving on.

Finally, he handed her an even larger stack of bills than before.

Five-thousand dollars.

Between that and the money he had given her previously, she was officially eight-thousand dollars richer. It was enough to make anyone feel a little faint.

“So you just…have this kind of cash on hand?” Feyre blurted out, a little breathless.

It was still mind boggling to her that anyone would throw this sort of money around willy nilly, as if it weren’t life-changing. Because that’s what this was for her. It was a life preserver. He was saving her and he didn’t even seem to know it.

Rhys raised his eyebrows.

“Not always. Usually I just use credit cards.” She noticed he hadn’t actually answered her question but knew better than to push. He probably thought she was planning to rob him or something.

As if you aren’t already? Her brain screeched, still unable to process that anyone was willing to spend this kind of money just to get inside of her. If you asked her, she was worth like…a hundred bucks and maybe a pizza. Maybe. Not…eight-thousand fucking dollars. And for only the one night!

Feyre took the money and held it in her hands like a live grenade. It felt wrong to just stash this in her purse instead of immediately dashing to a bank or ATM to deposit it but she’d made an agreement and, damn it, she was going to stick to it.

“So…how do you wanna do this?”

By now, Rhys was lounging on the couch in the living area, watching her intently as if she were a fascinating creature and not a very broke and awkward teenager.

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Whelp. In for a penny, in for a pound.

She sat on his knee and shifted clumsily, trying to find a more comfortable position, but Rhys fixed that quickly by pulling her against his chest so she could hear his heart beating against her ear.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, as if they hadn’t just spent the last forty-five minutes discussing exactly that.

“Of course.”

He could’ve touched her anywhere. Her breasts. Her ass. Between her legs. And yet it caught her completely off guard when he went for, not any of those, but for her hair.

He was…stroking her hair.

She went still.

Bit by bit she felt her muscles go lax and limp. She felt a bit like a cat being stroked into a nice, long nap. It was…nice. Soothing.

“Good girl.”

They were such simple words. So normal. A little condescending even. But god, they lit up her brain like a fucking Christmas tree.

Oh, she thought as gooseflesh broke out along her arms. So it’s like that then?

Feyre pressed her nose to his throat and filled her lungs with the scent of salt and citrus and expensive cologne as she tried to suppress the shiver that suddenly took hold of her.

She felt…restless.

Squirmy.

That hand kept stroking her hair, unconcerned with the bomb he had set off in her brain.

“Look at you,” Rhys murmured into her ear. “I knew there was a sweet girl under all that bravado.”

She felt his other hand skim down the length of her, the slope of her shoulders and the curve of her waist, before coming to rub innocent circles into her thigh.

“Are you going to be my good girl?” He whispered, petting her hair with one hand while his other finally began to sneak under the hem of her skirt. “Are you soft and wet for me?”

Her heart thumped against her ribcage like a hummingbird trying to fly free.

Oh she was certainly wet alright, a fact he soon discovered when she heard his pleased groan as his fingers made contact with the gusset of her panties.

“My good sweet girl. You need this don’t you?”

Feyre shivered as lust crawled through her veins like fire. He hadn’t even really touched her yet and she could already feel her heartbeat throbbing away in her cunt.

“Please,” she begged against his neck.

Those fingers petted her over her panties. Softly. Gently. Like she were a wild animal that needed taming. Her clitoris felt flush with blood and heat. Jesus, this was already hotter than anything she’d ever done and he’d barely even touched her. 

“That’s it…”

She just sighed.

Between one moment and the next she felt his fingers slip under her panties and brush against the curls there. Self consciousness suddenly gripped her. Should she have shaved?Didn’t men hate pubic hair? Her last two partners had. Perhaps there was still time to make an excuse and then go find a razor in the bathroom and-

“So soft for me here.”

Okay. So maybe he didn’t mind it so much.

His fingers sifted through her pubic hair until they found the burning seam of her. They dipped inside and she tried hard not to gasp when they brushed over the pulsing little bead of her clitoris.

“And so soft for me here too…” She felt ready to combust when two of his fingers burrowed their way inside of her.

His erection pulsed underneath her, hot and hard, but shockingly Rhys, unlike every man she’d ever met, seemed in no hurry to attend to it. Perfectly content to whisper in her ear and plunder her insides while he ground his palm against her clit.

“Don’t…don’t you want to have sex?” Feyre gasped against his throat.

She felt a gust of laughter against her skin. “My sweet girl, what do you think we’re doing?”

And then, just as if to prove his point, he curled his fingers inside of her.

In theory, Feyre knew what the g-spot was. She’d heard it spoken about in whispers in the girl’s locker room, as if it were a myth. She’d read about it in the romance novels she told Nesta she totally didn’t steal from her. And yet, none of that could’ve prepared her for what it felt like to actually find out that it was very real and ohJesusohGodohfuck-

Her body seized. Her legs kicked out. Her toes curled.

“There you go,” Rhys crooned sweetly, petting her through her orgasm. “Such a good girl. You’re so pretty when you come.”

She was shivering.

Why couldn’t she stop shivering?

Rhys lifted her as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Only moments later she found herself laid down upon a plush white bedspread. His room. He had taken her to his room.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” She whispered, suddenly sleepy.

“Is my sweet girl so desperate for my cock already?” He asked, amused. He pulled the covers out from under her and then laid them over her, cocooning her in a cloud of warmth.

“Why don’t you come over here and…uh…find out,” Feyre replied with a yawn.

“We have all night for that,” he pointed out as her eyes began to droop.

“Yeah…that’s true…”

Maybe he was going to let her nap and then wake her up later? It was getting late after all. And his bed was so very comfortable…maybe just a quick power nap first…

She was asleep long before he kissed her on the forehead goodnight.

[steventhusiast]

IM LATE BUT LIKE WHATEVER i just decided im gonna try and commit to @steddie-week so DAY 1: somebody to love by queen

--

when steve and eddie first tell the party about their relationship, a lot of them are a little confused. especially nancy. at first glance, the pair makes no sense at all.

steve is a soft soul that really enjoys basketball. he was a jock in high school, and doesn't really have any higher ambition in life than to make enough money to live and be with his loved ones. his favourite artists are the likes of tears for fears and abba. the hobbies he's most committed to are baking sweet treats and watching reality tv with claudia henderson.

and then there's eddie, who in a lot of ways is the antithesis to that.

he almost exclusively wears dark clothes that look three days away from falling apart, he despises sport. he was an outcast in high school, and even though he barely made it to graduation (a few years later than he should've) he is full to the brim of ideas and big ambitions. he's pretentious about music, hates pop and loves metal music. and he's a nerd.

they don't have much in common, so nancy's surprised they work as friends let alone as a couple. then again, she doesn't know eddie too well past what she's already said.

so her and a lot of the party don't really get it at first. until they're having a party over summer break, and everyone's out in the hopper-byers backyard watching hopper grill burgers for everyone and there's music playing through speakers somewhere.

the younger party members are all excitedly chatting amongst themselves, and the teens are sat leaning back on the grass. eddie and steve aren't cuddling for once, settling for linking pinkies as they lean back on their hands.

the song that was playing ends, and a new song starts. freddie mercury's voice starts singing, and nancy doesn't think she's ever seen steve move so fast in all her years of knowing him.

"can anybody find me somebody to love?"

freddie mercury is barely on the second word of that first line when steve and eddie's heads whip around to be facing each other. twin grins are on their faces, and they've jumped up together by the time the first line's over. steve seems to lose steam as he realises a lot of the party are now looking at them incredulously, and his cheeks suddenly have a red tint to them.

eddie immediately grabs steve's hands and starts dramatically serenading him. if nancy thought eddie was a little dramatic from overhearing mike retelling hellfire club anecdotes, she thinks he's extremely dramatic now she's seen his antics in the flesh.

he's gently swinging his and steve's hands as he encourages steve to dance with him. steve just smiles at his boyfriend, a little shy and a lot fond, but eddie's not put off in the slightest. he keeps gently pulling at steve's hands until steve gives in and starts moving to the music with him.

by the time the first verse is over, steve's almost as into it as eddie is, and nancy has never steve like this.

"i work hard, every day of my life." eddie sings along loudly, and steve sings the other part.

"he works hard." he sings softly with a smile.

his confidence amps up as the song goes on, and his dance moves get more and more ridiculous and less restrained as eddie encourages him and laughs with him as they sing. by the time it gets to the instrumental break, the entire party is watching them with smiles and singing along in some way.

the steve nancy dated would never be caught dead doing something like this, but here current steve is, back to back with eddie as they both dramatically play the air guitar. nancy looks toward robin to see if she's as shocked as she is at this display. but robin is just rolling her eyes, like she sees antics like this on the daily. she shakes her head at something dustin says to her, and then yells at the couple.

"i thought you promised to stop doing this every time this song came on?" she tries to look annoyed as she yells over the song, but fails massively.

steve stops his dramatics for a second, and points at her dramatically.

"you asking us to do that is exactly why i am doing this in front of everyone." he claims, and gets a (subtle, because everyone respects joyce) middle finger in return from robin.

"his pettiness knows no bounds, buckley, you should know this! you can only take so much of the mean girl out of the jock." eddie adds on, and that gets the pair another middle finger.

steve throws his head back as he laughs, and nancy smiles at him. he looks a lot happier than she's seen him in a long time. probably happier than she's ever seen him, actually.

"find me, find me, find me love."

as the last little bit of the song plays out, and steve and eddie dramatically fall on top of robin to dog pile her, nancy decides that maybe steve and eddie do make sense.

even in seemingly polar opposites, there is common ground.

--

-> day two

[slaveofemma]

10 Years of Slavery - Ch.28

That was the first hint that she was looking for more "publicity" for us. Although I never learned if that was true or not.

A couple weeks later, Ellie wanted to have a small party at our place. There were 8 people in total, all from Ellie's group of friends. There were 5 girls and 3 boys, and only one couple apart from us.

As usual, I was an an equal while we're around other people. There was a nice not-so-loud music playing, people were having drinks and just chatting. At some point, when we were talking about the school work, everyone started to complain about one particular professor. As I was doing all of Ellie's assignments, I was quite familiar with his name. He was indeed quite tough. Ellie said that she actually likes him, possibly because I was the one doing all the extra work. Everyone laughed. One of the girls, Grace, a brunette with a skinny figure and a pretty face, asked me how much it would cost her to get some help too. I replied saying no money can buy me. Ellie, apparently liking my answer, hugged me with one arm, and said that I belonged only to her service.

"Yeah you lucky girl, he even ties your shoes. Wonder what you guys do when lights are off!" said Grace with a giggle. That openly sexual reference came to me as a suprise, and for obvious reasons it sent shivers down my spine. I was afraid that Ellie can spill out the beans. But her reply was perfect:

"Let's say he knows how to make me happy."

People cheered for us, I was over the clouds and hugging my love. Although all the conversations imply that I was the submissive one, there were no negative indications on anyone so I got along with it as well.

"Didn't know that you guys were so naughtly?" Said the only single guy in the group, Kyle. He was a 6-foot guy with a strong figure and deep blue eyes. He wasn't particularly muscular, but definitely had a strong core hidden underneath a layer of body fat. Ellie replied saying that only the luckiest guys could know that. People cheered even more, and Kyle patted my back while yelling "you lucky bastard!". Only if they knew...

At some point, one of the girls suggested to play "truth or dare". As everyone knows, that is the game to spice things up. I was immediately concerned about where it might lead, but there were just too many people so I thought that everything should be fine.

Our version of the game had some extra rules; first one was one cannot ask for a favor for himself or herself, like a guy couldn't ask a girl to kiss him. Second rule was if anyone was not brave enough for a truth or dare, he or she was supposed to pay $100 in fine, to be spent on drinks for the next event. We tried to set the fine low enough to not wreck anyone's bank, but high enough to discourage people from chickening out. Also, if you pick one truth, next one should be dare.

The game started with simple tasks. I was the first one to be dared. And I picked dare. Anne, one of Ellie's classmates, was daring me. She was probably the most boring-looking girl in the group, and was trying to make up for that with showing her cleavage all the tim. Anne dared me to mix all the leftover drinks in one cup and drink it until it's finished. I mixed beers from the bottom of the bottles, some cocktails and a little wine, mixed it well and started drinking it. Definitely wasn't pleasant, but also not unbearable.

The game was getting more and more 'juicy' each turn. One of the girls, Ashley, was asked to took off her bra. She was an olive-skinned Mediterranean girl and to be honest she was quite charming. Funnily, it was Anne asking that and I believe she was suprised too when Ashley really did that. She left the room, returned holding her tan-colored bra and put it on the table, right in front of everyone. It seemed like she was proud of herself. "These people are getting ahead of themselves!" I said to myself. Rest of the group was also quite pleased with Ashley's bold move. Then, Anne got asked the most disgusting thing she did, and her reply was 'swallowing'. While she went beet red, everyone else cheered for her. First one to bail out was Grace, when she's asked her to let everyone scroll through her search history for a minute. After thinking about it for a little while she decided to pay, and we never learned what she was hiding.

After that turn, the bottle stopped in front of me. Ashley was asking and I picked truth. She asked me about my first time having sex. It felt incredibly weird at that moment, as it hadn't happened yet. I glimpsed at Ellie, she was watching me, and she was quite curious about what I'll say. I tried to think about what would be the least embarrassing way to do it, and then decided to be honest and tell our first night with Ellie; the one when I was done even before taking off my trousers. People found my story hilarious, and Ellie was clearly enjoying that too much as well. I ended my story saying that I believe I got better at it since then, but Ellie replied saying that it was my peak performance.

"These guys make me wonder guys!" said Kyle. I was getting more and more annoyed as he was getting more inquisitive. But Ellie wasn't annoyed as much as I was:

"Then you can ask when it's your turn, don't interrupt the game." Said she, with a commanding voice.

Daron, the third guy in the group spinned the bottle. It pointed Ellie, and she had to go for dare. As he was with his girlfriend, Beth, I wasn't expecting anything bold from him. But he asked Ellie to took off her bra and leave it with the other one. Beth slapped her boyfriend's arm jokingly, but it was clear that she wasn't minding it that much.

I suddenly realised that people were looking at me, curious about my reaction more than Ellie's. But I was just watching Ellie, as it was obvious that she was going to do what she wants to do. Honestly I didn't expect her to chicken out, and rightfully so she didn't. Like Ava, she left the room and returned carrying her bra on her hand. I realised that the t-shirt she was wearing was showing a clear shilhouette of her perfectly round nipples. And probably everyone else noticed that at the same time as well. She placed her bra right next to Ashley's, and returned to her chair with applauses from the group.

Nex turn, Ellie spinned to bottle and it pointed Grace once again. She grumbled for being picked up for the third time, and this time she had to go for a truth. Ellie asked her to share a secret she knows about someone from the room, without giving names.

"Well, I guess I can do that. I know that someone from this room had cheated their partner repeatedly, and their partner had no idea about it. There were multiple people. But I'm not gonna say who, when and where."

Her comment made everyone slightly uncomfortable. But I felt desperate for a moment. Was it Ellie? Did she really told Grace about what she's up to? My cheeks started burning, my blood was rushing towards my face. After a very short break, Grace stood up and waved her hand towards us:

"It's not necessarily one of the couples here guys, don't panic! It might be anyone, might be on the past with a previous partner. Oooorrr.. it might be still happening, you'll never know!" She said with a cheerful voice and sat back to her chair.

"I thought that its you for a moment!" said Ellie, looking at me with a pretty smile on her face. Everyone relaxed a little, and then we went back to our lively mode again.

"Why it should always be the boys?" Daron asked Ellie. It sparked a conversation about relationships and cheating, it was an awkward moment for me and I was carefully avoiding any opinions. But Ellie said that if a woman is in a serious relationship, she'd never cheat. And if a woman cheats the relationship was already ended but the man didn't realise it yet. But a man can always cheat and return to her girlfriend without feeling guilty. Some agreed, some not. I wasn't in a position to express my opinion. It only felt awkward.

People were getting more drunk and bolder each turn. After Grace also took off her Bra, Ashley found it unfair and made Kyle took off his t-shirt. He didn't mind that at all, and probably actually enjoyed a lot when he removed his t-shirt right there and put it on top of the pile of bras.

"You look sharp!" said Ellie with an enthusiasm on her voice. People again found it hilarious. I had to act like I wasn't offended and take it with a joke:

"You mean I, right?" I said, while trying not to look uncomfortable. But Grace didn't help:

"You should keep an eye on your girlfriend!"

"Nah, he's not my type." Ellie waved her hand towards Kyle like she's rejecting an offer.

"You mean guys who last until taking their pants off?" Kyle replied. People around the table burst into a laughter. I could tell from his tone that he wasn't trying to offend me on purpose, but was just making a tasteless joke. But I was getting offended.

"That's not cool..." but I got interrupted by Ellie:

"Don't be silly he just made a joke! And it's true anyways..." said she cheekily. So, I shut up and swallow my words. Kyle looked at me like he won a battle, this time I felt like he was trying to offend me. But he didn't insisted on the topic. But Beth did:

"I wonder how you guys stayed together for that long after that first night!"

"He makes up for where he's falling short." said Ellie sarcastically, while giving me a penetrating look. She was trying to humiliate me in public and daring me say anything to object her. But I was a man with no dignity, at least when Ellie wants me to be:

"You're still with me so I guess I'm good at that." I said, while looking at Ellie. I tried to put my most lovingly look. Everyone else was cracking with laughter for my apparent sexual incompetency. I wish I could say that if I'm given chance I might've proven otherwise.

The bottle was spinned once more, and unfortunately it was pointing me this time and I had to go for a dare. Beth was daring:

"I wish I could dare you to show us your pinky but that'd be going too far." She said, yet another joke about my nonexisting sexual performance.

"Pinky! I like that!" cheered Ellie. "Can I call you pinky babe? Pleaase?". I replied as if I had a choice:

"You can call me whatever you want baby. I think I already lost the audience so nothing can save me from this." I was hoping that if I just carry on with the joke without taking it personal, they'd think that it's really just humor and don't mind it that much.

"I love you my little pinky!" she said, and placed a kiss on my lips. I was ready to forgive her for everything if she'd just be that lovely to me always.

"Anyways if you lovebirds are done, I think I found my dare. You will keep your eyes closed until you're dared again."

I protested:

"I was thinking that the game will be more like "do your best Kanye West impression" guys."

"You didn't complain when we took our bras off?" Ashley replied, and she had a point. I was indeed pretty aroused of the idea of having a pile bras on the table.

"Yeah she's right pinky, do what you're told to do." Ellie said with a commanding voice. "And I don't want you to cheat, wait for me." and she left the room promptly. A moment later Ellie returned to the room with a scarf on her hand. She tied the scarf on my eyes tightly. I wasn't able to see a dime of light now.

"Now you're good to go!"

"I'm telling you guys this girl is naughty." Kyle said. I was really getting pissed off. But my hands -and my eyes- were tied. Ellie wasn't helping:

"Does that make you horny Kyle?"

"You can ask when it's your turn, don't interrupt the game." he replied smugly.

There was clearly a sexual tension building up between them, and I was getting more and more anxious about it. I lost my interest on the game. I was just sitting there with my eyes shut, cheeks burning with embarrasment and and listening people having fun while the game was getting dirtier. Just a couple turns later, the bottle pointed Ellie. Anne was daring her:

"OK girl, time to show us how naughty you are. While your boyfriend's eyes are closed, I want you to do something sexual in front of us. We won't tell him what you do so he can imagine whatever he wants. You can pick what you do but have to impress us or it doesn't count."

That was the first openly sexual dare in the game. Everyone around the table were delighted with the idea, except me. People were getting braver as they get more drunk. I was hoping Ellie to pay the fine and not do that. But I couldn't hold myself:

"Excuse me guys, wouldn't that be too much? I don't like it."

"I was going to chicken out but since pinky thinks otherwise I'll go for it." Ellie said. I was desperate. My girlfriend was about to "perform" in front of everyone. Not any other man I know would accept such a thing. But I wasn't any man. I wasn't even actually her boyfriend for a while. I was Ellie's slave. Only, people around the didn't know that, but they would probably figure out soon how much of a puppet I am. I was already a laughing stock for everyone, and now I was going to be the weakest man they know. They were already aware of very well how much power Ellie has on me, but it was clear that on that night they were going to learn much more. I knew that I will never gain their respect back.

"Yeah pinky don't be whiny you can dare for whatever you want when it's your turn." Ashley said to provoke me. I murmured a "whatever" and leaned back on my chair.

"Please be silent guys, I don't want pinky to know what I'm about to do." said Ellie. I heard her chair moving. Then the music got louder, I was practically deaf and blind. Soon, people started cheering with excitement. It continued for about a minute, before the music got silent again. Then, Ellie's chair moved, she was sitting next to me again. I was still blindfolded.

"I believe that made you guys happy". she said. I heard everyone's eager voices. Apparently everyone was delighted with what they've seen.

"Pinkie, believe me you should be happy for not seeing it." Anne said, but Ellie shushed her, reminding that she didn't want me to know what she did.

"Can I take this thing off? It's getting ridiculous." I tried my chance once again before Ellie put me in my place:

"No, I just did something I'll probably regret soon, so you will be sticking with the rules too."

I was still blindfolded after a couple turns. People were getting more and more exhibitionist. Ashley was asked to tell something about herself she's glad that her family doesn't know. And she bravely told us that she had sex with her friend's dad once, defending herself saying that he was smoking hot for his age. Daron was dared to imitate what Beth sounds like when she orgasms. Anne said she prefers tongue over fingers. Kyle paid $100 when he's asked about his best trick in bed, saying it must be kept secret. At that point basically all the game was revolving around sex.

When it's my turn to spin the bottle, I attempted to remove my blindfold but Ellie stopped me, saying that I should wait until I'm dared, not when it's my turn. Then I spinned the bottle, and it pointed Beth. She was to be truth'd.

"Well, finally it's someone else's girlfriend." I sighed.

"We're not as mischievous as you guys." Daron stepped in. It was a warning message for me to not cross the line. A line that I repeatedly failed to draw.

"Seems like you're lucky one mate!" I replied. "Anyways' don't worry about that. Here's my question; have you ever accidentally sent a sext to the wrong person, and what happened afterwards?"

"That's an easy one, I have never did that." My question was went into oblivion. A ruined chance.

Next turn, bottle finally pointed me. I immediately removed my blindfold. Everyone was visibly more drunk. I checked Ellie, her nipples were poking out of her t-shirt. It looked amazingly sexy to me, but it was also a warning message telling me that she's extremely aroused. It was my turn to be dared, and Daron was going to dare me. Possibly because I went easy on his girlfriend, he wanted to treat me:

"OK I believe you deserve this one. Show us how good you are at kissing. I dare you to pick a girl from the group, and kiss her. I guess Ellie should be OK with that too?" he said while looking at my girlfriend. Ellie nodded. I ignored clearly insulting giggles which probably about the show she put for them earlier.

"What if the girl doesn't want that?" Kyle asked disparagingly.

"Then he should lose his chance. Pick wisely." added Ashley. Ellie stepped in:

"But kiss from where? I think the girl should pick that, it's only fair." Ellie knew very well that my only option was picking her, so she was trying to play with me. I was clearly seeing what was coming for me, more humiliation and more desperation. In front of all these people. In front of Kyle. I hoped that Daron wouldn't agree with the conditions, but he did. Now everyone was looking at me, waiting me to pick one of the girls to kiss. Not suprisingly, I picked Ellie.

I could see that everyone was suprised that I let go such an opportunity. I could've kissed Ashley, that beautiful lady. Or could've taste Grace. Maybe Anne? But I went for the girl I kissed every day. Only me and Ellie knew that I had no other chance in real. Beth said "this must be the true love", but I sensed the humiliating tone in her voice.

"Wow, I feel honored! There are all those drunk ladies in the room, who would love to do a favor to you and you picked me? That's my pinky!"

"That's boring!" said Kyle, but Anne told him to shut up.

"So now you get to choose where he'll kiss you on." said Daron. I believe he was still thinking that he did me a favor. I turned to Ellie, begging with my eyes to not make me anything humiliating. But she had exactly that in her mind:

"I think they deserve another show pinky, right? I choose my feet!" she said, while moving her chair back to put up her naked feet on the table.

"That's gross!". It was Daron. He was disappointed and disgusted at the same time. I also sensed a regret in his voice. He had all the good intentions, but he wasn't aware of Ellie's true nature. "What's the point of that?"

"The point is, we're playing truth or dare and trying to have fun. Why bother if we aren't going to push some limits?" said Ellie. Her bare feet were now on the table, and her soles were pointed towards me. Beth supported her:

"It's a dare, it can be gross!"

"You can always pay your way out of it mate." Said Daron, as a last attempt to save my dignity. I knew that it wasn't possible.

"Shut up already! I want to see this happening!" said Ashley, while throwing a bottle cap at him playfully.

Everyone was watching me. I felt a burning sensation on my face, and realised that my face was turning bright red with embarrasment. I moved my chair slowly towards her, and started approaching her feet.

"A passionate one please!" said Ellie, to make things even harder for me. The room went almost completely silent. Everyone was amazed with what's about to happen in front of their eyes and watching us closely to not miss any details. I approached my face slowly to her feet, and placed my lips on her soft soles. It's hard to admit but I was also aroused and getting hard myself. Kissing her feet was a form of foreplay for me. The real sex for me was licking every inch of her soles, sucking her toes one by one, devouring the taste. I really wanted to keep going on that very moment. I wanted to kneel on my knees, hold her delicate legs and devour her feet in front of everyone. All that embarrasment, disgrace in front of everyone wasn't making this any less arousing, maybe even making it more.

I kept my lips on her sole for a couple seconds. Ellie giggled, and clenched her toes to cover my face with her sole. I thought about how much I still love her, how much I love hearing that giggle. I enjoyed the moment before I part my lips from her beautiful feet.

"That was quick but lovely pinky, I love you!" she said. That was indeed quicker and easier than I thought. Or wanted to. I was expecting her to push me harder for more humiliation. I felt thankful, but was impatient for the night to come to an end and go back to our room to serve my beautiful woman as she deserved. I responded with a hesitant "I love you too baby."

The crowd was excited to see my shameful kiss. I wondered what they'd think if they had seen one of my proper foot worships.

[kirbybecomesastarwarrior]

The Tale of Young Fisher (The Little King)

King Fisher Saga (Part 1)

The kingdom of Patchland used to be part of the galaxy's system until Fluff's father (King Fisher) hid it away... And thus, the kingdom of Patchland became a legend. It was a kingdom where poverty didn't exist, no one ever went hungry, and the people were always happy... It had been lost for ages until a certain pink puffball found their way in. (Kirby's Epic Yarn.)

In the past Patchland itself was never really taken seriously...

It was in the far reaches of the galaxy, the place itself was not technologically advanced, the people had absolutely no fighting ability & very little magic ability. The rest of the galaxy could not take the place seriously. (Plus, it was filled with happy-go-lucky yarned people... so yeah, it was seen as a laughing stock... )

It was something King Tulle (Fisher's father) couldn't accept. He tried so hard to get into the galaxy's inner circle (their ver. paraliment)... he was enamored with joining the big leagues. Tulle convinced his people (& son) that this was necessary for the betterment of everyone in the kingdom. No being able to see that the kingdom was fine & prosperous just the way it was.

While Tulle spent his days trying to get accepted into the elites, ignoring his royal responsibilities.... Leaving a young Prince Fisher in charge of carrying out his father's duties. The people of Patchland... felt sorry for the young prince... while Tulle was their king in name, the citizens saw Fisher as their true king. (They knew who was really taking care of them.)

Fisher tried his best to get his father's love & validation by being the dutiful son. He even used all his resources to learn magic (self-taught light mage) in hopes of impressing his father, but he was never going to get it. King Tulle only saw Fisher as his successor... nothing more. King Tulle quite literally died trying... (ignoring his health & well-being).

And thus, it passed down his ambitions to Fisher... who felt that it was his duty to finish his father's unfinished work. Fisher tirelessly studied the culture of other planets & galaxies to find a way to make the Galactic Council see Patchland's worthiness.

Which was difficult because each planet had its own different set of values & virtues he needed something big to please all of them. And realized the one they all had in common was money.

Patchland had an untapped source of raw crystals and materials (cloth & such). Which held a bit of magic in them. So he figured the best way was marketing & trade. He created a series of enchanted fabrics and cloth he'd marked off.

(Ex. capes that would increase HP, a coat of chain mail to increase defense, etc.)

King Fisher was a brilliant businessman; he slowly introduced his product into the galaxy & mapped it out to trickle down to the top. (Basically a self-made man.) Eventually, getting supporters who wanted to move his products, creating the galactic trade route.

Patchland's exports and goods became extremely popular. And now the higher-up planets that once looked down on his little humble star system wanted to trade with them. Causing to sees him & his people to be seen in a new light.

Seeing his homeland as something to be admired, "Wow. Patchland must be a great place..." The people had long accepted that they weren't the most advanced corner of that galaxy (which they were fine with...) But now... the citizens of Patchland feel a sense of pride in themselves.

Fisher felt that this was all the recognition needed; after all those wretched days alone, studying & working on his craft had finally paid off... Seeing the confidence and self-worth it brought to his people... the joy it brought them.

(Navievly Fisher thought "this was what his father was talking about in what the kingdom need... " Well, It wasn't... truthfully Tulle sought glory for himself, while Fisher did it for his people & his father(Tulle)...

Fisher couldn't help but imagine what'd be like once he was able to secure a place in the elite council. The joy it would bring to him and his people... (well, it wouldn't.)

Then, the war with Nightmare broke out & soon, the galactic council & the GSA approached Fisher...They offered him a seat in the government should he choose to get involved and fund their efforts. Raising his kingdom's status (as well as his own), along with turning a profit for his goods to a wider market on a galactic scale. And protection from Nigthmare's forces as well... giving his kingdom top priority! Basically, he became the master of the coin... (Game of Thrones ref.)

He had finally accomplished what his father's dream... But at a cost.

These higher-ups didn't just want his products. The upper crusts of the galaxy were using Fisher's trade route to smuggle goods and would hide them in the fabrics he traded with. And not only that but weapons as well...

When Fisher first raised concerns his colleagues merely said, "This is just how the world works... you wanna fit in don't you..." There was an underlying fear this could all his success easily taken away. He knew far too well that they only valued him & his kingdom could give them.

Foolishly optimistic, he thought, "I'm sure it's for good reason" or "We're in a war, it makes sense..." He had worked so hard for this for so long that he just couldn't risk this. Soon, his passion project... became more of a smuggling operation.

Of course, Fisher felt guilty... at first, but it was all drowned out the more & more he did it. He was enamored and captivated by this new life at the top. Being swayed by their compliments & sweet words, he started willingly to impress his new peers. The praise he was getting (even more than his own father did...), how could he refuse.

Slowly, forgetting the values of virtues and the kind nature of his kingdom. He became jaded, losing his gratification for his work... the more his business became... a business. Back then, Fisher was truly at his happiest when he saw his work bring smiles to others... but now work was just work.

Despite this, Fisher still remained a great king... Some of the people in his kingdom were worried about getting involved with outer planets, but that all changed when the war with Nightmare started... His people weren't fighters... and Nightmare was coming after everyone in the galaxy. Making the citizens of Patchland nervous... they'd be slaughtered for sure! Then, when Fisher presented them with outside protection... with the new title he gained, and all their worries from before vanished.

"Wow, we shouldn't have doubted our king, he knows what he's doing!"

Plus, he had been looking after them since he was a child; Fisher was just doing what he had to for their kingdom.

The people were happy, but they started to notice their king would spend less time in his own home. But every time he did he showed them a (fake) smiling face, and everything was fine: he was just doing fine (he was just dying on the inside). And so the people were blissfully unaware of it all. They were happy, untouched by the war,... not knowing their once good-natured beloved king was lost in the world of the corrupt and greedy.

To be continued...

King Tulle's obsession with getting to the elites comes from a place of wanting to "prove them wrong" mentality. I also wanted to show how (in KBASW)... if your star system was considered unadvanced you're shunned from society.

Named Fluff's grandfather Tulle because... he's a tool.

Fisher's corruption is very similar to the Onceler from the Lorax movie. (And yes, I used Onceler simp in my middle school years... please don't judge.)

A well-meaning, adorkable, sweet boy... becomes a greedy, selfish man who sells his soul & morals to get recognition. But unlike the Onceler... There is no joy in it... become rather lifeless going through the motions. (similar to his Arthurian counterpart Fisher, King during his time of being injured...)

Very much based him on Robin Williams's telling of the Fisher King.

(Plus, I love this movie so much...)

Truthfully, he has the same journey as P.T. from The Greatest Showman. That's why Fisher's Theme is "From Now On."

Fisher learns his lesson just in time... which will be in part two.

(The Grand Escape of King Fisher & the Crowning of a Fool)

Stay Tuned~

[astrologys-the-life]

My astrology observations: Taurus edition

Aries often gets the bad reputation of being selfish, however often times Taurus are more selfish than Aries.

Taurus suns are either really good with finances yet look broke, or look like they have money but have absolutely no money.

✨The taurus suns who are good with money are obsessed with their finances, they keep track of their spending daily, make good investments, and don’t spend money on others except for family. If someone who wasnt apart of their family was starving to death and asked for 1 dollar to get something to eat, the Taurus would say no. Taurus suns can be quite heartless and very stingy at times. They may feel as if since they worked for their money, no one should get free handouts.

✨The Taurus suns who are not good with money tend to spend their money on luxury items, they want to have everything they have be the absolute best. The best shoes, the best house, the best car. They often spend a lot of their money on their loved ones as well. However, this often times leaves them without much money left over as they tend to invest into materialistic items rather than long term investments.

Taurus suns as managers, or people above in the workplace can be very aggressive and hostile with their employees. They are very demanding, yet they themselves are often not holding themselves to the standards that they hold their employees up to. This can be quite surprising because they are nice and caring people, but often in the workplace they can become a completely different person.

Taurus mars are extremely slow with every task they take on. They are not fast learners, and they want to learn every single thing they can about whatever topic they are trying to learn. They are overly perfectionistic with themselves, when no one is holding them to that standard except themselves. They also are very resistant to change and will take months, even years to adjust to any big changes in their lives. On a more positive note, Taurus mars are extremely hard working and will put in effort, time and consistency into any job that they choose. They also have a talent of making a lot of money in a short amount of time, if they choose.

Taurus’s moons are extremely kind and compassionate, they are amazing at taking care of many things, whatever they choose to take care of will flourish. When they are underdeveloped they may have a hard time establishing strong boundaries with loved ones, however this may change with time. Taurus moons come across as very calm and reserved, but deep down they are genuinely sensitive and can be quite moody. When they are upset they can hold onto that feeling for quite sometime, so don’t be surprised if a Taurus moon holds a grudge against you for a couple days, or….a couple lifetimes.

Taurus mercuries talk at a tiptoe pace, they drag out a lot of their words. They do have very beautiful vocabulary and have low soft voices that are soothing to the ears.

Taurus risings tend to have larger features, especially big lips. They have a bold appearance to them with a soft touch. They have an energy that everyone can adore for many reasons, they are very loving to everyone they meet and often show empathy to others without any hesitation. They also may enjoy cooking as a hobby.

Taurus Venus may have many lovers in this lifetime, even after many heartbreaks they still choose to love. Having relationships is very important to them and is a highlight in their life. With each lover they learn something new about themselves until they find the person that is best for them. They tend to have long lasting relationship, but once they decide it’s over, it’s over. They can move on quite quickly, it is not hard for them to find another partner. Taurus Venus like to have their space very organized, everything must be done in an organized manner. They can not stand clutter and messiness. They like harmony within their life and if someone messes with their organized stuff it can lead to a big argument. They prefer touch as their love language and words of affirmation, however they don’t mind gift giving especially if it’s on the pricier side. They are very picky as they have a specific taste, so sometimes it can be difficult to get them gifts. Overall they are wonderful people who love whole heartedly and will go above and beyond for the people they love.

These are just my personal observations of multiple people with these placements, everybody’s charts are different and my observations may not apply to everyone, but these are the patterns I’ve noticed from my personal experience. Thank you for reading 💗