#the rent won’t pay itself

[marshmellodragon]

Yokohama in Bungou Stray Dogs is like New York in Marvel. I don’t think I need to elaborate more.

-<3-

Just in case I do need to elaborate: (Cause the Detective Agency / Port Mafia and Avengers living in the middle of their respective cities wasn’t enough):

Some random citizen in New York: So Hulk threw my car at some alien again, sorry I couldn’t make it to the meeting on time.

Boss: Well we only allow 3 Avengers related absences and after this you only have 1 left, so be careful.

Citizen: I did make it to the meeting, I was just late-

Boss: Only 1.

Citizen: *in a low whisper* I hate this city.

-<3-

Also some random citizen in Yokohama: Yeah so Chuuya smashed my whole apartment building during the Shibusawa attack. I am homeless now so uhh, can I crash at your place?

Friend: Dude the whole city got trashed, we’re all homeless.

Citizen: God I hate this city.

[jezebelblues]

𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍 | 𝐇.𝐒 | 𝟏 *ੈ𑁍༘⋆

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭, 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥.

pt 1, pt 2 (completed)

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐂𝐖: drug usage/selling, angst, college!harry, fem!reader, smut in pt2 if that’s what ur here for, allusions to violence, friends to lovers if u squint

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 13.8k

❏ i was trying to compress this into only being one part but i felt like each piece of them growing closer was too important to the plot to be deleted </3 but i’m posting pt 2 like right after this so !! btw this is so fratrry coded but bro is not in a frat. he’s just a broke college student that sells drugs fr

masterlist

off campus housing was a curse sometimes.

but, if you had the option between dorming it out or paying for an apartment yourself, maybe it could be categorized as both a blessing and a curse.

but for YN and harry, it’s just a curse.

a dorm wasn’t in the cards for them in general—it was hard enough drowning in loans for tuition itself, and adding thousands more for shitty campus housing was just overboard.

but still, the illusion of choice would’ve been nice.

they lived in carson hall, off campus apartments that were filled to the brim with students. there might’ve been a few tenants in the building that weren’t a student, but they were probably there for the same reason as everyone else—affordability.

$850 per month felt like a rarity, and it was pretty much unheard of in new york. so, if you were a broke student that couldn’t dorm, this was your saving grace.

if the walls in the unit weren’t brick, it was cheap drywall that had the paint chipping off. there was a radiator that broke every month like clockwork, sat right underneath a window with glass so thin it shook with the breeze.

there was no carpet except for in the main lobby, everything else was either tiled linoleum and creaky wooden floors installed in the 90’s. there was a communal laundry unit in the basement that required four quarters exactly, nothing else. sometimes it’d swallow the coins, sometimes it wouldn’t, and sometimes it’d eat their coins and wouldn’t turn on at all.

there was a maintenance man that lived on the first floor—living there for half the rent since he was on call 24/7 on the weekdays to fix anything the apartment complex needed—but you’d have to be the luckiest person on earth for him to respond. if the washer ate your quarters, chances are, you won’t be getting them back. and if the sink continued to drip water in rhythm with your heartbeat, you’d be better off watching a youtube tutorial on plumbing basics than calling for the maintenance guy.

but, it was four walls and a roof—not to mention, it was only a five minute walk from the dining hall (the heart of campus, obviously).

YN and harry didn’t know each other, not exactly. they lived on the same floor, and harry was the guy that was known for dealing to make rent and loan payments.

and YN was the girl that always had sleepy eyes and smelt of vanilla and cinnamon—sugar and spice.

but that was it between them, fleeting glances of acknowledgment and the lingering scent of vanilla laced with weed in the hallway.

all until the first knock tapped against his door at one-thirty in the morning.

it was one of those nights where the due dates of assignments pressed down heavy, like it was daring you to breathe under the weight.

harry’s radiator was hissing again, spitting steam into his tiny apartment, a kind of mocking applause for everything breaking down. his desk was cluttered with blueprints—half-sketched, smudged, unfinished—and on the counter, the last edible he'd cut sat wrapped in foil, waiting for whoever was desperate enough to buy it.

the knock was soft. hesitant. not the kind of knock that screamed cops or where's the party? harry almost didn't get up. whatever it was, it could wait.

but something about it—how it lingered, quiet but insistent—dragged him to the door. barefoot, wearing nothing but a ratty tshirt and sweatpants, he swung it open without bothering to check who it was.

YN.

the girl who always smelled like a fucking christmas cookie. she stood in the hallway like she'd been arguing with herself for hours, her arms wrapped around her torso to keep warm. she didn't say anything right away, just looked at him with wide, tired eyes.

harry leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. "are y’lost?"

her voice came out softer than he expected. “i need…something.”

he raised an eyebrow, scanning her quickly—her pink sweatpants, the hoodie that was two sizes too big, the way she kept glancing at the floor like she hated being here. "that's specific. milk? a lightbulb? help moving a body?"

"for my roommate," she rushed, ignoring the bite in his tone. "she's—she's having a panic attack or something, some stupid argument with her boyfriend i think—and i don't have anything that can help."

harry stared at her.

her voice cracked, the desperation cutting through the cool front she was trying to hold. "it's late, and the pharmacies are closed, and i just—someone said you might have something."

"someone.” he repeated, pushing off the doorframe, his tone sharp enough to slice through her composure.

"please."

something about that word caught him off guard. not the word itself, but the way she said it—like she was embarrassed to use it, like it physically hurt to ask him for anything. harry sighed, stepping back. "wait there."

he crossed the room to the counter, digging through the shoebox that held the operation he kept as low-key as possible. the old baggie of edibles rustled faintly in his hands, and for a second, he thought about saying no. this wasn't his problem.

but he grabbed one anyway, turning back to find her still standing in the hallway, arms wrapped tighter around herself. he shoved the baggie into her hand. "take this and go."

she hesitated, looking down at it. "is it safe?"

harry's laugh came out sharp and humorless. "you knock on my door at one in the morning, asking for something t’fix a panic attack, and you're worried about FDA approval? yeah, it's safe. s’low-dose."

her fingers curled around the bag. "how much do i owe you?"

he shook his head, already tired of this conversation. "don't worry about it. just go."

YN started to turn, but her gaze caught on the cluttered desk in the corner—blueprints stacked in uneven piles, a half-empty coffee cup balancing on the edge. "what's all that?" she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

"none of your business."

he stepped forward and shut the door before she could ask anything else. the lock clicked, and for a long second, he stood there, staring at the closed door, wondering why the hell he'd helped her at all.

*

friday nights strained. not the kind that made you feel like you’d accomplished something. no, this was the other kind. the kind that made harry want to throw his phone into the east river and spend the rest of the weekend in bed, ignoring the world.

by eight pm, the texts started rolling in like they always did.

can u drop to sigma chi?

emergency. we need molly asap. paying extra if u can get here by 10.

it wasn’t glamorous. it wasn’t even fun. but it paid the rent.

harry sat at his desk, staring at the mess of blueprints he hadn’t touched all week, his phone lighting up next to him with another text. the math was simple: weed, molly, shrooms, lsd. nothing heavy, nothing messy, and no one under twenty-one.

he grabbed his backpack, already packed from the night before—a hollowed-out calculus textbook buried inside. it was beat to shit, but nobody looked twice at a guy carrying around a heavy book and a bookbag on campus.

the first stop was sigma chi. always sigma chi.

by the time he got there, the party was in full swing. the air reeked of spilled beer and too much cologne, bass pounding through the walls like a heartbeat that refused to die. harry slipped in through the side door, past a crowd of girls laughing too loudly and holding plastic cups like they were accessories.

the guy waiting for him was leaned against the fridge, his baseball cap turned backwards, a grin plastered on his face. “harry, my man!”

he didn’t answer. didn’t smile. instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small baggie, handing it over like he was exchanging a pack of gum. the guy shoved some crumpled twenties into harry’s hand, already too distracted by his phone to say anything else.

“you’re a lifesaver, bro.”

he left through the back door without another word.

weekends were always like this. frat houses, dorm rooms, random street corners. most fridays, he had ten stops, maybe more if people got desperate.

his phone buzzed constantly. texts rolling in every fifteen minutes:

can you meet by the bodega?

do u have anything stronger? asking for a friend.

the last one made him roll his eyes. he didn’t do stronger. stronger got people killed, got cops asking questions. harry wasn’t stupid. this wasn’t about partying or fun; it was money.

he started dealing during his first year at nyu. not because he wanted to, but because the scholarships didn’t cover everything, and student loans only went so far.

at first, it was just weed. his guy, jeff, lived in brooklyn—a family man with a college degree, a wife, and two kids. harry used to think guys like jeff had it figured out: the house in a decent neighborhood, the minivan parked out front, the soccer games on weekends. but his life was no more stable than harry’s.

jeff’s business wasn’t just selling weed—it was growing it, right in his basement. his wife knew, of course. they kept it far from the kids, locked up tight behind a door that might as well have been a vault.

he hadn’t started out as a dealer, either. he ran his own small business—some business marketing firm that couldn’t compete with the bigger guys. now, the basement was his fallback, extra income, and harry couldn’t help but see a version of himself in jeff. same fire, same hustle, same gnawing ache of more, more, more.

“this isn’t enough,” he had said one night, halfway through weighing a fresh batch. the house smelled faintly of citrus and pine, a scent jeff swore masked the weed smell. “you ever thought about branching out?”

harry frowned, leaning back against the workbench “branching out how?”

“psychedelics—shrooms, lsd. same crowd, bigger profit. no one’s getting hooked, no one’s overdosing. it’s clean.”

harry’s gut twisted. he didn’t like the sound of it—too messy, too big. “i dunno, mate. weed’s easy. i don’t want t’get in deeper.”

jeff leaned against the table, crossing his arms. “i get it. but you’re already in. and if you play it smart, you don’t have to worry about the cops, or junkies, or any of that shit. i know a guy in the bronx—mutual friend. you’d like him. solid guy, clean product.”

he hesitated, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. “y’really think it’s worth it?”

jeff smiled faintly, shrugging. “depends on what you want. if it’s just enough to scrape by, keep doing what you’re doing. but if you want to breathe a little? yeah. it’s worth it.”

harry didn’t jump in right away.

it took a few weeks of thinking, weighing the risks against the reward. but eventually, he made the trip to the bronx. the guy jeff pointed him to was older, late thirties maybe, with a clean apartment and a habit of over-explaining. harry liked him immediately.

the product was good. better than he expected. shrooms, lsd tabs, packaged clean and easy to move. the kind of stuff that sold itself to the right crowd.

molly came later.

it started with frat guys asking for it at parties, offering triple what harry charged for weed. at first, he turned them down. molly was different—harder to control, riskier. but the money kept knocking at his door, and harry, tired of scraping by, finally let it in.

his guy in the bronx knew a supplier. harry kept it lowkey—low doses, clean product, no bullshit. but it still weighed on him, the way every step deeper into this life felt like standing on thin ice.

jeff always said this kind of hustle didn’t last forever. harry just hoped he’d find a way out before it swallowed him whole.

his voice stayed in his head more than he liked to admit—you can’t do this forever, kid. something’s gotta give.

but that was the problem, wasn’t it? harry didn’t know what would give first—his luck, his sanity, or the thin line he kept walking between survival and collapse.

the deeper he got into dealing, the more he saw how easy it was for people to lose themselves in it. not just the buyers—people like jeff, too.

there was this one night, months after harry started moving psychedelics. jeff had called him over, saying he had some fresh product he wanted harry to try. he drove out to brooklyn, expecting the usual.

but when he got there, he looked different. tired in a way that felt heavier.

“you good?” he had asked, leaning against the workbench.

he nodded, but his hands trembled slightly as he sealed a bag. “yeah, just a long week. car broke down, furnace is acting up… you know how it is.”

he did. too well.

when he left that night, the bag of weed tucked into his backpack, he couldn’t shake the thought—this doesn’t end well. jeff had everything harry thought he wanted—a family, a house, a life that looked solid from the outside. and still, it wasn’t enough.

he lit a cigarette as he drove back to the city, the smoke curling around him in the dark car. he couldn’t let this life be all there was. couldn’t let it pull him down the same way it was pulling jeff.

but even as he told himself he’d find a way out, harry’s phone buzzed with another text, another buyer, another deal.

just enough was never enough.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. he was tired. bone-tired. the kind of tired that lived in his spine and refused to leave, no matter how much sleep he got.

but he typed back anyway.

because this was life. grinding himself into the ground so someone else could forget their bullshit for a night.

and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t afford to.

*

the rain wasn’t letting up. the kind that soaked you through in seconds, cold and sharp like a thousand tiny needles stabbing your skin. the stairwell in the building was already a deathtrap on the best days—cheap tiles, no traction, old wood.

he was on the couch when he heard it. a thud, heavy and hollow, like someone had dropped a bag of bricks—or fallen. then the curses followed, muffled but furious, the kind of sound that pulled him out of the half-sleep he’d been drifting into.

he sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. for a second, he thought about ignoring it. again, wasn’t his problem. but something about the sound got under his skin.

grabbing the sweatshirt hanging off the back of the couch, he pulled it on and opened the door, peering out into the dimly lit hallway.

that’s when he saw her.

sprawled on the stairs, her sweater soaked through, hair sticking to her face, and an armful of books scattered around her like shrapnel.

fucking christ, harry thought, leaning against the doorframe. he crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you always this graceful, or is it a wednesday night special?”

she looked up, and if looks could kill, he’d have been dead on the spot. her cheeks were flushed, probably from a mix of frustration and exertion, and her jaw was clenched tight enough to crack. “are you always this much of an asshole, or do i just bring it out in you?”

harry let the smirk grow into something closer to a grin. “you okay?” he asked, his tone half-mocking, half-genuine.

YN didn’t answer right away. she was too busy untangling herself, her knee hitting the step as she tried to gather the mess of books and papers that had spilled everywhere.

harry sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “hold on.”

he jogged down the stairs, crouching to pick up a book near her feet. the cover was soaked, the pages already curling at the edges. he flipped it over in his hand, inspecting the damage. “you’re gonna fail with this,” he said, holding it up. “this thing’s toast.”

she snatched the book from him, glaring. “you’re toast.”

he chuckled under his breath, bending to pick up another one. this time, it was a notebook—thick, overstuffed, with half the pages threatening to fall out. “what are you even carrying all this for?”

“this is college, is it not?”

harry straightened, stacking the notebook on top of the book in her arms. “you’re gonna wreck your back lugging all this around.”

“not everyone has money for a decent bag.” she muttered, not looking at him as she grabbed the papers from his hand.

that made him pause. his jaw tightened, his usual sarcasm flickering into something harder, heavier. he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it just as fast.

he shifted, handing her the last book. “here. try not to break your neck next time.”

she snorted, a bitter laugh slipping out before she could stop it. she pushed herself up, wincing as she shifted her weight onto her right leg.

“you sure you’re okay?” harry asked again, watching the way she was favoring her left leg.

“i’m fine.”

“right.” harry muttered, crossing his arms as she started up the stairs. he followed her halfway up, more out of habit than concern, and watched as she struggled to balance her books against the wet fabric of her sweater.

when they reached the landing, she stopped, glancing back at him. “thanks,” she said, the word sounding like it physically hurt her to say.

harry shrugged. “don’t mention it.”

as she turned to head toward her apartment, she added over her shoulder, “no, seriously. don’t.”

he smirked again, shaking his head as he watched her limp away. he didn’t respond, just leaned against the wall, waiting until she disappeared into her unit before heading back to his own.

he dropped onto the couch, dragging a worn notebook off the coffee table and flipping it open. but his focus was shot. all he could picture was her on the stairs—soaked, pissed, and too stubborn to admit she wasn’t fine.

her comment stuck with him, too. not everyone has money for a decent bag. harry hated how much that hit home.

the world didn’t give a shit if you couldn’t afford what you needed. if you didn’t have it, you improvised. it was why he was out here selling weed and molly to spoiled frat boys and girls with trust funds so deep they could drown in them.

he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. his phone buzzed on the armrest beside him, breaking the silence.

it was one of his regulars, some sophomore who thought a couple grams of shrooms would make her weekend transformative.

yeah. same spot. 9pm.

he tossed the phone onto the table, leaning back against the couch, the springs groaning under his weight. this was the life: fixing busted radiators, chasing down half-earned engineering credits, and grinding himself into the ground so some kid could take a trip they’d forget by monday morning.

later that night, he was back out, a ballcap sat over his curls, backpack slung over his shoulder, heading to the usual corner just off washington square park. it wasn’t raining anymore, but the streets were still slick, reflecting the city lights like oil spills.

he spotted the girl waiting for him, leaning against a lamppost with her arms crossed. she waved when she saw him, a little too eager.

the exchange was quick, the shrooms passing from his hand to hers, the cash tucked into his pocket in one smooth motion. no small talk, no lingering.

when he got home, the hallway was quiet, except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead. YN’s door was closed, no sounds coming from the other side.

he paused for a second, staring at it. he shook his head, unlocking his door and stepping inside. the idea that popped into his brain was stupid, irrational. he didn’t owe her anything. she was just the girl down the hall, who gave as much shit as she took.

but still, he dug into his closet, pulling out the old army surplus bag he’d stopped using after high school. it wasn’t much, but it was better than what she had now.

the next morning, harry slipped out of his apartment early, the bag in hand. he dropped it just outside her door, no note, no explanation, before heading out to his first lecture of the day.

when YN found it later, she stared at it for a long moment, her brows knitting together. she didn’t have to ask who left it. and even though she muttered asshole under her breath, she brought it inside with a faint smile.

because she needed it. and harry—whether he’d admit it or not—knew that.

the next time they saw each other, he was coming up the stairs, his backpack slung low, the smell of rain clinging to his sweatshirt. it was late—nearly eleven—and he was tired, the kind of exhaustion that sank into his chest and refused to let go.

YN was coming down, her new bag bouncing lightly against her hip. she was in scrubs and a college hoodie, hair tied back, but there was a tension in her face that hadn’t been there before. maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was the unmistakable look of someone dragging themselves through another brutal shift.

they almost passed each other without a word. almost.

but as they crossed paths, she stopped, her hand gripping the railing. “hey.”

harry stopped mid-step, turning to look at her. “hey,” he echoed, noncommittal.

she tilted her head toward the bag. “this you?”

he leaned against the railing, shrugging like it was no big deal. “needed something better, right?”

her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing like she was trying to figure out if he was messing with her. finally, she shook her head, letting out a dry laugh. “why, though? why do you care?”

he blinked, caught off guard. he didn’t have an answer for that—at least not one he could say out loud. instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging again. “call it charity,” he said. “or don’t. i don’t really care.”

YN stared at him for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. then she nodded, her grip on the railing loosening. “thanks,” she muttered, her tone softer this time.

“don’t mention it.”

but before he could take another step, she smiled—the tiniest twitch upward. “no, seriously. don’t.”

he smirked at that, glancing back over his shoulder. “you’re welcome, cinnamon.”

her brows shot up at the nickname, her mouth opening to protest, but harry didn’t stick around to hear it. he was already heading back to his apartment, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

that should’ve been the end of it.

but the next day, when harry opened his door to grab the mail, there was a coffee cup sitting just outside, still warm, with no note or explanation.

he frowned, picking it up and staring at it like it might explode.

then, from down the hall, YN’s door opened, and she leaned out, raising an eyebrow at him. “drink it or don’t—i don’t care.”

he held up the cup, smirking. “what’s this? donations?”

“no,” she grinned, already retreating back inside. “just paying it forward, asshole.”

the door clicked shut, and he stood there, shaking his head, the faintest chuckle escaping him as he sipped the coffee.

*

their classes in south hall were evening ones, usually letting out at nine pm sharp.

YN stepped out of the biology lab first, tugging her sleeves down against the chill that crept into the building after dark. her bag was slung over her shoulders, the college crewneck rumpled from hours of sitting in the same chair. her jeans were stiff from the cold, her shoes scuffed with wear, and her hair fell loose around her face, sticking slightly to her cheek. she brushed it back absently, her eyes on the door ahead.

harry caught sight of her from the second-floor stairwell as he left his chemistry lecture—a rolling stones hoodie hung loose on his frame, sweatpants sitting low on his hips, his green sambas (that he bought second hand, his proudest find) practically falling apart at the seams.

he hadn’t planned on saying anything. hell, he wasn’t even sure she’d noticed him. but as he watched her push through the doors, her breath fogging in the cold, he felt something tug at him.

he hesitated for half a second before jogging down the stairs, his curls bouncing slightly as he caught up to her “hey.”

she glanced over her shoulder, her steps slowing just enough to register him. her brows furrowed when she saw him. “you’re in chemistry,” she said, like it was an accusation.

harry blinked, a bit confused as to what she was hinting at—but going with it anyway. “m’yeah. good observation, sherlock.”

“no, i mean,” she gestured vaguely behind her. “your class is upstairs. what’re you doing down here?”

harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. “walking home. duh. our lectures must end at the same time.”

YN gave him a skeptical look, her pace picking up again as they stepped into the night. “you don’t have to do that,” she said quickly, her tone dismissive. “i’m fine.”

he fell into step beside her anyway, the straps of his backpack swinging slightly as he walked. “cool. didn’t ask.”

her jaw tightened, and she shot him a look. “seriously, i don’t need a babysitter.”

“good,” harry muttered, unbothered. “’cause I’m not volunteering.”

she sighed, tugging her bag closer to her body as they trudged through campus. the sound of their shoes against the pavement filled the space between them.

as they turned the corner, the streetlight flickered above, casting long, uneven shadows across the sidewalk. harry noticed the guy first.

it wasn’t unusual to be sketched out by randoms over here, their apartment was on the edge of campus—lots of stragglers where university police didn’t quite patrol.

he was leaning against a stop sign, his cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. his gaze was lazy, his posture too casual, the way people got when they wanted you to feel like they were watching you without actually looking.

harry stepped closer to YN without thinking, his shoulder brushing hers as he moved between her and the road.

“seriously?” she muttered, stopping mid-step to glare at him.

harry didn’t look at her, his eyes locked forward as they passed. “what?” he asked, voice calm. “said i’d walk with you. didn’t say i wouldn’t get in the way.”

she scoffed, but she didn’t pull away. he brushed it off, and in a way, she appreciated that—the way he acknowledged her nerves but didn’t say anything. the way he acted like it was just a miss-step rather than a reassurance.

when they reached the entrance of their apartment building, YN stopped, finally turning to face him. her arms were crossed now, her expression sharp. “you didn’t have to do that.”

“you’re welcome.” his eyebrows knit together in stifled laughter, looking straight past her as he opened the heavy door to their building, holding it open for her to walk through.

they went up the narrow stairwell quietly, each step creaking under their weight.

she pursed her lips, stepping past him to unlock her door. but just before she disappeared inside, she glanced back at him, her tone softer this time. “thanks, i guess.”

harry tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “don’t mention it.”

the door clicked shut behind her, and harry lingered for a second, staring at the empty hallway beyond. then he shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, turned, and headed to his own door. his rings clicked against his keys as he unlocked it, the faintest smirk still on his lips.

*

the walk back from the hospital felt longer tonight.

the clock had just ticked past ten, but the streets were alive with people heading to bars, parties, anywhere but where she’d been. YN tugged on the sleeves of her hoodie, pulling them down farther, the fabric worn soft from too many washes. her scrub pants swished faintly as she walked, her badge clipped to her pocket, catching the glow of passing headlights.

her shift had been hell. the kind of night where you didn’t have time to think, let alone breathe. a kid came in after a bad bike crash, his face pale, his leg bent in a way it shouldn’t have been. then there was guy that coughed up blood over her sneakers—not to mention running around the er the entire rest of shift to do the work the nurses couldn’t get to.

her feet dragged as she pushed through the door to her building, climbing the stairs to the second floor one step at a time.

the music hit her first.

it wasn’t loud, just a faint rhythm seeping through the crack of harry’s door. something easy, mellow.

as she walked past his door, her steps slowed, her gaze flicking toward it. for a second, she lingered, her pulse ticking faster than it should’ve. but then she kept walking.

she tried to focus on her own door, just a few steps away, but her mind wouldn’t settle. work had been brutal. her roommate would be on a two hour facetime with her boyfriend, giggling about nothing. her friends were either pulling late shifts or at some frat house, three beers deep by now. and the quiet—god, the quiet—was going to eat her alive.

before she even realized what she was doing, she spun on her heel, walking back the way she came. her hand hesitated over harry’s door, her fingers curling into a loose fist before she knocked.

the door swung open after a moment, and there he was.

he stood there in loose jeans and an old band tee, his curls falling into his face like he hadn’t bothered to push them back. the rings on his fingers glinted faintly in the dim light behind him, chipped black polish catching her eye.

“cinnamon,” he grinned, leaning one arm against the doorframe. his voice was low, amused. “what’s up?”

behind him, she saw the room wasn’t empty.

lounging on harry’s couch was louis, a guy she vaguely recognized from her english lecture—he was always late, always cracking jokes that somehow landed. and in the kitchen, leaning lazily against the counter, was a tall guy she didn’t quite recognize.

she took the smallest step back, shaking her head. “sorry,” she mumbled quickly. “didn’t realize you had people over. never-mind.”

he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from her to the empty hallway behind her. “y’sure? you look…” he trailed off, his lips quirking slightly. “rough.”

she glared at him. “thanks. really needed that.”

he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “you’re knocking on my door at ten o’clock, cinnamon. that’s gotta be for a reason, yeah?”

she hesitated, her fingers twitching at her side. the guy in the kitchen glanced over briefly, then went back to whatever he was doing, and louis didn’t seem to notice her at all. “forget it,” she muttered, stepping back again. “i’m fine.”

he didn’t move, his eyes narrowed as they locked onto hers. “bullshit.”

her jaw tightened, her shoulders straightening. “i was just gonna ask if you had anything. you know, to…” she gestured vaguely, avoiding his eyes. “take the edge off.”

his smile returned, slow and knowing. “didn’t peg you as the type.”

YN glared again, her cheeks flushing slightly. “for a dealer, you’re really bad at pushing sales.” she said flatly, spinning on her heel.

he chuckled lightly, stepping out into the hallway a bit. “hold on a sec.”

she paused, turning halfway back to face him.

he glanced over his shoulder, toward the couch and the kitchen, before meeting her eyes again. “come back in ten,” he nodded. “i’ll get rid of ‘em.”

she blinked, caught off guard. “you don’t have to—”

“i said ten.” he cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

before she could say anything else, he stepped back into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. YN stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door like it might open again. she bit the inside of her lip, fidgeting with her key and going inside.

and at exactly 10 minutes, she was back in front of harry’s door.

this time, she didn’t hesitate. she knocked twice, easier than before.

the door opened almost immediately.

harry stood there again, his curls pushed back out of his face this time. his expression was unreadable, somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “told you ten minutes.” he stepped back, leaving the door open for her. “c’mon.”

his apartment wasn’t what she expected, though she wasn’t sure what she’d pictured. it was small, dimly lit by a single desk lamp in the corner. the faint scent of weed hung in the air, but the room was surprisingly neat, except for a pile of papers and notebooks on the table.

lounging on the couch, louis was pulling on his jacket, his face lighting up in surprise when he saw her. “oh, hey. you’re…” he snapped his fingers, squinting. “chem lab, right? morning lecture?”

YN nodded stiffly, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie. “english,” she corrected. “i see you there sometimes.”

“right, right,” louis said, grinning. he turned to harry. “new buyer? good taste, man.”

harry rolled his eyes, stifling his own smile. “out.” he muttered, shoving a hand toward the door.

louis smirked but didn’t argue. he grabbed his bag, tossing a wink at YN before stepping into the hallway. the guy in the kitchen followed, slipping past her without so much as a glance, the scent of cheap cologne trailing behind him.

he shut the door with a sharp click, locking it before turning to face her. “there. happy?”

she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall near the door. “i didn’t ask you to kick them out.”

“you didn’t have to.”

she sighed, her gaze shifting to the desk in the corner. the blueprints stacked there caught her attention—clean lines, precise calculations, a world that felt miles away from hers.

“you gonna tell me what you want, or are we just standing here all night?”

her eyes snapped back to his, the sharpness in his tone cutting through the haze of her thoughts. “got anything that’ll knock me out for a few hours?”

he raised an eyebrow, walking past her to the desk. he opened a drawer, rummaging around before pulling out a small baggie with a single edible inside. “low-dose,” he said, holding it up. “won’t knock you out, but it’ll take the edge off.”

YN hesitated, glancing between him and the baggie. “how much?”

harry shook his head, tossing it onto the counter. “on the house.”

“i’m not—”

“just take it,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “call it a favor. or a bribe. whatever makes you feel better.”

she stepped closer, picking up the baggie with careful fingers. her eyes flicked to his, searching for something she wasn’t sure she’d find. “thanks.” she muttered, her voice quieter now.

harry leaned against the edge of the counter, his arms crossed. “you look like shit, by the way.”

she huffed, shoving the baggie into her hoodie pocket. “and you’re still a dick.” she shot back, heading for the door.

“fair enough.” he muttered. but just as she reached for the handle, his voice stopped her. “hey, cinnamon.”

she turned, her brow furrowed. “what?”

harry’s smirk softened slightly, the easy confidence in his tone faltering just enough to feel real. “you ever wanna talk, you know where i live.”

YN didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to. she just nodded once and slipped out the door, her footsteps fading down the hall.

the next day, it was closer to four pm when YN got home from work.

she barely noticed the faint buzz of her roommate’s call as she slipped into the bathroom, peeling off her scrubs and stepping under the hot spray of the shower. the water hit her like a reset button, the ache in her shoulders easing as the steam curled around her.

when she finally emerged, her hair damp and loose, she threw on a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized sweater—something warm, something safe. the apartment was quiet now, her roommate having left a while ago, probably off to see her boyfriend.

it was around six when the knock came.

YN glanced up from her laptop, her brows furrowing. she wasn’t expecting anyone. she hesitated for a second, debating if she even wanted to answer, but curiosity won out.

when she opened the door, harry was leaning against the frame, his usual smirk softened into something more uncertain. he looked like he’d been pacing before this, his curls slightly disheveled, his hoodie hanging loose over a pair of black sweatpants.

“hey.”

YN raised an eyebrow. “hey.”

“you any good at chem?”

she blinked, “chemistry?”

he nodded, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “yeah. like, the basics. stoichiometry, balancing equations, all that shit.”

she tilted her head, leaning against the doorframe to mirror him. “i passed it with like an 85% so, i guess?”

he smiled, “fantastic. y’busy right now?”

“why?”

“thought maybe you could help me out. i’ve got a test coming up, and i’m…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely. “not great at it.”

“you want me to tutor you?”

he beamed, sarcastic, knowing. “sweet of you t’offer. let’s go.”

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. she sighed, pushing off the doorframe. “fine. but if i’m doing this, we’re going to the library. your apartment smells like weed, and i can’t think in there.”

he chuckled, stepping back as she grabbed her bag from the couch. “fair enough, cinnamon.”

the campus library wasn’t crowded, the usual sunday night stragglers scattered across the tables in hushed clusters. harry led her to a table in the back, far from the main entrance, where the buzz of conversation faded into the quiet hum of fluorescent lights.

he dropped his backpack onto the table, pulling out a battered notebook and a copy of the textbook that looked like it had been through hell. “alright, professor,” he said, smirking as he slid into the chair across from her. “teach me.”

“this is gonna be painful, isn’t it?”

harry grinned, flipping open the textbook. “probably.”

she sighed, leaning forward. “okay, first question—how the hell did you even make it to college if you don’t know the basics?”

harry shrugged, unbothered. “charm and good looks.”

she groaned, dropping her pen onto the table. “you’re gonna fail.”

“no,” he drawled with a smile, “that’s why you’re here.”

despite herself, YN smiled, shaking her head as she reached for the textbook. “alright, let’s see what we can do.”

the first twenty minutes were pure pain.

she flipped through harry’s beat-up textbook, squinting at the faint pencil notes scrawled in the margins. “alright,” she muttered, tapping her pen against the page. “let’s start with balancing equations. that’s pretty straightforward.”

harry slouched in his chair, spinning his pen between his fingers like he was bored out of his mind already. (and he was. if he was honest, he didn’t need help with chem at all). “straightforward for you, maybe. i’m just here trying not to flunk out.”

she furrowed her eyebrows, shooting him a look. “you’re not gonna flunk out. you just need to—” she hesitated, searching for the right word. “try.”

“i’m trying right now. see? look at all this effort.” he gestured toward the open book in front of him.

she sighed, leaning across the table and grabbing the pen out of his hand. “no. this is you sitting there, being useless. pay attention, harry.”

“yes, ma’am.” he mumbled, sitting up slightly straighter. his voice carried the faintest edge of mockery, but he kept his eyes on her, watching as she wrote out a problem on a fresh sheet of paper.

after another ten minutes of stumbling through coefficients, YN thought she saw a flicker of understanding cross harry’s face. he pointed at the page. “so you just make the numbers match? like, both sides need the same amount of atoms?”

YN stared at him, deadpan. “yes. that’s literally it.”

he leaned back, running a hand through his curls. “jesus. why the hell does it sound so much harder in class?”

“because you don’t listen in class,” she laughed, “and i’m guessing you don’t read the textbook either.”

he grinned, leaning forward again. “why would i, when you’re clearly better at explaining it?”

she rolled her eyes, turning the page in the book. “charm and good looks only get you so far, harry. you’re gonna have to put some actual work into this.”

“oh, so you do think i’m charming.”

YN didn’t dignify that with a response. instead, she handed him the pen and pointed to the next problem. “solve it. no shortcuts, no guesses. i wanna see the work.”

he groaned but did as he was told, his brow furrowed as he scribbled on the page.

by the time the clock struck eight thirty, they’d managed to get through most of the chapter. YN had to admit—he wasn’t completely hopeless.

and all he could do was smile—she bought it. if engineering didn’t work out, he thought, maybe he could be an actor. or a pathological liar.

“see?” she said, leaning back in her chair. “you’re not terrible at this. just lazy.”

harry huffed a laugh, closing the textbook with a loud thud. “lazy? you wound me, cinnamon.”

“you’ll live. anyway, i think we’re done for tonight. unless you wanna keep going?”

they walked out of the library together, the crisp night air hitting them like a wall. the campus was quiet now, most of the students holed up in their dorms or off at whatever weekend plans they’d made.

as they reached the edge of the quad, he glanced at her. “thanks for helping me out.”

she shrugged, her hands tucked into her hoodie pocket. “no big deal. just don’t make it a habit.”

“what if i do?”

YN shot him a look, her brow furrowing slightly. “then you’re buying the coffee next time.”

harry chuckled, the sound low and warm in the cold air. “deal.”

they reached the entrance, and YN hesitated for a moment before heading inside. “night, harry.”

“night, cinnamon.”

as the door clicked shut behind her, harry lingered on the steps for a moment, lighting a cigarette.

he smiled to himself again, he couldn’t help it. he was proficient in math, one of his best subjects—bordering the edge of genius, basically. but she didn’t need to know that, not when he just stole a couple hours from her, not when it was the perfect excuse just to hang out with her.

it was wednesday when she next saw him.

the clock on YN’s laptop read 11:03 pm, the harsh blue light illuminating her tired eyes as she highlighted yet another passage in the dense textbook sprawled across her lap. the apartment was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle from her roommate’s room and the faint hum of traffic filtering in through the drafty window.

she hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch in over an hour, legs curled under her, a growing pile of sticky notes cluttering the coffee table. her focus was razor-sharp, though her back ached from the awkward position she’d settled into.

when the knock came, she didn’t flinch. didn’t even glance toward the door. she knew exactly who it was.

with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, she set her laptop down carefully, nudging it closer to the stack of notes as she rose from the couch. her socked feet padded softly across the floor, her hand instinctively reaching for the lock. she swung the door open and leaned against the frame, her shoulder pressed into the wood as she tilted her head to the side.

“cinnamonnnn,” harry drawled, his voice almost melodic, the nickname rolling off his tongue like it had been hers all her life.

he stood there in a slightly oversized sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pair of gray sweatpants that were smaller than the ones from the other day—joggers maybe. a green packers beanie was snug over his curls, though a few stray strands peeked out, curling against his forehead. his hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, and he rocked back on his heels like he had all the time in the world.

YN narrowed her eyes slightly, the faintest smile ghosting her lips. “harryyyy,” she mimicked, dragging out his name in the same exaggerated tone.

“you busy?”

yes. “no.”

his dimples deepened as his grin grew wider, like he knew she’d lie. “hang out with me for a bit then.”

she let out a quiet laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. “to do what? it’s almost midnight.”

“come walk with me.”

her lips parted slightly, a soft exhale escaping as she gave him a hesitant look. he didn’t push, just waited, the silence between them comfortable, expectant. “you’re such a bad influence,” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned back into the apartment.

“oh, yeah,” harry said, stepping forward to catch the door before it closed. “terrible.”

she tugged a sweater over her head, the fabric swallowing her as she slipped her feet into an old pair of sneakers. they were loose, the kind she could slip on without bothering with laces.

when she stepped past him, harry held the door open before letting it fall shut behind them as they ambled into the narrow hallway.

“where are we going?” YN asked as they descended the stairs, the cool air of the building’s lobby settling around them.

“you’ll see.”

she huffed, though the corners of her mouth tugged upward as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. he moved like the world waited for him, unhurried but purposeful, his long legs carrying him down the steps in easy strides.

when they pushed through the front door and into the night, the cold air hit her immediately, making her shiver as she stuffed her hands into her pockets.

their path wound deeper into campus—the air quiet, save for the rustling of dead leaves underfoot and the occasional distant honk of a car. the faint glow of streetlights filtered through the thinning trees, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement.

harry walked slightly ahead, shoulders hunched against the cool air. she walked beside him, somewhat, perhaps a step behind, though the edge of her elbow would brush against his arm every so often. it wasn’t an accident, not really.

their breaths puffed out in white clouds, swirling in the breeze before disappearing. the last of the dead leaves fell from the trees with a soft crackle, catching in the wind before tumbling to the ground.

his pace slowed slightly, letting her match him, and he nudged her with his shoulder—just enough to jostle her. she looked up, her brow furrowing as she glanced at him.

“what was that for?”

he smirked, his gaze flicking ahead. “thought you were fallin’ asleep over there.”

she rolled her eyes but let her shoulder bump into his lightly as they walked. “sure. ‘cause nothing screams excitement like following you into the middle of nowhere.”

he let out a low chuckle, his breath visible in the cold air. “you’re dramatic, you know that?”

“you didn’t answer the question earlier.”

“what question?”

“about where we’re going,” she said, her voice teasing. “you could be leading me astray so you can murder me without any witnesses.”

he turned his head to look at her, his brows lifting, “i did answer, you just didn’t accept it.” he paused, pursing his lips as if he was in thought. “it would be a good plan, though. quiet enough out here. no one’d hear a thing.”

she snorted, her steps faltering slightly as she tried not to laugh. “you’re a terrible murderer. you’d leave a trail of evidence a mile wide.”

“would not.”

“would too.”

he turned to her fully now, his eyes narrowing as he stepped backward in front of her. his hands were still stuffed in his pockets, his pace matching hers even as he walked in reverse.

“alright, then,” he said, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “if i were to murder you—and that’s a big if, by the way—how exactly would i screw it up?”

she bit back a smile, “well, for starters, you’d forget to hide the body properly. probably just leave me in the middle of the path, thinking no one would notice.”

he let out a soft laugh, his shoulders shaking as he shook his head. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it?” YN countered, raising a brow. “you’re the one who thinks this is a good place to kill someone.”

his grin widened, the faintest dimple appearing in his cheek. “you’re paranoid, cinnamon. that’s your problem.”

“and you’re too cocky. that’s yours.”

they fell into a rhythm again, walking side by side as the breeze picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of city streets and damp leaves. their arms brushed again, neither of them pulling away, the warmth of the contact lingering longer than it should.

harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, the smirk on his lips softening slightly. “for the record,” he said, his voice quieter now, “i know exactly where i’m going.”

she smiled, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “good,” she said lightly. “cause i’d hate to have to come back and haunt you if you got me lost.”

their steps grew softer as the buildings behind them thinned out, replaced by clusters of trees swaying in the light breeze. the path curved slightly, the faint hum of traffic fading into the distance.

he walked slightly ahead, his head turning now and then to glance at the towering oaks that lined their path. the trees began to part, revealing the outline of icahn stadium in the near distance. the track and field stretched wide beneath the faint glow of a single overhead light, casting long shadows across the ground. the bleachers stood tall and imposing, their sea of blue seats reaching into the sky like a wave frozen in time.

harry slowed to a stop as they approached, the chain-link fence surrounding the stadium standing between them and the field. he didn’t guide her toward the gate, knowing it would be locked after hours. instead, he stepped closer to the fence, pulling his hand out of his pocket and giving one of the links an experimental tug.

she watched him, her brow furrowing slightly. “if you think we’re going on a run,” she said, her voice flat, “you’ve completely lost it.”

he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as his fingers curled around the chain link. he glanced at her over his shoulder, “shut up and c’mere, cinnamon.”

YN hesitated for half a second, then stepped forward, the grass folding beneath her sneakers. the light breeze brushed against her skin, carrying the faint scent of earth and damp metal. he stepped back slightly, giving her room as she reached for the fence. without waiting for further instruction, she started to climb, her hands gripping the cold metal tightly as she hauled herself upward.

he watched her movements closely, his hands hovering near her hips in case she wobbled. “i got you,” he muttered, his voice soft enough to blend with the wind.

she didn’t respond, focusing instead on the rhythmic pull of her arms as she reached the top of the fence. for a moment, she perched there, the view of the stadium stretching out before her, before swinging one leg over and carefully lowering herself to the other side.

harry gave the fence one last tug, then started climbing after her. his movements were quick and efficient, as though he’d done this a hundred times before. his sleeve bunched at his elbows as he reached the top, pausing briefly to glance down at her. “how’s the weather down there?”

she glanced up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “you’d better not fall. i’m not catching you.”

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he swung over the top and landed easily on the grass beside her. “wasn’t planning on it,” he breathed, brushing his hands off before shoving them back into his pockets.

they stood there for a moment, the quiet of the field settling around them like a blanket. the overhead light flickered slightly, casting their shadows long and thin against the ground.

she stared at him for a moment, then sighed, shaking her head as she followed him. “you’ve got way too much energy for this late at night.”

“and you were too stubborn t’say no.” harry shot back as he walked ahead, his steps light against the rubber surface. “used to hate running, y’know,” he breathed, glancing at YN as he spun around. he walked backward with an ease that made her slightly nervous, like he’d trip over himself any second but never actually would. “hated everything about it—your legs aching, your chest burnin’, that horrible feeling in your throat after.”

she caught up, her pace steady as she smiled faintly, her breath visible in the cool air. “now it’s your thing.”

he paused for a split second, his eyes catching hers in that unreadable way of his. then, to her surprise, he smiled. “yeah,” he nodded slightly. “now it’s my thing.”

the bleachers loomed ahead, their steel frame groaning faintly in the wind. harry reached them first, stepping aside to let her go up. “go on,” he muttered, gesturing upward with a nod. “all the way to the top.”

“what, you’re not going to race me?”

he smiled, his hand brushing against the cold metal railing. “wouldn’t be fair. your legs are shorter than mine.”

she narrowed her eyes but couldn’t help the faint laugh that slipped out. “wow. okay. guess i’ll just take my time then.”

she started up the concrete steps, her hands gripping the railings on either side. the cold bit at her palms, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the steady rhythm of her feet against the uneven surface.

harry followed a few steps behind, his stride naturally longer than hers. “this is painful t’watch,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “are you always this slow, or is it just for me?”

YN stopped abruptly, her hands tightening around the railings as she shifted her weight. her hips jutted out slightly, throwing him off balance as he climbed.

he cursed under his breath, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady himself. his fingers found her hips, his grip firm but fleeting, as though he realized too late what he’d done. “jesus,” he muttered, pulling back as quickly as he’d touched her. “bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

she turned her head just enough to catch the faint flush creeping up his neck. she smirked, leaning her weight into the railing. “sorry—shorter legs and all.”

harry just blinked before the corner of his mouth twitched. he stepped back, his expression a mix of annoyance and reluctant amusement. “you’re a child.”

she laughed softly, turning back to the stairs and continuing her climb. “yeah,” she called over her shoulder, her voice teasing. “but you’re still following me.”

they climbed higher, the steps echoing faintly beneath their feet, but harry's pace started to falter again—restlessness bleeding into his movements. "oh, for god's sake," he laughed, his patience snapping like a brittle thread. his fingers drummed against the railing briefly before he stopped altogether, grasping onto her wrist.

his grin was lopsided, dimples flashing as he let go of her hand and flung himself past her, his long legs taking the steps two at a time as he rushed toward the top. only a second and a half later, she met him up there, finding him standing there with a proud grin, his hands resting on his hips like he'd just conquered something monumental.

“impatience isn’t a virtue, by the way.”

he kept his smile, his dimples cutting deep as he lifted his hand in front of her face, palm out. his fingers wiggled dramatically, “talk to the hand, sista."

she paused, staring at him like she wasn't sure whether to laugh or push him off the railing. her expression cracked first, laughter spilling out before she could stop it. she swatted his hand away from her face as they leaned into each other, his own giggles breaking free in a low, rumbling sound that shook through him.

their laughter folded into each other, her shoulder pressing lightly into his chest as she tried to steady herself, his larger frame giving way slightly under the weight of their shared amusement.

harry’s laughter softened as he reached up, his fingers tugging at the edge of his packers beanie. his curls bounced free as he pulled it off, the cold air nipping at his now-exposed hair. without a word, he stretched his arm around her, carefully plopping the hat onto her head.

“what are you doing?” she asked, her voice laced with with something delicate as she adjusted it, the oversized beanie swallowing her hair and tilting slightly to one side.

“you looked cold,” he said, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. his fingers lingered at the edge of the beanie for just a second before he gave her forehead a gentle push with the flat of his palm.

it wasn’t hard—just enough to tip her head backward a little, like an afterthought, his grin barely contained as she blinked up at him.

“seriously?” YN smiled, tilting her head forward again, a faint laugh escaping as she fixed the hat and gave him a mock glare.

he didn’t reply, already stepping to his left with an exaggerated flourish, gesturing toward the narrow row of faded blue seats that stretched across the top of the bleachers. “c’mon.”

he slid into one of the seats first, his long legs folding awkwardly into the tight space as he leaned back and let out a contented sigh. he patted the seat beside him without looking at her.

she hesitated for a beat, brushing her hair out of her face before following him into the row. the cold metal of the seat pressed through her sweats as she sat down beside him, her knees brushing against his for just a second as she settled.

she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. harry’s beanie slipped forward slightly, brushing against her eyebrows, but she didn’t bother adjusting it. instead, she rested her chin on her knees, her gaze drifting across the empty field below as the wind whistled faintly through the bleachers.

he shifted beside her, digging into the pocket of his sweats. his movements were easy as he pulled out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lime green lighter. sliding a cigarette between his lips, he leaned back, flicking the lighter once, twice

nothing.

his fingers were stiff from the cold, the wind catching the flame before it had a chance to hold. he tried again, his brows furrowing slightly as he muttered something under his breath.

YN turned her head, watching him with quiet curiosity. “you good over there?”

harry’s lips quirked around the cigarette. “just peachy,” he mumbled, his voice muffled as he tried one more time.

without a word, she reached over, her fingers brushing against his as she took the lighter from him. “hold still,” she murmured, leaning sideways as she cupped her hand over the cigarette perched between his lips, shielding it from the breeze.

her movements were practiced, easy, like she’d done this a hundred times before. she flicked the lighter once, and the small flame sprang to life, steady this time. she lit the end of the cigarette, her hand still shielding it from the wind as she glanced up at him. “there.”

harry took a drag, the ember glowing softly in the dim light, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke. his gaze flicked to her, an unreadable expression crossing his face before his lips tilted into a small, lopsided grin.

she shifted back into her seat and pulled the beanie lower over her ears, her chin finding its place against her knees again. they sat in the quiet for a while, the whispers of the wind weaving around them, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or harry’s exhales.

she looked him over, the way his curls danced around his face, the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette, how the ember’s reflection flickered in his eyes. she bit the inside of her cheek before she muttered softly, almost to herself, “you’re british.”

he let out a breathy chuckle, the sound slipping through his nose as he took another pull from the cigarette. he sighed slowly, the smoke curling up into the cold night air before he turned his head toward her, his smirk faint but amused. “good eye, sherlock.”

she kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she prepared to retort, her lips parting—

but harry cut her off before she could. “—cheshire,” he breathed, the word rolling off his tongue in a way that caught her off guard, soft and lilting. “born there, anyway. mum moved me and my sister here when i was thirteen.”

“for a job or..?”

he nodded, the glow of the cigarette tip briefly lighting his features as he took another drag. “she got an offer she couldn’t turn down. packed us up, left everything behind. started over.”

YN tilted her head slightly, watching the way his gaze lingered on the field below, distant but steady. “must’ve been hard.”

he shrugged, “it was… weird. missing home, trying t’fit in here. but she did what she had to do. mum’s always been good at that—doing what has to be done.”

there was a warmth in his voice, a quiet admiration that made her chest tighten. she didn’t push for more, sensing that he’d already said more than he usually would. “your accent is starting to fade,” she said instead, her lips curving into a small smile.

he smiled faintly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “guess so. comes back strong when i’m drunk, though.”

she laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned her eyes back to the field.

he shifted slightly in his seat, his arm brushing hers as he glanced over, his cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. “what about you?”

she blinked, turning her head toward him. “me?”

“yes, you. where’s home?”

she hesitated for a moment, “about an hour north,” she mumbled, her voice carrying the faintest edge of something wistful. “right on the border between here and connecticut.”

he nodded, leaning back slightly as he tilted his head toward her. “family?”

YN huffed a quiet breath, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “brother’s in the army. mom and dad work all the time. and i’m just here.”

his brow furrowed slightly, his eyes studying her for a moment, thoughtful and quiet. “just here?”

she shrugged, hugging her knees closer to her chest as she rested her chin on them again. “yeah. they’re busy, you know? always have been. it’s not bad or anything, it’s just… how it is.”

harry didn’t respond right away, the glow of his cigarette catching the faint flicker of emotion in his gaze. “you don’t go home much, then.”

“no. they’re fine without me. and i’ve got everything i need here. school, this place… the occasional packers beanie to keep me warm.”

he chuckled gently at that, the sound low and warm as he reached out to tug the edge of the beanie further down over her ears.

YN tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the horizon as she broke the silence with a question that felt heavier than the moment. “ever fall in love?”

he turned to her, his brows furrowing slightly at the unexpectedness of it. he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “once or twice.”

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her lips twitching into a faint, almost knowing smile. “yeah,” she said softly. “me too. once or twice.”

his eyes lingered on her, studying the curve of her profile in the dim light. “what happened?”

“life, i guess. we grew apart, wanted different things.” she paused, her fingers idly tugging at her sleeves. “it wasn’t awful. just… wasn’t meant to be.”

he nodded slowly, his eyes drifting to the field below as he leaned back again, stretching his legs out in front of him.“same here.” he sighed. “things got complicated. fell apart before it could really go anywhere.”

YN turned to face him fully now, her cheek resting on her knees as she studied him. “do you think it’s worth it?”

“what, love?”

she nodded.

he was quiet for a beat, his features softening as he mulled over her question. “yeah,” he said finally, his voice low but certain. “for the right person.”

silence.

“—he treat you right?”

“what?”

he flicked the ash off the tip of his cigarette. “the guy you loved. did he treat you right?”

she hesitated before she nodded, check still flush against her knees. “most of the time.”

his jaw twitched at her answer, “most of the time isn’t enough, y’know?”

“think you could do better?” she teased lightly, though there was an edge of genuine curiosity in her tone.

harry turned to her then, his eyes meeting hers, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest smirk. “yeah,” he said simply, taking another drag. “i know i could.”

her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn’t look away. instead, she lifted her chin off her knees, her lips curving into a small, sly smile. “yeah right, harry.”

“i don’t say shit i don’t mean, cinnamon. not like that.”

YN didn’t respond, just shook her head faintly as she turned her head back to the field, her chest tightening in a way she didn’t quite know how to name.

he stayed quiet too, the silence settling over them again, but this time it felt heavier, charged with something unspoken that neither of them was ready to unpack.

he let the cigarette drop to the concrete, the faint glow of its ember dying as he ground it under his sneaker. the scrape of rubber against stone was sharp in the quiet, and then he straightened, towering over YN as her gaze followed him.

“let’s go,” he mumbled, his voice even but lacking the warmth it held earlier.

something had shifted.

it was subtle—barely a flicker—but she felt it. the easy banter from earlier seemed to pull back, replaced by something quieter, something more guarded.

she didn’t question it, though. not yet.

harry gestured toward the steps, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he waited for her to stand.

she sighed softly, pulling his packers beanie tighter over her ears as she rose, the cold biting at her cheeks while she fell into step beside him as they made their way back down the bleachers.

when they reached the chain-link fence again, harry stepped forward first, gripping the metal links as he tested its sturdiness like he had before. he didn’t say anything, only nodded toward the fence as he stepped aside to let her climb.

YN rolled her eyes but moved toward it anyway, her hands curling around the cold metal as she pulled herself up. harry’s hands hovered near her hips just as they had earlier.

she glanced down briefly to meet his eyes before she swung her leg over the top and climbed down the other side.

he followed quickly, his movements smooth and quick, landing on the grass beside her with barely a sound. they fell into step together on the walk back, the cool night air nipping at exposed skin as the distant hum of traffic filled the silence.

harry’s hands stayed buried in his pockets, his head slightly lowered as his long strides matched her shorter ones.

she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, sensing the subtle shift in his demeanor. he wasn’t closed off, not entirely, but there was a distance now, like he was holding something back. "you okay?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the silence.

"mm-hm,” he hummed, his tone even, but distant. "you?"

she nodded, even though something about his shift made her chest feel heavier. "yeah."

she didn’t press, didn’t push. instead, she let the silence stretch between them as their footsteps echoed softly against the pavement.

by the time they reached their building, the city felt quieter, the world around them settling into the stillness of the late night.

and though neither of them said a word as they split, the weight of the unspoken things between them lingered, threading itself into the space they shared.

another few days passed, and the walk back to the apartment felt lighter than usual.

YN had just said goodbye to a friend before rounding the corner to the building, her smile lingering as she adjusted the strap of her bag. it wasn’t often she felt this at ease.

but that lightness disappeared the moment she reached the stairwell.

as she climbed to their floor, her eyes landed on harry. he was standing at his door, his shoulders tense, his head down. his key trembled in his hand, the metal scraping against the lock as he missed the slot for what had to be the third time.

it was wrong. harry was steady. always steady. whether he was handing off a bag of weed or walking down the street like the world revolved around him, he had this uncanny knack for keeping his cool.

but not tonight.

she slowed her steps, her brow furrowing as she got closer. “harry?” her voice cut through the stillness, sharper than she intended.

his head snapped up. for a brief moment, she saw something raw in his eyes—panic, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it came. his mouth twisted into a faint smile, the one he always wore like armor. “you’re back early.” his voice was rough, low, like he’d been grinding it against a wall.

she took a step closer, her eyes scanning him. “was about to say the same thing.” her gaze flicked to his hand, the one holding the key, the knuckles split and bruised.

“what happened to your hand?”

he stiffened, tucking the injured hand into his hoodie pocket. “nothing’.”

“bullshit,” she muttered, shoving her keys and phone into her pockets to free her hands. “let me see.”

he let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “don’t worry about it, cinnamon.”

the nickname barely registered; her focus stayed on him, on the tension in his shoulders, the blood crusting his knuckles. “harry,” she said, her tone firmer now. “you’re bleeding. just let me—”

“it’s fine!” he shouted, his voice cutting.

YN snapped her head back up, averting her gaze from his hidden hands, right to his eyes. his chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow and uneven. she didn’t speak, just stood there, watching the way his jaw tightened like he was trying to swallow something bitter.

he finally sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “fuck.”he mumbled, almost to himself.

she moved closer again, slower this time, her voice softer. “let me help.”

his eyes flicked to hers, guarded but not as sharp. his lips parted, like he wanted to argue, but no words came out.

inside her apartment, the air felt too still, too quiet.

harry sat stiffly at her small kitchen table, his hoodie now pushed back to reveal the messy curls tumbling over his forehead. he cradled his injured hand in his lap, his jaw set as YN dug through her cabinet for the first aid kit.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he muttered, his voice low.

“yeah, well,” she sighed, pulling the kit down with a thud. “i’m doing it anyway.”

when she sat across from him, the silence between them grew heavy. she reached for his hand, but he hesitated, his fingers curling slightly.

“harry.”

he huffed but relented, letting her take his hand in hers.

the damage was worse up close. his knuckles were split and swollen, streaks of blood staining the spaces between his fingers. she inhaled sharply, her brows knitting as she reached for the antiseptic.

“jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head. “what the hell did you do?”

he didn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the floor. when he finally spoke, his voice was flat. “ran into someone.”

she paused, the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball hovering over his knuckles. “like?”

“someone who didn’t want to pay up front.”

her stomach twisted. she pressed the cotton to his knuckles, and he hissed through his teeth, his fingers twitching under hers.

“hold still.” she murmured, her voice softer, airy.

he didn’t respond, just watched her work. her touch was careful but firm, her hands steady as she cleaned the cuts.

“you can’t keep doing this.” she said quietly, not looking up.

harry’s lips twitched, a dry laugh escaping him. “you worried about me?”

YN shot him a look, her expression somewhere between annoyance and concern. “maybe, harry. you ever think about that?”

his smile faded, and for a moment, his eyes softened—just a fraction, but enough for her to notice. “it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing.’” she countered, wrapping a clean bandage around his hand. “you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“maybe.” he whispered, watching her tie off the bandage.

“and you’re okay with that?”

his gaze flicked up to hers, and for a moment, something vulnerable passed between them—something unspoken but heavy. “depends on the day.”

she swallowed hard, her fingers lingering on the edge of the bandage before she leaned back.

“you’re an idiot.” she grumbled, standing to put the kit back in its place.

he grinned faintly, flexing his fingers against the bandage. “yeah, but you’re still patchin’ me up, aren’t you?”

she glanced over her shoulder, her lips pressing into a thin line. “someone has to.”

he stood, his frame filling the small kitchen as he neared the door.

“harry?”

he glanced back, his eyes soft as he looked at her expectantly.

“please be careful.”

his jaw clenched before he managed a tight nod, and then the door clicked shut behind him, leaving YN alone in the silence, the weight of his words—and his presence—lingering in the air.

it was thursday again, and the walk back from their evening lecture became an unspoken agreement.

it wasn’t something they talked about—there were no texts exchanged or plans made. but every tuesday and thursday, as the evening classes let out, they’d meet by the lecture hall’s exit. sometimes harry would already be there, leaning against the wall, pretending he wasn’t waiting. other times, YN would hang back near the doors, scrolling through her phone until she saw him.

tonight was no different.

harry was already outside when she came out of her bio lab, her bag slung over her shoulder and her hair a little messy from tying and retying it during the experiment. he fell into step beside her as they turned toward home, his bandaged hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his backpack slung low over one shoulder.

“that bad?” he asked, glancing at her as she adjusted her strap.

she sighed, shaking her head. “some idiot forgot to label their samples, so the whole lab got an extra hour of let’s go over the basics again.”

harry chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you lot are a buncha losers, huh?”

“says the guy who’s probably failing chem,” she shot back, grinning.

he shrugged, unbothered—simply because it wasn’t true. “aggressively coasting.” he corrected.

what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

she rolled her eyes, giggling despite herself. the conversation drifted, easy and familiar, as they made their way through campus.

it was when they turned onto the last block before their building that harry stopped.

she noticed it immediately—the way his body went still, his eyes narrowing as they flicked to the other side of the street.

a man stood there, leaning against a lamppost, his hands shoved into the pockets of a heavy coat. he wasn’t doing anything—not technically—but there was something about the way he stared at the building’s exit that set harry on edge.

“go inside.”

she frowned, looking at him. “what?”

harry’s jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving the man across the street. “just go inside, YN.”

her confusion deepened as she followed his gaze. “harry, what’s going on?”

he turned to her then, his expression sharper than she’d ever seen it. “i said go the fuck inside.” he snapped, his voice low, biting—the words cutting through the cool evening air like glass.

she flinched, her eyes widening slightly. but before she could say anything, harry was already crossing the street, his shoulders squared and his hands shoved into his pockets.

she stayed where she was, her heart racing as she watched the scene unfold.

harry approached the man with a deliberate calm, his posture loose but his movements sharp. she couldn’t hear the first thing he said, but the man straightened immediately, his eyes narrowing as he looked harry up and down.

the conversation wasn’t loud, but it was tense—harry’s voice low, steady, while the man’s tone was sharper, more aggressive.

she could only catch snippets.

the man stepped closer, his hands twitching at his sides, and for a moment, YN thought it was going to escalate. but harry didn’t flinch. he held his ground, his voice even as he spoke again.

finally, the man pulled something from his pocket—a small bag, crumpled and poorly sealed—and shoved it into harry’s hand. he gave him a look, muttering something under his breath before turning on his heel.

he crossed the street, his shoulders tense, his face hard as stone. when he reached YN, he brushed past her—his shoulder catching hers, a silent signal that screamed follow me.

she hesitated, but only for a second before trailing after him. he didn’t look back as he pushed through the front door of their building, letting it slam shut behind them.

the silence between them stretched thin as they climbed the stairs, harry taking them two at a time, YN struggling to keep up with his longer stride.

“harry,” she started, her breath slightly uneven, “what the hell just happened?”

he didn’t answer, his hand gripping the stairwell railing tightly enough that his knuckles whitened.

“don’t ignore me,” she pressed, her voice sharper now. “who was that guy? why were you acting like—”

“drop it, YN.” he muttered, his voice sharp and clipped, but she wasn’t having it.

“no, i’m not dropping it!” she snapped, her tone cutting through the empty stairwell. “you don’t get to just walk away from this without explaining. i saw the way you looked at him. you knew him, didn’t you?”

he reached their floor and stopped abruptly in the middle of the hall, his back still to her.

“you knew he was trouble the second you saw him,” she continued, stepping closer. “so tell me why, harry. what’s going on—are you okay?”

he turned then, spinning on his heel so fast that she nearly bumped into him. his eyes were clouded, sharp, and for a moment, the force of his glare made her breath catch. “s’not your fucking concern, YN.” he spat, his voice cold and low, each word biting like frost. “it’s not like we’re friends. so just fucking stop.”

she froze mid-sentence, her jaw slack as the words sank in.

harry’s breathing was uneven, his hands balled into fists at his sides, but he didn’t look away.

she closed her mouth, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes stayed locked on his. after a long pause, she gave a single, curt nod. “got it.”

her voice was quiet but sharp, like the edge of a knife.

she stepped around him, her gaze never wavering as she turned toward her unit. the weight of her presence lingered, heavy and unforgiving, even as she unlocked her door and disappeared inside.

he stood there for a moment, staring at the empty hallway. his chest felt tight, his fists still clenched, but he didn’t move. he didn’t look for her.

because if he had, he would’ve followed her. and he wasn’t sure what he’d say—or if it would even make a difference.

[synvil]

Interested // VID : 002 » Viewing Pleasure (( Camgirl! Series ))

a/n : ahhh thank you for the love and support ! <3 feel free to leave thoughts, comments or suggestions, either in the comments or my ask box! :3 picture found online.

btw i can’t fucking think of titles for the life of me.

synopsis : things between you and jj get a little tense. meanwhile another person seems to grow infatuated with you and you’re getting a little excited for your next stream?

agh i’m so bad at titles and summaries ;-;

Vid : 001 // Vid : 003

viewing pleasure m.list

“Add to cart~!”

You squeal in excitement, unable to contain your joy as you make your first purchase online after your payment came in from your first stream.

"Haha, I can't believe it. I can even afford to get same-day delivery."

JJ stands at a distance, watching you with his arms crossed and his lips in a thin line. His eyes are unable to leave your form, constantly trailing up and down your body, always finding itself on the round of your ass. He bites his lip, attempting to be discreet as he taps his fist on the surface of the countertop a few times before clearing his throat. "So, I assume it went well."

“You kidding?” You whirl your head towards him with shining eyes. “It went way better than i thought. I’m so relieved.”

JJ gives a bitter smile, his brow twitching slightly. “So you made some decent money then. That means you’re not going to stream anymore?” He says, making his way over, pulling at his shirt to tuck it over his pants in hopes it covers the visible erection.

“Hmm.. no, I might continue.” You say, watching as he takes a seat beside you, and his brows furrow. “What? I thought you made enough money for rent.”

“well, yeah, but I like being able to make so much money.. and I had a lot more viewers for my first stream than expected.” You reason, setting your phone down after making the purchase. “I mean, I don’t have to stress about finding another job that pays me so little, and with streaming, I can work any time, any day.”

JJ sits up straight as he narrows his eyes at your reasoning. Being able to make money fast was nice but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your body online. “[Name], what about all the creeps online? Who knows what kind of weird old perverts were saving videos and pictures of you?”

Your frown becomes evident on your face, but part of you knew he was right. Streaming wasn’t the safest activity and you didn’t want to sound greedy, but having that much money was more important to you right now. You’d only keep going to make enough to save for bills and stuff, while also saving enough for your own miscellaneous purchases. But..

“I know you’re right but i’ll be okay, J. Besides..” a flush overcomes your cheeks as you shyly look away, feeling embarrassed to admit this to your best friend.

“I kinda liked the attention.. It’s nice hearing and reading everyone complimenting me and liking what they saw. I might do more, but I won’t go crazy with it. I’ll only do it until I make enough in savings.”

JJ hitches a breath, his eyes widening when he hears your confession. It wasn’t anything serious but the way his cock twitches and his heart pounds makes him look away. “You..like showing off your body?”

“Y-Yeah..” You nod in confirmation, pink tints on your cheeks as you look away.

The blonde swallows a bit, holding his breath to gain some control as he turns away. “Shit.”

“JJ?”

“I gotta go. Talk to you later.” He abruptly stands and walks off, heading out of your house and to the door, shutting it behind him as he mounts his truck and drives away.

Your taken back and wonder if your confession drove him away, sighing softly and feeling a bit of guilt filling you up as you turn back to your phone and try to distract yourself.

“Who would’ve thought?..”

Rafe found himself repeatedly looking through your photos on your social media, in disbelief that you were on Kildare Island with him. And it pissed him off knowing how close you were with Maybank, seeing the many pictures of the two of you together.

If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed you two were together.

But how has he never seen you before..? He’s practically grown up with JJ yet he can’t seem to recall ever seeing someone like you around.

Surely he’d remember someone so fucking attractive.. his thumb can’t seem to swipe away from your bikini photos.

Before he could admire any more, Topper sends him a text.

‘Bro, were you watching the link I sent you? Holy shit, she’s so hot. What I wouldn’t give to get a chance to fuck her.’

Rafe scoffs at the text as he rolls his eyes. Of course he noticed Topper's user donating money to your stream as well. Topper was really irritating sometimes. It seems all he could care about was sex and money. You definitely seemed like the type of person who was very sweet, innocent and pure.. someone who he could easily destroy and corrupt from how petite you were, as he hovers over you and slowly travels his hands down to your cunt, the same pussy you were rubbing just yesterday and—

“What the fuck?”

Rafe lets out a shaky breath, catching himself and his thoughts, unaware of his hardened cock in his tight jeans, the desperation to be freed evident from how painful it was becoming.

He brings his hand down and palms himself for a moment, doing anything to relieve himself before he grunts and pulls his hand away. There was no way he was going to be jerking off to someone he didn’t even know existed until now.

“Shit, I need some fucking air.” And despite the restricting pain of his jeans against his cock, he swipes his keys off his desk and heads out, taking his bike on a ride.

"Ugh, so damn stubborn." JJ plops down on his couch, dragging a hand over his face as he inhales heavily. He pulls out his phone and finds himself scrolling through social media. The blonde was sitting at home, frustrated at your insistence to keep streaming. Surely you made enough to cover rent for the next month or so, so why did you want to keep streaming for everyone to see?

It fills him to the brim with jealousy. No one should be looking at you in that way. Much less, a particular kook.

Shit, he was so distracted by you that he forgot what happened during your stream. "Fucking Cameron.. the nerve of that bastard." He scowls, conflicted about what to be more annoyed at. You continuing to stream or Rafe Cameron being one of your viewers.

“Delivery!”

Pounding on the door snaps JJ from his thoughts as he looks up from his phone, thumb instinctively shutting off the device to hide the fact that he was sifting through the photos of you two together. “Comin’!”

With a sigh, the blonde runs a hand through his hair as he makes his way out of his room towards the door. He opens the front door to see a familiar man behind the screen and he feigns a smile. “Rich, always a pleasure.”

Growing up on Kildare meant a lot of the residents knew each other, including the delivery man, who had a mutual disliking towards JJ, grimacing at the sight.

But JJ merely just shares a playful grin. “It wouldn’t kill you to smile, y’know. Afraid you’ll get wrinkles?” He jokes and the man rolls his eyes. “Shut it, Maybank. You’re lucky I don’t throw your damn package in the ocean.”

JJ gasps at that, widening his eyes childishly. “Well, that’s not very environmentally friendly!” He laughs as he takes the box from his hands. “But anyway, what the hell is this? I didn’t order anything.”

“Well, it’s not my problem now.” Rich hands over the device and pen for JJ’s signature. JJ fiddles with the box, inspecting it curiously before taking the device to sign. “What is it?”

Grunting in annoyance, the delivery man swipes the device from Jj’s hands. “The fuck should I know? Piss off, Maybank.”

Scoffing at the rudeness, JJ turns around and kicks the door shut with his foot before walking over to the counter in the kitchen. He finally sees the address line on the box and recognizes his house address but the name piques his interest.

“[Name]?” He murmurs, confusion lacing his eyes as he pulls out his phone. “Must’ve forgot to change it from last time..” He taps along the screen before reaching your contact.

« [Nickname] / Princess 😘😍 »

Out of curiosity, as he’s typing away a message, he goes over to a drawer and pulls out a pocket knife before heading back over to the package. It must've been the package you had ordered earlier.

‘Hey, a package came to my house with your name on it. Think it got sent here by mistake. Want me to drop it off?’

Once sent, JJ sets aside his phone and cuts through the top of the box with ease, expecting it to be some clothes or such you bought for yourself.

But the item inside was completely unexpected.

JJ’s mouth becomes dry as he attempts to wet it by swallowing whatever he could as he looks inside.

Inside the box was a remote controlled, vibrating toy.

“D-Did she buy this for her next stream..?” JJ breathily exhales, his jaw clenching at the way his hardening cock twitches at the imagination of you rubbing the vibrating wand over your clit, and the possible lewd noises you’d illicit.

“Fuck..” Maybe another stream couldn’t hurt. He was conflicted. He couldn’t let you do this on camera, but he’d be damned if the thought didn’t excite him. His mind reverts back to your words.

‘“I kinda liked the attention..”

“Y-You liked showing off your body?”

“Yeah..”’

JJ clears his throat as he closes back up the box, finding a roll of tape in his drawer and securing it back up before setting it somewhere else for you.

As he sets it down, his phone buzzes from a text from you.

‘DON’T OPEN IT JJ! I’ll come by and pick it up soon’

JJ grunts at the message and exhales sharply, turning off his phone. “Too late..” He mutters under his breath.

“Thanks, J. I’ll try and stop by later tonight. Need anything while I’m out?” You take the box from his hands, JJ seemingly uncharacteristically avoiding your direct gaze. Regardless, he shakes his head as he clears his throat, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his arms. “Hey- So, you’re streaming today?”

You carry the box towards your car, visibly relieved to see it untouched and smile lightly before turning to JJ. “Yeah, why? You gonna try and talk me out of it again?”

“No-! No-“ He clears his throat again when he realizes his outburst and awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “Uh, just- good luck, y’know. I’m sure it’ll be great. And hey- we can reschedule tonight if you’re not feeling up to it.”

You set the box on the bottom of your car in the back and furrow your brows at his words. “Thanks. But we’ll see. I should be able to come over on time if I’m not busy, but i’ll let you know.”

“Of course.” The blonde manages a smile, sending you finger guns before he waves you off. “Drive safe.”

Entering your car, you wave goodbye before pulling out and driving towards the Yacht Club, on the border of the Cut and Figure Eight.

“Dude, you should’ve watched til the end of the stream. It was amazing.”

Topper’s voice is heard when Rafe Cameron steps onto the large dock, walking past various other patrons on the benches and tables, and stepping up to the bar where Topper and Kelce stood.

Kelce shakes his head at Topper’s gushing. “Nah, man, streamers aren’t my thing. I mean, why would I spend so much on some girl i don’t even know and won’t even get to touch.” Kelce notices Rafe approaching and nods at him in acknowledgment. “Hey, you agree with me right?”

“Agree with what?” Rafe says as he stands beside them and Topper scoffs lightly. “You watched the link I sent you right? God, she’s so hot. You should’ve seen what she did before she ended her stream. I bet she’s streaming again today.”

Rafe barely manages to hide his eye roll, his hands clenching into fists. If he was holding a glass, he was almost sure he’d crack it. Something in him stirred the more Topper talked about you, and it made him angry. He had to maintain his self control before he punched the shit out of him.

But it made Rafe confused. Why was he so angry every time Topper opened his stupid fucking mouth? He had the exact same thoughts about you.

Was it because another man was talking about you? It wasn’t like you were his. He hardly even knew you. Is it jealousy?

Tch. Rafe Cameron, jealous? He hasn’t felt jealous since years ago, when his then still alive father was always favoring his sister over him. Rafe Cameron was not jealous.

He barely pays attention to Kelce and Topper, and instead catches a familiar voice nearby.

“Thanks, Sofia. It was actually more helpful than I thought, so thanks for telling me about it.”

“No problem, [Name]. I actually watched it last night, you were great.” Her playful wink makes you laugh a bit bashfully and embarrassingly as you wave it off. “I’m still a bit shy but I think what I bought today will help me a little more this time.”

Sofia slides something across the counter for you and you send a grateful smile as you pick it up. “Thanks. Good luck with the rest of your shift. I should be free this weekend if you’re down to hang out.”

“Actually, this weekend was when I was planning to stream.” She says apologetically and you only grin at her. “I’ll be watching you then. I could learn a thing or two.”

You both share giggles with one another before she’s called somewhere else and waves goodbye to you. You wave farewell and take the item off the counter before turning away.

But as soon as you do so, you meet eyes with someone, who’s staring intensely at you with parted lips, almost like they couldn’t believe you were standing before them.

Giving an awkward smile, you pull yourself away from the counter and turn to leave, heading back to your car.

“Time to go.”

a/n : so ima be honest, i didn’t fully watch every episode of obx, so idk how completely accurate the places are and the availability of pogues being able to just enter these establishments, so im changing it up to just being, whoever’s got the money can come in, even though im sure a lot of country clubs and such are invitations only.

anyhoo hoped you all enjoyed! i’m actually tryna figure out how to get more involvement with Rafe and how to get him introduced- like should he walk up to her or dm her orrr ya. any suggestions would be lovely!! <3

spoiler : i have a plan to invite one of them on stream or one to practice off camera ;)

AH SHIT I POSTED WITHOUT THE TAGS CAN PPL SEE THIS PLS

taglist : @haruvalentine4321 @lilithblackkk @sleepiibunniiii @kiiyomei @mariamadison6-blog @livinobx @doesnt-care

unedited nor proofread.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Springtrap x Reader | Summary: Your uncle has asked you to keep watch over his new investment, Fazbear Frights, and the vintage artifacts his attraction contains. When you begrudgingly accept his offer, things take a turn for the weirder. An encounter in your dreams with a yellow rabbit changes you…for better, or worse?

Heads up: This fic is not for everybody, and that’s okay! It’s a fucked-up fever dream and if the summary intrigues you, come along for the ride. If not, that’s okay too. Things get heavy here. There’s monsterfucking, dream sex, vaginal penetration, some choking, fear, lust, disgust, basically a whole grab bag of fuckery, so if that’s your thing, read on, dear deviant 🫵♥️ PS the end is kind of fire, I love a good twist!!!

To be honest, you thought the idea of opening a theme park ‘attraction,’ based on the mysterious disappearances of children was fucked up. But your uncle was convinced there was a market for such a sick endeavor, that an audience existed whose search for thrills and chills would have them willing to shed money for a chance at experiencing horrific local nostalgia.

Because really, who wouldn’t want to relive the tragedy of multiple kids going missing? You were being sarcastic, of course. But part of that sarcasm stemmed from genuine bewilderment. What was your uncle thinking when he formed the concept of Fazbear Frights? He’d always been into horror as a genre, but as far as you’d understood, his interest was confined to books and film, not true crime. And if the subject matter of the Freddy’s story had involved the tragic disappearance of local adults, maybe Fazbear Frights wouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. But kids had gone missing, lives had been upended, and your uncle was about to make a profit off of their heartache.

The worst part of all? You’d accepted his offer to work there. The cost of life after college was kicking your ass; you could barely afford your rent as it was, working two part-time jobs. Money was more than tight; you needed extra cash wherever you could find it. And besides, the Fazbear Frights gig would only last a couple of weeks, just until the attraction opened. Your uncle’s job offer had been to monitor the security of the place overnight, with generous pay promised. You couldn’t understand why he’d be willing to pay someone to guard a bunch of creepy old relics from an abandoned pizza parlor, or why additional security was necessary when the theme park itself already had an overnight guard? Your uncle maintained that additional security was needed, and that he only trusted family with the responsibility of protecting such an important investment as his precious, twisted attraction…

Entering Fazbear Frights, your first impression is that it’s really fucking ugly. Granted, it’s supposed to look old fashioned, and maybe the building’s creepiness is simply proof of good set design. However, a sense of unease lingers in your stomach, and you’re almost positive it’s caused by something beyond the decor. The attraction is fully furnished, but won’t open for a couple more weeks while the finishing touches on lighting and sound are tweaked. Those changes are made during the day, when at least a little sunlight can be seen filtering in through the windows, reminding you there’s life outside. For your part, working the night shift, the dark building makes you feel secluded and more than a little creeped out.

You have a flashlight, and mostly functional electricity running through the building. But there’s still much to be desired in the way of making the attraction feel…not haunted. And it occurs to you that that’s the word which describes how you’re feeling: haunted. The hairs on your skin are standing at attention, a cold sweat clinging to the back of your neck, but why? Obviously the setting is creepy, but it’s meant to be. You’re usually comfortable around spooky decor. It’s not as if you’re a scared kid wandering the halls of a haunted house alone…but that’s how you this place makes you feel…

It’s getting late. An outdated digital clock (probably a relic from the late eighties itself) on the desk in front of you reads 3 AM. You shiver as yet another cold breeze whispers past your shoulders. You look around, studying the vintage posters on the wall, wondering how much money your uncle threw away in order to call these scraps his own. The figures staring back at you look menacing, despite their wide smiles. They’re called animatronics, you remember. That’s how your uncle had referred to them. You also recall his mentioning one animatronic in particular, a Freddy’s original he’d managed to get his hands on and would be bringing to Fazbear Frights. You haven’t seen it yet, and to be totally honest, you’re not sure you want to. If the animatronic your uncle purchased looks anything like the ones in the posters you’re staring at, you’d prefer to never encounter such a creature…

Re-entering the theme park feels like walking through the gates of Hell. You’d rather be anywhere else than here. Another night of spending six hours alone in the gloomy replica of a literal crime scene has your stomach twisting. And you didn’t sleep well, either. Your dreams had been too vivid to allow you rest. You’d dreamed of a monster, or something that could certainly be called one…a massive, towering figure with patchy, mustard-yellow fur clinging to its skeletal frame. It resembled a rabbit, or had, at some point long ago. While still maintaining the general shape of a rabbit, its appearance had decayed, warping its cuddly features into something ugly. Its eyes were cold gray orbs that rested deep in its oversized, vacant skull, tendons and ligaments intertwined with wires that wrapped its skeleton, which you later realized, was comprised of metal rather than bone.

Your senses had been particularly keen in the dream. The rabbit’s scent was stale, yet comfortingly nostalgic. It reminded you of an old quilt your grandmother had once given you from the bottom of her dresser drawer, which smelled of love and other ancient, homemade things. She’d wrapped you up inside it, with kisses and promises that the chilly winter night wouldn’t be as cold now, that the quilt had been waiting there in the dresser for years, waiting for someone who needed it…

The rabbit’s fur was coarse, your skin a soft contrast when you wrapped your arms around its waist. It felt like the outdoor carpet that had lined your parents’ back porch, which your feet and rain had pelted countless Summer nights. The rabbit’s fur was cool to the touch, moist with something bittersweet, a musky blend of old books with yellowed pages, their corners turned down and words lined in pencil…

And against your lips, that was also his taste, his tongue the flavor of nostalgia, his large, unbearably strong hands crushing your body against his like he intended to make love to and ruin you all at once. Whether or not he consisted of machine or animal, he was more human than anything else, fully formed with the parts needed to bring you to a state of rapture. He held you suspended, your legs around his waist, fucking up into you with more vigor than his decayed appearance would suggest him capable of. You clutched his back, and then his ears, locking your fingers around them and bracing for impact as each of his mechanical, brutal thrusts punched inside you with a machine’s precision…

You’d woke up in a state of climax, your body drenched with sweat. The sheet beneath you had been ripped from the mattress, balled into tight fists. Your chest heaved, your bare breasts glistening with perspiration. Your cunt was pulsing, fluttering with the aftershocks of a powerful orgasm. Arousal dripped down your quivering thighs, onto the mattress which was soaking wet beneath you.

A shower and breakfast had done little to calm the questions racing through your mind. What the hell was that? Your dreams were rarely as vivid, as visceral, as the one about the rabbit. And as for the sex…it had been the best sex you’d had in a dream, ever. And it had been with what must surely have been a monster…

You hope your six hours at Fazbear Frights will go quickly tonight, partially because you’re still a little unsteady and aroused from your dream this morning. Additionally, you’re looking forward to sleep, because maybe the rabbit will be waiting for you when you close your eyes, again?

Unexpectedly, your uncle meets you at the staff entrance of Fazbear Frights. He seems excited about something, and you’re grateful for a distraction from your thoughts of the rabbit. “Hey kid,” your uncle greets you with a friendly wave. “How’d it go last night?”

“Alright,” you reply. “It’s a little creepy in there, but that’s the point, isn’t it?”

You don’t miss the subtle gleam in your uncle’s eyes, revealing how pleased he is that his attraction is having its desired effect. “That’s right,” he says cheerfully. “Gotta give the people what they want. And what they want-.” He turns his key in the lock and pulls the door open for the two of you. “-Is the authentic Freddy Fazbear experience. Which is why I’m here tonight.” He lets you step past him into the building, and locks the door behind you both. “-To show you the part of my collection that’ll really have people talking. We just brought him in today-you’ve got to see him…”

You grimace visibly. “It’s the fucking animatronic, isn’t it?” you groan, and your uncle rolls his eyes.

“Yes it is, sourpuss,” he teases. “And trust me when I tell you, it’s gonna make this place really feel like Freddy’s, like you’re stepping inside a time capsule or something.”

Your uncle led you down a hallway to one of the doors marked STAFF ONLY . “He’s showing his years of course,” your uncle continued, searching his ring for a different key. “I mean, this animatronic sat abandoned for thirty years; of course he’s gonna look a little rough around the edges.”

Your uncle finds the appropriate key and jiggles it inside the lock. “But just knowing that we, Fazbear Frights, have our hands on the one and only Spring Bonnie-.” He sighs proudly. “-It reminds me how much all of this was worth it, y’know? Now that he’s here, back in his element. Where he belongs.”

Your eyebrow lifts in curiosity; you resist the urge to laugh in your uncle’s face. “You do realize you sound just a little bit crazy, right?” you question him. “Talking about this thing like it’s a real person or something. Don’t tell me-.” You lean in, whispering. “-You talk to it sometimes, don’t you?”

Your uncle pauses before whispering back, “yeah, but, the only time I really feel crazy is when he responds…”

You giggle at that, watching while your uncle pulls the door open wide. “Here he is, (Y/N),” your uncle declares, beaming in the doorway. “The yellow rabbit himself. Spring Bonnie in the flesh-err, I mean, fur…”

For a moment, you assume you must be dreaming. Because you find yourself looking at the exact same rabbit from your dream this morning. He looks different, sat on the floor, leaning against the far wall; but it’s unmistakably him. Your uncle watches your expression, slightly confused. “Is he really that scary?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

You take a step forward, curiosity overriding your apprehension. The rabbit is large, just as large as he was in your dream. Even seated on the floor, you can tell his height is substantial. Tentatively, you reach for the rabbit’s face, stroking his musty-scented fur tenderly.

“D-be careful!” your uncle frets behind you, adding, “that thing was very expensive-be gentle with him-,” but his concerns aren’t necessary. You know this rabbit…intimately well. And once you’re alone with him again, you’ll make sure to take excellent care not to damage him in your…exertion…

“What did you say his name was?” you ask, gazing into the rabbit’s steely eyes. Your uncle clears his throat, obviously perplexed by the care you seem to feel for a decaying animatronic you had no interest in seeing only moments ago. “Uh, Bonnie,” he replies. “Spring Bonnie.”

“Bonnie,” you repeat, allowing the word to sink over your tongue. “That means beautiful, doesn’t it?”

Your uncle nods, still confused, and glances at his watch. “Well, it’s just about midnight,” he says. “Time for me to head out. Come walk me to the door, will ya?” He pretends to shiver. “This place gives even me the creeps at night, to be totally honest.”

You choose to leave the rabbit (for now). “I’ll be back,” you whisper against his ear, quietly enough that your uncle doesn’t hear. He’s waiting for you in the doorway, a warm smile on his face, your fascination with the yellow rabbit a fleeting curiosity to him, and nothing more. Once you’re sure your uncle is gone, you exhale a sigh of relief. Locking the door behind you feels like sealing the world away completely; and in contrast to yesterday, that kind of isolation is now exactly what you want. Your heart thuds against your chest like a horse’s hooves, skipping beats as you turn for the hall.

You’ve bunched your skirt around your waist, your shoes clicking loudly in the empty hall. Heavy rain pelts the tin roof as you round the corner that leads to him. In the doorway, a tall, familiar figure stands. His gray eyes flash cold as steel, locking you in place at the opposite end of the hallway.

Thunder growls outside. The building’s electricity spits in and out, crackling around you like fireflies caught in a jar. Your heart’s in your throat, lips spreading into a wide smile. The hall goes dark, lit only by the steely gaze of the yellow rabbit...

…until suddenly, even his eyes disappear, and you’re left engulfed by an all-consuming darkness.

Lightning flashes, illuminating the hand reaching for you. Robotic, aluminum fingers draped with rotting yellow fur close around your throat, silencing the scream beneath them. The rabbit lifts you by the throat till you’re completely suspended, feet dangling limp and useless beneath you. His sour breath reeks of rotten meat and dried blood, the kind of smell that instinctively alerts you to danger. Your eyes roll back, surrender sinking over you as you accept your fate.

But as quickly as he seized you, the rabbit yields. You feel the cold, filthy tile meet your cheek as you land against it. Through gauzy vision, you make out the metallic feet of the rabbit standing before you, his endoskeleton clearly visible. He takes hold of your hair, and tugs you upright, holding you in place as your trembling legs cannot sustain you. His eyes bore deeply into yours, chortled breath leaving his mechanical chest in a slow, grotesque pant. When he speaks, your whole body shivers.

“You…” the rabbit murmurs, his wide jaw cracking, fleshy tendons stretching. The curdled timbre of his voice betrays the smile on his lips; the rabbit is glad to see you.

“How…long…” he snarls. “…has it been…?” He drags a thick, soiled finger across your cheek, the gesture unexpectedly tender. “…Since anyone desired me…?”

Your chest is heaving, conflicting emotions of every kind overwhelming you. A sick cocktail of fear and arousal throbs in your belly, keeping time with your pounding heart.

“P-please,” you stutter, tears bleeding down your cheeks. “Don’t h-hurt me…”

The rabbit tilts his head to the side, thinking. His hooded eyes wash over you, this tiny little creature in his hands, pleading mercy from him.

“Mmm,” the rabbit hums, his skeletal chest vibrating like a lion’s purr. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

You gasp as his touch glides from your face to your chest, his big paw closing over your breasts. He groans at the feeling of your heartbeat thundering against his palm. “I’d forgotten,” he says. “How a woman’s pulse feels…the proof of her life, beating in the palm of my hand…”

With his other paw, the rabbit clutches the back of your head and draws you closer. The stench of rot, of horror and decay, cannot repulse you anymore…not when his tongue has breached the barrier of your lips, the thick, sinewy muscle undulating against your tongue in a wet bed of perversion. His bulky fingers lodge between your thighs. Immediately, you begin to grind against the textured fur, wetting his mechanical digits with your arousal.

Seized by a sudden courage, you lift your hips in a way that has you poised atop one of the rabbit’s fingertips, his damp appendage resting against your entrance. He obliges your silent request, allowing you to sink over his thick finger, taking him as far as you can.

The thunder inside you eclipses the storm outside. You moan filthy, disgusting praises as he pleasures you, all sense of fear long-abandoned in exchange for the fulfillment of your most hedonistic desires. His fat, coarse digit strokes you like it was made for you to ride, reaching places inside you no part of any man ever has. You’re going dumb on top of him, so dumb you don’t even notice when the rabbit gently eases you onto the ground.

He’s under you now, his back pressed against the wall, his paw of a hand still clutching your cunt, letting you use his fingers to get yourself off. A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbles up from his bony chest. “Just look at you,” he murmurs, his steely eyes heavy with lust. “Bouncing on my lap like a slutty little rabbit, aren’t you?”

His lewd words and husky tone send you over the edge. Your body convulses on top of him, the muscles at your core clenching around the rabbit’s touch, sucking his fat appendage rhythmically as you ride out your high…

“Fucking Christ!” A man’s voice bleats through the hallway like a frightened animal. You whip your head to see him, blinded instantly by the beam of his flashlight. He’s wearing a shirt that identifies him as the theme park’s security, and as your eyes follow up to his face, you’re met with the wide-eyed gaze of unfiltered horror staring back at you. His flashlight shakes wildly in his hand, catching the rabbit’s skeletal leg in its beam. Confusion sets over you…followed by shame. Because the rabbit is now as he was when you arrived there tonight…sat against a wall, unmoving and limp, no more than a broken machine overcome by decay. But unlike earlier, you’re now sat straddling the broken machine, your cum dripping down its tattered fur…your hands locked around one of the animatronic’s arms, lodging his hand between your thighs…one of his fingers buried deep inside your cunt…

The guard clears his throat; you force yourself to meet his eyes. “Th-there was a c-.” He clears his throat again, blinking to focus. “-County-wide power outage, miss…I knew you were um, keepin’ watch over the place for your uncle, and uh-.” He swallows, forcing his eyes from dropping to the place where your body and the animatronic are joined. “-I th-thought you might be spooked in here, alone-.” He glances at the rabbit, then back to you. “-in the dark…”

Frustrated tears burn at the corners of your eyes, your cheeks hot with humiliation. Carefully, you ease the rabbit’s finger out of your cunt, wincing as the metal scratches your skin. Somehow, it didn’t hurt before. You smooth your skirt down, concealing your nakedness but none of your shame.

Standing in the beam of the guard’s flashlight, you summon every bit of the (minimal) pride you have left to tell him, “thank you. That was very kind of you, to come check on me.”

He licks his lips nervously, eyes darting between you and the animatronic propped against the wall. His flashlight illuminates the perverse scene, revealing your cum still glistening on the rabbit’s fur. The fear in the guard’s expression has softened to a pitying disgust.

“I think it’s time for you to go home, miss,” he says. You wipe a tear from your cheek, glancing back at the animatronic one last time, before leaving Fazbear Frights (and your rabbit) behind, forever…

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ chapter two ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ season one | episode one | part two

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! please note this is a squid game fanfiction featuring original characters! read more about the main characters in this post and see the story masterlist for other chapters, i hope you enjoy reading! 🤍 read the previous chapter here!

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah sat on a worn wooden bench in the gloomy park, her phone grasped in her trembling hands after ending the call with albina. the night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fallen leaves, yet she hardly noticed. her thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the conversation she had just had. she couldn’t fathom the kind of life her cousin lived, the effortless luxury, the endless choices of designer handbags and clothing, the frivolous worries about which pair of heels best matched an evening gown. it wasn’t resentment that carved itself in her chest. no, she would never wish misfortune upon albina. if anything, she was grateful her cousin had never known the kind of suffering she had endured. but still, the contrast between their worlds was staggering.

˚ ༘♡ her phone screen lit up again, breaking her trance. an email notification. her heart sank before she even opened it. a bank statement. another overdue payment. another month without even touching the mountain of debt looming over her. her lips parted in a shaky exhale as her eyes scanned the familiar words, outstanding balance, interest accrued. seventy million won. she had taken out too many loans, grasping at any means to cover her mother’s medical expenses and keep a roof over her head. it hadn’t been a choice. it had been survival.

˚ ༘♡ although, these days, survival was slipping through her fingers. her grueling twelve-hour shifts as a waitress barely covered her rent and food. each paycheck disappeared the moment it arrived, leaving nothing for the debts that only grew larger with each passing month. she had never told albina about this. how could she? her cousin, who had never worried about money a single day in her life, could never understand what it was like to live on the edge of ruin.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah lowered her head, her gaze locked onto the glaring numbers on her screen. her fingers clenched around the device as the stress of it all sank onto her shoulders, pressing down until she felt she could hardly breathe. if she didn’t find a way to pay soon, the consequences would be severe.

˚ ༘♡ “excuse me, miss.”

˚ ༘♡ a voice, smooth, deep, and unfamiliar, cut through the silence. seong-ah flinched, her head snapping up in alarm. beside her stood a man, tall and poised, dressed in a sleek black suit that clung perfectly to his frame. his shoes, polished to a mirror shine, barely reflected the dim streetlights above. in one hand, he carried a leather briefcase. he met her gaze with a pleasant smile, his expression courteous. something about him set her on edge.

˚ ༘♡ “sorry, sir, i’m busy right now,” seong-ah muttered, shifting uncomfortably as she slid to the far end of the bench, putting distance between herself and the stranger. a well-dressed man approaching her at night made her wary. his pristine shoes, expensive suit, and charming demeanor didn’t belong in this dimly lit park, especially at this hour. if he was some kind of salesman, why would he be working this late? and if he wasn’t, then what did he want?

˚ ༘♡ “i promise this won’t take too much of your time,” he said smoothly, his tone pleasant but unwavering. there was an ease to the way he spoke, as if he had done this before, as if he expected her to listen.

˚ ༘♡ she watched warily as he placed his briefcase on his lap, flicking open the metal clasps with a crisp click. the case opened with practiced precision, revealing its contents, two folded paper tiles, one red, one blue, and beneath them, stacks of neatly arranged banknotes. crisp, fresh won bills. seong-ah’s breath caught in her throat. she had not expected him to be carrying so much money with him. her gaze went to his face, searching for an explanation, but he only smiled, patient, unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ “would you like to play a game with me?”

˚ ༘♡ her stomach contorted with agitation. this had to be a trick. a scam. but what kind of scam involved this? she forced herself to meet his gaze. “what game?”

“˚ ༘♡ “ddakji,” he answered. “the rules are quite simple. you choose one of these paper tiles and try to flip your opponent’s tile using enough force. if you succeed, you win.” he leaned forward slightly, pushing the briefcase a little closer to her. “the winner earns one hundred thousand won per round.”

˚ ༘♡ one hundred thousand won per round. her mouth went dry.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah’s first instinct was to refuse. she wasn’t foolish enough to believe money came this easily. but as she hesitated, her mind returned to the email she had just read, the ever-growing debt suffocating her, the hopeless cycle of working demanding shifts only to be left with barely enough for rent. she thought of her mother’s hospital bills, the notices piling up, the relentless phone calls from debt collectors.

˚ ༘♡ what choice did she have?

˚ ༘♡ her fingers twitched slightly, but she still hesitated.

˚ ༘♡ the man smiled purposefully, sensing her reluctance. “it’s only a game,” he assured her, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah swallowed, her pulse quickening. maybe it was just a game. maybe she had a chance to win.

˚ ༘♡ “fine,” she said, voice more strained than she intended. “i pick blue.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded, pleased. “alright then, i’ll take red.”

˚ ༘♡ he stood up, his movements graceful, precise. he placed the red paper tile carefully on the ground, flattening it against the concrete with the palm of his hand. then he stepped back, gesturing to her. “you go first.”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah stared down at the folded tile, its edges slightly frayed from previous games. her fingers tightened around the blue tile. she had never played ddakji before, not even as a child. she remembered sang-woo mentioning it once, something about playing it with his friends in school.

˚ ༘♡ her heart pounded as she raised her arm. she waited for only a second before she swung down with all the force she could muster, slamming the blue tile against the red.

˚ ༘♡ the impact echoed slightly in the empty park. the red tile didn’t budge.

˚ ༘♡ his smile didn’t fade. if anything, it seemed to deepen as he extended a hand toward her.

˚ ༘♡ “you lost,” he said, his voice tranquil and unbothered. “so you now owe me one hundred thousand won.”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah stiffened. a sharp chill crawled up her spine.

˚ ༘♡ “i don’t…” her voice faltered, her throat tightening. panic swelled in her chest, pressing against her ribs like a vice. she had known, known, this was too good to be true. but she had wanted to believe, if only for a singular instance, that luck might finally be on her side. “i don’t have one hundred thousand won.”

˚ ༘♡ the man didn’t look surprised. in fact, he still smiled, as if he had expected this all along.

˚ ༘♡ “i see,” he murmured, his tone light, bordering on playful. “in that case, you can pay me back with your body.”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah blinked. confusion melding with a sudden surge of dread. “what?” she whispered.

˚ ༘♡ before she could process his words, before she could demand an explanation or recoil in disgust, his hand came down, fast and brutal. a sharp crack sounded in the empty park.

˚ ༘♡ her head snapped to the side, pain blooming hot and immediate across her cheek. she nearly lost her balance, staggering on weak legs, barely managing to keep herself from collapsing onto the pavement. for a split second, she couldn’t think. couldn’t breathe.

˚ ༘♡ then, slowly, she turned back to face him, her vision blurring at the edges.

˚ ༘♡ the salesman was still smiling.

˚ ༘♡ “what the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her voice shaking, half from anger, half from the searing sting on her skin.

˚ ༘♡ “for the amount you owe me,” he said, his tone infuriatingly friendly, as if he were discussing the weather, “i’ll take off one hundred thousand won per slap.”

˚ ༘♡ he cocked his head to the side, watching her with polite amusement. “would you like to play another round?”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah’s hands clenched into fists. her pride screamed at her to walk away, to tell him to go to hell, to cling to whatever dignity she had left. but then she thought about her mother. the hospital bills. the phone calls from collectors. one hundred thousand won could cover her medication for a few weeks.

˚ ༘♡ her heart pounded against her ribs, hard enough to hurt. “… alright,” she forced out, barely above a whisper. “one more round.”

˚ ༘♡ she lost.

˚ ༘♡ another slap. harder this time. the sting deepened into a raw burn, her skin throbbing under the cold night air.

˚ ༘♡ she lost again.

˚ ༘♡ another blow. the impact sent a sharp pain shooting through her jaw, making her eyes water. she bit down on her tongue to stop herself from making a sound.

˚ ༘♡ again.

˚ ༘♡ her head jerked violently to the side, and for a minute, the world ebbed into a hazy blur.

˚ ༘♡ she could feel her cheek swelling, the skin hot and tender. but she had no time to dwell on it because it was her turn again.

˚ ༘♡ she took a breath. steadied her trembling hands. this time, when she struck the blue tile down, the red one flipped.

˚ ༘♡ she had won.

˚ ༘♡ the salesman chuckled softly, almost as if he were impressed. he bent down, retrieving a crisp bill from his briefcase, and handed it to her. one hundred thousand won.

˚ ༘♡ she should have felt relieved. she should have thanked him. but the stinging pain on her face made it impossible to force the words out. instead, she gave a forced nod, her fingers curling tightly around the bill.

˚ ༘♡ he studied her for a while, his gaze sharp and intrusive. then, casually, he spoke. “you can win much more money by playing games such as this one for a few days,” he said, his voice inviting.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah swallowed hard, her pulse pounding against her ribs, each beat echoing in her ears like a warning. her hands, already quivering, clenched the crisp banknote between trembling fingers. her cheek still ached from the repeated slaps, the lingering sting a painful remnant of how far she had allowed herself to go for money.

˚ ༘♡ this was wrong. all of it. every fiber of her being screamed that she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be entertaining whatever this man was offering. she forced herself to speak, though her throat felt tight. “i don’t know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

˚ ༘♡ it was the truth. she didn’t know what this was. she didn’t know who this man really was or what he wanted from her. all she knew was that there was something off, something peculiar lurking beneath his pleasant smile and polite words.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t look disappointed by her uncertainty. without a word, he reached into the inner pocket of his sleek black suit and pulled out a small card, holding it between two fingers. then, with the same unsettling ease, he extended it toward her.

˚ ༘♡ the card was plain, smooth beneath her fingertips. no name. no company logo. just three simple symbols printed on the front, a square, a circle, and a triangle.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah took the card and turned it over. a phone number.

˚ ༘♡ “give me a call,” the salesman said, his voice lighthearted, as if he were offering her nothing more than a casual business opportunity.

˚ ༘♡ then, without waiting for her response, he snapped his briefcase shut with a decisive snap, stood to his full height, and adjusted his dapper suit jacket.

˚ ༘♡ he smiled one last time and bid her farewell before turning on his heel and walking away, his polished shoes clicking softly against the pavement.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah sat motionless on the wooden bench, watching as his figure disappeared into the darkness of the park, swallowed by the night. the card felt heavy in her hands. the night was ominously quiet once again.

⋆.˚🦢⋆࿐♡⋆.˚

˚ ༘♡ albina stood poised, her slender fingers grazing the edge of the vast screen that dominated the private viewing room. the image displayed before her was stark and cold, hundreds of players, clad in identical green tracksuits, stirring awake in the massive, windowless dormitory. their movements were sluggish, confused. some yawned, others blinked away sleep, utterly unaware of the bloodshed that awaited them. ignorant of the fact that, within hours, their numbers would be brutally culled.

˚ ༘♡ dressed in a gown of pristine white satin, her silhouette radiant in the bright glow of the screen, albina looked almost heavenly, an angelic figure in contrast to the cruelty unfolding before her. her pearl earrings caught the light, a soft shimmer against the curve of her jaw. beside her, rurik stood, tall and composed, his presence commanding even in stillness. his dark eyes were fixed on the screen, but his expression betrayed nothing. he had seen this before. orchestrated it before. this was not unfamiliar ground for him.

˚ ༘♡ they had arrived the previous night under the cover of midnight, ferried in discreetly, as was customary for vips of their status. hwang in-ho, the enigmatic front man, had been waiting upon their arrival, clad in his signature black mask, polished and unyielding. his voice had been measured, his words few. he had not addressed them by name. and rurik had warned albina on the plane, his voice low and firm, “do not speak his name. do not ask who he is.” there were rules in this world of veiled horrors, and identity was one of them.

˚ ༘♡ most of the other vips would not arrive until the final rounds, their interests lying solely in the chaos of violence, the spectacle of desperate survivors clawing their way toward the finish line. but rurik had insisted they witness everything. from the very beginning. it was how he conducted his own games in russia, and it was how he would experience these.

˚ ༘♡ their accommodations were nothing short of lavish, private chambers, extravagant dining arrangements, and, most notably, an exclusive viewing room. the centerpiece was the enormous digital screen, offering a live feed of every moment within the arena. no detail would escape them. no scream. no betrayal. no final breath.

˚ ༘♡ albina exhaled softly. rurik was seated on the black leather couch, his posture relaxed but commanding, as if he were preparing for a particularly riveting film. he poured himself a glass of whiskey and rum, the clink of ice against glass the only sound from him. his attention remained fixed on the screen, unmoved by the disorder unfolding in the dormitory.

˚ ༘♡ a fight had broken out before the games had even begun. player 101, a grizzled, broad-shouldered gangster, was throwing his weight around, his voice crude and taunting. across from him, player 067, a younger woman, her willowy frame taut with tension, met his aggression with unwavering defiance. there was something sharp about her, akin to a a blade honed by hardship. player 101 sneered, spewing insults laced with mockery about her north korean origins, before lunging at her with a heavy swing.

˚ ༘♡ albina watched as another player, player 456, intervened, a lanky man with an anxious energy. “i’m seong gi-hun from ssangmun-dong,” he declared, his voice a mixture of forced bravado and genuine intent.

˚ ༘♡ she let out a small sigh. this did not interest her. it was inevitable, tempers flaring, men puffing their chests, the desperate jostling for dominance before the real bloodshed began. a shrill alarm blared, signaling the arrival of the red-clad guards who would soon lay out the rules and begin the waiver signing. she turned slightly, intending to join rurik on the couch, when something on the screen made her stop.

˚ ༘♡ one of the players, standing near the periphery of the scene, player 177. albina stepped forward, her breath held as she leaned closer to the screen, her fingers pressing lightly against the cold screen. the resemblance was uncanny, almost eerie. but it wasn’t merely a resemblance, was it?

˚ ༘♡ no.

˚ ༘♡ her mind reeled. she blinked rapidly, willing her eyes to deceive her. but there was no mistake.

˚ ༘♡ it was her. seong-ah.

˚ ༘♡ a cold shock traveled through albina’s veins, leaving her paralyzed. she stared at the woman on the screen, her cousin, standing amongst the desperate, the damned. the room around her suddenly felt suffocating, the opulence of the private chamber grotesque in contrast to what lay beyond the screen.

˚ ༘♡ what is she doing here?

˚ ༘♡ her thoughts spun back to their last conversations, grasping for any sign, any clue, that could have warned her of this. then, a horrific realization hit her.

˚ ༘♡ a few months ago. albina had been unwell that day, her body aching with fatigue, her mood fraying at the seams. that evening, seong-ah had called, her voice hesitant but hopeful, speaking of money, of a loan she had taken out, of trouble that loomed over her like a stormcloud. albina had barely listened, her irritation quick to surface. her cousin’s pleas had felt like an intrusion, and in her exhaustion, she had snapped.

˚ ༘♡ “i’m not as generous as my father was,” she had told her, cruel and unyielding. “don’t expect a penny from me.”

˚ ༘♡ she had forgotten the incident entirely. prior to his death, her father had always been the generous one, sending money to seong-ah’s family because her mother was his sister-in-law. albina had never needed to concern herself with such things. her father had been a businessman, adept at wealth and power, ensuring she never had to think about money before she married rurik.

˚ ༘♡ and yet now, now her cousin stood in a death game.

˚ ༘♡ how bad did things get for her? how desperate must she have been?

˚ ༘♡ remorse struck albina with a force she hadn’t anticipated, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. her chest ached with something unfamiliar, something raw. she had turned her back on seong-ah that day, ignored her as if she were nothing more than an annoyance. she had assumed the matter had passed because her cousin never mentioned it again. but silence had not meant her troubles were gone. silence had meant suffering.

˚ ༘♡ albina staggered as her gaze caught sight of another familiar face among the horde of players, player 218.

˚ ༘♡ her heart pounded. cho sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ the older businessman she had seen in seong-ah’s apartment months ago, seated comfortably on the worn-out sofa with the behavior of someone who had been there before many times before. she had thought little of it then, merely a companion of her cousin’s, but now, seeing him here, standing amongst the condemned, her mind reeled.

˚ ༘♡ damn him! it was too much of a coincidence. she was convinced, he had something to do with why seong-ah was in this nightmare, even if she had no proof beyond the sickening feeling derived from her intuition.

˚ ༘♡ she turned swiftly, her voice trembling as she called out.

˚ ༘♡ “rurik,” she said, her tone laced with desperation. she pointed toward the screen, her finger shaking as it landed on player 177. “my cousin, seong-ah, she’s here.” the words came out pitifully, choked with disbelief and dread.

˚ ༘♡ rurik barely glanced up from his drink. his fingers constricted around the glass for a fraction of a second before he leaned back into the leather couch, utterly unfazed.

˚ ༘♡ “so?” he muttered, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “you think you’re the first person to have a relative in these games? every single player here has a family. friends. people who will grieve them.”

˚ ༘♡ albina’s eyes widened in shock. her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms. “how can you say that?” she hissed, her voice rising. “you married me! she is your family by marriage! you can’t just sit here and do nothing, get the front man, figure something out!” she pleaded, stepping closer to him, her voice breaking. “please, rurik. i know she must only be in there because of that sleazy businessman…”

˚ ༘♡ “who?” rurik asked, his expression vexed.

˚ ༘♡ “player 218,” she spat, barely able to contain the venom in her voice. she turned back to the screen, eyes blazing with fury as she stared at sang-woo’s unreadable face. “i know he has something to do with my cousin being here. what are you going to do about seong-ah?”

˚ ༘♡ rurik took a slow sip of his drink. then, setting the glass down with an air of finality, he looked at her. “nothing.”

˚ ༘♡ a shiver ran down her spine. “what?” she breathed, shaking her head in disbelief. “you can’t do nothing! she’ll die in there! she has no idea what these games really are, she doesn’t know what’s coming!”

˚ ༘♡ rurik let out a deep sigh, the sound ridden with irritation. “this is not my game,” he said, his voice calm, detached. “this is the front man’s game. his rules. we do not interfere. we observe.”

˚ ༘♡ his apathy sent a pang of revulsion through her.

˚ ༘♡ albina’s hands trembled. her throat ached with the force of unshed tears, but fury eclipsed sorrow. “how can you let this happen?” she screamed, her voice cracking as the walls of her control crumbled. “i won’t just sit here and watch my cousin die!”

˚ ༘♡ rurik’s gaze darkened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. “she made her choice,” he said. “there’s always a choice. she made hers.”

˚ ༘♡ “without knowing the truth of the games!” albina cried, but the words fell into a void of silence. rurik had nothing more to say.

˚ ༘♡ her breathing came in short, shallow bursts as she turned back toward the screen. her hands gripped the edge of the console, fingers white from the force of her grasp.

˚ ༘♡ on the screen, the players stood in anxious silence. the signing of the contracts had ended. the masked guards, clad in red, had begun to file in.

˚ ༘♡ the first game would begin soon.

⋆.˚🦢⋆࿐♡⋆.˚

˚ ༘♡ “please look into the camera!”the cheerful, artificial mirth of the announcer’s voice rang through the air, practically mocking in its brightness.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah hung back for half a second before stepping forward, aligning herself in front of the lens. the players had been herded out of the dormitory akin to sheep, and now they were being documented, processed, for what, exactly, she still didn’t fully understand.

˚ ༘♡ “smile!”

˚ ༘♡ she barely managed one. her lips twitched into a feeble curve, a poor imitation of joy, but her nerves betrayed her. her hands clenched at her sides as the camera’s shutter clicked. it was done. her identity, now neatly recorded.

˚ ༘♡ when she had first dialed the number on the strange business card, the one that salesman had given her in the park, it had not been an easy decision. every fiber of her being had screamed at her to be cautious. to throw it away. to ignore the tantalizing promise of a grand cash prize. but desperation had a way of silencing reason.

˚ ༘♡ she had no safety net. no way out. she had tried to fight, claw her way free from the mess she had found herself in, but there was no winning against a mountain of debt when you had nothing. this, this was her last chance.

˚ ༘♡ as the line of players moved forward, they were guided through winding, almost childlike corridors, a sharp contrast to the growing tension in the air. the walls were painted in bright, primary colors, cheerful reds, yellows, and blues, giving the illusion of a place meant for joy. but seong-ah wasn’t fooled. nothing about this was welcoming.

˚ ༘♡ her feet carried her into the vast, open space where the first game would take place. she stopped short. it was enormous. a sprawling field stretched before her, the ground beneath her feet a shade of artificial green, almost too perfect, too uniform. the high walls surrounding the space were painted with an illusion of blue skies and white clouds, an eerie replica of the real world beyond the island. it was meant to look like freedom, but all it did was remind her how trapped they truly were.

˚ ༘♡ and at the far end of the field, a doll. the figure was massive, grotesquely large, mounted atop a platform with its rigid arms outstretched. it was designed to resemble a young girl, its pigtails swaying slightly in the breeze, its painted eyes unnervingly wide. it looked like something out of a children’s storybook, but there was something wrong about it. something that made her shudder in fear.

˚ ༘♡ she forced herself to breathe, to push past the fright pooling in her gut, and scanned the growing crowd of players. then, she saw him. cho sang-woo, player 218.

˚ ༘♡ her heart raced as she managed to find him among the others, deep in conversation with another man. player 456. she vaguely recognized him from earlier, from that scuffle in the dormitory with player 101 and player 067. she had heard his name then, gi-hun.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah stepped forward, “sang-woo!” her voice carried through the distance, her tone one of disbelief and bewilderment.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo turned at the sound of his name, his handsome, angular features tensing somewhat as his gaze landed on her.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah’s mind raced. this didn’t make sense. the masked men had informed them all of why they were here. money. debt. ruin. they had listed the names of certain players, their staggering financial burdens read aloud for all to hear, a grim reminder of what had driven them here.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo’s name had been among them. his had gasped when she heard it. him? the pride of their neighborhood? the one who had built a life for himself outside of the narrow, suffocating streets he had grown up in?

˚ ༘♡ he had gone to seoul national university, for god’s sake. he was a banker at joy investments. he was supposed to be successful. a man of his status and esteem had no business being here, with the desperate and broken. but he was.

˚ ༘♡ and now, staring at him, seong-ah couldn’t reconcile the reputation of the man she had once admired with the man before her now.

˚ ༘♡ “what are you doing here?” seong-ah’s voice was barely above a whisper, the distress behind her words were suffocating. she stared at sang-woo, her dark eyes searching his weary face for an answer.

˚ ༘♡ the last time they had spoken, he had told her he was on a business trip to japan. she had believed him. why wouldn’t she? sang-woo had always been the one with a plan, the one who had climbed out of the life they had all been shackled to. she had looked up to him. trusted him.

˚ ༘♡ but now, he was here. standing amongst the the ruined. just like her.

˚ ༘♡ before sang-woo could respond, gi-hun, the other man he had been speaking to, turned toward her with unabashed curiosity. his gaze drifted between the two of them before he broke into a teasing grin.

˚ ༘♡ “oh, do you know this woman?” gi-hun asked, his tone amused but kind. his eyes scanned seong-ah with interest before he smirked. “she’s pretty, but a little young for you, don’t you think…”

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo cut him off before he could finish. he adjusted his square-rimmed glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion. but he didn’t look at her. he avoided her gaze entirely, his expression indistinct. “seong-ah,” he said finally, his voice rigid. “we’ll talk later, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ he wasn’t giving her an answer.

˚ ༘♡ an ember of frustration burned in her chest, but she disregarded it, nodding stiffly. “of course.”

˚ ༘♡ she wanted to press him, to demand why? why had he lied? why was he here? but the encounter was already slipping away. sang-woo turned and strode off, leaving her standing there, her mind clouded with concern.

˚ ༘♡ before she could call out again, the feminine announcer’s voice echoed across the field, artificial and devoid of humanity. “welcome to the first game. all players, please wait a moment on the field.”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah exhaled. she had been so consumed with sang-woo’s presence that she had nearly forgotten where she was, what was about to happen.

˚ ༘♡ around her, the players murmured amongst themselves, shifting in place. she took a deep breath and forced herself to move, stepping into the crowd, positioning herself among them. the air was thick with uncertainty. then, the voice spoke again. “the first game is red light, green light.”

˚ ༘♡ “you can move forward when red light, green light is being shouted. if movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

˚ ༘♡ red light, green light? a simple children’s game. her pulse slowed, if only slightly. so that’s what this was. perhaps all of the games would be korean children’s games? her shoulders relaxed only a tad, her body shifting into a stance of quiet readiness. she could do this. everyone here could do this.

˚ ༘♡ “then let the game begin.”

˚ ༘♡ the doll’s head whirred unnaturally as it turned, its mechanical joints snapping into place.

˚ ༘♡ “green light…”

˚ ༘♡ the words rang out, eerie in their childlike cadence. seong-ah moved, cautiously stepping forward, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. around her, players scurried across the field, some hesitant, others rushing as if speed would save them.

˚ ༘♡ “red light.”

˚ ༘♡ she froze. a sharp, piercing sound cut through the air, so loud, so sudden, that it sent a shiver down her spine. what was that?

˚ ༘♡ “player 324, eliminated.”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah tried to peer past the mass of people ahead of her, but there were too many players, blocking her view.

˚ ༘♡ then, more of those deafening sounds. one after another. then screaming.

˚ ༘♡ it was a chain reaction. players gasped, turned their heads, then panic erupted like a storm. she saw them, the people ahead, suddenly breaking into a frantic run, bolting toward the doors they had entered from.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah barely had time to process it.

˚ ༘♡ the sounds.

˚ ༘♡ the screaming.

˚ ༘♡ the gunfire.

˚ ༘♡ they were shooting the eliminated players. they were killing them.

˚ ༘♡ horror gripped her, clawing at her chest. this wasn’t a game. this was slaughter.

˚ ༘♡ some players desperately pounded on the locked doors, their fists hammering against metal. their cries filled the air, shrill and desperate. then, one by one, their bodies jerked violently as they were struck down by bullets. red mist filled the space where they had stood.

˚ ༘♡ the field was painted in blood. bodies littered the ground akin to discarded toys, contorted and unmoving.

˚ ༘♡ a voice rang out over the chaos, as calm and robotic as before. “red light, green light. you may only move forward when green light is called. if movement is detected after red light, you will be eliminated.”

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah couldn’t move. she couldn’t breathe. her body had locked up, frozen in panic.

˚ ༘♡ “green light…”

˚ ༘♡ the doll turned again. the survivors, those who hadn’t run, who hadn’t been foolish enough to move when they shouldn’t, remained rooted to the spot.

˚ ༘♡ except one. an older man, player 001, stepped forward. casually. calmly. he didn’t even hesitate.

˚ ༘♡ “red light.”

˚ ༘♡ more players moved. more gunfire. more bodies collapsing like broken marionettes.

˚ ༘♡ behind her, a voice broke through her panic.

˚ ༘♡ “seong-ah, don’t just stand there.”

˚ ༘♡ her head jerked slightly, her breath ragged in her chest.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ she turned her gaze toward him, hardly able to think, hardly able to comprehend. his expression was calm, but his hands were shaking.

˚ ༘♡ “the doll is a motion sensor,” he said. “it’s tracking movement with its eyes.”

˚ ༘♡ she stared at him. her mind was still reeling, still trying to piece together how he was even here, how he had gotten himself into this mess. but there was no time for that now.

˚ ༘♡ “if you stay behind me, i’ll block your movement from its line of sight,” he added.

˚ ༘♡ she barely nodded, still too shaken to respond.

˚ ༘♡ “green light…”

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo moved forward.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah forced herself to follow.

˚ ༘♡ her legs felt stiff, her muscles uncooperative. but she moved, one foot after the other, shadowing his steps.

˚ ༘♡ “red light.”

˚ ༘♡ she stumbled. for a split second, her body lurched forward, her balance thrown off. she thought she was dead, thought she was about to be shot, but she caught herself just in time.

˚ ༘♡ her hands gripped into fists, her knees locked. she was motionless and most importantly, she was behind sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ the doll’s lifeless eyes scanned the field, but it did not detect her movement.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah’s pulse thundered in her ears. she had come close to dying.

˚ ༘♡ step by step, cautiously, but with the sheer terror of a person who knew her life depended on it, she followed sang-woo across the field. the closer she got to the finish line, the harder it was to ignore out the horrors surrounding her, the bodies, the scent of blood hanging in the air, the faint gurgles of those who weren’t quite dead yet.

˚ ༘♡ but she kept moving.

˚ ༘♡ “green light…”

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo took another step. she followed. the timer was running low.

˚ ༘♡ seong-ah swallowed her fear and forced herself forward, forcing every nerve in her body to obey.

˚ ༘♡ the finish line was close.

˚ ༘♡ “red light.”

˚ ༘♡ they stopped.

˚ ༘♡ her legs ached from the tension, her entire body locked in a stiff, unnatural stance. the silence was deafening.

˚ ༘♡ “green light…”

˚ ༘♡ a final push.

˚ ༘♡ she surged forward. and with mere seconds left on the clock, seong-ah crossed the finish line.

˚ ༘♡ her lungs burned. her chest heaved with every desperate gulp of air she took. but she was alive.

˚ ༘♡ she turned to sang-woo, ready to say something, anything, to thank him, to demand answers, to scream at him for being here, putting his life in danger.

˚ ༘♡ but before seong-ah could say a word, he looked at her. his expression was unreadable.

˚ ༘♡ then, without a word, sang-woo turned on his foot and walked away. leaving her there, alone.

a/n: chapter two!! let me know your thoughts!! 🤍

[n0tamused]

A/n: Not a one-shot but crack hcs! Hope you enjoy. I don't often write crack stuff but it is really fun when I get to it :)

Content: Dr. Ratio x Reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, no pronouns used, just crack overall, short and sweet

-While Ratio can have lots of patience for people of all walks of life, he has found a challenge within you and your form of intellect.. It would be arguably the first time Ratio has found himself in some form of a stumped state due to some of your questionable actions or phrases. He just has to sit back and wait for a moment until his brain sets itself back in place and he can think straight again

-He often scolds you, but no matter what he says it's like your brain translates it to something completely different, and even if his words are harsh you take it as if he complimented you and praised you to no end?

-Man is confused. To say the least

-Once he caught you losing nearly all your money against Aventurine, stating “third time's the charm”. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW POKER?! Even Aventurine was laughing along in all the confusion one can show without being odd, and he had to say he wouldn’t have taken the money,  this was just a ‘friendly-fire’ sort of thing, he says. Well that’s lucky for you, considering you had rent and food to pay for!

-He drags you away while you jest about it and also apologize too, because he looks like he’ll explode

-Ratio may or may have not hit the top of your head with his codex..once or twice, but it’s all in good spirits - trust

-He really does mean well, especially if he seriously sees you struggling with something. He won’t hand you the answers on a silver platter unless it's a last resort sort of thing, but he would prefer to guide you to the answer, basically making you think outside the box and such until you arrive at the answer yourself. He is always open to advice and keeps an open mind, and with that he could entertain an idea you may have, yes.. even the more... silly ones. But also be ready to be shut down immediately for the absurd ideas you may bring up. He doesn't waste time nor does he like or plan to.

-Dr. Ratio is the voice of reason in your life, and he's there to reel you back to the ground when you may be getting ideas for something that would not benefit you, or god forbid - if you plan to do something risky that could harm you or your reputation.

-He often goes out of his way to make sure you’re doing things on schedule, so waking you up, sending you a message to eat (no crisps, go eat something good, something healthy), he’d send you articles about things he remembers interest you, papers on your favored topics

-A more tender thing he does is do your hair. It’s a simple thing yet it means a lot to him and you. Just a few minutes of quiet as his fingers thread or comb through your hair, brushing through it with meticulous moves, making sure he doesn’t pull or yank. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[seokiesprettygirl]

Safety Zone | JHS

!warning 18+

난 알았지 (알았지) 너란 구원이

내 삶의 일부며 아픔을

감싸줄 유일한 손길

The best of me

난 너밖에 없지

나 다시 웃을 수 있도록

더 높여줘 니 목소릴

The sun was coming through the curtains of one of the biggest windows you have ever seen. Biggest in a housing space anyway. And it so coincidentally has been your window. Window that lead into your kitchen. Well, rented kitchen but still your space. After months of really rough winter, the feel of warmth from even the smallest sun rays would make anyone happy. It felt so warm on the skin, almost like it was the first time you had seen the sun. The warmth made your skin feel like it was covered in glitter. You felt like you were shining, in just few moments your mood has changed and you felt calm. Not the kind of calm that some people feel after they have finished the to do list, or had nothing going on. The big, wide calm. The calm you feel when you look at a peaceful sea. The calm that overwhelms you and scares you, because it feels like it’s too good to be true.

Thats the kind of calm that Hoseok was in your life. After a really long winter, when he was too busy to be around, the spring has came. Unexpectedly, just like the moment of warmth from the sun peeking through the blinds.

It’s never easy to be separated from your calm, but when you the passion in their eyes and the love for what they do, you let them do it and you take the spot in the shadow of the passion. Even in the shadows, you can still enjoy your calm. It just might not always have enough time for you. That was the sacrifice and the prize you chose to pay. Because in reality, you were surprised that your calm was even achievable, obtainable. That you were capable of that calm.

Was he aware of being the calm? Yes and no. Because you were his safe zone. The place he could fall apart and take his mask off. The time where he didn’t have to be professional or official, he didn’t have to watch out for every word coming out of his mouth, every move studied and interpreted in various ways. He was safe from it all. He was safe and you were calm.

The pairing that nobody expected, yet it was a perfect combination. The perfect mix, the ideal who nobody discovered before.

Standing in the bliss of the sun, showering you with it’s attention you were standing in your kitchen. Bare feet touching dark, wooden floor boards, as you were cutting last strawberries that you took out of the fridge, trying to save them from imminent death in the bin. As you were focused on your task, a pair of sleek and soft hands slowly made their way from your hips, up to your waist. One kept travelling higher to your shoulder and wrapped itself there, while the other slowly moved towards your belly.

A soft nuzzle of the tip of the nose found it’s way to the back of your ear and you immediately closed your eyes and smiled, feeling all kinds of comfort.

‘I missed you so much’ soft, yet low whisper crawled into your ear. You hummed, hearing the words and slowly melted into the body standing behind you. You felt the security behind you, taking care of your slowly melting body. And followed by a giggle, continued whispers ‘Aegi, why did you get up so early’. The continued whispers, in his husky voice slowly drove your body to shivers. Seeing your skin react to his voice so close to your ear he smirked, but you couldn’t see it as he was right behind you.

‘I wanted you to get a good rest, I know you are always so exhausted after all the flights and work and practice’ you answered, trying to keep your composure. He kept nuzzling the back of your ear and neck, eventually placing a sweet, soft kiss at the top of your shoulder. His soft lips on your warm skin felt like a promise, that was slowly being fulfilled.

‘There is no rest, without you’ he quickly added when he heard your answer. You put your knife down, recognising that you won’t be able to continue for much longer. ‘Aegi…’ he added lovingly, slowly turning you around to face him. And when he finally did, you looked at his face and another layer of calm covered you. His eyes were shining in the sun, his perfect face and skin, visibly glowing. He wasn’t smiling, his lips laid flat, but his eyes. His eyes were smiling, lovingly looking directly at you, never distracted from you, always reassuring. When he called you his favourite pet name you knew he was needy. But it wasn’t the kind of aggressive, possessive needy. It was his own, very distinctive one.

On a needy day, your calm wouldn’t stop holding your hand or touching your skin. He would have to be close. Barely anything interested him, unless it was something you wanted to do. His main interest of the day was you. He would shower you with gifts, order food so neither of you would have to be in the kitchen. Initially he was really ashamed of his needy days, and he would keep more distance than normal. Because he thought he was annoying and too much. But when you told him to open up, when you became his safe zone, he completely surrendered to his own feelings and he learnt he just needed to give you a sign and you would drop anything to just simply be with him.

In any previous relationship, you have never questioned if the other person loved you. They told you, they expressed it in gestures and acts of service. But when you started being loved by Hoseok everything has changed. You have never been loved like that before. There was never a no that came from the mans mouth. Well, it did but not when you asked for him of something. His no would usually be because of his arrangements, schedules or simply because you were being unreasonable and he was terrified of spoiling you. But all the simple, silly things were yours. Every night when he was at home he would slowly rub your back to sleep, right before you dozed off. He would wash your hair and go over your extensive skin care routine with you and participated in it himself. Never said no to a hug, always welcomed your hand in his.

‘Let’s go’ you answered to his plea and slowly intertwined your hand with his. Thinking you’d lead, you put one foot ahead of the other slowly moving towards the living room but instead he took a bigger step, pulling your hand behind him slowly started walking towards the same space.

The both of you slowly sat on the sofa, letting it swallow your backs and your bodies melt into the foam and cushion. Without hesitation you grabbed his legs and put them horizontally towards yourself and followed with your own legs. You stretched your back and laid next to him, his arms literally surrounding you from all angles. One of his legs pulled yours closer to him and now you were completely in his embrace. He looked down, his nose touching yours, slowly and delicately rocking up and down against yours. It felt like an invisible bubble just grew around the two of you, like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

It hasn’t always been so easy. There were few bad days, few big fights. But all of them always happened because either of you weren’t getting enough time and attention from one another. You were always the most sensitive few days before he was about to come home for a longer absence. It was an epitome of the stress and the absolute last of your patience. Even though the second he stepped foot back home, you two would have a heated conversation about how he never takes enough time to at least drop you a message when he’s away and it would have ended with a really hot make up sex, it wasn’t something he wanted to continue. Because the conversation were draining and felt like were splitting you apart. With time he has learned to call you a few days before his arrival, send a text when he’s at the airport, which has prepared you for his comeback. And it worked magic, because instead of heated conversation during his first minutes home, he would find you half naked waiting on him somewhere in the flat. Skipping the heated and unpleasant part completely.

He would suffer when you weren’t able to easily rearrange your schedule around when he was home. When you had to go and follow your routines and meet with friends, when he was there, at home and available. This was the difficult part, because he promised your life wouldn’t be impacted by his unstable trips. You haven’t completely fixed this part yet, but it was a important subject of your long and serious conversations, usually after a few drinks when the both you would loosen up a little.

He has slowly placed a kiss on your forehead, closing his own eyes. Then another one on your temple and kept planting them slowly around your entire face. You smiled and closed your eyes, feeling his lips all over your face. The warmth of his breath and his body against yours created the cosiest of moments. Your own breath slowed down and your eyes turned almost sleepy. But instead of letting yourself go, you have started slowly kneading his arm, giggling when he placed another kiss on your face, throwing your head back exposing your neck. The calm, the safe. The soft.

‘Aegi…’ he finally whispered again, but his voice turned raspy and even lower then the last time he has spoke. You opened your eyes hearing his voice and you met his gaze. His almond shaped, dark eyes stating at you with a slight smirk painted on his face. His hands holding you tighter now, steadier.

‘Seokie..’ you answered in the same fashion, finally connecting your lips together. The kiss started soft, with his lips slowly embracing yours. Slowly becoming hungrier, gently slipping his tongue between your lips and playfully exploring the inside of your mouth. You responded with your tongue, trying to fight his and that’s when he deepened the kiss even more. He grabbed you closer to his body, and as he did so, you have let a quiet moan our of your mouth. There was no rush to any of it.

The next stop was your bright bedroom. He has slowly laid you on the edge of the bed, gently taking off your sweat pants. Every inch of your body that was discovered he has replaced the fabric with his lips, kissing every inch of your skin, bit by bit.

He dropped your trousers beside him, slowly kissing your legs all the way through the knees and towards your ankles where he stopped and slowly slid your socks off, kissing every inch of your leg and your foot. Repeated it on the other one and slowly lowered them back to the bed. He was gentle, gentle yet confident and he knew exactly what he was doing and what his plan was.

The air in the room grew thicker, the sun slowly crawling through the curtains and shone on your now naked body, patently laying on the bed.

He dropped his own sweats, and as he tugged at his tshirt, you sat back up right in front of him and started kissing his stomach slowly, gently swirling your tongue against his heated skin. He looked down on you and saw a pair of sweet eyes, lovingly marking his skin. Hoseok couldn’t help himself and smirked, placing his hand on your head and with an inviting pat, he nodded at you.

You didn’t have to be told twice, you licked your lips seeing his face and his head nodding. Very gently, you have rubbed his cock through the material of the underwear and saw he already threw his head back. It was pleasing, seeing him react to the smallest moves of yours. Not hesitating anymore, you have pulled the underwear down, stripping him completely. His cock sprung out, bouncing back and forth as it slapped against his stomach. It didn’t take him long to be fully ready for you. This time you smirked, grabbed it and put it in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it few times.

‘Ahh’ a loud groan escaped his mouth and he nearly bit his own hand, as he felt your lips on him. You started bobbing your head on it, very slowly at first but you picked up the pace slightly. He rolled his eyes, grabbed your head again and slowly pushed himself deeper into your throat. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked on it for a little longer and eventually a popping sound escaped your mouth, when you took him out.

‘Seokie..’ you hiccuped, wiped your lips with your hand and slowly moved yourself to the middle of the bed and without a split second he has followed your every move. On all fours, he has slowly crawled towards you. His eyes were filled with lust but also love. The air in the room turned hot, deep and fiery. Hoseok has slightly opened your legs in front of him, lowered himself on his elbows and nuzzled the bottom of your belly. Peppering kisses all over your lower belly, until he finally stuck his tongue out and he licked you once, seeking your reaction.

Your body trembled and you tried really hard not to let a moan out, knowing he would get even more excited hearing it. Not hearing the response he hoped for, he has gently found your slit with his finger and slipped half of it inside you, whilst he flattened his tongue. You buckled your hips, feeling his finger enter you and you hiccuped again ‘Seokie..’ which encouraged him to speed up. His entire hand covered in your juices, feeling you slowly losing yourself in the pleasure he has pulled out. You opened your eyes feeling the emptiness and were about to close your knees in the protest but you felt him lining himself against your entrance and he looked up to you.

Sweet face, sweaty with messy hair. He loved seeing you like this, absolutely fucked looking all by and for him.

You looked up and locked your eyes with his, he slowly entered you and crawled on top of you, putting each of his hands on each side of your head. Eyes locked, hips buckled against his. He was letting you adjust to him, to the clam. It has filled you full and each time you were surprised how good it felt. He slowly started kissing you again, hungry of your lips.

As he felt you slowly loosen, he started slowly rolling his hips in a steady rhythm. In and our of you, passionately kissing you.

It was the calm and the safe combined for the both of you. Becoming one in the heat of the moment. The room has turned really warm, sweaty, carrying a scent only surfaced when both of you were together.

He was rolling his hips, driving in and out of you still, didn’t speed but with each thrust he was reaching deeper and deeper into you.

‘I love you’ you managed to quietly moan, controlling your voice as your hips were moving with his. Your arms grabbing onto him, nails digging into his back.

‘I love you most Aegi’ he answered, trying to control his groans as you locked his eyes with his. He was hitting your favourite spot, as deep he kept on driving into you, your hips aligned with his, slowly starting to clench around him. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, getting incredibly close, chasing his high. Seeing his reaction, you have started kissing his jaw in one line, which has pushed him further. As he felt your lips on his jaw, the steady rhythm broke and he sped up the pace of his thrusts chasing his release. Speeding up has pushed into your orgasm, seeing starts on the ceiling of your own bedroom, loudly moaning his name.

He couldn’t hold on any longer, hearing you dismantle under his touch and moan his name so beautifully, he his hips snapped few more times and finally let go. The coil that was getting too tight for him, snapped and he has filled you full. Kissing your face, your neck, collarbones he has pulled out of you, against your loud protests and he curled right next to you. He’s pulled the blankets from underneath you, scooped you into his arms and surrounded the both of you in warm and cosy duvet.

‘I am the happiest with you’ you finally managed to find words to convey your feelings to him. The calm has surrounded the bedroom, you embraced by your calm. Your calm loving on you.

‘I can’t live without you. I mean it’ he answered, with a raspy voice, with his breath still sped up. It was so comforting, so warm, so perfect.

And your life will always be the best, when youre loved by the only person who is the least and the most likely to impersonate calm. Never would you thought that you would be anyones safety zone, someones home. Yet you and Hoseok keep living in the harmony, trying to figure out how to work around his schedule.

[cybrstone]

two slow dancers (s.mg)

⊹ ࣪mingi x f!reader

⊹ college au

⊹ genre: angst? fluff? unresolved feelings and pettiness is very present

⊹ warnings: cursing, parties, drinking, everyone is kind of stupid

⊹ a/n: can anyone tell i'm not in college and have never been to a party... also yes the title is a mitski reference but the fic itself is nowhere near as devastating as the song :) likes are appreciated

the walk back to your apartment feels longer today. maybe because it’s starting to get colder, or maybe it’s because you feel like you’re going in circles with the career path you chose. dropping out of college because of the toll the workload was taking on you might’ve been the worst decision of your life, if you didn’t apply for an office job directly after.

well… whatever pays the rent, right? at least you’re splitting the cost with wooyoung, the strange boy you grew close with junior year of high school. at least he cooks, so you don’t have to worry about food costs until he goes out partying and is begging for takeout when he gets back at three in the morning.

when you make your way up to the second floor of the apartment complex, unlocking your door, you don’t expect to see san - also a friend from high school - lounging on yours and wooyoung’s couch. you look around before turning around to lock the door. “hi san,” you greet, taking your shoes off. “where’s woo?” 

san gives a quick hi and a smile before responding. “he’s showering,” he says, looking back at his phone. “told me he’d be out quick, but it’s been 30 minutes. i think he drowned.” you chuckle, trailing to your room and shutting the door. you fall onto your bed, taking in the comfort it gives you for the first time in what feels like weeks.

it was last night. your peace and quiet is short lived, a loud knock on the door and you see the knob twist open. “you’re back!” wooyoung exclaims, going to lay next to you and wrap his arms around you.

you grumble in protest, but it takes more than that for him to uncurl himself from you. “so i saw on our calendar that you have this weekend off,” he starts, and you know this is not just a normal conversation, as much as you would love it to be. “yunho’s hosting a party tomorrow. san and i want you to come with.”

“does san know he’s going?” you ask sarcastically, and he smacks your arm lightly. “yes, he knows. he’s the one who asked me to invite you.” you hum, knowing that parties are not necessarily san’s type of fun either. “i’m not going, woo. i don’t know why you keep asking me to go with you when you’re gonna get shitfaced anyway and leave me alone.”

wooyoung groans, sitting up to look at you. “jesus, yn, what happened to you?” he asks with fake terror, and you can’t resist rolling your eyes. “you used to be so fun! do you not remember high school? you used to be crazy about parties, and now look at you. lonely and miserable.”

“i am not miserable-“ “you complain about your job every day you come back. you’re miserable.”

you look away, and you know wooyoung has won this debate. “even if i am, i’m not lonely. i have you and occasionally san and yeosang!” wooyoung deadpans, and he moves to sit criss-cross in front of you. “you know that’s not how i meant it,” he responds. “i’m just saying. you need to get out again. i know you’re not happy with yourself, and you forget that i know that.”

you sigh, laying on your back to look at the ceiling. “even if i did go with you guys, i’d probably get weird looks. that party is going to be full of people who go to the college i dropped out of,” you say, and you feel the bed shift. “i’m not gonna spoil the mood. plus, yunho probably doesn’t even remember me! i am not going to fight to get into a house party.”

“you’re not gonna have to argue your way in, yn,” you hear, and you turn your head to see san leaning against the doorway to your bedroom. “did it leave your head that me and wooyoung are friends with him? he won’t give a fuck who we bring.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “wooyoung’s right,” he continues, his voice getting closer. “just come with us. you’ll have fun, i promise. if you don’t, i’ll get you whatever dinner you want for a week straight.”

it takes you a while before you respond. maybe that’s the problem; you lost your personality with such a draining schedule. maybe letting loose once in a while is what you need. no, you just need to relax instead of going to parties. what are you thinking? why are you letting them talk you into this? what time should you be ready? what are you gonna wear?

you drop your hands to see the pair staring at you. “only if one of you gets me a drink before we leave,” you mutter, and you hear a whispered celebration between the two. “be ready by 8 tomorrow, okay? i’ll be back later. we’re going out.” you nod, waving bye to them and hearing the front door open and shut.

this is not your ideal way to relieve stress, but drinking will always help a little.

———

the morning and afternoon pass quicker than you would like it to. you weren’t very productive today, waking up and drinking coffee while processing what you had agreed to the night before. it was too late to go back on it now. wooyoung was too excited and yeosang had texted, surprised to hear that you’re “coming out of your dungeon.”

you cleaned around the house a little, taking a shot here and there to keep your nerves settled. now, it’s 5 pm, and you have exactly 3 hours to prepare yourself for something you would’ve gone to in a heartbeat 6 years ago.

wooyoung had gone out with san and a few other friends to help yunho with setting up, leaving you alone in the apartment. it doesn’t take you too long to get ready, fixing your hair and making yourself presentable within an hour and a half. what takes the longest time is figuring out what to wear.

you would’ve been late had wooyoung not come back early, perhaps sensing your conflict and choosing something in the back of your closet you had forgotten you owned. a tiny black dress that you could barely fit into when you were 18. you weren’t sure how it would look now.

as you walk out of the bathroom, wooyoung looks up from scrolling on his phone to stare. “what?” you say, uncomfortably shifting under his gaze. “does it look bad?” “looks bad my ass,” he says, dropping his phone. “jesus yn, i knew you grew up after high school, but not like this!”

“like what?”

“do you really need me to tell you? are you that oblivious?”

oh. that’s what he meant. “you’re gross.” “and you are wearing that out. hurry up and get your shit together, san’s here.”

wooyoung leaves no room to argue, practically dragging you out of the door and down the complex stairs to san’s car. you open the backseat door to see seonghwa and yeosang. they give you a greeting as you slide into the backseat, wooyoung taking his respective spot in the passenger’s seat.

“here,” san says to you, picking up a bottle from the cup holder and handing it to you. “you’ll probably need it, and i promised.” you take it while thanking him, sipping occasionally as you chat with the boys.

the drive isn’t terrible until seonghwa asks you a question. “yn, they told you that yunho is hosting, right?” you see wooyoung tense up at the question, but you choose not to comment on it. “yeah, why? that’s where hongjoong and jongho stay, right?”

“and mingi.”

oh. he had slipped your mind. mingi, yunho’s best friend. your best friend. at least, he had been, just before graduation. just before he got his first girlfriend, before he let her manipulate him into blocking you and cutting contact. into blocking everyone, keeping his attention solely on her. “yn,” yeosang shakes your shoulder, “you good?”

you blink, looking around. “yeah.” you turn your attention back to seonghwa, your voice now having a new tone to it. “i forgot about him,” you say, a fake smile on your face as you down the rest of the alcohol san got you. “wooyoung failed to remind me of that.”

“to be fair!” wooyoung blurts out, turning towards the backseat, “this is the first time you’ve agreed to come with us in forever! i wasn’t gonna remind you of that asshole when you finally agreed to go-“ “it would’ve been nice to tell her, woo. at least to prepare her,” seonghwa scolds gently.

“i’ll be fine,” you say, fixing the strap on your dress. “just more of a reason to drink. forget he even exists again, y’know? make him realize the feeling is mutual.”

———

the rest of the drive is slightly tense as you mentally ready yourself to see mingi’s stupid face again. to see that sweet, gorgeous smile on his face when he talks to his friends, to hear his laugh that’s louder than any music playing to you. to see what girl he has his arm around tonight.

the moment your group gets through the doors of the house, you take wooyoung and beeline to the drinks. you pour yourself a drink bigger than you usually would for your first of the night, chugging it. “you fucking owe me,” you yell to wooyoung over the music, who chugs his own drink.

“i’m sorry!” he says, looking out into the crowd. “i didn’t think you would care! you shouldn’t give a fuck about him, anyway. just have fun.”

and have fun you do.

you dance, you drink, you say hi to hongjoong and jongho and take yunho out to dance with you. strangely, you don't see mingi once. or maybe you're just too drunk to notice him. you spent all that time worrying about running into him, but maybe he's not even here!

"yn, come do shots with us!"

that gets your attention. you're already drunk, what's a few more? you stumble your way to the group, sliding past sweaty bodies. you see yunho and wooyoung, the latter offering you a glass. you see san in the corner of your eye watching, his eyebrows etched in concern. "yn," he says as you down the drink, "how much have you had to drink?"

you hum, thinking. "maybe, like.. four? i haven't been keeping count."

"six," the voice behind you says, and it causes your muscles to tense up. it's deep, smooth. it's mingi.

san shifts his gaze to him, his expression changing. "what?"

"she's had six." mingi repeats, and you don't dare turn around. you hear rustling behind you, probably his jacket, then see his arm hand a water bottle to san. "don't let her have more. that's her limit."

"thanks," san mutters, taking the water from him. "i know." he hands you the bottle after opening it, making sure you actually drink it. he glances behind you again, a scowl on his face. "you can go now."

"uh- yeah," mingi says, and you remember his habits well enough to know he's messing with whatever necklace he has on right now because of the awkward air. "i better go."

you come back to your senses as he walks away, gears shifting in your mind. he doesn't get to do that. you turn, following his footsteps despite san's protests. he doesn't get to act like he did nothing wrong. you stomp towards him as he goes to lean against a wall, grabbing his forearm and pulling him into an open room. "what-" he says, stopping himself when he notices the look on your face.

"you had no right to do that," you start, shutting the door and locking it. "you had no right to waltz over there and act like you still fucking know me because you don't!"

"yn, please-" "you haven't known me for the past four years of our lives because you threw me out for some girl you met a month before! you knew me your whole life! you don't get to act like we're still friends when you know damn well-" you stop yourself, the room starting to spin. you stumble, and mingi reaches out to keep you steady.

"can you sit down-" "don't touch me."

"okay, i'm sorry. sit down. you're gonna make yourself sick."

you roll your eyes, sitting on the rolling chair at the desk in whoever's room you're in. mingi sits opposite of you, elbows on his knees as he looks at you. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. stop acting like you care." "i'm not acting, though."

"seriously?" you ask, in disbelief. "mingi, be real with yourself. i'm not going to be one of the girls that you hook up with after this. save yourself the trouble."

he laughs at this, making you furrow your eyebrows. "this is the first conversation we've had in years, and you think i'm trying to fuck you?"

"are you not?"

"god- no, yn, i'm not," he says, running a hand through his hair. "i'm sorry. i wasn't expecting to see you tonight because i haven't for however long it's been. and the drink thing- you can't expect me to not say something. if you have another, you're gonna vomit all over yourself just like you did junior year."

you cringe at the memory, but your heart clenches in your chest. you can tell from the look in his eyes that he's completely serious, but you're drunk, and you're petty. 

"so how are you and what's her face?"

"who are you-" he cuts himself off, realization in her face. "gyuri? we broke up, like, last year," he says, his eyebrows furrowing. "i wouldn't even be here at this party alone if i was with her."

he has a good point. she was that crazy to the point he couldn't go out alone. she's the sole reason you even stopped talking to him.  you decide right then and there that all of your problems are her fault.

"you still didn't talk to me after," you mumble, although you're just picking a fight for no reason now. 

"do you not think i tried?" he says, leaning forward, something about his voice compelling you to look at him. 

"the moment i broke things off, i texted you. it didn't go through. i asked about you, trust me, but in case you didn't notice your friends aren't too crazy about me either. san wouldn't tell me anything, and you know wooyoung won't even look my way," he explains, and you feel yourself sobering up with the information.

"i tried, yn, i did. i miss you more than anything. i know i fucked up. are you willing to talk to me again? be friends?"

you look away, biting your lip in thought. are you willing to do this again? to be friends with mingi again, to dedicate hours of your time to him, to ignore the way your heart clenches every time he mentions another girl he likes?

the universe doesn't want to give you time to think about it, someone banging on the locked door. "yn?" wooyoung calls out, your name slurring on his lips. "you okay? you're not dead, are you?"

you glance at mingi before yelling back to him. "i'm fine, woo!" you say to him through the door. "okay! just making sure! use protection!"

you mentally facepalm at his comment, hearing mingi chuckle. "he has no idea it's me with you, right?"

"not a clue."

going back to your thoughts, you decide to sleep on his question. "i'll text you, okay?" you say slowly to him, watching the light in his eyes return. he nods, a smile on his face. "okay."

you get up to exit the room, tugging your dress down, unlocking the door. "yn," mingi calls, and you look over your shoulder to look at him. "the dress looks good on you. it always has."

your face heats at his words, and you turn away to smile. "thank you, mingi," you say softly, turning the knob. "i'll see you later."

"see you around, pretty. don't leave me hanging too long."

[blushweddinggowns]

“Eddie? Did you hear me?”

Eddie blinked, the sound of Steve’s voice shaking him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t heard a word, too busy obsessing to actually focus on what the fuck was happening in real life. He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish at the call out,  “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Steve sighed, turning away from the bathroom mirror to pinch his cheek, “I’ll have to punish you for that one later.”

Eddie grinned, swinging his legs from his perch on the bathroom counter. He’d learned quickly that Steve’s definition of punishment equated to Eddie’s definition of a good night. But one that he was going to have to wait for. 

“You can’t say shit like that when you’re about to leave,” Eddie whined, kicking Steve lightly in the leg, “It’s cruel.”

Steve sighed, letting him go to go back to his routine, “You’re right, you’re right. Not to mention I’m going to be back late.”

Eddie had never made him late to work but he did interrupt Steve's usual timeline. It was too easy for them to distract each other. Before they knew it, he’d lose enough time for him to have to do his stage makeup at home. Eddie's penance for the crime was to entertain him while he did it. 

He sure wasn’t complaining. 

“It’s a private party,” Steve said, turning to the mirror. Eye liner pen in hand, “A bachelorette. No one goes more wild than drunk straight women, I swear to God.”

“How late?” Eddie asked.

“Last one, we didn’t get them out of there till 3:30. No more alcohol did not effect their flow,” Steve said, blinking at the small, black wing he just made. He glanced at Eddie for approval, humming happily when he gave him a thumbs up. 

“So I’ll probably be back by four,” Steve went on, moving to the next eye, “The owner is real big on keeping people who pay thousands to rent the place out happy. Go figure.”

“Want me to stay up for you?”

“Of course,” Steve laughed, finally satisfied with what he saw in the mirror, “But I won’t make you. Not tonight. You can just make it up to me later.”

That was a relief. As much as Eddie wanted to wait for him, he wasn’t sure if he had four a.m. in him. 

“I’ll miss you,” Eddie offered up instead.

“I’ll miss you more,” Steve sighed back, turning to face him, “Now kiss me before I do the lips.”

Eddie listened, the kiss itself more temptation to force himself to stay awake. He spent the night quietly at home, productive while he watched the clock. He called Wayne, talked to him for a few hours. Sketched out a few designs. Vacuumed. Watched a bad movie. But alas, at around one a.m. he had to throw in the towel. 

It was a minor success. He got a few hours in before the loud creak of their shitty door ruined his light sleep. He squinted into the dark, groaning quietly when he saw the time. It was late. Late enough to be early, four thirty a.m. Eddie stretched, patient enough to not try to go back to sleep. He was hoping Steve would come in here soon, something that happened more often than not when he worked late. He only avoided him when he was too tired to shower, a habit that Eddie was trying to subtly talk him out of. 

But instead of the sound of Steve’s footsteps coming down the hall, he heard his voice, “No, no. He’s asleep.”

Eddie paused his stretching, curious.

“I think it’ll be fine if I keep quiet,” Steve said followed by the creak of their couch, “I’m in the living room anyway.”

Eddie sighed, too understanding to be annoyed. It wasn’t Steve’s fault. He had been sleeping better since whatever this was started between them. Good enough for the shower to not even be enough to wake him anymore. Who would have thought that regularly scheduled orgasms could be the cure for insomnia? It just so happened that the effect was lessened when Steve wasn't in the bed with him.

“Shut up!” Steve laughed, loud and clear despite the walls between them.

Eddie got out of bed, deciding to fake a bathroom trip so Steve knew that he had an audience. Even if he was slightly tempted to listen in, his natural inclination to be a nosey bitch poking it’s head out. 

“He’s adorable,” Steve sighed, his voice dropping. Barely audible through his door, “I’m obsessed.”

Eddie’s hand paused on the doorknob. He could hear Steve getting comfortable on the couch, the leather creaking under him. He saw him in his minds eye, laid back, his legs hanging over one of the arms. 

“It’s perfect,” Steve said happily, “His mouth is insane, dude. It’s so pretty.”

It was time to give up the act of proprietary. Eddie pressed his ear against the door, officially eavesdropping. 

“Obviously, I did,” Steve laughed, “It was the first thing we did and it looked obscene. I don’t even think he gets how hot he is?”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He couldn’t- was he actually saying what it sounded like?

“Oh yeah,” Steve said easily, “That too. But I don't think he's lying about it. He's too shy. He just has a perfect dick and is a perfect sweetheart. All at the same time. Of course, it's good! Amazing actually.”

His face was burning, a mix of flattered and incredibly embarrassed. Steve had warned him that he told Robin everything but God. He went pretty damn far with it. He didn’t expect Steve to be so graphic. 

“He’s my boyfriend,” Steve said suddenly, his tone shifting, “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Wouldn't I know more than you?”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat.

from the next chapter of this fic

[lele5429]

Retired Assets - Story and Art Master Post

Story (Read the tags!)

Ch1: Prologue

Ch2: The Cold Within

Ch3: The Fire Won’t Light Itself

Ch4: Blind

Ch5: I Will Not Leave You

Ch6: Broken Things Can Be Mended Anew

Ch7: Home (Coming Soon)

Ch8: (Act 1 Finale)

AO3 main page

Art

Illustrations for the Story (by Lele)

THE TITLE PAGE (Key Visual) - I’ve finished it but I’ll post it with the finale.

Ex Libris (book plate)

Ch 2: The Cold Within

Ch 4: Blind

Ch 5: I Will Not Leave You and Never Alone

Character Design and Sketches

A Precursor to RA Ravio: fanart for @shirley-99

The first drawing of RA Ravio

RA Ravio's costume design (spoiler-free)

ALBW vs LU vs RA Ravio designs

LU Ravio vs RA Ravio - comparison and design notes

RA Ravio in a more naturalistic style (first attempt)

RA Ravio smiles and Part 2

LU Legend vs RA Legend

Love transcends the veil of absence

RA Legend in a more naturalistic style (first attempt)

RA Ravio (TW: blood)

Ravio and Sheerow for an art challenge

Tagaki Ravio profile pic

Art Process

THE TITLE PAGE (Key Visual Time Lapse)

Key Visual - inking

Ch 2: The Cold Within - scrapped designs

Drawing Eyes

Ch 4: Blind - time lapse

Ch 5: “Never Alone” - scrapped designs

Unrelated dark Ravio

Artistic Responses/Art Gifts

Discussing the Script by @moonriver080

The Burning Bridge by @moonriver080

Emoticons ft. The cast @violet-xd09

Emoticons Part 2 @violet-xd09

Ravio’s magic and smile @violet-xd09

Illustrations for Ch3 @violet-xd09

Nursery AU @violet-xd09 and Part 2

Ravio in the headlights by @violet-xd09

Ravio Tegaki by @wardingshout

Ravio mural by @hero-of-fortune

Disaster bunny and his faces by @violet-xd09

Drawing faces (art challenge) with @violet-xd09

MS paint and Tegaki Ravio blorbo @violet-xd09

Mid-Autumn Festival @violet-xd09

Under Her Favourite Apple Tree by 枭柏

Innocent RA Ravio by @whatvioletdoes-blog

RA Ravio’s 2024 Halloween costume by @violet-xd09

A Happy Fic by @lennsart

Trick or Treat/New Year @wardingshout

Bonus

Memes / Crack / Fluff (my art!)

Ravio wants you to stop and read the warning tags

Ravio with STOP sign animated

Disaster Bunny

Going to work with your landlord?

Get-along Shirt

PAY NO RENT

Why does RA Ravio fear Hilda?

Blue Potions

To Heaven

Jet lag

Legend explains things to Ravio (Ch4)

Self care or draw 25 and Part 2

RA Ravio ™️

Nope/Yep

Goodnight Ojousama

Account Deleted

Nothing is perfect

Ch 6 Teaser and Part 2

Drawing with my eyes closed

Babies need a hug

Why dis bun look so mad 😭

Working Properties - Retired Assets Actors AU

Take a break

No work

Trick or treat

Chibi

Ravio hugging Sheerow

Legend ╭(°A°`)╮

Sticker Pack #1

Poster Pose

Happy Fable

The Cold Within but Chibi

Apple juice

Hilda reading Ravio’s diary

Hilda Boop

Nursery AU (The Cast as Kids)

Nursery AU - first drawing

Kid!Ravio tries lemons

Crafts

Linocut: RA Ravio

Linocut: RA Legend

Prints ft. the RA leads, signed and framed

PAY NO RENT: heat-transfer vinyl T-shirt

Lasercut on wood: some keychains and tickets by @moonriver080

Button-making (with a sneak peek of additional memes)

Ravio’s robe and scarf (cosplay)

Bracelets inspired by LU characters

Stamp

Shaker charms and Part 2

Sheerow doll (by Alex Lynn crafts)

RA Ravio sleep mask

ID Cover

Q&A

Search for #retired assets ask game

Ravio character notes [1]

[eugenedebs1920]

What the actual f*ck!??? How is this even legal!? I guess I’ve never looked at my mortgage breakdown. I knew I had a pretty garbage interest rate, I was waiting for rates to fall and perhaps refinance. I am absolutely blown the f*ck away!!

I pay an extra hundred bucks a month as to just keep chipping away at the principal for the loan and still!! They’re telling me, that I’ve paid, coming up on $15k on my mortgage since I bought my house last year, but I’ve actually only paid $2,300 on the actual house but I’ve given the bank $9,300 for lending me the money to purchase this piece of sh*t home, that I’ve put tens of thousands of dollars into, copious amounts of blood and sweat remodeling this thing!?!?!! WHAT THE F*CK!!!?

When I bought this POS I purchased it in Jan 2023. The listing boasted an orchard, pear trees, apple trees, peach, pomegranate and fig. When I came to see the house, I knew it needed work, but fortunately that’s what I do for a living is remodel houses.

Come to find out the pear and apple trees are infected with fire blithe, an incurable disease.

I don’t think it was the last owners, probably the ones before them but, when I opened the walls and floor, HOLY SH*T! I didn’t know termites could do that much damage! Those f*ckers covered that termite wood so well, while at the same time cursing me with the worst “craftsmanship” I have ever seen… I used to think building inspectors were a pain in my ass. I’ve never respected them more than after purchasing a home on unrestricted land.

After nearly two years of busting my ass both to pay the mortgage, and renovating this dump, I go to check the fruits of my labor, see how much I’ve paid down the house, to find I’ve paid a month of rent in a city off the actual principal of the house, while nearly 4/5ths went to interest.

I’m shocked! I’m pissed! I’m crushed!

Two f*cking years of busting my balls! Two years of living in a renovation that includes replacing the floor joists and nearly all structural studs, both interior and exterior. Two years of chasing the “American dream”, which is having a small piece of property with a very modest house on it, to find that I’ve paid $2,300 on the house itself.

The rest goes to a giant bank who harbors billions of dollars, that it acquired because it speculated (a fancy word for gambled) with other people’s money, as well as making money off having money!?

Then there’s dumbass Eugene over here, being the f*cking tool he is, just a cog in the machine, a brick in the wall if you will, being a good little serf, “just keep working just keep working just keep working.” Paying into a system he despises, lining the pockets of undeserving CEO’s and oligarchs, then some people are shocked that most of us are like, “serves him right” when a CEO of a major health insurance company gets popped!

I’m an early millennial, late GenX, I feel bad for you GenZers and beyond! Home insurance is unaffordable in many places around the country. A bank won’t give you a loan without your home being insured (don’t get me started on shistey ass insurance companies either) which kinda makes sense, so if your home burns down and ain’t worth sh*t, you don’t just walk away like, see ya ✌️ That is leading to these MASSIVE real estate companies purchasing any home they can get there hands on, not only forcing the majority of the middle class to be renters, but also fixing the price for rent, which if any of you don’t know, in any moderately big city, is out of control expensive!

For a country that decries the horrors of communism there are certain aspects of capitalism that create a subjugated class very similar communism for anyone who isn’t wealthy.

How you may ask?

One of the main principles of communism is the lack of individual ownership. Not sure if anyone’s noticed but every year there’s more you spend, but less you own.

Music and movies are no longer physical objects that one has possession of. They are now linked to a streaming service or app that requires internet, or at best downloaded into a computer.

To purchase a vehicle, especially a new one, requires a loan nearly as extensive as what a home use to cost. Vehicles are $60k-$100k anymore!! If you don’t have the credit (which is a NWO conspiracy, and that’s coming from a liberal) you can’t acquire said loan, which leaves you with the option to lease. Again. No individual ownership.

Video games are more and more becoming software that you connect to the internet to play. In my day we had clunky plastic cartridges that we owned indefinitely. Some video games now require subscriptions to Xbox live, or whatever PlayStations equivalent is, to even play the game you don’t own!

So basically what we “own” is the clothes on our back and the various “toys” we have (mine being tools, which in cruel irony are for work). The rest is consumables. Food, booze, herb, vacations, healthcare. What’s the f*cking point!?

I’m telling you my fellow Americans, Republican, Democrat, Independent, if we don’t rise up against this inequality, we, and definitely our children, will live under an umbrella of capitalism where we stay dry from any of its benefits while the rest soaks the very elite with wealth they don’t need.

The top 10% own 67% of the nations capital. That leaves us to split the remaining 33% between the remaining 90% of us. It’s f*cking absurd!!!

I know I ain’t the only dumb f*ck who works his or her butts off day after day after day, building wealth for someone else while we get but a fraction of the record profits the companies we work for make, and are told to like it or we can be replaced.

I thought I made this next thing I’m going to say up, I’ve been using this analogy for years, but just the other day I heard something similar, so I don’t know if my thought got out to the world, of if I unwittingly stole someone else’s thought years ago and claimed it as my own, but…

Let’s say we’re doing a study on a primate colony. In this primate colony there are one or two monkeys who gather as many bananas as they can, more than they could ever eat, hoarding and bogarting nearly three quarters of available bananas in this part of the jungle. The other 50-60 monkeys are left with a measly amount of bananas, whatever is left on the jungle floor that “trickled down” from these monkeys who are hoarding the majority of bananas.

We wouldn’t look at these monkeys as some kind of geniuses of bananas, or as titans of the banana industry. We wouldn’t look at them and wonder, what is wrong with these couple monkeys?! Gathering up so many bananas while every other primate in the colony struggles just to feed their baby monkeys and get by.

That’s where we’ve gotten as a society. There’s a handful of people hoarding all the damn bananas and we can’t hardly get any! Yet they’ve conned us, in a capitalistic fevor, to glorify them. See them as role models. Aspire to be just like them.

As of now there are 6 billionaires in trumps cabinet. How do these people have our best interests in mind? How do they have any basic idea what the middle class needs or desires? How can they be trusted not to focus on their bottom line as their top priority?

They don’t, they can’t and they won’t.

The last time the markets were deregulated and these “titans of industry” had the reigns, in 2007-2008, it was the greatest recession since the Great Depression.

Anyone who’s kept up with my writing might remember a study I often reference and think of. Getting a good sum of money fires off the same reward centers in your brain as doing a line or hit of blow. The same dopamine and serotonin are released in the same way.

We need to stop looking at the wealthy as people who know how to succeed and start recognizing them for what they really are.

Junkies. Looking for that next line of capital snorted up their nostril. That next hit off the glass rose stem of currency.

The whole while as they’re getting their fix from money, it’s done at our expense (no pun intended). Lessening our pay, the safety requirements we work in, our ability to collectively bargain, our employer healthcare, the labor practices, denying coverage, cutting jobs, automating jobs, working on skeleton crews, practicing predatory lending, gambling with pensions, privatizing social security.

We have to remember. Their obligation is to their shareholders. Not their customers, and certainly not their employees.

This will not change unless we rise up against them. I’m not saying with gun violence or necessarily violence in general. They need to know, that without a workforce, they can’t make money. Without a customer base, they won’t make money. Without money, how will they get the monkey off their back?

Workers of the world unite!

[razorblade180]

Dedication

Summer:Hay mom? I need singing advice?

Weiss:*eyes widened* Y-Yes? Please speak my child.

Summer:Stop getting so excited about this.

Weiss:You never ask these days! I can’t help it.

Summer:I feel like I’m going through the motions. It’s a bit of a slog. Even when I sing I feel like I could be doing…better? It’s not like I’ve been or tour or making singles recently. Maybe I’m rusty? I don’t know! It’s all just…

Weiss:Maybe take a vacation? I’ll pay. Atlas isn’t the best place for inspiration.

Summer:I think that won’t help. I will be in a rut in another location. You took a break from music before, then came back to immediately top the charts a few years later. How’d you do it?

Weiss:Oh. You mean you were like three? Man that was an experience. You wanna know my secret?

Summer:Yes!

Weiss:Rent.

Summer:…The Musical?

Weiss:No! Haha, literal rent was due soon.

Summer:You sung your heart out to pay a bill? Why not take a mission?

Weiss:Because high paying ones are dangerous and I love my kids.

Summer:….

Weiss:When you and your brother were born I made a personal vow that no matter what you would want for nothing. Be it my time, food, or a toy, I was going to do it. Money was tight and even though I have wonderful family and friends to help, I never wanted to be a burden or let my darling children feel instability. So I grabbed Jaune’s guitar, got in contact with an old studio friend, and I stepped back into the spotlight.

Summer:Even though you don’t like it.

Weiss:I may not care for it, but I’ll always care about the ones I love. Plus I don’t hate singing itself. I had a lot of new ideas after having twins. I can’t say for sure if I’ve properly honored my vow these days considering…everything that’s happened. Still, there’s nothing I won’t ever do for you and your brother. So yeah, rent was due it was going to be paid in full and have my husband spend less time as a huntsman and more as a kickass dad with cooking skills.

Summer:….*hugs Weiss slowly*

Weiss:Oh?

Summer:You’re really cool. That vow has been kept ten times over.

Weiss:….Hmm *hugs back* Thank you. I think you’re pretty cool too. Now if only you wanted to share a stage….

Summer:Mother….

Weiss:Hehehe, We’ll put a pin in that conversation.

Summer:…I’ll think about it. *smiles*

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling someone to my friend’s house?

So, I have a friend (let’s call him M, I won’t reveal his age because we’re both minors), who lives in the same room as his 30 year old brother. While that’s a little weird in itself, I don’t judge if that’s how the guy needs to live.

The problem is, M’s brother pays rent for the room and yet acts like he owns it. He doesn’t listen to a thing M or his parents say. Today I learned that M has mold growing in his room. He says his parents and his brother won’t do anything about it. Me and another friend (let’s call her J) are worried about his health. We’ve provided him with resources to learn how to take care of mold. It seems simple enough, and we’ve even offered to give him cleaning spray. He says his parents wouldn’t let him.

J and I have both wondered if we should call a professional to deal with it. He said it’s not that bad, but I’m legitimately very concerned about his health. But I feel like calling someone would be a bit extreme. I probably won’t, but I’m curious what you all think I should do.

What are these acronyms?

[thedo0zyslider]

Treat - 1k Words

“ROUGE.” Omega calls, his voice bouncing off the walls of their local shopping mall. A few people, ones who do not frequent the mall, look slightly unnerved by it; but no more unnerved than they are by Omega’s presence itself. The people who don’t look towards them are the ones who do frequent the mall to some degree, the ones who have grown used to her and her team's little shopping trips. That, or they just live in this part of the city. The mall wasn’t too far away from their apartment complex, after all. “What?” She calls over her shoulder, distracted by an ad in one of the store windows. A very nice pair of boots is being advertised and Rouge is very interested. Mainly (read: only) because they are decorated with jewels. She knows those jewels are fake of course, cheap, plastic imitations of the real things. But she still wants her wardrobe to be as shiny as possible. And sometimes, that meant settling for fake jewels. “I WANT ICE CREAM.” Day four of @teamdarkweek

“ROUGE.” Omega calls, his voice bouncing off the walls of their local shopping mall. A few people, ones who do not frequent the mall, look slightly unnerved by it; but no more unnerved than they are by Omega’s presence itself. The people who don’t look towards them are the ones who do frequent the mall to some degree, the ones who have grown used to her and her team's little shopping trips. That, or they just live in this part of the city. The mall wasn’t too far away from their apartment complex, after all.

“What?” She calls over her shoulder, distracted by an ad in one of the store windows. A very nice pair of boots is being advertised and Rouge is very interested. Mainly (read: only) because they are decorated with jewels. She knows those jewels are fake of course, cheap, plastic imitations of the real things. But she still wants her wardrobe to be as shiny as possible. And sometimes, that meant settling for fake jewels.

“I WANT ICE CREAM.” Omega informs her, a sort of finality in his voice. One that says that they will not be leaving this mall without having bought ice cream. Lest he threaten to blow the whole thing to smithereens, or lord forbid actually attempt to blow it up. But she’s pretty sure he wouldn’t do that. The complaints she and Shadow would have afterwards would be enough of a deterrent.

“Gimme a minute.” She says, quickly glancing around for their missing member. She sees him not far away, hovering by the most emo store in the mall, and walks over to grab him. Rouge wonders just exactly when he’d wandered away. It’s not like she was that transfixed by that advertisement. “Shadow!”

“What?” Shadow asks, allowing Rouge to take him by the hand and drag him away from the Hot Topic’s doors. He didn’t need to go in there and lose fifty dollars on two shirts, like he always did. He also didn’t need to drag her in there either, and lose yet another fifty dollars on things they didn’t need. That was a later mall trip, one when their rent wasn’t due within the next two weeks. So, a little after they pay it probably.

“Omega wants ice cream.” She says, returning to their teammates' side. Omega makes some sort of sound with his processor, before stomping off and away from their stores. All Rouge can do is follow, Shadow still being dragged behind her. It’s a voluntary dragging, at this point; her grip is loose enough that he can pull his hand away whenever.

“Oh, yay.” The hedgehog says, thankfully not bothered by being separated from Hot Topic. Again, he didn’t need to go in there today. Shadow can be just as impulsive and just as bad with money as she can be sometimes. He even sounds marginally excited about the prospect of ice cream.

Luckily for them, there’s an ice cream place in the mall. It’s nothing special, just a small shop that probably won’t last more than a few years, but they have a decent variety of flavors; including some that you normally wouldn’t expect to see at a mall ice cream store. Rouge likes their product well enough, though it’s not the best ice cream she’s ever tasted. But, to fill Omega’s mechanical cravings, it will have to do.

“Who’s turn is it to pay?” She asks, glancing over at Shadow. The two of them often take turns paying for things like lunch or necessities; anything that benefits their little trio as a whole. Omega would also be included in this switching if he had any money to pay with. G.U.N does not classify him as a person, so he doesn’t get a paycheck like they do. Not like Omega finds much value in money anyways. He would probably just give his paychecks to them. Or burn it.

Shadow pauses, mentally running over their recent group activities, and expenses, in his head. “Yours, I think. I paid for the boba last time.”

“Would you even have enough?” She asks, knowing she has enough on her card for this. Payday had been recently, which is why they were at the mall in the first place. Rouge had just gotten paid, and felt like spoiling herself a bit. Because she deserved it. And the ice cream was now going to serve as a bonus little treat during her mall day.

“Most likely.” Shadow says. Which either means he probably has the funds to pay for it and he’s just not sure, or its code for he actually cannot afford ten or so dollars worth of ice cream and was relying on it being Rouge’s turn to pay. If it’s the latter, she wonders why he had wandered towards such an expensive and wallet-killing store. “What flavor do you want?” Rouge asks Omega a little ways before they get to the shop, wanting to know before they get up. She knows what she wants, and Shadow only likes one flavor from this place, so he’s the only one left. She likes knowing her order before she gets to the counter, especially in the mall's food court. There’s always too many people to stand around and comfortably deliberate your order at the counter.

Omega glances at the menu, zooming in on it with his optics. And apparently, he’s feeling adventurous today. “COOKIE MONSTER.” She had not been expecting him to say cookie monster, of all the ice cream. But if it’s what he wants, it’s what he’ll get.

Rouge glides over to place their orders with the ice cream person. Her teammates ominously wait a few steps behind her. That is the exact reason why she’s the one ordering, instead of the robot who wanted ice cream in the first place. Omega isn’t going to be very personable when speaking to anyone outside their sphere, and Shadow has a way of accidentally intimidating the poor minimum wage workers. Rouge has no idea in hell how the best jewel thief in the world became the most friendly and approachable looking person in their group, but she’ll roll with it. She’s good with people anyways.

She order’s Omega’s in a cup, since it’ll start to melt before anyone eats it, then orders three scoops of cherries jubilee in a sugar cone for herself, and Shadow’s usual double scoop rocky road in a waffle cone. The worker looks vaguely off-put by the brooding hedgehog and literal death robot standing behind her, but they don’t say anything. Their order costs about fifteen dollars. Rouge slips them a twenty and says to keep the change.

They don’t have to wait very long, the ice cream being ready, because ice cream does not take that long to prepare. She hands both the boys their orders, and very much does not almost drop Omega’s while trying to grab her own cone. Thankfully, he catches it before it hits the ground, and only makes one snide comment about it. Rouge tells him to hush anyways.

All three of them make a beeline for the nearest table, Omega having to stand awkwardly beside it, the chairs all being too small for him; as most chairs are. Though he seems pleased with his frozen treat to be irritated about that particular issue. Again, if any of the other patrons are weirded out by it, they need to start shopping at this mall more. If the workers have a problem with it, they will unfortunately have to deal with it until the cones have been devore,d and the trio can resume their shopping.

“Like your ice cream bug guy?” Rouge asks, taking a bit of her cherry jubilee cone. Shadow is, somehow, almost halfway done with his. They have only been sitting down for a few minutes, probably less than five. Rouge vaguely wonders if he’s even physically capable of feeling when food is cold, or getting a damn brain freeze. The answer to one of those questions is probably a resounding no . She doesn’t want to know which question, either.

“YES. THIS IS SATISFACTORY.” Omega glances up from his cup, which he had been staring at gleefully since it was handed to him. His processing fan whirs in a certain way that indicates his enjoyment of the ice cream, even if he cannot physically consume it himself. Out of the corner of her eye, Rouge catches a small smile slipping onto Shadow’s face at the sound.

“We'll have to go back there soon, then.” She hums, and her two teammates give their nods of agreement. She takes another bite of her ice cream, watching blankly as Shadow practically inhales part of his own. Maybe, just maybe, the ice cream from that place isn’t so mediocre after all.

[dailyanarchistposts]

A revolutionary “pessimistic” postscript in times of coronavirus

“The outbreak of the new strain of coronavirus (COVID-19), which has wrought havoc in China since the end of last year, has surged over borders and impacted the rest of the world, and with it, the imminent economic crisis has but further advanced. The world economy is in full-on crisis, the administrators of power are pending on immense financial relief, the bourgeoisie are beginning to close factories and lay off employees using the lucky pretext of the “quarantine” as excuse. The disaster is immanent. Nevertheless, it’s important to know that the monetary losses don’t signify the fall of the capitalist system. Capitalism will seek at every moment to restructure itself on the basis of austerity measures imposed on proletarians in order to palliate all the catastrophic consequences that it will bring along with it. And this is due to the fact that the “blows” that capitalism has been dealt due to these phenomena are simply losses in its rate of profit, but those losses don’t at all change its structure or its essence, meaning the social relations that allow it to remain standing: the commodity, value, the market, exploitation and wage labor. In fact, it’s in these structures that capitalism most reaffirms its necessities: sacrificing millions of human beings to the favor of economic interests, making the polarization between classes sharpen and revealing more forcefully in what position the dominant class is to be found, who will use all the efforts in their reach in order to preserve this state of things.

[…]

The ever-more contradictions heightened contradictions of this mode of production (crisis, war, pandemics, environmental destruction, pauperization, militarization), which exasperate our conditions of survival, won’t clear the way either mechanically or messianically for the end of capitalism. Or better said, such conditions, although they will be fundamental, won’t suffice. Because for capitalism to reach its end, it’s imperative for there to be a social force, antagonistic and revolutionary that manages to direct the destructive and subversive character towards something completely different from what we know and experience now.

If we want it or not, we can’t let a question as important as the revolution to drift aimlessly, to leave it to luck. It’s necessary to experience the resolution of this problem on the basis of the organization of tasks that can go on to present themselves, that’s to say, the grouping for the appropriation and defense of the most immediate necessities (not paying debts, rent, or taxes), but also, the rupture from all the dreams and mirages that carry us to manage the save miseries behind another facade.

[…]

It’s not necessary to wait for the dystopia or the hollywoodesque scenes of apocalypse, because these are already materially manifesting in different parts of the globe, and in fact they greatly surpass any attempt at representation by cinematic fiction.

The current pandemic of COVID-19 is one more stage in the degradation to which this society of commodity production brings us.

A stage before which it is reaffirmed that the true future only hangs from two strings:

Communist revolution or to perish in the twilight!”

Contra la Contra n.3 Collapse of the capitalist system? A few notes on current events. Mexico City March 2020

[deadlyterrorstonight]

|| Accidentally falling asleep for hours when the guys meant to take a small 30MIN to 1hr nap ||

Mike

Was taking nightshift that night and came to work around 11:56am. Was doing his thing till he decided to head to the back around 3:06pm to take a mini- short nap. Uh-huh- that was the plan. But unfortunately ol’ Mike here slept for 3 long hours after he laid his head down on the table in the break room. The guys didn’t bother and figured he could use the sleep. When he woke up and checked the time he was BAFFLED. “WHAT? WHATT? IT WAS ONLY 3! HOW IS IT 6PM? OH MAN-“ Panic and concerned mode activates. Mike knows better to fall asleep- it’ll dock his pay or, get him in trouble with the Boss. Please don’t let him hear anything from that guys mouth- he knows! He knows! He screwed up and slept in. It won’t happen again. And he really needs that money to pay rent and get food…and essentials…

Probably gonna rattle the guys for not waking him up. Screw sleep! He would’ve made it. He normally does. Normally.

Fritz

Dude was either gaming or watching something and didn’t realize how late it was (or completely ignored it thinking ‘ Yeah, I’ll be fine.’) That, or he couldn’t get comfortable in bed to sleep. Happens often actually and he tosses and turns a lot until he finally does. No he does not use white noise or music to crash out often. Only here and there- Dude just sits in the silence mostly, because otherwise his brain starts to get stimulated again and it’ll be harder for him to sleep. He needs quiet.

But he came into work, doing his usual things (Checking on the animatronics, making sure they have spare parts and nothings stolen, checking with Scott and Vincent about certain things or any updates from the Boss he might’ve missed and then just chilling. The kids aren’t a big issue for him- Usually.) went to the back room (the backstage where he checks out the animatronics with all their stuff) and while he was going over the boxes and extra ‘shells’ of the animatronics he decided maybe he could use a teeny nap.

Sitting up against the boxes and leaning on them and taking a snooze with a timer set for 20 minutes. He didn’t wake up- the phone keeps snoozing itself after a couple of minutes and starting again but nobody hears since it’s loud in the main hall with all the music and kids and no one’s wandering backstage.

Suddenly, FINALLY- 2 HOURS LATER- He wakes up and turns his phones timer off-

Fritz was scared and tried acting calm while sweaty after getting up and going back to what he should’ve been doing. Everythings fineee. No need to worry. If Boss possibly finds out he crashed while on the job, he was scared that he might fire him since Fritz knows he’s a huge klutz and causes issues around the restaurant from time to time. Not everyday! But Boss has been keeping an eye on him. He knows he’s a good mechanic and he knows Fritz knows how the AI’s and Animatronics operate well- but who knows if somehow he found a better mechanic to replace him without him knowing? And is just waiting for him to screw up to get rid of him? Please no. He really enjoys his job and working with the guys.-

Probably asks why no one woke him up. “We thought you were doing something with the animatronics or dipped early- I don’t know-“ Mike would respond.

He went the rest of the day paranoid that one of the guys were gonna come up to him to tell him Boss wanted to see him. Thankfully, they didn’t.

Jeremy

Nightshift, nightshift! Yep, good ol’ nightshift. Just as it takes its toll on Mike, it does obviously on Jeremy too. That or he was up watching anime or listening to music.

Came in to work late, 12:33pm and while still feeling the effects of tiredness, he went to the back room and fell asleep just like Mike did. Oops-

He slept about 2 hours and a half before finally getting up for some unknown reason. “Huh?…” checks the time only to find out what happened. “WHAT?” Panics and gets up while asking one of the guys why no one tried waking him up. They give a shrug and didn’t think it’d he that bad to let him get some rest. “It’s not that big of deal. You didn’t sleep that long.” Scott would say. I mean…Scott said it’s ok. Hopefully Boss wouldn’t mind just as much either…or find out…aw man..

He’s not paranoid but is upset. He feels bad a bit because he knows he’s suppose to help with being a security guard during the day too and here he was snoozing in the back. Ends up acting upset enough to the point Mike has to call him out on it and tells him to stop worrying about it, that he needed it and to stop moping.

Scott

Late nights probably going over work related things..that or watching some show.

He came in to work on time, the usual. Ends up going backstage to do what he always does. He can’t help but yawn as he goes along doing his daily routine and pops his back. Maybe…maybe he could take a small nap?

He decided he would and takes off a chair on a stack and sits in it after having it pushed against a wall. He slumps down in it and falls asleep. 4 hours pass by, peacefully sleeping with snores and this man Jumps in his chair after he finally wakes and checks the time. “OH SHOOT-“ He’s up, he’s speed walking and he’s quickly checking everything out. No way he just slept that long-

Stresses about it and sighs. Rubbing a hand over his mouth down (or phone head, whichever makes sense or you see in your head.)

Vincent

Watching a show or something. Sometimes gets too into it (or says screw it) and falls asleep at a late hour.

Goes to work the next day and does his daily duties as a manager and security guard as soon as the place opens, on time. Yawns throughout the early morning and Mid-day/ say about 1:34pm, it’s lunch break and he accidentally forgot his food in the car. Goes out to the side of the building and opens his car door after unlocking it. Sitting in the passenger seat for a minute and he’d sigh as he holds his lunch bag in hand. He takes a look to the side and then back to his legs- and decides maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for a 10 minute Power Nap- a little rest for his eyelids. So he shuts his door and rolls down his windows. Literally falls asleep for 3 hours because knucklehead forgot to put on a timer or tell someone to come and wake him up.

Wakes up and it’s gloomy outside, looking like it’s about to rain. This man doesn’t know what time it is, but suspects that he may have slept longer than he intended too. He feels too well rested right now.

So he rolls the windows up and gets going back inside, not before noticing MORE cars in the parking lot- oh boy. After he heads in and looks at the clock in the main dining area, this man is shocked. 3 hours? He’s been out THAT LONG? Yikes-… Scott ends up finding him standing there looking at the clock and begins to lecture him asking him where he’s been. Etc, etc. he explains and Scott just face palms. “I- ugh. I can’t even be mad. I’ve done it too.” He’d sigh.

Vincent would be a little spacey for the rest of the day- he’s just stunned he actually slept that long. He normally doesn’t and it’s been a while since he’s done something like that. Wow…reminds him of the days when he worked on nightshift..

A/N: Fell asleep for hours by accident. I was tired but I didn’t feel THAT tired. Guess I was wrong? Woke up 3-4 hours later. Decided to write about it for the dudes. // There’s probably typos, or things are written weirdly. I’m tired (again) And my brains not processing things at %100- I’ll come back and edit again when brains working right.