#you would always choose to keep me here and | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ilovedinodino · 1 day ago

Text

player 066

synopsis: Haechan came to earn money from some strange games and didn't expect to see you, his ex.

paring: player!haechan x player!reader

warnings: blood, fights, literally the same thing that happens in the squid game happens here

wc: 5259

Who haven’t seen season 2 don’t read it!

Haechan didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect some childish games to involve death for losing. After the first game, he was horrified and wanted nothing more than to go home, back to his friends and family. He was certain that during the vote, everyone would choose X—but how wrong he was.

Haechan glanced up at the scoreboard, silently praying that the remaining players would come to their senses and choose to leave this wretched place. He wanted to scream.

“Player 012.”

Haechan turned toward the crowd, and his breath caught.

“Y/N?..”

The boy froze in shock, unable to believe his eyes as he watched you stand there, hesitating over which button to press.

Haechan’s mind raced. Why is this so hard for you to decide? Weren’t you terrified after everything you’ve seen? And why the fuck are you here?

*Ding.*

The blue light flashed, and Team O erupted in cheers, celebrating loudly.

You had chosen O.

—

After the vote, they started handing out food. By the way, four people voted after you, and two of them chose O, which meant you weren’t allowed to leave and should to play next game. Haechan was upset and still couldn’t understand what you were doing here. He wanted to find you, but he lost you in the sea of green uniforms.

Grabbing his food, Haechan began walking toward one of the bunks. Then he stopped. You were sitting on one of the beds, quietly eating.

God, you were beautiful. You had always been beautiful, but Haechan hadn’t seen you in five months, and in that moment, he thought you’d become even more radiant.

Without hesitation, he quickly walked over to you.

You were eating peacefully when you suddenly felt someone standing in front of you. Slowly, you lifted your head, ready to say something to the stranger with number 066, but then you saw him.

Lee Haechan.

The same guy you had broken up with and still couldn’t come to terms with. For half a year, you had tried to forget him, but nothing worked. You thought of him every night in your dreams, before falling asleep, and even in the mornings. Constantly. And now, here he was, standing in this strange place, wearing a strange green uniform, right in front of you.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

“Haechan,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What are you doing here?”

You flinched at the question. What were you doing here? You didn’t even know yourself. You had wanted to escape somewhere far away from everything, and this seemed like a perfect solution—earning some money along the way didn’t hurt either.

“I came to win money, just like you. Is that not allowed?” you said, your tone cold.

Haechan’s expression softened, his heart sinking at your distant words. Still, he sat down next to you while you shot him a wary look.

“Do you need money?” he asked gently.

"I need to pay for my studies."

"You could have asked me."

"You?" You laugh. "You’re here because you don’t have money yourself, and you’re telling me I should’ve asked you? Besides, don’t you think it’s strange to ask for money from your ex—someone you haven’t talked to or seen in six months?"

Haechan falls silent. Technically, you were right. But he wasn’t completely broke—he could’ve helped you if you had asked. He was here to earn more money for his dreams, so he wouldn’t have to take out extra loans. And you were also right about the part with the ex, but Haechan didn’t want to dwell on that. It hurt too much.

"Why did you vote to keep playing? Did that old man convince you?"

You smirk and poke at the rice with your spoon.

"I didn’t want to go home, and the prize money was too small."

"20 million won is too small?!" Haechan stares at you in disbelief. "Aren’t you afraid you might die?"

"I’m not," you reply, avoiding his gaze, while he keeps looking at you intently.

"From now on, I’ll stay with you."

"What?" You lift your head in surprise, finally looking him in the eye.

"From this moment on..." Haechan’s eyes lock with yours. "...I’ll be with you," he says, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"I ran away from everyone to end up with you following me around? No, Haechan, I don’t need this." You start to get up, setting your meal aside, but Haechan grabs your wrist and stands with you.

"Let go."

"I’m not letting you go in a place like this. It’s too dangerous."

"I’m not a child, Haechan."

"I don’t care. You can do whatever you want, but I won’t even consider leaving you alone here."

You stare at each other for a long moment, his grip firm yet not forceful. Deep down, you know he won’t back down—not even with a gun to his head. Haechan had always been this stubborn.

Of course, you were just as stubborn, but the truth was, you were glad he was here with you, even if you refused to admit it.

—

After lights out, you were escorted to the next game. You tried to avoid Haechan, but it didn’t work very well. At that moment, as you climbed the stairs, he was right behind you. You hadn’t even noticed when he managed to fall into step behind you.

"Don’t try to run away from me, sweetheart," he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

You ignored him and kept walking.

"I heard that in the next game, you’ll have to carve shapes out of a cookie, so pick the triangle," he added casually.

You stopped and turned to face him.

"Where did you hear that?"

Haechan simply shrugged and gently turned you back around, nudging you to keep moving forward.

It didn’t feel like a game about cookies.

Somehow, you managed to slip away from Haechan and stood at the far end of the room, nearly alone. Like everyone else, you were surveying the space when a female voice suddenly rang out:

"Divide into teams of five."

Damn. This definitely wasn’t about cookies. You looked around, seeing how everyone began forming teams, scrambling to find people.

You spotted a group of men and cautiously approached them.

"Excuse me. I’m on my own—can I join your team?"

The four men gave you a once-over before exchanging looks.

"Listen, we need strong and smart people on our team..."

You didn’t need to hear more to understand their implication. They didn’t want women—they wanted men. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you turned and started searching again.

—

Haechan was losing his mind. He had searched the entire damn hall, and you were nowhere to be found. The thought of you being stuck with some random weaklings or sketchy players made his blood boil. You had to be with him—right now, no, right this second.

"Hey, want to team up with me?"

Haechan turned toward the voice and saw a guy around his age grinning at him.

"I noticed you’re walking around alone. I’m on my own too, so if you don’t mind, we could team up and look for more people together."

The guy’s wide smile seemed genuine, and Haechan figured it wasn’t the worst idea.

"Yeah, sure. But there’s going to be a girl with us. Is that okay with you?"

The guy waved his hand dismissively, his grin unwavering.

"Of course! That’s even better. I’m Hendery, by the way."

He extended his hand, and Haechan shook it firmly.

"Haechan."

"Nice to meet you! So, where’s the girl?"

Haechan’s jaw tightened as he scanned the room again, his frustration bubbling.

"That’s what I’m trying to figure out."

Hendery glanced at the timer and nodded.

"We still have time, so we’ll find her. What does she look like?"

Haechan opened his mouth to reply but suddenly froze. His eyes caught sight of you—standing just behind Hendery. But you weren’t alone. You were with some guy.

Without thinking, Haechan shot up and strode toward you, his sudden movements making Hendery follow in confusion.

"Y/N! Where the hell have you been?!"

You flinched as Haechan grabbed your arm unexpectedly, letting out an exasperated sigh when you realized it was him.

"God, could you be gentler?!"

"Gentler?!" Haechan’s voice dripped with frustration. "Where have you been? Why did you—" He cut himself off abruptly when his gaze locked onto the tall guy standing next to you.

The boy fidgeted under Haechan’s intense stare before mumbling awkwardly, "I’m Sungchan. Nice to meet you." He extended a hand hesitantly, and Haechan shook it reluctantly, his grip firmer than necessary.

"Oh! We only need one more person now, and we’re set!" Hendery exclaimed enthusiastically, his bright demeanor completely at odds with the tense atmosphere.

Haechan, however, wasn’t sharing in the excitement. His sharp eyes darted between you and Sungchan, while you glared back at him with irritation. Sungchan seemed ready to disappear under the pressure of Haechan’s silent judgment.

"I’m with you," a deep voice suddenly cut through the awkwardness.

All four of you turned to see an incredibly tall man with long hair stepping toward the group. His commanding presence left everyone speechless for a moment.

Hendery, however, didn’t miss a beat. "Perfect!" he cheered, practically beaming at the addition.

But Haechan’s attention was still fixed on you and Sungchan, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. This wasn’t how he imagined things would go.

—

Once the announcement was made to assign one person to each of the five games, the team gathered, exchanging uncertain glances.

"I’ll take Jegi. That’s literally the only game I can play," you declared, breaking the silence. The guys turned to look at you, and the tall man with the long hair chuckled, tilting his head.

"Alright, but who’s the strongest here? We’ll need someone for Ddakji."

The group fell silent until Sungchan nervously raised his hand.

"I… I think I can handle it."

Haechan was about to say something when you cut him off, pointing directly at him.

"Haechan will play Gong-gi!"

"What?!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"You’re practically a pro at it! Come on, don’t pretend you’re not." You nudged his shoulder, and he glanced around nervously.

"Really? We need someone skilled for that game," Hendery chimed in with his ever-optimistic grin.

Haechan sighed in defeat, muttering, "Fine, I’ll do it."

"I’ll take Flying Stone," the long-haired man said calmly, crossing his arms.

"Guess that leaves me with Spinning Top," Hendery shrugged, still grinning as if this was all a casual game night.

—

*Bang.*

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the room, followed by the horrifying thud of bodies hitting the floor.

You violently, your gaze glued to the bloodied corpses of the first two groups. They hadn’t made it. They hadn’t been fast enough.

Fear surged through you like ice. What if your team wasn’t fast enough? What if you couldn’t hit the shuttlecock five times in Jegi? What if—

"Y/N," Haechan’s soft voice broke through the storm in your mind.

His hands gently landed on your shoulders, steadying you.

"Hey," he whispered, carefully turning you away from the blood-soaked floor. "Don’t look at that. Look at me."

You hesitated but finally met his gaze. He smiled at you, warm and reassuring, his hands still resting on your shoulders as if to anchor you.

"Everything will be fine," he said, his voice soft but firm.

You stood there, frozen, staring at him. Slowly, his calm confidence seeped into you, easing the rigid tension in your body. For a moment, all you could focus on was the safety in his eyes.

—

“Damn, we’re last. That’s sad,” Hendery joked, his tone light despite the tension.

Your team stood still as the staff locked the metal restraints around your ankles, the heavy weight of the game’s stakes settling in. And you were here alone. Only with another team.

The game began.

Sungchan wasted no time. Grabbing the Ddakji square, he struck with precision, flipping the paper on his first try.

"YES!" you all shouted in unison, voices echoing in the room as you sprinted to the next game.

"One, two! One, two!"

The second game flew by in a blur. The tall man threw the stone with ease, landing it perfectly before swiftly striking it back to the start. Another victory. You jumped up and down, cheering wildly as the group moved cautiously to the next station.

The third game was Gong-gi. The group waited as the guard placed the table and handed out the small stones.

Haechan’s hands were trembling. No one seemed to notice, riding the adrenaline high of their earlier wins, but his heart was racing. He sat down, staring at the stones as he picked up the first one.

Focus. Just focus.

He dropped it.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, gathering the stones again.

"Haechan, it’s fine! Don’t rush, we still have time," Hendery said from the side, his encouraging words meant to ease the tension.

But it didn’t help. Haechan’s hands shook even more, and the stones slipped again.

“Come on,” he whispered, frustration bubbling in his chest. He started over, but his nerves betrayed him, the stones scattering across the table once more.

Haechan glanced at the timer, panic surging as he realized how much time he’d wasted. He hadn’t even cleared the round.

“Crap, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I—”

"Donghyuck."

Your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. He felt your hand gently rest on his shoulder, and he turned to look at you.

His face was drenched in sweat, his expression on the verge of breaking completely.

You didn’t say anything at first. Instead, you reached out and placed your palm softly against his cheek, stroking it with a calmness that seemed out of place in the chaos around you.

“You’ve got this,” you said softly, your voice steady and warm.

Haechan blinked at you, the fear in his eyes slowly giving way to something else—something calmer, more grounded. For the first time since the game started, his hands steadied.

“You’re okay, Hyuck. You’ll get through this. You’ve always done it for me, right?”

Something tugged at his chest when he heard the nickname only you used for him. Feeling the warmth of your hand on his cheek, Haechan steadied his breath.

He started again, his movements faster and more precise this time. One by one, he flipped the stones with skill, catching them all in the end. He slowly raised his fist to show the guard, who silently gave an “O” gesture.

“Success.”

Cheers erupted as you all celebrated, moving on to the next game.

"One, two! One, two!"

—

The last two games were grueling, but somehow, you all managed to finish with just five seconds left on the timer. It was a narrow escape, but an escape nonetheless.

Now, back in the main hall, the atmosphere was somber. No one spoke as the weight of what you’d just been through settled over the group.

Haechan had quietly moved away from the rest of you, sitting by himself in the corner. His head was low, his shoulders slumped.

“Haechan, why are you sitting there?” Hendery asked, his concern evident as he got up and walked over.

The rest of you followed, though you sat a bit farther from him than the others.

“I’m sorry…” Haechan mumbled into his hands, his face buried in his knees. “Because of me… you all almost died… I shouldn’t have—”

Hendery wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a reassuring hug.

“Hey, come on now,” Sungchan chimed in, patting Haechan’s back. “You didn’t do anything wrong. After everything we’ve seen today, who wouldn’t be shaken up? No one could focus in a place like this.”

“This place is insane,” Sungchan added, his voice filled with frustration.

You glanced at him, noticing a cross on his chest. A quick look at the others revealed the same symbol on Hendery and the tall man.

But when your eyes dropped to your own chest, you realized you were the only one with the O.

“It's because of me that we’re still here...”

Everyone’s attention shifts to you as your words hang in the air.

“I voted to continue the game…” You glance down at your hoodie.

“Come on, guys, stop!” The tall, handsome guy says, trying to comfort you. “We all make mistakes. The important thing is that we’re still alive. Besides, you weren’t the only one who voted to continue. So you’re not to blame.”

Haechan, who had raised his head when you began speaking, watches you silently while you focus on your sneakers.

“By the way, my name is Johnny. I’m from Chicago.”

“Chicago? I was there once when I was a kid. Im Hendery!” Hendery says, introducing himself.

“I’m Sungchan!”

“Lee Haechan…” Haechan mutters quietly, and everyone turns their attention to you, waiting for your response.

Noticing the silence, you lift your head and hesitate for a moment. “I... Y/N...”

“Nice to meet everyone!” Johnny says with a cheerful grin.

—

The second voting began. This time, you were certain that you were going to leave. After such a brutal game, you were sure that everyone else would want to leave too. There was no other option. Could they really be this stupid?

*Ding.*

The blue team jumps in joy.

24 – 28.

What the hell?

Soon, the score is tied, and the red team starts to win. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Guys, why are you so boring? Let's all vote for the circle, okay?”

“God, this freak again,” you mutter to yourself after the guy with purple hair votes.

“Yeah, he's definitely strange,” Haechan agrees with you.

Fuck.

The last person went to vote, and the blue team won. They celebrated loudly while you, the red team, sat quietly, frustrated and angry.

"Let's see how they’ll celebrate when they all die," you turn at the harsh, blunt voice of Hendery.

"What?" He glance at you. "I just want to go home, and because of these stupid assholes, I’m back on the edge of death again.” Hendery kicks the floor and heads to the bed.

You all exchange glances, taken aback by this unexpected side of him.

“He can be like this?”

—

After the food was handed out, you left it with Songchan and went to the bathroom. You couldn’t stay there, you had no appetite. How could you think about food after everything you had seen? You walked to the sink, turned on cold water, and washed your face. The bathroom was empty, and you finally felt some peace. But suddenly the door opened, and Haechan stepped in.

"Why are you in the women’s bathroom?" you asked, surprised. Haechan smiled and replied:

"Women’s? This is the men’s bathroom, Y/N." You stepped out and saw that the door did indeed say "men’s bathroom." Haechan grinned and said:

"Didn’t you notice anything strange?" He walked to the sink and started washing his face.

"I didn’t pay attention to anything except the sink..." you ignored the fact that you were still in the men’s bathroom, since no one else was there except Haechan. What difference did it make?

"Are you okay?" Haechan asked as he wiped his face with his shirt. You slowly turned to him.

"I... yeah... ah, fuck, of course I’m not okay! How could I be okay when I’ve seen so many people get killed right in front of me? When my clothes are soaked in their blood? When I was almost killed myself? Who could be okay after all that? Only crazy people, Haechan!" Haechan stood in shock at your loud outburst. You both stood there, looking at each other, until you spoke again:

"Sorry... I just want to go home and live a normal life." You leaned over the sink again, splashing your face with water and wiping it. Haechan stayed silent, then approached you and gently lifted your face.

"Y/N, I understand, don’t apologize. I’m going crazy here too, from this place and these people. You saw how I almost got us killed? I lost my mind completely."

"Don’t say that, you didn’t do anything," you interrupted him.

"You didn’t do anything either, so don’t blame yourself for the first vote. Just calm down. I said I’d always be here for you, and I kept my word, didn’t I?"

You looked at his face for a long moment and quietly said:

"You haven’t been here for me the last five months."

Haechan smiled softly and stroked your face.

"It’s not about that now, Y/N. Let’s not talk about it."

"Why? Because you stopped loving me and left? Now you're pretending like nothing happened?"

"Y/N, it's not like that, and you know it. I never stopped loving you."

"Sunghoon said you didn’t care about me, that you didn’t care about our relationship. He said you found someone else…"

"Do you believe that jerk?"

You flinch at his sharp, cold tone.

"I..."

"You're still listening to him? I told you he's ruining your life. Didn't he make you fight with Karina? Why are you still falling for it?"

"I'm not falling for it..."

"Then shut up and stop talking about him. Everything he tells you is a lie, especially about me and our relationship. I’ve always loved you, Y/N. You know why we broke up, and it wasn’t our fault. It just happened."

You feel hot tears on your cheeks and start to sob. Haechan wipes your tears away and leans in to kiss them.

"Please, don’t cry. We... we’ll fix all of this when we get out of this game..."

You stay quiet, just looking at each other.

"Promise?"

"I promise." Haechan smiles, then slowly leans in to kiss you on the lips. Without thinking, you kiss him back. At first, it’s slow and calm. You place your hands on his neck, pulling him closer, and he moves his hands to your waist, doing the same. He presses you against the sink, and the kiss deepens and quickens. Haechan moves his hands from your waist to your hips. You’re running out of breath and pull away.

"Not here, Haechan…"

Haechan looks at you with dark eyes and slowly nods. He leans back in and kisses you again, but this time more gently.

"Oh my god, guys! You scared me! So this is where you disappeared to!" The door suddenly swings open, and Hendery walks in. You quickly pull away from Haechan and fix yourself, but Haechan seems unfazed that you were caught and quietly laughs at your reaction.

—

Third Game: Mingle!

Huh?

You were standing in a huge hall with carousel horses placed in the center. The host explained the rules while the five of you listened intently. After last night, Haechan stayed even closer to you, almost lying down next to you to protect you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder, protect from who?

The game began.

They spun you around so you nearly fell, but Haechan caught you in time. As you stood there together, a familiar voice echoed:

"Five!"

"We’re five!" Sungchan shouted, and you all ran to the door in a panic.

Everyone was scrambling, rushing to find their groups. You could’ve been left behind, frozen in shock, but Haechan held your hand tightly and pulled you toward the red door with the others.

5… 4…

The five of you quickly squeezed in and shut the door.

3… 2… 1…

Silence.

Standing beside Johnny, you peeked through the peephole to see the remaining players who hadn’t found their groups. Suddenly, you flinched as gunfire erupted. They were being executed one by one. You should’ve been used to this by now, but every time it left you frozen, unable to believe your eyes.

Haechan grabbed your wrist and pulled you close.

"I told you not to look. Look at me, only at me. Stay by my side, okay?"

You nodded quickly.

When the door opened, the smell of blood hit you like a wave. Red puddles spread across the floor.

"If people still want to play after this game, I’ll just shoot myself right here," Hendery muttered, walking toward the carousel.

Song began again.

“And have fun jumping around. Round and round.”

“3!”

The lights flickered, and the room descended into chaos. People were running again, panicked and screaming.

"Sungchan and I will find another group. You three stick together!" Johnny yelled.

You stood frozen, watching your friends, terrified to let them go. But the two guys grabbed your hands and pulled you toward the yellow door.

You barely managed to squeeze through before the timer ended and the door slammed shut.

You rushed to the door, frantically looking for Sungchan and Johnny, but they were nowhere to be seen. You could only hope they were safe.

When you exited, two tall guys immediately approached you.

"You’re alive!" Hendery exclaimed, hugging them.

“And have fun jumping around. Round and round.”

“4!”

The five of you looked around again when Haechan suddenly shouted:

«Go as a group of four! I’ll find someone on my own»You stared at him in shock, grabbing his hand.

«Are you crazy? I’m going with you!»

Haechan gently removed your hands and smiled.

«Y/N, please go. There’s no time.»

You shook your head, refusing, but Sungchan pulled you away by the arm. You tried to break free, yelling:

“Haechan, no! You idiot, don’t leave me! You promised to stay with me!”

But Haechan disappeared into the crowd. Sungchan managed to push you into a small room just as the door closed.

“No! Open it! Open the damn door!” you banged on the door, desperately peering through the peephole to find Haechan.

In the darkness, everyone looked alike, and with horror, you noticed someone who resembled Haechan. Right in front of you, they were shot. You stumbled backward, tears streaming down your face, and turned sharply to the others.

“What if it was him?! This is all your fault!”

“Y/N, calm down. He’s a smart guy; he must have found a group” Sungchan tried to reassure you.

“I just saw someone get killed! What if it was him?!”you cried hysterically, your vision blurring. You sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, until Hendery approached and carefully tried to comfort you.

“He’s alive, Y/N. It’s going to be okay,” he said gently.

You were on edge, unable to think clearly. The games had pushed you to the brink, and the fear of losing Haechan consumed you. The pain of him leaving you again mixed with the terror of the moment.

When the door opened, Hendery helped you stand. You rushed out, scanning every door, but there was no sign of the one you were looking for.

“Guys!” a familiar voice called from behind.

You turned sharply and saw Haechan. He stood there with an elderly woman and two men.

“I found these wonderful people, and they saved me...” he began.

Before he could finish, you ran to him, throwing your arms around him so tightly it felt like you feared losing him again.

«Hey, Y/N, I’m here. Everything’s okay.»

«Don’t you dare leave me again,» your voice trembled with emotion.

You lifted your head, pouting slightly, and Haechan smiled softly at your adorable expression, brushing his hand over your hair.

“I promise, I won’t leave you.”

“This is the final round!”

“Thank god” Hendery said.

“And have fun jumping around. Round and round.”

“2!”

Haechan immediately grabbed your hand, pulling you close, and glanced at the others.

“Split up. Only one person is needed here, i can do it” Hendery said and smilled to you.

You and Haechan sprinted toward the door. He opened it and was about to step inside when you suddenly broke free from his grip. Someone shoved you roughly, pushing you aside.

A man dashed past you, slipping into the room with Haechan and slamming the door shut.

You froze, staring in horror at the closed door.

Haechan turned, realizing your hand was no longer in his. When he saw a stranger instead of you, his expression darkened with fury.

“Get out!” he shouted, shoving the man.

“There’s no time!” the man argued, resisting him.

Haechan said nothing. He punched the man in the jaw, then shoved him toward the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

The timer hit zero, and the doors locked.

Haechan stood motionless, staring at the door in disbelief. Then he heard gunshots.

No. No way.

"This is all because of you, asshole."

Haechan furiously lunges at the guy, punching him in the face.

"I’m sorry! I just wanted to survive! I accidentally went into your door!" the guy pleads.

"You pushed her! She was with me!" Haechan yells, continuing to hit him. But he suddenly freezes when he hears the guy’s next words:

"I didn’t push anyone, I swear! I was just running, trying to find someone, and I saw you were alone! Please, stop, don’t hit me!"

The guy covers his face with his hands as Haechan, still holding him by the collar, breathes heavily, staring him down. After a few seconds, the door opens.

Haechan immediately rushes into the hall, frantically scanning it for you. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

"Please, no…" he whispers, panic overtaking him.

A minute earlier.

You stare at the door in terror, watching another guy enter and shut it behind him.

You’re going to die.

You don’t even try to get up in the chaos around you. You’ve accepted it—this is the end. Is this really how it’s going to end? You didn’t even get to do anything with your life.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a hand grabbing yours and pulling you up. You stand and see Hendery in front of you.

"Hendery?"

"Quick, run! There’s only one door left!"

You spot the open green door, and the two of you dash toward it together.

There’s barely any time left, and you’re running as fast as you can.

4… 3…

No. You didn’t want to die. You couldn’t die now.

2…

Hendery pushes you through the door and quickly shuts it behind you.

1…

Click.

"Damn. We made it… I really thought I was going to die back there."

You sit on the floor, wide-eyed, staring at him. Hendery turns to you, his gaze softening.

"God, I’m so sorry. I pushed you too hard. I was panicking—we were so close to running out of time."

He rushes over to you, helping you up and checking for any injuries.

"I’m fine! Really, I’m okay. Thank you for saving me."

"You’re the one who saved me. If I hadn’t seen you, I would’ve died. But, wait… where’s Haechan?"

"Someone pushed me, and he got shoved into a room… That’s how we ended up separated."

"Man, people here are seriously insane."

You laugh and nod in agreement.

As Haechan gets closer to the carousel, he spots you standing next to Hendery. The moment you see him, you both run toward each other.

"Haechan, we made it! Hendery and I are safe!"

"If it wasn’t for her, I’d be dead! Some girl ditched me, and I was in complete panic!" Hendery adds.

But Haechan doesn’t hear a word. He simply pulls you into a tight embrace, breathing shakily. Then he starts inspecting your face and body, searching for any injuries.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you fall? Did he push you too hard?!"

"I’m fine, Haechan. I’m okay."

With a sigh of relief, he hugs you again.

"Don’t ever leave me like that again."

“I won’t i promise.”

note: squid game doesn’t have the end yet thats why this story doesn’t have too…

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ddodol · 1 day ago

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all mine — p.wb

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, bf!wonbin, fem!reader, pet names, themes of cheating oops, failed attempt at angst?, first time mentions, unprotected sex, overstimulation. word count⭑.ᐟ 2k+

a/n; sooooo this is unexpectedly lengthy.. i really wanna rewrite this some other time because i like the angst kajsdk wanted wonbin to be the mayor's son,,, but i don't want this to be THAT dark iykwim </3

you grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other’s business. it was nice, you thought. the people you grew up around were the same people that helped shape you into the fine lady you were now.

it came as a shock and disappointment to everyone in your town when they learnt of your marriage to the recently town mayor’s son. the pure and innocent little girl they treasured was offered in exchange for the town’s growth— it wasn’t something you chose nor would you ever choose if you were given the chance, but you knew it was something you had to do.

the wedding was lavish, one would think it was out of love for the bride— and yet you haven’t even spoken to your groom-to-be at least once. you walked on thin ice the entire time, forcing a smile as you thanked the townspeople’s half-hearted congratulatory remarks and goosebumps popping up the back of your neck as you linked your arm with his.

you wondered when it would end, letting out a relieved sigh when your now husband excused himself to greet some acquaintances. you lingered for a while, watching and listening to their disgusting remarks about you.

”you’re a lucky man; your wife is young and spry!”

you felt disgusted, shivers running down your spine as they mindlessly babble away even when you were within earshot. you quickly excused yourself, choosing to ignore the fact that you were going to be unhappy with this marriage.

”y/n.” your heart dropped at the familiar voice, turning around with wide eyes. there stood someone you’d be regretfully leaving behind in light of this marriage— your childhood friend and lover, wonbin. you looked around, making sure that no one else was there before running up to him. he smiled when he felt your warmth surround him, holding you close. he pulled away to look at your face, affection written all over his face.

”i’m sorry i took so long,” wonbin whispered, taking your hand in his, “i should’ve been here. i should’ve protected you.”

you stared at him as if you were trying to memorize his features, shaking your head as you smiled, “you were chasing after your dreams, it’s not your fault. besides, it was my choice, bbin.”

wonbin frowned, clenching his jaw. he knew he was young and powerless, a mere fisherman’s son that was still trying to find his footing in the world. he regretted leaving you in this town, driven by the desire to find a decent job for the two of you, only to return and find out that you were no longer within his reach.

fate was cruel, but not cruel enough to completely keep you away from him.

”come with me,” wonbin mumbled, eyes huge and glossy as he stared into yours. he held your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. “please, run away with me.” his voice was small, hot breath warming up your freezing hand.

you could only smile at him. you were old enough to know what you were doing, and that included the painstakingly long legal procedure that came with your marriage. you had nothing to lose, but you also had nothing to gain, and you’d even risk facing the townspeople’s contempt if you ran off.

”you know i can’t, bbin,” you whispered, voice sounding sweet but it caused wonbin great pain.

he sighed, loosening his hold on your hand to wrap his arm around your waist. wonbin held you for a long time, face buried in the crook of your neck. you smelled nice, some scent he knows you’ve never used before, wrapped in high-quality fabric that always covered your skin in rashes the day after.

wonbin wanted nothing more than to take this gaudy wedding gown off of you, eyes burning into yours as he pulled away. it was easy to tell that you were unhappy, that none of this was something you chose, looking like a stranger in your own wedding. a sigh escaped his lips, making up his mind to get you away from all this mess.

wonbin lifted you in his arms, finding yourself in a small, unused storage room at the end of the hallway. he nuzzled his face into your chest, holding you up against the wall. you patted his head, running your fingers through his hair. if only there was a way to give yourself to him, something special—

”take me, wonbin,” you spoke hurriedly, voice breaking, “take me before he could.” he stared into your eyes, the meaning of your words finally dawning on him. you smiled when you felt his breath hitch, “i want you to be my first, bbin.”

”fuck, if you say it like that,” he groaned, burying his face against your shoulder. you chuckled, seeing how red his ears had gotten. wonbin glanced at you, cheeks slightly flushed, “shouldn’t you be mad at me if your first time was at your own wedding venue?”

you laughed, the sound tickling his ears. “that would still be a better memory than my own wedding,” you reassured him, fingers combing through his sleek hair. he let out a shaky sigh, nodding as he turned his head towards your hand, placing a kiss on your wrist.

wonbin held you gently, lowering you down but never taking his hands off of you. he leaned in, chuckling before capturing your lips. you wrapped your arms around his neck, the slow kiss making your head spin the longer it went on. you gripped on his hair, making him pull away slightly.

you panted against his lips, eyes flickering down to see your lipstick staining them. you grinned, satisfied with the mark you left on him, pulling him back in for more. wonbin smiled against the kiss, letting you lead the pace this time.

the kiss was short, nibbling on wonbin’s upper lip as he pushes his tongue to break it off before trailing kisses down your neck. you sighed softly, brows furrowing. you felt his hand finding its way under your gown, shuddering when you felt his fingers against your sensitive inner thigh. wonbin let out a soft groan, nipping at your skin.

”can you raise your leg up for me, baby?” wonbin’s voice became hoarse, sounding even deeper right against your ear. you bit your lip, shivers running down your spine when you parted your legs open, lifting your knee up to his waist. wonbin smiled, hooking his hand under your raised leg, using his other hand to caress your hips.

wonbin could feel your restrained moans against his shoulder, lipstick staining his white dress shirt. he held your cheek, pulling you away so he could see your face. wonbin’s cheeks were just as flushed as yours, glossy lips parted open. he smiled at your adorable state, teasingly prodding at your lips with his thumb.

”do me a favor baby,” he whispered, “open your mouth for me.”

you obediently followed, gasping when he pushed his finger inside. wonbin cooed at you, brows twitching at how warm your mouth felt along with the erotic expression you had on your face.

you swirled your tongue around his finger, blushing at the lewd act. “that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised gently, tensing up as he pushed his finger deeper, now pressing on the roof of your mouth. wonbin felt you gag a little, prompting him to pull away completely. he quickly replaced his finger with his lips, kissing you deeply in an attempt to distract you from what he was planning to do next.

you felt his hand near your thigh once again, whimpering against his mouth when you felt his fingers near your core. he ran his finger down your slit, playing with your slick. wonbin pulled away, murmuring curses against your lips, “fuck, you’re wetter than i thought, baby.”

wonbin sighed into your neck, gently circling around your warm entrance. he eased his finger inside your walls, cooing at you when he heard your soft whimpers. “it’s okay, princess. just relax for me, yeah?” you buried your face against his neck, mewling at the slight stretch you felt.

he slowly curled his finger up, whispering praises as he continued to stretch you open. wonbin kissed your cheek, discreetly slipping a second finger inside. he covered his mouth with yours before you could let out a cry, the movement of his fingers mimicking the slow kiss that it made your head spin.

you whimpered, fists tightly gripping on his shirt at the pleasurable stretch. the moment wonbin felt your walls flutter, he pulled his fingers away before unbuckling his belt. you felt lightheaded, resting your cheek against his shoulder. you gasped sharply when wonbin raised your other leg, making you cling onto him, legs wrapped around his waist while your back was pressed flush against the wall.

”i’ll be gentle, i promise,” wonbin mumbled with bated breath, the words he uttered sounding like a lie even to himself. the tip of his cock pressed against your wet entrance, moaning softly when you felt him slip it inside. he stilled inside, rolling his hips as he waited for you to relax around him.

”thank you, princess.” you cried out when he bucked his hips forward, thick length piercing through your core. wonbin mumbled praises along with apologies, panting from how much he was trying to pace himself. he supported your body with one arm, his free hand going up to fondle you through your gown.

your body was heating up, whimpering once the pain turned into pleasure. wonbin’s shallow thrusts soon became deep and fast, leaving you a crying mess as you struggled to cling onto his shoulders. “i got you, baby. you're all mine now,” wonbin murmurs in between thrusts, groaning your name against your skin.

your moans get louder, cries starting to echo in the room as wonbin began to slam his hips into yours. you clawed on his back, feeling his muscles tense up at the action. he hissed, biting on your shoulder in return.

”bbin,” you whined, walls convulsing around his cock. you felt warm, too warm, reaching a high you’ve never experienced before. wonbin kept his face buried in your neck, mumbling about how amazing you felt around him. “bbin, it’s too much!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin. you felt overwhelmed, the heat from your lower stomach starting to rush throughout your body, making your head spin.

wonbin moaned into your neck, hands gripping tightly onto your hips. “let go for me, baby. let me own you completely.”

you moaned his name, a gush of warmth coating your inner thighs and wonbin’s length as you reached your high. “fuck. fuck, y/n.” wonbin mumbled tiredly, hips jerking sensitively as he came soon after. you felt his warm seed deep inside you, whimpering from how overwhelmed you felt.

he held you for a long time, letting you cool down in his arms. when he felt your legs trembling, wonbin quickly helped you straighten your legs down. you kept your hold on him, making him chuckle as he leaned down to embrace you.

you could feel something warm dripping down your thighs, soon finding it unpleasant. you sighed, pulling back to look at his face. “i kind of get why this activity is done on a bed.” wonbin laughs softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

”guess that’s my cue to bring you back to your house, then.”

the next few weeks after your wedding were sweet, sickeningly sweet. your lifestyle had changed so drastically, living in a house that was as wide as the fields you grew up in and as high as the town’s tallest utility pole. your new husband’s life was hectic as he ran multiple businesses in and out of the town, leaving him no time to even speak to you, much less see you.

you took advantage of it, running to wonbin’s old house without a second’s hesitation as soon as you wake up in the morning. even though it was regrettable that you didn’t wake up in his arms, wonbin was already content that you kept coming back to him.

the small town where everyone knew each other worked in your favor, turning the other cheek whenever they saw you and wonbin roaming the streets with your hands intertwined. they were happy for you— that was what you liked to think, making up for the time they failed to protect you.

#૮ > ⤙ < ྀིა #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize au #riize smut #wonbin imagines #wonbin scenarios #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #ddollemons #ddlz: pwb #✧₊⁺ kinktober24

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pascaloverx · 9 hours ago

Text

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

preview one

TWO

Days, perhaps more, have passed. You and Hanno have been meeting in secret, seizing moments when there was no sign of General Acacius. All that you were permitted to know was that he was recovering in the company of his beloved wife, Lucilla, who made it clear she wanted no trace of your presence near her husband. The absence of Acacius weighed upon you more than you cared to admit. To be denied access to him felt akin to holding your breath for far too long. Yet, your clandestine encounters with Hanno had proven to be a welcome distraction, enough to keep your mind from lingering too deeply on what you could not change.

"Your gladiator is requesting your care, Y/N. And while we are on the subject, your encounters under the pretext of physical care will soon spark rumors," Ravi remarks as he steps into the chamber where he keeps his healing tools. "General Acacius will be the first to rage if he learns of your escapades. Should Emperors Geta and Caracalla grow suspicious, they may presume you are seeking a new lover. Not to mention the possibility of Macrinus taking offense at your growing closeness with his gladiator." You remain crouched, organizing a collection of herbs, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Hanno needs you—or rather, he has summoned you for yet another session of personal defense training.

"Ravi, believe me, I am well aware of the risks I take in daring to draw close to Hanno. Yet, I choose to take them—something no one of sound mind would do. General Acacius will not always be there to save me in the future. Lucilla has made her stance on my involvement with him abundantly clear. You do not see him here, concerned for me, do you? Precisely for that reason, I must think of the future." You speak as you search for the garment General Acacius once left at your disposal, should you ever need to fight.

"Since you are so determined to take such risks, be cautious. The guards will bring Hanno to be treated, and you will have only that time to practice—whatever it is you two practice," Ravi warns, much as he does each time you and Hanno meet, repeating the same cautions.

"I shall change my attire. If you would, dear friend, make Hanno comfortable until I return," you say, rising and moving toward the exit of the space where you and Ravi have tended to countless gladiators. "If all goes well today, I shall be one step closer to becoming more than a healer or a lover. I shall be the closest thing to a warrior I can aspire to be." Ravi nods, though a hint of worry lingers in his expression. He is the closest thing to an ally you have.

Time rushes by when one is on the brink of doing something forbidden, but you no longer concern yourself with the consequences. You are resolute to take control of your destiny, even if that control is but a sliver. Once dressed, you secure the dagger Acacius once gifted you in a hidden compartment of your attire. It is your small but vital secret, and you are steadily improving in its use.

With purpose in your stride, you make your way swiftly to where Hanno is awaiting you. When you arrive, his eyes brighten at the sight of you. "I see your delay is justified; you look prepared for battle. Let us see if you can land a blow," Hanno says, advancing toward you with a predatory gait meant to intimidate.

You meet his gaze with an unflinching smile. "Save your words for when we’re truly facing off, gladiator," you reply, following him to the familiar training grounds. It is the very arena where countless gladiators sharpen their skills, preparing for the moment they will stand before the emperors in the grand coliseum.

As soon as you step into the center of the training grounds, Hanno strikes without warning. His sword arcs toward you, narrowly missing as you instinctively step back. At the start of this combat practice, both of you wield swords, though your grasp on its use remains novice.

"Have you lost your sanity, Hanno? I wasn’t ready," you exclaim, fixing him with a glare of irritation. He advances on you again, silent and relentless, as if transformed into a stranger intent on attack. His gaze is unwavering, his resolve sharp.

"When you’re defending yourself, no one will wait for you to be ready, nor will they show you mercy. I want you to see me as you would see any foe who dares strike at you," Hanno declares, his sword slashing toward you again. You react, relying on your defensive maneuvers, retreating step by step until a strategy for counterattack begins to form in your mind.

"I’m not so sure; you seem to be enjoying this far too much," you retort, timing your movements before landing your first offensive strike. It catches him off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. The gap between you narrows, charged with the thrill of the fight and something deeper, more electrifying.

"I am enjoying it just as much as you enjoy patching me up with that brute strength of yours, healer. Now, focus," Hanno says, parrying your blow with unnerving precision. It’s like a dance—each movement perfectly countering the other. You attack; he defends. He strikes; you block. The rhythm between you is almost hypnotic, an eerie harmony born of tension and skill. But then, in a risky maneuver, Hanno manages to disarm you. Your sword flies from your grasp, landing far out of reach. Now standing mere steps apart, your eyes meet, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like the end for you, so why not take a chance?

With a surge of reckless determination, you rush toward him, channeling all your strength into an attempt to topple him. In your mind, it isn’t Hanno you’re facing—it’s an enemy, someone who would do you harm. Your unexpected move catches him off guard, and he falls to the ground. By sheer luck or fate, his sword slips from his grip as well. Now, you find yourself on top of him, both of you unarmed. The air between you is charged, your breaths mingling as silence envelops the space.

"It seems I have bested the great gladiator of Macrinus," you say, pressing your body lightly against his, a triumphant smile on your lips. Hanno smirks, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he swiftly reverses your positions, pinning you beneath him with effortless strength.

"Do not be deceived, healer," he murmurs, his piercing gaze locking with yours. But you are not so easily subdued. With a practiced movement, you draw the hidden dagger from your vestments and press it against his neck, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Your presumption is touching, gladiator," you retort, your tone both teasing and sharp.

"What will you do next, healer?" Hanno asks, his breath warm against your face. The tension between you ignites instantly, palpable and undeniable. Before you can respond, he pulls your face closer to his, his lips capturing yours with a fervent intensity, as though he means to consume you entirely. At first, you almost resist Hanno’s kiss—it feels forbidden, a boundary you should not cross. Since your husband’s passing, Acacius was the only man you had kissed. Yet, as Hanno’s tongue ventures into your mouth, you find yourself surrendering, the kiss quickly becoming mutual.

In truth, Hanno is devouring you, but you refuse to let him take the upper hand so easily. You tug at his hair with force, pulling him closer, demanding his full attention. The kiss deepens, its intensity increasing to the point of no return. You want him to feel your hunger, to know that you wish to consume him just as much. For all its forbidden allure, you crave this moment—not because of duty or obligation, but because you want it. You want to know what it feels like to kiss someone you shouldn't, to rebel against every expectation tethering you. Your husband was not forced upon you, but your marriage had been a safeguard. Becoming Acacius’ lover served a similar purpose. But with Hanno, nothing feels safe. And perhaps that is why you let this moment unfold. There is no security here, no veil of protection. If you and Hanno are caught, Acacius could kill him, both the Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla could execute you, and the repercussions would be endless. Yet, none of that matters as your lips clash with his in this reckless, intoxicating dance of defiance.

The kiss is all-consuming, so intense that, for a moment, it steals your breath. You pause, pulling away to recover the air you desperately need. Yet Hanno seems unsatisfied, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that threatens to unravel your resolve.

His hand cups your face, fingers tracing over every detail as if committing you to memory. When his thumb brushes over your lips, he murmurs softly, "Your lips remind me of hers, my beautiful Arishat." Reality strikes like a sharp blade. He is with you, yet his mind lingers on his late wife. The weight of that truth is unbearable. As he leans forward, seeking your lips once more, you push him away, creating the distance you now desperately need.

"I will not be her replacement," you think, your resolve firm. "Nor Lucilla’s substitute." Avoiding his gaze, your shame and frustration burn within you. Rising quickly, you make your way toward your quarters. You and Ravi must always be prepared to tend to the wounded, so your rooms are close to where the gladiators train and where Ravi keeps his healing tools.

"Healer," Hanno calls out behind you, his voice firm yet laced with something softer. He follows after you, refusing to let the moment end so abruptly.

"Gladiator," you say, turning to face Hanno. Your body nearly collides with his, but you take a step back, halting the chase that had ensued. "Our training is done. I think it would be wise for us to part ways now, so as not to confuse..." You pause, searching for the right word to define what you might be confusing, only for Hanno to step abruptly closer, almost closing the space entirely.

"I am not confused about anything, healer," he says, his tone firm yet sincere. "I was lost momentarily in a memory, but I assure you, I knew exactly who I was kissing." He takes another step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"The act itself is already a problem, gladiator," you reply, struggling to maintain composure under his intense gaze. "We should not have kissed." Before he can respond, both of you hear footsteps approaching. In an instant, Hanno’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you behind him as though to shield you from whatever danger may come. Ravi appears, nearly running toward you, his face etched with worry.

"General Acacius has been seen heading this way," Ravi announces, his voice hurried and panicked. "The guards are murmuring that he’s coming to see you, Y/N. I suggest we get Hanno out of here immediately, and you prepare yourself to receive him."

The mention of Acacius sends a cold dread through you. Him encountering Hanno now would spell disaster. "Tell the guards who brought Hanno to retrieve him from here," you instruct, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Hanno and I will change out of these combat garments, and I’ll distract Acacius while the guards take Hanno back to his cell. Ravi, I’ll need your speed."

Without hesitation, Ravi nods and rushes off to summon the guards. You, in turn, push Hanno toward a secluded area where he can change out of his training gear. "Change in there and wait for me," you instruct firmly. Noticing the swords in his hands, you swiftly take them from him despite his protests. With no time to spare, you carry the weapons back to your quarters while Hanno remains in the area where you and Ravi usually tend to injured gladiators. In the quiet urgency of your chambers, you hastily change your attire, your mind racing with the precariousness of the situation. Hanno waits silently, the gravity of the moment clear to both of you.

"Do you fear what might happen should General Acacius discover your association with the gladiator who recently sought his life?" Hanno asks as you enter the room where he waits patiently to be taken back to his cell.

"I do not fear for myself," you reply, adjusting your tunic with calm precision. "I fear that if you and he meet, there will be unnecessary bloodshed. As I’ve told you before, if you wish to kill him, do so in a duel—before the people of Rome. Sate the appetite of Emperors Geta and Caracalla as they watch you strike at each other in a frenzied battle for glory in the name of the gods."

Hanno listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he steps closer. Without a word, he helps you smooth the folds of your tunic, his touch deliberate yet gentle. "Will you tell him of our association, then?" he asks, finishing his adjustments and letting his hand linger briefly as it grazes your cheek.

"What is there to tell?" you counter, meeting his gaze with resolve. "Our association is no one’s concern." A smile spreads across Hanno’s face, slow and satisfied, as if your answer pleased him greatly.

Moments later, Ravi appears, his expression tense. "The guards are near," he informs, his tone clipped. His gaze shifts between you and Hanno, briefly noting the closeness between you, though he chooses to remain silent. With a small nod, Ravi turns to Hanno, gesturing for him to follow. Hanno casts you a lingering look before allowing Ravi to lead him toward the guards, leaving you behind with the weight of the encounter still pressing on your chest.

You wait patiently for General Acacius to arrive, though his delay stretches longer than anticipated. The thought suddenly strikes you—he might already be in your quarters, as he has been on previous occasions.

"Would you care to explain," his voice calls out, smooth and laced with quiet reproach, "what reasons led my beloved healer, whom I hold in such high regard, to abandon me to the care of Ravi instead of tending to me herself?" Turning toward the source, you find him stepping into view, pulling back the mantle that had concealed his face and form. His approach is measured, deliberate, and his gaze briefly flickers to the swords you had left behind without considering they might draw his notice.

"You should have sought explanations from your wife, General Acacius," you reply, your tone calm but firm, though the effort to keep it so is greater than it seems. "It was she who instructed me, in the presence of the guards no less, to withdraw from tending to your care." His footsteps pause near the swords, his attention drawn to their gleaming edges. The air between you grows heavier as his eyes shift back to yours, narrowing slightly as he regards you. You remain steadfast, though the distance you keep from him feels tenuous, as if he could close it with the simplest of steps.

"I was not informed of such a decision; I would never have allowed my care to pass from your hands to another's," General Acacius speaks softly, his tone a mixture of calm and yearning as he moves toward you with deliberate caution, yet there is a palpable hunger in his eyes.

"General, whether you authorized it or not is irrelevant," you reply, holding your ground though the weight of his presence begins to press upon you. "Lucilla no longer wishes for us to remain close. Surely, you remember that when all this began, you told me that if your wife were ever to object to our association, even if it was merely for appearances, it would end."

Your words are firm, yet the truth they carry sinks heavily into your own heart. You know now, with certainty, that the chapter of your life entwined with Acacius is nearing its inevitable conclusion.

"Those words were spoken before we became what we are today," Acacius responds, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet intensity. "Surely you know I have no intention of abandoning you." He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, his nearness suffocating in its allure.

"Do not worry for me. Your pity is no longer necessary, Acacius," you say, though the ache in your chest betrays the pain these words bring. Deep down, you have long feared that what he felt for you stemmed from nothing but pity.

"I have never pitied you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Perhaps I felt empathy for your pain in the beginning, but after that—everything was real. Your presence makes me a better man." His hand reaches up to touch your face, tenderly tracing its contours as if to soften your resolve. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, an intimate gesture meant to draw you back to him, to coax you into his embrace once more.

"You owe your loyalty to your wife, not to me," you say, your voice faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. "We must no longer allow ourselves to feel anything beyond what is proper, Acacius." Even as you speak, your resolve weakens beneath his touch, his words a balm and a temptation all at once. He seems heedless of your protest, intent only on closing the distance between you.

"Lucilla has my loyalty, but you... you have my protection. I will not leave you unguarded," Acacius says, his lips almost brushing against yours, his voice weighted with emotion.

"Then you should know that my loyalty is no longer yours exclusively," you reply, steadying yourself as you deliver the words. You feel the sharp recoil in Acacius as he steps back, his expression hardening, though disbelief flickers in his eyes.

"I am involved with another," you continue, forcing the lie to your lips with a strength you did not know you possessed. "It may mean that I will no longer require your protection in the future." Your words are a dagger you wield with precision, for you know that to continue as his lover would jeopardize his marriage—a risk you cannot allow, no matter the desires that linger within you.

"Who would dare attempt to claim you, knowing that you are mine?" General Acacius demands, his voice edged with irritation that betrays a rare crack in his calm demeanor. His gaze narrows, his presence no less imposing, but the fury brewing beneath his words sends a shiver through you. You realize the fire you have kindled within him may burn brighter than you anticipated.

"Someone who does not fear the wrath of General Acacius," you say, your voice steady despite the undeniable pull of his proximity. You desire him, undeniably so, but you know you must not have him.

"It is clear that our involvement must end—now. Before it concludes in disaster," you declare, watching as Acacius processes your words, his gaze shadowed with an intensity that seems both pained and unyielding.

"Then let it be clear to you," Acacius responds, his tone laced with an unwavering authority, though no threat lies in his words. "Whoever dares to encroach upon what is mine will meet the edge of my sword without delay. Our bond will not be severed while either of us draws breath, Y/N. Keep that in mind." His declaration is resolute, not spoken as a plea but as a statement of his immutable commitment to you. It leaves you breathless, the weight of his words pressing against the fortress of your resolve.

"You cannot protect me forever, Acacius. Just as I cannot heal you forever," you murmur, stepping closer, your desperation palpable as though silently begging him to release you—to let you go before you both reach a precipice from which there is no return.

"Mea domina," he whispers reverently, stepping closer and pulling down the fabric covering your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips press softly against the exposed skin, lingering as if to seal a silent vow. The tenderness in his touch conveys more devotion than desire, a gesture that leaves you caught between longing and regret.

"I would die if necessary, but I will not abandon those I hold in the highest esteem. You and Lucilla are my priorities, and I will relinquish neither of you. If you place so much faith in this new interest of yours, let him come to me bearing a sword, and he shall find his end," he declares, his voice unwavering and resolute, his words resonating like a solemn oath.

Acacius lifts his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his lips trace a path of soft kisses along your temple, down to the curve of your jaw, and finally your forehead. His lips linger as if memorizing each contour of your face, avoiding your mouth deliberately—a clear boundary, or perhaps his way of expressing silent reproach for the words you have spoken. The kisses feel like a claim, yet also a farewell—his way of both cherishing and punishing, of reminding you of his commitment while withholding the one intimacy he knows you yearn for. The intensity in his gaze as he pulls back speaks volumes, as though he is willing you to see the depths of his resolve. "At times, it feels as though battle is all you truly understand, Acacius," you say, holding his gaze with a penetrating look, as if unraveling the depths of his thoughts.

"I am a man of honor," he replies, his tone firm yet measured. "I will not seek out the man who dares to involve himself with you, but neither will I stand idle should he attempt to take what is rightfully mine." His presence remains close, commanding and resolute, as though he seeks to claim not just the space but the moment itself. With deliberate care, Acacius reaches out, his hand brushing your face in a touch that is at once gentle and laden with unspoken meaning. It lingers, as if he wishes to commit every contour of your features to memory.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating from your chambers with the disciplined stride of a general accustomed to carrying the weight of empires. His departure leaves the room heavy with unresolved tension, the air thick with the echoes of what cannot be spoken. Alone, you are left to ponder the tangled web of emotions and loyalties binding you to both Acacius and Hanno. The weight of your entanglement bears down upon you, as inevitable as the arena’s call to blood and glory.

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wen-kexing-apologist · 2 days ago

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WKA Recaps QL 2024: Favorite Characters

Thanks for the tag @my-rose-tinted-glasses and thank you to @abstractelysium for the prompts! Since I have watched 60 QL (or adjacent) shows this year, I am going to keep this specifically to my favorite characters of the queer shows that came out this year, and exclude older shows that I watched this year. (Which is for the best because it would just be Namgoong all the way down).

So here are my Top Ten in no Particular Order:

Akafuji Yuchiro- I Became the Main Role of a BL Drama

I love me a little freak.

This boy is such a loser idiot boy and I appreciate how unapologetic he is in his unrepentant, overflowing love for Aoyagi Hajime. I love that one of the barriers between him and Aoyagi getting together is that Aoyagi thinks that Akafuji is cold and detached simply because Akafuji is trying so fucking hard not to McFreaking Lose It over the fact he’s working with Aoyagi. And I mentioned this in another post before, but I think one of the most important things we got from Akafuji is his ability to set clear boundaries between fandom and reality. He can love Aoyagi as his fan, but he knows he needs to stop considering himself Aoyagi’s fan the second he realizes his feelings have moved into something deeper.

Kasuga- She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat

This is kind of unfair because I love all the women in this show. But Kasuga will hold the special place in my heart for standing up to her father and choosing herself and her found family over societal expectations and demands of the patriarchy. This feels especially important in a character like Kasuga who is so quiet, reserved, and relatively passive. We have seen other places where she hasn’t spoken up for herself, even in settings with people she loves and trusts (like when she wanted to go strawberry picking) and it is huge for her to actually make the choices she makes as they relate to her bio family. And I also think that it doesn’t feel like character growth that comes out of nowhere either, because she has been engaging in acts of resistance since the moment we meet her. As a child she was not allowed to eat as much as she wanted, but she allowed herself to eat as much as she wanted when she became an adult. Sure, it’s more a quiet act of rebellion, but I love it as an indication that Kasuga has always been strong, despite her more reserved nature.

Go Yeong- Love in the Big City

THIS IS MY FUCKING GUY! It is incredibly important to me and not only important but downright vital that I read this book before I watched the show. I remember discussing during book club that in the first couple chapters I was really struggling with Young as a character. Mostly because I had intense insight into his inner thoughts that I would not and did not get when watching the show. I knew, or at least sincerely hoped, that by the end of the book I would love Young as a character, and I was correct. And it was really important to me to see a performance of Go Yeong that would honor the book character, and I do sincerely believe that Nam Yoon So did just that. I do believe that Go Yeong appeared like I would expect Young from the book to have appeared had I not been inside his head. I really appreciated seeing his growth as a person throughout both the book and the show, and he will stick with me for quite some time.

Cha Yeo Woon- Love for Love’s Sake

Another show where I love almost all of the main characters in it. But I want to talk about Cha Yeo Woon who cannot hate anyone as much as he hates himself. The -100 floating over his head was a major fucking blow, and I just love how readily he falls in to loving Myung Ha once he starts to have a little bit more faith in himself and the people around him. When that boy smiled for the first time the entire world got brighter. He is such a great character, and one of my favorites, because everything that character does and is and everything Cha Joo Wan gives to breathe life into that character means you can absolutely understand why Myung Ha goes through hell to save Yeo Woon.

Wei Qian- Unknown

This man has been through so much, he has lost so much, he has gained so much, and he has fought tooth and nail for everything and everyone he loves. He is such a good character, desperately trying to hold his family together, as much as it sucks for him I do appreciate that we got a character with a chronic illness/chronic pain. It feels so rare when characters have been through shit that there are actually serious physical consequences for the abuse they have gone through. And again, a major reason why he is one of my favorite characters this year comes down to the absolutely killer performance from Chris Chu.

Venice Barros- Marahuyo Project

VENICE!!! WE GOT A TRANS GIRL IN A SHOW THIS YEAR!!!!!! AND SHE IS BEAUTIFUL AND OUTSPOKEN AND SO SO SO FUCKING EMPATHETIC TOWARDS PEOPLE SHE LOVES WHO HAVE HURT HER BECAUSE THEY ARE SCARED AND GRIEVING AND TRYING DESPERATELY TO CLUTCH TO THE ONLY THINGS THEY FEEL WILL PROTECT THEM. God I love her, and her incessant rambutan eating, so fucking much, I am so glad that she exists and I am so glad she has people like King and Lorena and Lili and yes even Archie in her life, and I am even more glad that they (and Archie especially) have people like her in theirs.

If you have not gotten around to watching Marahuyo Project please take this as a sign to do so.

Makoto- No One Cares for an Old Man’s Underwear

DAD OF THE YEAR! I loved watching his growth arc, knowing how much he loves his family and how that love is what really causes him to start re-evaluating his worldview. Yet again there are so many incredible characters in here that I will carry in my heart as favorites. But I think Makoto especially deserves a shout out because he is still allowed to fuck up sometimes, and he’s still allowed to learn, and despite the fact that sometimes he stumbles and falls and ruins things, he makes me cry because he is devastated to have hurt the people that he loves, and he doesn’t give up. That is so goddamn important in a character like him. It would be so easy for him to hit his first roadblock and to simply throw up his hands in defeat and decide that it was all too hard and instead he just keeps trying and trying until he’s found his way back to his family, to friends, to a love and connection that he has not had with people in a very long time (or possibly ever).

Shiba Ryoma- Love is Like a Poison

I cannot express how important it feels to me to have a character like Ryo, who is so serious and generally reserved have a queer awakening and just immediately lean in to it. He does not run from the idea of intimacy, and he does not back down in his love and support for Haruto. Which was such a refreshing surprise. This is a man who has until this point valued his career and his ability to win cases above pretty much everything else in his life. And it really felt like a moment of triumph for me to see him stand in front of his boss and be like “this is my boyfriend,” and to be faced with a choice between his career and his lover and to choose his lover. I’m glad Haruto and Ryo have each other and I am glad that his coworker has another queer person in the office (though I kind of suspect that he clocked Ryo before Ryo clocked himself). Also, he is responsible for one of my favorite scenes of the year. Squaring up only to immediately get his ass beat into the ground because why the hell would he know how to fight? Also, he is the plant dad of all time.

Lee Doe Hoe- Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Doe Hoe is such a good example of what the behavior of an abused child looks like. He is a really interesting and complex character that I appreciate having in my life. I kinda loved that despite how good he is at taekwondo he doesn’t fight with people. The great tragedy of not understanding why people would want to hit each other because he has grown up being physically abused by his father. I really liked (from a narrative perspective) that he was an incredibly successful student and that he continuously failed the college entrance exam, the way he falls as a student because of the anger and sadness and guilt that he carries for calling the police that day. This man is fucking frustrating in so many ways and yet I completely understand why he is the way he is and, similarly to Kasuga, I really appreciate the where and how he bucks convention and stands up for himself. He does not care about the optics around the way he handles himself at his father’s funeral, he does not grieve that man, so why should he pretend to appease the judgement of others? I’m really glad that having Ju Yeong back in his life gives him the inspiration he needs to try again to go to college, and while we do not get to know the results I truly believe that he will finally succeed.

Sin Ju Yeong- Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo

Y’all know I love myself a happy!sad and there are few people who so strongly represent the things I love about a happy!sad as much a Ju Yeong. That boy has been through so fucking much, and he hides a lot of his pain behind what I do believe is a genuine love and joy for life. But I think that joy for life, and the desire to spread joy to Dohoe really manifests in the recognition he has of himself in Dohoe’s sadness, and the knowledge that there are things he can do to help change that. I love Ju Yeong because he does not back down, he still carries shame around his sexuality (I see you cross necklace) but he will stand up for himself and he will not shy away from intimacy and desire. From a narrative perspective I love that that mask of brightness he had that was so blinding and attractive to Dohoe when they were kids is shattered when he loses Dohoe. Who we see when he’s in college and when he’s working a job is who he really is, and I love how much Dohoe tries to twist the knife in Ju Yeong by pretending like Ju Yeong wasn’t as lost and alone and hurting as he was just because he would make himself smile. I love how much of Ju Yeong’s character makes sense because his entire life has just been abandonment after abandonment from people that he loves and cares for. That he takes punishment to spare Dohoe, that he does not let Dohoe push him away when they reunite as adults, that he tolerates a lot more of the nasty shit that Dohoe tries to say to and about him because he cares and he knows that Dohoe scares. I love that Dohoe’s hatred of violence is what causes Ju Yeong to lose his control and kiss Dohoe for the first time, and that it is violence that Ju Yeong resorts to both to protect Dohoe and then later to help Dohoe set himself free by trashing the dojo.

tagging @bengiyo, @shortpplfedup, @solitaryandwandering, and @emotionallychargedtowel, @happypotato48

#tag game #ql tag game 2024 #i became the main role of a bl drama #love is like a poison #no one cares for an old man's underwear #let free the curse of taekwondo #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #love for love's sake #marahuyo project #unknown the series #love in the big city #litbc #doku koi: doku mo sugireba koi to naru #ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #bl drama no shuen ni narimashita

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lovezbrownies · 3 days ago

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Listen to the Beast.

Nia's Masterlist - Julie's Masterlist

Synopsis: You are a werewolf, a creature of forest and wild. yet you have been forced to marry a queen. A queen who never cared of your other form. So you run into another woman's arms. Mad Scientist Julie.

PAIRING: Yandere Queen x GN!Reader x Yandere Mad Scientist.

This was a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in—yet here you were. Kneeling before the Queen—no, your wife—pleading desperately for her to let you leave the palace before the full moon rose high in the sky. Your voice trembled with urgency, each word laced with fear. If she didn’t let you go, something catastrophic would unfold.

And that catastrophe wasn’t some distant threat—it was you. A monstrous transformation into a feral, half-human, half-wolf beast capable of ripping through the entire palace like a storm of teeth and claws. You weren’t asking for freedom to rebel against her suffocating rule or escape her relentless hold over you. This was survival. The cure—the only thing keeping the monster inside you at bay—was running out.

One vial of Lycantherin a month. That was all you needed. The medicine suppressed the painful, chaotic transformation and gave you control over the beast if you did choose to shift. It was a lifeline that kept you and everyone around you safe. But it had been three long, grueling months since Nia, your overbearing and obsessively devoted wife, had forced you to marry her and live within the confines of her palace.

Three months since she had taken you as her own, smothering your existence in her suffocating love. She hadn’t let you step a single foot outside the palace, ignoring your pleas and protests with a smile that promised no escape. Because of her iron grip, you hadn’t been able to restock your supply of Lycantherin.

Your last vial? Gone. Used up twenty-six days ago. Now, only 3 days remained before the full moon rose—and with it, the beast inside you. The clock was ticking, and with every moment she refused to let you go, the closer you edged toward disaster. Toward tragedy.

“Please,” you begged again, your voice breaking, desperation clinging to every syllable. “If I don’t get the medicine... I won’t be able to stop it. I’ll hurt you—everyone in this palace!”

But Nia only gazed down at you, her eyes sharp and unyielding, her lips curling into a faint smile that chilled you to the bone. It wasn’t anger or hatred in her expression—no, it was something far more suffocating. Possession.

Her red eyes gleamed in the dim light of the bedroom, a dangerous mixture of adoration and obsession swirling within them. She lounged upon her lounge chair, draped in fine silk that shimmered like liquid gold, her appearance immaculate, as always. Every detail of her—the tilt of her crown, the intricate embroidery on her gown, the way her fingers toyed with a strand of her dark purple hair—spoke of her power.

And that power wasn’t limited to the kingdom she ruled. It extended to you, encompassing every aspect of your life, constraining your freedom with a velvet leash that felt impossible to sever.

Slowly, she tilted her head, resting her chin on her delicate hand as her smile widened. The motion was casual, almost lazy, but the weight of her presence crushed you all the same.

“You’re so dramatic, my love,” she purred, her voice soft and sweet, each word dripping with mockery and affection. “Always imagining the worst. Have I not cared for you? Kept you safe? Provided for your every need? Don't try making things up to convince me to let you go, because that will never happen!”

Her tone was syrupy, gentle, yet the undertone of control was unmistakable. She wasn’t asking for your reassurance. She was reminding you of the cage she had built around you, the walls of her love that were meant to keep you hers and hers alone.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat loud and frantic as you shook your head, forcing your voice to steady. But it was no use—the desperation bled through anyway.

“This isn’t about your care, Nia,” you said, your words trembling but firm. “It’s about survival. If I don’t get the Lycantherin, I can’t stop the transformation. You don’t understand what that means. I won’t be me anymore. I’ll lose control. I’ll hurt you-- everyone!”

For a moment, she didn’t respond. She simply watched you, her piercing gaze narrowing as though she were dissecting your very soul. And then, she smiled—a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that sent a shiver down your spine.

“And yet,” she murmured, her voice soft as a lover’s whisper, “you seem perfectly in control to me right now. You’re overthinking again, darling.”

Her words struck like a slap, her dismissive tone twisting the knife of frustration already lodged in your chest. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails biting into your palms as a wave of anger surged beneath the suffocating weight of fear.

“Nia, this isn’t overthinking!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I’m trying to save you—save everyone! If you don’t let me leave, there won’t be a palace left to hold me!”

Your plea hung in the air, fragile as glass, waiting to shatter under her cold indifference. For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint echo of distant footsteps. Then, with an elegance that made your breath hitch, Nia rose from her chair. Her movements were fluid, deliberate, as though every step were part of a carefully choreographed dance.

Slow delibrate steps lead you to her, the soft rustle of her gown echoing in the cavernous hall. Each step closer made your pulse quicken, your instincts screaming at you to run even though you knew there was nowhere to go.

When she reached you, she knelt gracefully, her movements almost reverent. She cupped your face with her slender hands, her touch deceptively tender, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if to soothe you. Yet her gaze burned with the intensity of someone who would rather see the world burn than let you slip from her grasp.

“My darling,” she whispered, her voice laced with saccharine sweetness, “you don’t need to leave. Everything you could ever want, everything you could ever need, is right here—with me. I’ve made sure of it. You belong to me, and I would never let harm come to what is mine.”

Her words wrapped around you like chains, unrelenting and suffocating. There was no anger in her tone, no outright malice. But the undercurrent of her possessive love, her obsession, was unmistakable. To her, your protests were not warnings but challenges—ones she had no intention of yielding to.

Four days. Just four days until catastrophe. You had come to the conclusion that Xelera's palace of magnificence shall become the dust of insignificance if you couldn’t secure a vial of Lycantherin. You hated to admit it, but your werewolf form was far from ordinary—it was an unstoppable force, stronger and more feral than any other, and it would tear through the palace like paper.

Yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope. Word had spread that a renowned scientist was due to visit the palace, summoned to address a mysterious illness that had swept through the servants’ quarters. The sickness wasn’t contained to the staff; even some guards and one of the palace chiefs had succumbed. Thankfully, Nia’s obsessive restrictions had shielded both you and her from exposure. Your shared quarters were cleaned hourly, and you hadn’t stepped outside your bedroom in what felt like ages.

But today was different.

After hours of pleading, bargaining, and hollow promises of affection—anything to appease the deranged woman who had kidnapped and forced you into this twisted marriage—Nia had finally relented. She allowed you to accompany her to meet the scientist. You were hardly free, of course, but this was the first time in weeks you’d been granted permission to leave your quarters.

As you stood beside Nia in the grand entrance hall, you could feel the weight of her gaze on you even as she addressed the guards, issuing commands with her usual blend of poise and authority. Her grip on your arm was gentle but unyielding, a silent reminder of her control.

The massive doors creaked open, and your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until it escaped in a quiet exhale. For some reason, you’d imagined the scientist as an elderly scholar—someone frail, hunched over with age, shuffling in with spectacles and a collection of ancient tools.

What you saw instead completely blindsided you.

Through the towering doors strode a tall woman, her posture exuding confidence and purpose. Her short, bouncy blonde hair framed a face that was youthful yet tired, her striking green eyes framed by the deepest dark circles you’d ever seen. She was good looking for sure, but there was something about her that screamed exhaustion, as though she bore the weight of countless sleepless nights. Her movements were sharp, precise, and utterly captivating.

This was the scientist? She looked like she could be your age, and yet her presence was far more commanding than you’d expected.

“Welcome, Doctor McCanister,” Nia said, her tone warm but unmistakably authoritative. “We’ve been eagerly anticipating your arrival. I, Queen Nia Bloodwen, deeply appreciate your willingness to assist us in this matter. A great many of my palace servants have fallen ill from a mysterious ailment that has baffled our own physicians. Your expertise is desperately needed.”

Doctor McCanister inclined her head respectfully, her expression professional but detached. “Your Majesty,” she replied, her voice steady and tinged with a weariness that matched her appearance. “I usually don't care for royalty or any of the like, but once word of the illness came to me I had to come by and assist. I’ve reviewed the reports provided by your staff and will begin my examinations immediately. Time is critical in cases such as these.”

Her eyes shifted briefly toward you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt exposed under her sharp gaze. There was a flicker of something—curiosity? Concern?—but it passed too quickly to decipher.

Nia, thankfully oblivious to the exchange, smiled with calculated elegance. “I trust you will find everything you need at your disposal. Should you require assistance, simply name it, and it will be done.”

The doctor gave a curt nod. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I will proceed without delay.”

As McCanister turned, Nia’s grip on your arm tightened. She leaned closer, her voice low enough that only you could hear. “Remember, darling,” she murmured, her tone as sweet as it was suffocating, “you are here because I allowed it. Do not stray to another woman the moment you see her. I would hate for anything... unfortunate to happen.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine, but you forced yourself to nod, biting back a retort. The scientist might be your last chance, your only hope of finding Lycantherin—or someone capable of replicating it.

Nia's disturbing behavior suddenly vanished as she smiled softly, letting go of her tight grip on your arm. "Now, you may go on to accompany that blasphemous doctor, hurry." You nodded, thanking her andushing off, trying not to lose the doctor. You needed to speak with her and urgently, she is your only hope of surviving this month's full moon.

Something was brewing between the Queen and her spouse, something dark and unspoken yet impossible to ignore. The tension was palpable, even from a distance. Julie McCanister observed it all with her practiced, analytical gaze. The Queen's outwardly composed demeanor couldn't hide the stiffness in her shoulders or the white-knuckled grip she kept on her spouse. The spouse, on the other hand, was visibly nervous—posture rigid, movements hesitant, as if they were constantly calculating every step and word.

Julie frowned slightly, her thoughts spiraling. Could this be connected to me? To my position? She had made more than her fair share of enemies among the palace staff, those who found her cold precision and unshakable presence threatening. Was this a ploy against her? Perhaps the Queen’s spouse was involved, even the orchestrator of it all—a seemingly benign figure in an elaborate game of palace intrigue.

Her musings were interrupted by a voice calling out, startling her.

"Excuse me! Doctor McCanister!"

Julie stopped mid-step and turned, her sharp eyes landing on you—the Queen’s spouse, of all people. Curious, she thought, narrowing her eyes slightly. What could the pampered spouse of a monarch want with me?

You jogged toward her, slightly out of breath, your expression urgent but uncertain. Your appearance struck her as peculiar. You didn’t carry the air of someone accustomed to the opulence of court life. You seemed misplaced here, awkward in your movements, your clothing slightly disheveled as if the silks and brocades you wore were as foreign to you as a crown to a commoner.

When you finally caught up, you straightened your posture and tried to speak with authority, though the stumble in your words betrayed you. "Doctor McCanister, I—apologies for interrupting your, uh… journey to the labs, but I have something very urgent to discuss with you."

Julie arched a brow, her lips twitching in what might have been the ghost of a smile. So you’re as out of place as I thought. She tilted her head, lowering her gaze ever so slightly to meet yours. "Yes, Your Majesty?" Her tone was measured, polite but distant, her title for you uttered with a precision that felt almost clinical.

You flinched at the formality, but pressed on. "It’s… private. But urgent. I wouldn’t bother you otherwise."

The words came out rushed, jumbled even, and Julie’s assessment of you sharpened. You’re no noble. You’re a commoner dressed in silks, trying to navigate a world that doesn’t belong to you. A pang of something—sympathy, perhaps—cut through her. You were out of your depth, and judging by the circumstances, perhaps unwillingly so.

After a moment, she inclined her head slightly, softening the hard edge of her gaze just enough to be palatable. "Of course, Your Majesty," she said, gesturing for you to follow. "We may discuss this on the way to my laboratories. Time is precious, after all."

You nodded quickly, falling into step beside her. For all her usual cold detachment, Julie’s mind churned. What secrets do you hold, spouse of the Queen? And why come to me? Julie’s interest is definitely piqued now.

Even as you walked through the winding corridors of the palace, your hands fidgeted relentlessly beneath the cascading fabric of your top. The sleeves were longer than they needed to be, deliberately tailored that way by the Queen herself—a subtle yet suffocating way of masking what she called your "rustic charm" from prying eyes.

That was just one of the many ways she controlled how the world perceived you, ensuring that no one saw the real you beneath the finery. The soft brush of silk against your palms was meant to feel luxurious, but it only heightened your discomfort, the material as stifling as the life you now led.

“So… I mean—” Your voice faltered, the words catching in your throat like a poorly rehearsed script unraveling. You tried again, frustration lacing your tone as your thoughts jumbled. “I’d like for you to do something for—for me? And, well, I need to tell you something. This whole royal thing, it’s just—”

Your steps slowed as you searched for the right words, but Julie, ever sharp, didn’t give you the chance to stumble further.

“Is fake?” she interrupted with a smirk, her voice calm, almost amused. Her strides remained purposeful, her head tilting slightly as she glanced at you. “I’m aware. It’s fairly obvious, Your Majesty.”

Her bluntness left you momentarily speechless, your jaw tightening as a faint flush crept to your cheeks. You weren’t sure what response you’d expected, but the casualness of her acknowledgment was almost disorienting. Julie didn’t slow, though she allowed herself the smallest upward twitch of her lips, stealing another glance at you. There it was again—that look of unease mixed with apprehension. The way your gaze darted toward the floor, your shoulders drawn inward as if trying to make yourself smaller—it tugged at something deep within her.

Shaking off the unfamiliar sensation, Julie slipped her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, forcing her expression to remain cool and detached. “Don’t look so surprised,” she added, her voice steady. “You’re not exactly the scheming type. Innocence like yours doesn’t fit well with the trappings of court life. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you’re an outsider.”

Her words hit closer than you cared to admit. You exhaled shakily, a faint tremor running through you as you tried to steady your voice. “I… I’m not just a commoner,” you said finally, each word feeling heavier than the last. “I’m… something else. A magical creature, sort of.”

Julie’s steps faltered ever so slightly, her sharp eyes flicking toward you. Her expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of intrigue in her gaze. “Go on,” she prompted, her tone even but laced with curiosity.

You hesitated, wringing your hands beneath the sleeves that now felt suffocatingly tight. The secret you were about to reveal wasn’t something you ever wanted to share, especially not in the sterile halls of the palace where every whisper felt like it carried to unseen ears. But you forced yourself to continue.

“Every full moon,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, “I… I turn into a beast. Half-wolf, half-human.” The words spilled out haltingly, like stones being pried from a dam. “It’s not like other werewolves, though. My form is… much larger, much stronger. And…” You faltered, glancing away from her piercing gaze. “And uncontrollable.”

The confession hung heavy in the air, each word sinking like lead between you. Julie didn’t respond immediately, her features remaining carefully neutral, though her sharp mind churned behind her calm facade. She watched you closely, noting the way your breathing quickened, your fingers twitching as though trying to grasp something invisible.

“My batch of Lycantherin,” you continued, voice trembling now, “it’s gone. It ran out twenty-seven days ago. And we only have four days left before…” Your voice broke, and you clenched your fists beneath the sleeves, the fabric bunching as your nails bit into your palms. “If I don’t have another dose by then, I won’t be able to stop it. This palace… everyone in it… they won’t survive.”

Julie finally stopped walking, turning fully to face you. The weight of your confession settled between you like a storm cloud, her analytical mind parsing every detail. The flicker of pity she’d felt earlier twisted into something more profound as she studied your tense figure. Despite your silks and titles, you stood before her as raw and vulnerable as any terrified soul she’d ever encountered.

“Four days,” she said finally, her tone devoid of judgment, her words measured. “Then we don’t have time to waste.”

That day and the four that followed blurred into a frantic haze, the four of you locked in a desperate struggle against the ticking clock. Hours slipped away unnoticed as you and Julie worked tirelessly, hunched over desks littered with half-empty vials, scribbled notes, and scattered equipment. Julie's sharp commands guided your every move, her precision and efficiency an unyielding force that you did your best to keep up with. You barely left the lab, only stepping away when Nia’s simmering irritation boiled over into outright orders, dragging you away to fulfill your royal duties.

Nia, oblivious to the true nature of your plight, found your dedication charming. She believed your sleepless nights were for the good of the palace servants, thinking you were endearingly overinvested in Julie’s work. Julie, of course, allowed her to believe this. The Queen would never have guessed that her seemingly compliant spouse and her chief scientist were conspiring behind her back.

In truth, Julie had synthesized the cure hours after entering her lab. It wasn’t particularly challenging for someone of her intellect. “Simple, really,” she began, her tone clipped as she rattled off her process. “Using a microfluidic reactor, I injected the fusion compound into liposomal vesicles composed of phosphatidylcholine and cholesterol. This ensures stability and allows for slow-release activation in the bloodstream. And then—”

You blinked at her, utterly lost. Julie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before she began explaining again, this time with smaller words and slower sentences. For someone as emotionally detached as Julie, the effort she put into making you understand surprised even herself.

Why am I doing this for them? The thought surfaced unbidden, lingering even as she pushed it aside. She refused to acknowledge the warmth she felt when your lips quirked up in gratitude, the way your voice softened when you thanked her for her patience.

At first, Julie had dismissed your emotions outright. “Focus,” she would snap whenever you let your worries slip into conversation. “Leave your thoughts and feelings behind. Rationality is what will save you, not sentiment.” She kept her face impassive, a fortress of cold logic. Yet, as the hours passed, cracks began to form in that stoic mask.

Your determination stirred something in her, something uncomfortable and unfamiliar. She watched you struggle to learn, scribbling notes in your awkward scrawl and jotting down formulas that rarely made sense. You were woefully unskilled in science, clumsy with equipment, and terribly naive about the dangers of the lab.

“Don’t touch that,” she said one evening, not looking up from her work as you reached for a vial. “It will give you Type 1 Diabetes.”

Startled, you withdrew your hand. “What about this one?”

“That is the cure for Chronosynchronous Neurodegenerative Autoimmune Myelopathy. If you drink it, you will die.”

Your curiosity never waned, though. If anything, it amused her in ways she didn’t want to admit. By the third night, Julie noticed how exhaustion had taken its toll on you. Your head drooped low over your notes, your fingers slack around your pen. When you finally succumbed to sleep, hunched awkwardly over the desk, she found herself pausing mid-step.

She hadn’t meant to linger, but something about your vulnerability tugged at her. Without a word, she retrieved a blanket from one of the cabinets and draped it carefully over your slumped form. For a moment, her gaze lingered, softer than it had ever been.

How sweet. How innocent.

Shaking off the unfamiliar pang in her chest, Julie returned to her work. If she was going to save you, she would need every second she had left. What she hadn’t yet admitted, even to herself, was that saving you had become more than a task. It was now a necessity. You had become a necessity.

The following morning, you awoke to the faint scent of antiseptics and the distant hum of machinery. The blanket draped over your shoulders was a surprise, its warmth a rare comfort in the sterile environment of Julie’s lab. Stretching, you glanced up to find her exactly where you’d left her hours before, standing at one of the counters, meticulously mixing compounds.

You rose up, now sitting straight and back aching. You grumble as you stretch fro what felt like the first time in years, “You stayed up all night again?” you asked, your voice hoarse from sleep.

Julie didn’t look at you immediately, her focus still on the beaker in her hand. “Someone has to ensure this doesn’t end in catastrophe,” she replied dryly. But there was no bite to her words, only a quiet resignation.

As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you noticed a faint slump in her normally rigid posture. She looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, though her face remained stoic. For all her coldness, Julie’s dedication was unwavering. You felt a pang of gratitude, though you weren’t sure how to express it.

“Thank you,” you said softly. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you had.

Julie froze for a fraction of a second, her fingers tightening around the beaker before she set it down with deliberate care. “Don’t thank me yet,” she muttered, finally meeting your gaze. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, softened ever so slightly. “We’re not done.”

It was true. Despite her brilliance, every attempt to replicate the Lycantherin formula had ended in failure. Either the compounds wouldn’t stabilize, or the mixture would react violently in a way that rendered it useless. The deadline loomed closer with each passing hour, and with it, the growing realization that time was running out.

By the time the full moon rose on the fourth night, the lab was a wreck of discarded notes and shattered glass. Julie stood amidst the chaos, her hands clenched into fists, her carefully crafted composure beginning to fray.

And then it happened.

The pain struck you like a lightning bolt, ripping through your body with an intensity that left you gasping. You barely had time to call out before the transformation took hold, your bones snapping and reshaping, muscles stretching impossibly as fur erupted across your skin.

Julie watched, frozen, as the creature that had been you threw its head back and roared. The sound echoed through the palace, primal and terrifying, sending servants scrambling for cover. She barely had time to grab her tranquilizer gun before you—no, the beast—charged out of the lab, smashing through the door with a force that shook the walls.

Her chest tightened. “Damn it,” she hissed under her breath, her grip tightening on the gun. For the first time in years, fear clawed at her. Not for herself, but for you.

Julie’s focus was razor-sharp, every thought and movement dedicated to her next steps. She was already loading the tranquilizer gun with the sedative when the sound of frantic beeping broke through her concentration.

She froze mid-motion, turning toward the source of the noise. The machine behind her—the cursed contraption that had refused to yield stable results for days—was now alive with steady, rhythmic chirps. Her gaze snapped to the screen, and there it was: stability.

The compound had worked.

For a split second, Julie stared, her mind caught between disbelief and cold, calculating relief. Then she moved, abandoning the tranquilizer syringe entirely. She reached for the vial the machine had just dispensed, its amber liquid glowing faintly. Her fingers worked quickly, dumping the sedative from the dart into a disposal vial and replacing it with the freshly synthesized Lycantherin.

Her heart was racing, though her expression remained stoic. “Finally,” she muttered, snapping the dart into place.

She didn’t waste another second. Tucking the loaded gun under her arm, Julie grabbed the remaining dose of Lycantherin and slipped it into her pocket before sprinting out of the lab.

Chaos greeted her as soon as she entered the palace halls. Furniture lay overturned, tapestries shredded, and a faint scent of blood lingered in the air. Servants cowered behind columns, their faces pale with terror as the guttural snarls of the beast you had become echoed from deeper within the palace.

Julie’s pace quickened, her grip tightening on the tranquilizer gun. She didn’t allow herself to think about the danger or what might happen if she failed. Her mind was consumed by one thought alone: she wouldn’t lose you.

The world was red.

Scent, sound, rage—all of it flooded your senses, overwhelming and intoxicating. The walls around you blurred into a haze of stone and tapestries, irrelevant and fragile under your claws. The air was heavy with fear, thick and pungent, but none of it mattered.

None of them mattered.

Your claws tore into the marble floor, splintering it with every pounding step as your massive frame thundered through the palace. Servants scattered in every direction, their screams piercing but meaningless. The beast inside you growled low, a guttural sound that rumbled from deep within your chest. The scent you were tracking was stronger now, laced with that cloying sweetness of silk and power.

Her.

The word barely registered as your thoughts dissolved into raw emotion. Fury. Betrayal. Resentment. They churned in your blood, each one fueling the fire in your veins. She forced you into this. Into the heavy crown, the suffocating halls, the golden chains that bound your soul.

Your lips curled back, saliva dripping from fangs meant for ripping and tearing. You slammed through a door, the wood splintering under your weight. No one stood in your way. No one dared.

The scent was closer now, pulling you like a tether. Each breath carried it deeper into your lungs, the promise of vindication clawing at your chest. The beast wanted her—wanted to see her cower, to hear her scream. To make her pay.

Memories flashed unbidden in the haze of your mind: her smug smile, the steel in her voice when she commanded you to “behave,” her grip on your arm when you tried to walk away. Every touch of hers burned, every order seared into your very being.

Your claws raked across the stone as you skidded to a halt, nostrils flaring. The scent was here, heavy and undeniable. She was close—hiding, maybe. It didn’t matter. You would find her.

A growl rumbled deep in your throat, vibrating through your chest and out into the air. Furniture lay overturned, shattered glass glittering like shards of ice on the floor. The beast surged forward again, head low, teeth bared.

No one else. Just her. Only her.

Another door shattered before you, the splinters flying like confetti as you barreled through. You were unstoppable. Her throne, her title, her arrogance—all of it would crumble beneath you. Beneath this rage.

Your body moved on instinct, driven by a singular purpose. You would not stop. Not until the Queen herself knelt before the monster she had made.

Nia’s heart thundered in her chest, the regal composure she wore so effortlessly now cracked and crumbling under the weight of pure, unfiltered terror. Her golden robes snagged on a jagged splinter of wood as she stumbled backward into the room, her hands trembling as they clutched at the silk folds of her dress.

The air was thick, oppressive, heavy with the scent of beast and blood. Each guttural snarl from beyond the broken doorway sent shivers down her spine, every creak of the floor making her breath hitch. She backed away further, her gaze darting around the room like a trapped animal searching for escape. But there was none.

She could hear it—the scraping of claws against the stone, the huff of labored, feral breaths. A shadow loomed in the doorway, grotesque and massive, the beast’s figure illuminated by the flickering light of a shattered chandelier.

Her confidence, her power, her crown—none of it mattered now. Nia was just prey.

Her instincts screamed at her to run, but where? Her eyes landed on the ornate couch at the far end of the room, its thick cushions and high back offering the only semblance of cover. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

She bolted, her skirts catching on the splintered furniture and shards of glass that littered the floor. The sound of her heartbeat drowned out everything else as she dove behind the couch, pressing herself flat against the cold marble. She held her breath, her fingers digging into the floor as if anchoring herself to reality.

The snarls grew louder, closer. The beast had found her.

The room fell silent save for the sound of heavy, deliberate breathing. Nia squeezed her eyes shut, her chest heaving as she tried to stifle her panicked gasps. She prayed for the first time in years, her lips moving in silent desperation. Why hadn’t I listened…

The couch above her shifted, its heavy weight groaning against the floor.

Then it happened.

With an almost casual swipe of its massive clawed hand, the werewolf flung the couch aside as though it weighed nothing. The ornate wood cracked against the wall with a deafening crash, splintering into jagged shards.

Nia barely had time to register the movement before the couch slammed into her with bone-crushing force. The weight drove her body into the cold, unyielding marble, the sharp corner digging into her side as the breath was forced from her lungs.

Her vision blurred, pain radiating through her ribs and legs. She tried to cry out, but the sound came out weak, a strangled gasp. Her fingers twitched, grasping at nothing as her consciousness ebbed away like the tide.

The last thing she saw was the monster standing over her, its hulking frame towering in the dim light. Those glowing, feral eyes bored into her, unrelenting and unforgiving, before everything went black.

The air in the palace was thick with the tension of impending destruction. The walls shook with every roar of the beast, the air heavy with the scent of blood and fur. Nia's crumpled form beneath the couch, her body pinned and motionless, seemed like a lost cause—a casualty of fate. The entire room felt like it was teetering on the edge of something irreparable. The monster was relentless, and there was no end in sight.

Then, just as the beast’s hulking figure loomed over the wreckage, a sharp crack echoed through the silence—followed by the hiss of something fast and urgent. The air seemed to freeze in that moment, before the familiar hiss of a dart punctuated the chaos.

A sudden, intense burning seared through the side of your neck, a sharp pain unlike anything you’d felt before. The world around you seemed to snap into focus, the rage that had consumed you suddenly ebbing away. Your head spun for a moment, the fury retreating as if it had never existed.

The claws that had been ready to rend flesh, to tear and maim, slowly retracted as your vision sharpened, and you staggered back. It wasn’t your mind—no, it wasn’t you—but you could feel the shift. The beast was still there, its primal instinct not entirely extinguished, but it was weakening. The liquid coursing through your veins was fighting it, fighting the transformation that had overtaken your body.

And then you saw her.

Julie.

Her form stood at the doorway, breath coming in short, controlled bursts. She was poised, completely in control, the tranquilizer gun, now equped wiht Lycantherin still raised in her hand as her steely gaze locked onto yours. But there was something different in the way she looked at you—an intensity that you hadn’t seen before. There was concern, yes, but more than that, there was something... possessive. The cold precision of her demeanor melted away for just a moment, and you could see the raw emotion, hidden just beneath the surface. The kind of emotion she never showed anyone else.

Before you knew it, your body had shifted back—painfully, excruciatingly—until the towering, monstrous figure was nothing but a faint echo in your mind, leaving you human again, weak and trembling but no longer a beast.

You collapsed forward, not even thinking as you closed the distance between you, your arms reaching out instinctively. The world spun as you fell into Julie’s embrace, her arms wrapping around you with an intensity that made your heart race. You could barely speak, still breathless from the transformation, but the moment your body pressed against hers, something deep within you calmed. The primal hunger, the fury, the fear—they all melted away.

Julie held you tightly, her grip firm but gentle, as if she never intended to let you go. Her breath was shaky, and for the first time, you could hear the underlying vulnerability in her voice.

“You’re safe now,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow in the face of what had just happened. She wasn’t just speaking to calm you down; she was speaking to herself, to reassure herself that you were truly here. Alive. Hers.

You buried your face in her shoulder, your body shuddering from the aftermath of the transformation, from the weight of everything that had happened. The world outside the two of you seemed to fade away, as if there was only this moment.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice raw, the words slipping out before you could even think. “You saved me…”

Julie didn’t answer at first. Instead, she tightened her hold on you, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes, a small shudder running through her body. For a long moment, she simply held you, her emotions warring beneath her stone-cold exterior.

But then, slowly, she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her face was unreadable, but her eyes—her eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. There was a tenderness there, something fragile that she barely let show.

“You belong to me now,” she said quietly, her voice steady but carrying an undeniable weight. It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a question. It was a fact. And something about the way she said it—so certain, so sure—made your heart skip a beat.

You didn’t know where this feeling was coming from, why you felt so drawn to her, why you longed to be in her arms even though it was all so overwhelming. But you didn’t care. Not anymore.

You leaned into her, burying your face against her neck as she pulled you in close again, her hands running through your hair, soothing you in ways you couldn’t fully understand.

And for the first time since the madness had begun, you felt at peace.

Julie was the one who’d saved you, and in that moment, you knew she’d never let you go.

#oc x reader #gn reader #yandere oc x reader #x reader #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere #tw yandere #gender neutral #yandere x reader #yandere female #female yandere #female yandere x reader #yandere female x reader

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bcacstuff · 9 hours ago

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People do realise he only got back from Nepal & a very big strain on his body and organs like a week ago??? Questioning him reposting at 1.30am or 3am means nothing. His sleeping is going to be messed up for weeks. Also reposting stuff twice is an easy mistake, he’s probably exhausted and forgets which he’s reposted as confusion can happen when re-acclimatising to normal altitude and reality after that. Goodness me the man can’t just do normal things without everything getting picked apart

Oh Anons, especially Anon 2.... I think you'd gonna explode if you saw my inbox. You only see the bit on other blogs and ignorant people making assumptions and acting surprised about something, getting outrageous about something that they could have known already for a while..... if you pay attention to the right things that is, not to the things that do not matter at all. 🙄

Yes, I agree very much, that trek he did, the affects it has on your body, it doesn't matter how well you are trained or how much you always live in a jetlag style off life, it has a strain not only on your body also on your mind as well. Just go figure it's not for nothing he waited to take that opportunity after he had no more responsibilities and ties for a series he has been working on for all these years. And we all know this is something he always wanted to do.

Also agree on how he shared his wonderful experience together with the posts of Jake N. I loved to explore the maps to see where and how they went, look up pictures and places, read about the challenges. And then read it first hand from the ones who really did it. What a nice change from all the booze advertising, but even more what a welcoming change in my inbox. I pretty much enjoyed the calm, apart from that one persistent Anon that kept on going on and on about........ Ash.

Yes really even then, no need for me to check her IG as I would have a daily reports about what she posted together with the most biased opinion about it, of course all in the most extreme negative way. Get a life, get a hobby... that's what I would shout at this Anon's face in real life. What poor life do you have if this is your daily business and you keep on writing to me to get it out of your system even if I do not post any of it. Yes, I chose not to post or give it any attention in here... because I just know how giving this air is only gonna make it worse!

You know it's always the sort of people that are determined to judge about someone else's life, they always know what is best for you, they even think they know better what is best for you than yourself. Even though they do not walk in your shoes or see the sun and the moon like you do. And when you do not choose the path they think is best for you.... well.... yeah, that! Talking about getting picked apart Anon 1, and agree Anon 2, this whole agenda people have with him is so unhealthy

Anyway I could have predicted, I did in fact predict exactly two weeks ago what my inbox would look like today. How it would flood with messages about 'Ash this', and 'Ash that', and the 'no doubt he must be' and the 'are you still sure about...' exactly the way it did beginning this year with Sarah H. And here we are again, nothing changed.

Boom Ash is in London! - Sorry, no not Boom as if lightning struck, she announced it already 2 weeks ago people! And not only that, a week later she also announced she was gonna be in Glasgow. These are the stories of 13 and 20 December!

So how is it any surprise to people now? Oh wait, yeah you didn't see those stories, you just see what is now. Oh she's in London, oh he posts late a story and twice the same one.... must be... right, no doubt... Can't be anything else now can it???

Yes Christmas Day she posts from London (and before you ask no that is not Sam's hand)

as well as Boxing Day

And let me help you here a bit, location Dear Jackie at Broadwick Soho. for the ones unfamiliar, yes that is the same location the Flute is in, remember that weird 'launch' party organised by Flaunt magazine and MGMplus UK?

And then OMG she turns up in Glasgow posting from EDA... oh wow. Let's just throw out all common sense and make things fit a certain narrative. Let's just simply ignore how Sam has been posting all Christmas Day constantly from 7am until after 11pm. Because that's what you do when you try to hide you're in London secretly meeting up with somebody who announced her presence there weeks ago. Right? Let's just pay attention to the fact he posted at 1.30am and 3am the night after Boxing Day (where he also posted almost all afternoon). Let's just conveniently forget that there are a ton of other options, like going out with other friends in Glasgow, or having some good times with family like his brother and newly wed wife f.i. or falling asleep on the couch while watching Netflix (his latest follow on Christmas Day) and I can think of lots of other options.

Nope, we just go by the one option that fits our narrative, right? Cause we all want some entertainment, and so we just claim he was with her in London without a shred of evidence, not even a voice or hand to be recognized not even a matching cloud on the horizon. And my persistent Ash-Anon (how I call her) is all satisfied as she get's her way with all the attention she so hard tried to stir in this fandom and now she can accuse him again of all kind of mischief.

Yes, my inbox keeps flooding, even while I write this post. I already lost count. The weirdest things, because... you all take this one narrative as a basis and lose all sense of reality focussing on minor things that do not matter and by ignoring things that do not fit the narrative and other simple options and things like:

You really think Sam would fly one day to London while knowing she would be in Glasgow the very next day? Especially after a trip that wasn't peanuts and had its strain on his body and mind? That he wouldn't spend time with family and friends in these holidays after that trip but run to London cause his employee is there all alone? And gosh why would they not meet up at some point, have a drink or dinner or whatever together while she's in town, why would he say no? Is that in any way proof he started to date his employee, or have some hidden relationship with her?

Even though it is a bit awkward how Ash pushed herself into his circle of friends, is it that strange she'd go to EDA to work out? Is it strange that when she follows 3.231 (and we thought Sam follows a lot!^^) that it she follows a lot accounts mutually as Sam does? And by following them, are they suddenly all her friends as well? Do you really think Ash never traveled before in her job representing the Jagermeister brand? Like she doesn't know anybody else in London but the people and places connected to Sam? Like she doesn't know anybody else in Scotland but Sam? (what about Shiobhan who became her bestie?) But nooooo... she traveled to the UK during the holidays, she can't have anything to do in the UK. She can't have any other friends there who told her about hogmanay in Scotland perhaps? Oh wait, that doesn't fit the narrative, let's just skip that, okay? Because then we have entertainment and we all can go on telling how somebody else must live his or her life, because we all know better than themselves.

Why do you all care?

You know what? I'm just gonna leave it at this and post this song with the lyrics. As they apply to all of us

youtube

Because, you know we're all just passengers in this world, much unlike those high mountains that are here forever to stay. Tomorrow or next year, it will be all the same, Just another drama and another name, Another fight who's right or wrong, And they all forgot about yesterday... when we were young!

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vidra-comprehends · 8 hours ago

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Taking this as a chance to flesh out a dynamic between two characters more. It will eventually be part of a longer work, but it is not a huge spoiler to say these two get together.

The game is Mass Effect, the characters are members of Archangel's team. Tiken has IR training, while Erash was raised to be a dalatrass, which means they get to use that 'fancy professional' language around each other and, according to the others, 'they get really weird about it'. The following scene is as close to a traditional love confession as they will get.

Every fight has its end; someone always runs out of thermal clips first. Someone always miscalculates their steps, allowing for the enemy to swoop in and take their fill. What he cannot get used to is the quiet after the battle. This is an office building; people should hold meetings here and argue about economics, not shoot each other down. He takes some comfort in another live person; one he followed back into this room. ‘It’s empty.’

‘They will not be happy about the carpet. It would have been salvageable… before the blood dried.’ Erash walks up to the window of the conference room. ‘And the dry matter?’

‘Sidonis is taking care of it. Those with living family will be shipped soon.’ It’s easy to notice that, even compared to herself, Erash is very still. ‘Is something bothering you?’

She has drawn the curtains aside. Arms crossed, she is looking at the bulletin board in the corridor. ‘Nothing. I am picturing my body in a bag like that. Where it would be taken.’

‘That’s a good question. Where do you want to go? Back to Dagnes?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Erash closes the curtains. ‘It would make sense, right? The prodigal daughter finally returns home; more loyal in death than she ever was in life.’ She turns to face the drell, who has since closed the distance. ‘They would not refuse to bury me, I know that much. And you, with the mark on your forehead? Where would you go?’

‘Do I get to choose?’ he laughs. ‘One option is better than the other. Kahje? I don’t even remember what it looks like. Feros? You know what happened on that colony recently… It’s a struggle out there even without having to dispose of another corpse. Noveria? Yes, that sounds good. I wouldn’t be the first to "walk until my limbs are frozen". They rarely find the body, because they are not actually looking for it.’ He smiles warmly. ‘Best to go with cremation.’

‘Convenient,’ she admits. ‘If you die first, I can turn you into a diamond.’ A silly offer, but she means it.

‘And you can keep me in your pocket!’

‘...Yes. Exactly.’ Erash wants to say something more, but thinks better of it.

Unfortunately, Tiken notices. She should know by now that he always notices. ‘Erash, you are awfully gloomy today. Are you grappling with your mortality or… is there something else too?’

‘We know how this ends, darling.’ She avoids looking directly at him. ‘Salarians rarely mate for life. And even then, it’s for a salarian life.’

‘I am,’ he stares at her with those big dark eyes, ‘more than happy to carry you around in my pocket.’

She snickers. ‘What are you getting at?’

‘What am I getting at? What I am getting at is that you should acknowledge all aspects of this problem… like I am trying to.’

Her lower eyelids twitch. They stand there in silence. Erash slowly walks around him, taking the chair at the head of the conference table. ‘Have a seat. What is the proposal, exactly?’

He sits down at a respectable distance. ‘What it entails is largely up to the Chair, but the base concept is a relationship that would benefit all participants.’ He clears his throat. ’Of course, this must involve more data than we currently have; possibly even a referendum.’ He blinks at her.

Deep breath. ‘Reliable sources indicate a strong interest in such initiatives, therefore it is advised we move forward with this motion.’

‘Second.’

Erash smirks. Her voice fills the empty room. ‘Any objections?’ The bodies have been bagged and removed already and Tiken is slowly shaking his head. ‘Very well. Moving forward. Opening speech?’ She accepts his raised hand.

He doesn’t stand up, but his back is straight as a ruler. ‘As we all know, tensions have been high in the past few months. The ever-growing power vacuum presents a unique challenge for our initiative. As our working conditions change, so should we adapt to the new situation. It is imperative that we nurture our emotional side in order to reduce psychological harm and any suggestions regarding our… direct alliances… are to take priority.’

The salarian is visibly amused. ‘Is this, then, a suggestion about a subsection of the organisation?’

‘Precisely.’ In a very unprofessional manner, he puts his hand over his heart. ‘It is this delegate’s firm conviction that this subsection could gain a lot from it, translating well into their professional life and greater group dynamic as well.’

It is her turn to complain of a sore throat. ‘General working hazards aside… Due to a collection of negative past experiences, establishing security and resilience may prove a challenge here.’

It is a fair point. She has never taken root anywhere she went, while Tiken has had too many roots cut short. ‘Would making this entirely dependent on feedback be considered a viable option? Permission to elaborate.’

Erash leans forward. ‘Granted.’

‘Instead of relying on preconceptions, both parties might want to opt for a test period. During this time, we may confirm that the dynamic is truly bilateral and mutually satisfactory.’

‘Has the delegate taken note of… the time constraint? Simply due to the amount of time available, one party is at a notable disadvantage here,’ she smiles, amphibian eyes wetter than usual. No matter how much they joke about it, the elephant will not leave the room; they both know Erash doesn’t have nearly as long to live, and sooner or later, Tiken will be left behind.

Milo is ready to leave the place that served as the stage for an hour-long firefight and the death of several important Blood Pack clients. It has been a long day. She almost turns the corner when something catches her eye. The conference room they ‘cleared out’ earlier; all targets eliminated, bodies disposed of. Why are the lights on? Nobody’s home, after all... The turian chuckles at her own joke. Yeah, she needs to go home. Erash said she left something in there, but she must have turned the lights off again. Milovea sneaks her way to the window, peeking inside where two curtains meet. A moment later, she sighs in relief, now heading straight for the door. It’s her people. ‘Weaver? What are you guys up to?’

Tiken turns towards her with the solemn expression of weary diplomats and spoiled lapdogs. ‘We are negotiating for a long-term partnership between our clients.’

‘...Okay.’

‘I am quite hopeful about our progress so far.’ The way he eyes Erash is borderline disgusting.

‘And you don’t mind that she treats you like a house pet?’

‘Milo, look at me,’ the drell lowers his voice, waving for her to come closer. His irises are barely visible; as if his pupils were trying to join with the dark of his sclerae. ’I am… I am so tired. Of everything and all the time. No, I don’t mind being cherished and cared for, thank you very much.’

‘Will the delegation of Noveria please practice decorum?’

‘Certainly.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ Mumbling something below translation volume, Milo hurries back out. ‘Just turn off the lights when you’re done, alright? Don’t want to drive up their electricity bill.’ She looks back from the doorway. ‘I am rooting for you both.’

The salarian smiles at her. ‘Thanks.’ For the very first time, Erash and her might be seeing eye to eye. It is a brief moment that Milo doesn’t think of until much later. The door closes.

Writing Challenge

Alright now that I was both sincere and pedantic(warned y’all I’m almost always both) here’s your writing challenge for the day. Don’t forget there’s no time limit to these, if you find it in a month I’ll still reblog it. I’ll take pretty much any BW fic not just DA. Reblog, tag, or link me!! My ask box is always open as are my DM’s! Without further ado:

I want flirty dialogue without physical touch OR flirty touch without dialogue.

OR OR

If romance like that isn’t your thing I want angst. Give me the longing. Give me the hurt/comfort. I yearn for yearning. Emotional distress???? I love that shit. I’m leaving this one wide open. Bonus points if you manage both categories. Look for mine later.

#mass effect #this was really fun #does it make sense? not necessarily #the way they speak is actually the kind of text my brain generates when i am struggling to fall asleep #academic fever dream #vidrart

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nxzz-skz · 2 days ago

Text

Bound by contract (a bangchan x reader series)

Chapter 9

ᯓ★arranged marriage between nonidol!bangchan and fem!reader

ᯓ★ warnings: angst

ᯓ★ note: send an ask or comment to be added to my taglist!

ᯓ★ two chapters in one day heh :D guess its a late Christmas gift for those who celebrate <3 tysm for all the love you've been giving me! it really boosts my confidence :)

chapter 8 - masterlist - chapter 10

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

The drive home was a blur. Your fingers the gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white. Every red light felt like forever, every passing car like an echo of the words still consuming your mind.

"Ask him what he promised the board to keep you safe"

You had spent so long trying to convince yourself that things had changed. That he had changed. You'd let your guard down. You'd let him in.

And now?

You weren't sure if you'd ever want to let him in again.

When you reached the house, it felt emptier than ever. The living room, once filled with warmth and joy, felt hollow. Your coat slid off your shoulders, falling onto the floor in a heap, but you didn't care.

You were too tired to care.

You collapsed on the couch, eyes staring at nothing, heart heavy with betrayal. Your chest felt like it had been torn open, and the ache wouldn't stop no matter how many deep breaths you took.

Minutes passed. Or maybe hours.

A familiar sound soon echoed from the door. The key turning in the lock.

You knew who it was before he even stepped inside.

Who else would it be anyways?

The moment Bang Chan walked through the door, you felt it. His presence filled the room like a thundercloud, heavy with unresolved tension.

He didn't say a word.

Neither did you.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence hung in the air, suffocating. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, like he was approaching a wounded animal. His eyes were locked onto you, his face unreadable but his eyes - oh, his eyes - they were begging.

"I shouldn't have kept it from you," he said, voice rough like sandpaper. "But I did it to protect you."

You laughed bitterly. "Protect me?" you repeated, eyes flashing with disbelief. "By using me like a pawn?"

His jaw tightened, and he dropped his coat onto the nearest chair. "I didn't 'use you,' Y/N."

"Don't twist it, Chan," you snapped, standing up. "Minho knew. He knew before I did. You let the board think they had power over me - over us - and you let it happen."

"I didn't have a choice!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the house. His chest heaved as his eyes bored into yours. "If I didn't offer them something, they would've torn us apart. They would've come for you - for everything!"

"You think they haven't done so already?" you hissed, stepping forward. "You think I'm safe just because you're here? You're wrong, Chan. I'm the one who caught Minho. I'm the one who tracked down his messages. Not you. Me." You jabbed a finger into your chest. "So don't stand there, acting the hero, telling me I needed you to protect me."

His eyes softened, and you hated it. Hated how he always knew how to look at you like that - like you were something he cared about.

"You didn't need me," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I needed you. I still do."

His words hit you harder than expected. Your breath caught, heart skipping a beat like it wasn't sure whether to break or heal.

But it wasn't enough.

"You should have trusted me, should have told me," you muttered, taking a step back, eyes glistening. "That's all I ever wanted from you, Chan."

He stayed where he was, shoulders sagging like he was carrying the weight of the world. A world he wouldn't let you into.

"I know," he said softly, eyes dropping to the floor. "I know."

You wiped your eyes, turning your back to him. "Go, Chan. Just...go."

You didn't have to turn around to know that he was still there, watching you, choosing whether to fight or surrender. The silence stretched on for so long that you thought he might stay.

But then, you heard his footsteps retreat. The door opened.

And this time, he didn't come back.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Four weeks.

Four whole weeks passed without a single word from Bang Chan. No texts. No calls. No late-night knocks on the door.

It should’ve felt like relief. It didn’t.

The house was quieter now, and you hated it. It was too big, too still. Every creak, every shift of the wood floors, made you feel like a ghost was walking through it.

No, not a ghost.

Just his absence.

Felix dropped by once. He brought food and his usual goofy energy, but you saw through it. He didn’t say Chan’s name, but it was obvious why he’d come.

“Have you spoken to him?” you asked, sitting cross-legged on the living room floor while eating takeout noodles.

Felix hesitated, slurping his noodles slower than usual. “He’s… busy.”

You shot him a look. “With what?”

“Damage control,” he admitted, not meeting your eyes. “Minho left a mess. The board’s still on edge, and investors want reassurance. You know how it is.”

You did. You knew exactly how it was.

You knew it meant Chan was throwing himself into work the way he always did when he didn’t want to feel anything.

“Did he tell you to check on me?” you asked, stirring your food with little interest.

Felix froze. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to.

“Thought so,” you muttered, setting the container aside. “Tell him I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Felix said, leaning forward, his eyes uncharacteristically serious. “You look like you’re waiting for something that’s not gonna come.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. “I’m not waiting for anything.”

But even as you said it, your heart knew it was a lie.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

It happened at the company’s annual gala.

You weren’t going to attend, but you knew better than to avoid it. If you didn’t show up, the whispers would only grow louder. People would wonder. People would talk.

You wore a black silk gown, sleek and elegant, the kind of dress that made people look twice. You didn’t wear it for him. You wore it for you.

But the moment you stepped into the venue, you felt him.

Bang Chan.

He stood near the center of the room, a glass of wine in hand, his black suit sharp enough to cut. His hair was styled back, revealing the strong lines of his face.

You didn’t mean to look at him. You didn’t mean to let your eyes linger.

But you did.

And the moment he saw you, he didn’t look away.

For a while, neither of you moved. People milled around you, talking, laughing, oblivious to the storm brewing between you.

Then, slowly, he started walking toward you. Each step deliberate, slow, like he was giving you time to walk away.

You didn’t.

He stopped in front of you, his eyes darker than the night sky.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Can we talk?”

“Why?” you asked, tilting your head. “So you can tell me more lies?”

His eyes flickered with something close to pain. “I never lied to you.”

“You just didn’t tell me the truth,” you muttered. “Same thing, Chan.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered. “You’re right.”

You blinked, thrown off by how quickly he agreed.

“I should’ve trusted you,” he continued, his voice firm but quiet. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I’m done trying to control everything, Y/N.” He stepped forward, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m done running from you.”

You hated how much you wanted to believe him.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Chan,” you admitted, voice cracking slightly. “You broke something.”

“I’ll spend every day fixing it,” he said without hesitation. His eyes never left yours. “If you let me.”

His words hung in the air between you, fragile and sharp all at once.

“Why should I?” you asked, eyes stinging.

His lips quirked into a sad smile. “Because you love me.”

Silence. Heavy. Real.

“Don’t be so sure,” you muttered, turning to leave.

But his hand caught yours, fingers warm and steady against your skin.

“I’m sure,” he whispered.

This time, you didn’t let go.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

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ylangelegy · 9 hours ago

Text

collision course 🏁 sunwoo x reader.

“I know what it was,” said Kim Sunwoo, strolling up with the unshakable confidence of someone who didn’t yet understand how much trouble he was about to cause. The young mechanic had a smirk plastered on his face, the kind that made Jeonghan instinctively want to flee. (Full Throttle, diamonddaze01)

or: sunwoo knows a lot of things about cars, but girls? a whole different story.

★ ferrari mechanic!sunwoo x race strategist!reader. ★ word count: 3.1k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol, alternate universe: formula one. fluff, feelings realization/denial, confessions, car terms. alcohol consumption, swearing/cussing. sunwoo has a crush and is lame about it. i know nothing about f1/cars and relied heavily on google— so help me, god. (if anything is wrong/off? we ball.) ★ footnotes: this is a self-indulgent, belated christmas gift for @diamonddaze01, because seeing a sunwoo cameo in her ferrari!jeonghan fic was an absolute treat. in her words, "had to bring my other man in here somehow."

At speeds over 150 km/h, the aerodynamic downforce generated by an F1 car is enough to keep it adhered to a ceiling— theoretically allowing it to drive upside down.

It’s a stupid fun fact that Sunwoo likes to keep in his arsenal of pickup lines. He’ll be in a new city, grabbing drinks with the garage technicians and pit crew members, and he’ll pull that little nugget of information out of his sleeve with a winsome smile to boot.

“Wanna hear something cool?” he’ll ask his victim of the night, gesturing for them to lean in closer so he can be heard over the thumping music.

His success rate with the fact is at a solid 83%, which isn’t bad.

Would be nice if it could work on you, though.

Of course you wouldn’t be impressed with Sunwoo’s technical F1 knowledge. You had your own array of race tactics and data analysis, always knowing just how to make the car’s performance fit within the larger race context.

You were brilliant, productive, and ruthless. The brain behind the brawn of the indomitable Scuderia Ferrari.

Sunwoo is reminded of it now as he leans over the hood of the SF-23, his brow furrowed with concentration. He catches your eye from across the garage.

“Hey, strategist,” he grunts out, and you approach gingerly to see what he’s griping about.

Once you’re by his side, he asks, “You sure about this tire strategy? Softs at the start? I don’t know if we’ve got the grip for that, especially in this heat.”

Your expression remains perfectly neutral as you respond. “I’ve run the numbers,” you say. “The tire temps on the softs will be optimal. We can manage the degradation. The first few laps will be crucial, but we’ll have an advantage after that.”

An advantage. Sunwoo lets out a derisive snort.

“We’re talking about a five-second difference in lap times, and track conditions are ass,” he argues, wielding the wrench in his hand as he speaks. “One wrong move? We’re out of contention. I’m telling you, we’ll burn through those tires too fast.”

“And I’m telling you, I know the risk.” Your tone is unwavering as ever, like you’re far too used to your decisions being questioned by hard-headed mechanics like Sunwoo. “I also know the reward. Trust the data.”

There it was. Your go-to catchphrase. Trust the data.

In the years that Sunwoo has worked alongside you, he can no longer count on two hands the amount of times you’ve thrown him that line. It was your way of getting him— and everyone else— to shut up, and he’d be damned if he tried to push back on it now.

“You’re the boss,” he mumbles as he goes back to checking the car.

In the corner of his eye, he sees the slight twitch in your jaw, as if you’re contemplating saying something more. You seem to decide against it, instead choosing to walk off with your chin held high. Maintaining faith in your own numbers, in your very credo of trusting the data.

Sunwoo shakes his head to himself. He can feel the pull of his gut, but your confidence is hard to ignore.

It quickly becomes apparent that your conviction— and your blasted data— are not misplaced. The softs perform better than anyone had anticipated. By the time the race is nearly halfway through, your tire strategy is pulling ahead.

The radio crackles to life with Sangyeon’s voice. “You’re going to need to hold your ground now,” the race engineer says. “Great call on the softs.”

Sunwoo huffs out an exhale. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he still tries at this point.

You materialize at his side wordlessly. At first glance, there’s nothing in your expression that might give away what you’re feeling or thinking. But Sunwoo has known you long enough to recognize the upward arch of your eyebrow, the amused purse of your lips.

I told you so, you’re saying without saying, and he can’t help the way that it makes him laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, running one hand through his sweat-slicked hair. “You were right. Trust the data.”

“Trust me,” you amend with a knowing smile.

Sunwoo doesn’t quite know why, but something about your subdued smugness bowls him over. You’re already wandering off to check the timing board before he can grasp one of his witty remarks, leaving him at a rare loss.

It was the strangest thing to admit, but he found himself wanting to be harmlessly wrong again— if it meant seeing that look on your face once more.

An F1 car can theoretically drive upside down. In the same vein, you’ve not-so theoretically tilted Sunwoo’s world on its axis.

F1 tires can reach temperatures of over 120°C during a race, which is necessary for optimal grip.

Sunwoo is no stranger to heat. His job has taken him all over the world, has put him through the sweltering temperatures of Bahrain and the merciless climate of Brazil.

He’s learned how to handle those.

Hot people, however?

You’re several paces away from Sunwoo, your fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle. There’s a lot of celebration in this middle-of-nowhere Austin bar, especially after Jeonghan finished P1. But Sunwoo can’t be bothered to care about his intoxicated fellow crew members.

Not when you’re dressed like a cowgirl— a fringed vest, a leather hatband, and a goddamn hat.

Was the bar a cowboy-themed one? Yes. Was Sunwoo prepared to see you in something outside of your usual race-day attire? Not quite.

He’s in the midst of untangling his complicated web of thoughts when you catch him staring. He looks away a second too late, because you’re rounding on him mere minutes later.

“Never seen a strategist in a hat before?” you drawl, your attempted accent so horrendous that Sunwoo can’t help but bark out a laugh.

Play it cool, a voice says in the back of his head as he leans on the bar counter.

“Didn’t think anyone could pull it off. Especially you,” he teases.

You sip from your beer, your eyes never leaving his face. Something about the action makes Sunwoo’s breath hitch.

“Yeah? Thought I was all numbers and charts?” you shoot back, the lip of your bottle resting over one corner of your mouth. It’s a sight that’s going to burn itself into Sunwoo’s brain for weeks, he’s sure.

“I mean, you do spend most of your time with a headset on, looking like you’re about to break down tire strategies. Not…” He gestures vaguely to your get-up. “Whatever this is.”

You laugh, and the sound catches him off guard. It’s low and easy, like you’re genuinely enjoying this. The two of you had always worked in close coordination, but light moments were rare in your high-stakes positions. “I can do both. Multitasking is my specialty,” you say breezily.

Something about your tone— confident, but with just enough challenge— makes Sunwoo’s heart beat a little faster. “Well, if you can multitask,” he says, trying to keep it light, “I guess you won’t mind helping me figure out how to not make a fool of myself right now.”

There’s the ghost of a smirk on your face. “You’re not making a fool of yourself. Not yet, at least.”

“So you’re saying there’s still time?”

“Maybe. Depends on how much you want to embarrass yourself.”

It’s a bit dizzying, how fast-paced this conversation is going. As much as Sunwoo would like to blame it on the alcohol, he knows it runs a little deeper than that.

“You’re drunk,” he says for the lack of a better thing to say. The rest of his sentence goes unspoken: You’re drunk, and that’s the only reason you’re bantering with me like this.

“Maybe a little buzzed, but I’ve got a clear head,” you answer. When you go on, your voice is pitched just low enough that he has to lean in a bit more to hear you.

“You’re not exactly subtle, you know,” you note, and Sunwoo briefly considers making a run for it then and there.

The air suddenly feels too warm, too thick. He tries to laugh it off, but it comes out a little strangled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Those little glances,” you say, flicking your eyes over him in a way that makes him painfully aware of every inch of his body. “You were checking me out, Kim.”

“Was not.”

Crap, Sunwoo thinks as the answer comes out of him a little too fast, a little too defensive.

He backtracks. “I was just—”

But then you do that again— sipping your drink while staring directly at him— and the words hitch in his throat. He’s caught. Completely.

The flirtatious, suave Kim Sunwoo is in over his head, just because his team’s race strategist deigned to toy with him.

What a joke.

“You’re just?” you prompt, the slight grin on your face giving away the fact that you know what effect you had on him.

Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek. “I was just trying to get my head on straight,” he finally says.

He’s not used to being on the back foot. He’s always held his own in situations such as these, and yet here you are— subjecting him to a sudden, wild rush of feeling with a few choice words and moves. His mind is reeling over the fact that this is how lethal you are tipsy. How much more if you were sober?

A corner of your lip curls just enough to be dangerous. “Well,” you say, almost too casually, “looks like your head’s all over the place now, huh?”

There’s an unfamiliar heat blooming in his chest, one that burns far more than any tire blanket.

“Yeah,” he grumbles in response. “No kidding.”

An F1 car— including its driver— weighs around 740 kg, with the car itself weighing just over 700 kg.

Remaining lightweight is crucial to any car’s victory. Sunwoo’s job demands that he maintain the steadiness of things, never sacrificing safety for durability and vice versa.

He keeps his hands steady as he fastens the car’s bolts one more time. The hum of the garage surrounds him, a familiar rhythm that he could work in with his eyes closed. It’s in moments like this that he feels most at peace. When the noise fades into the background, when the weight of everything else in his life feels distant.

Except the weight isn’t distant today; instead, it’s in the same room as him.

You’d laughed at his joke earlier. Some stupid wisecrack he made about Mingyu of McLaren. He doesn’t even remember what he said anymore, because the sound of your giggle had just emptied out his brain.

Sunwoo wipes his hands on a rag, shaking his head. Focus, he mentally chides himself. There’s a job to do. There’s always a job to do. You have to—

“Hey, Kim.”

Well, so much for that.

His gaze snaps up to where you’re standing by the garage door. You have your arms crossed in front of you, and there’s a slight frown on your expression.

“What’s got you distracted?” you ask point blank. “You’ve been off all morning.”

Busted. Sunwoo almost wants to laugh at just how absurd this whole situation is. How did he ever think anything would get past you?

He tries, still, to brush it off. “I’m fine,” he says as evenly as he can manage.

You step closer, your gaze narrowing as you look him over. For a second, Sunwoo feels like you can see right through him.

“You’ve been quiet,” you point out. “And usually you never shut up.”

He raises one hand over his heart, feigning like he’s been wounded. That at least draws a small chuckle from you, but you don’t look like you’re going to back down any time soon.

“I’m just focused,” he says. “Gotta keep everything in balance, am I right?”

“Balance,” you repeat with amusement. “That’s your thing, isn’t it?”

Sunwoo could praise the heavens at the opportunity to veer the topic into safer waters. He snatches up the opportunity, immediately launching into an enthusiastic ramble of, “Yeah. It’s all about maintaining the right weight. The right balance between power, handling, and fuel efficiency. Gotta make sure nothing’s out of place, or else the entire thing could fall apart.”

Really, he should’ve known better than to think you would let him off easy.

“And yet, here you are,” you say in a way that makes him feel like you’re playing a different kind of game now. “Completely off-balance yourself.”

Damn it.

You’re not talking about cars anymore. Hell, you’re probably not even just talking about how preoccupied he’s been. Everything from the glint in your eye to the teasing edge in your voice promises trouble, threatens to read him better than any book.

“I guess I’m a little bit off-balance,” he admits, the confession escaping him before he can reel it in. “But I’m getting used to it.”

You give him a long look, something unspoken passing between you. Then, without warning, you smile— something soft, almost shy, and Sunwoo forgets his damn name.

It’s like a weight he’s been carrying for so long has suddenly lifted, even if just for a moment. A glowing sort of warmth spreads through him, light and freeing.

“You’re not the only one,” you muse, your tone almost thoughtful now. “We all are. Maybe that’s what makes us good at what we do. We’ve learned how to keep our heads straight even when everything else is... a little out of whack.”

What is this ‘we’ business, Sunwoo almost teases you. The undercurrent of your words has him thinking this conversation has nothing to do with the state of the garage, but everything to do with whatever weird tension has been crackling between you two.

The truth is, he's never felt this light before. The weight of his feelings for you, the tension in the pit of his stomach, feels like something he’s been carrying around for ages— but right now, in this fleeting moment of understanding, it’s like the air has cleared. He doesn’t know what to do with it, but he knows it’s there. This strange, giddy feeling thrumming below his ribs.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little steadier. “I guess we make it work.”

Surprisingly, he’s not worried about getting things right. He’s not thinking about the balance of power or how much he can handle before breaking.

All he knows is that in this moment, with you standing in front of him, the weight he’s been carrying feels a little more like something he can handle.

Maybe it’s the start of something. Or maybe it’s just a crush.

Either way, it leaves him feeling light.

A well-executed pit stop takes less than two seconds, with each mechanic trained to handle their specific role.

Over the years, Sunwoo has steeled himself to the pressures of being precise, of being steadfast and reliable under the world’s most insane time crunch. Every millisecond counts. He knows that better than anybody.

He’s done this a thousand times, and each movement is like a second nature. The tires are off, the new ones are on. The fuel is topped up. The car is ready to go.

Soonyoung’s car is on its way again, speeding off into the distance. Flawless, just like always.

Sunwoo lingers, his eyes drifting to where you’re standing. He lets out a long breath, shaking his head slightly. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore how he feels whenever you’re near. And for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint, it’s only grown more unbearable.

Every second he spends just working with you is like another fleeting moment, ticking away before he loses the courage to say anything.

You’re reviewing data on your tablet, and so you don’t notice him right away Sunwoo coming up to you. When you look up, there’s the slightest shift in your expression. The smallest softening.

“Nice work,” you say coolly. There’s something almost fond in the way that you look at him, and it has him feeling like he’s on shaky ground.

“Thanks,” he says, trying to sound casual. He knows he’s not fooling anyone, least of all you. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that he’s sure makes him look more like a mess than the reliable mechanic he’s supposed to be.

There’s a brief silence between you, the sounds of the garage fading in the background. The team is starting to disperse, moving onto their next tasks, but Sunwoo can’t seem to shake the weight of the moment. The pressure of the milliseconds, the years of perfecting his craft, feel insignificant compared to the one question that’s been gnawing at him for weeks.

If he’s learned anything from his driver friends, it’s that hesitation can cost you everything.

“Listen,” he starts, his throat suddenly dry. He forces the words out before he can second-guess himself. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You tilt your head to one side. A wordless encouragement of go on.

Sunwoo takes a deep breath, his hands still clammy despite the cool air of the garage. He’s never been good at this. Not the racing, not the work on the car, but this— this thing that’s been building up between the two of you.

“I know we’re both busy, but… after the race, I was wondering if you’d want to grab coffee with me. Like, outside of all this.” He gestures vaguely at the cars, the people, the entire race track that’s been your shared world for so long. “I’d, uh, like to spend time with you. Not as part of the team. Just... us.”

You blink up at him, processing the words. For a second, he’s sure he’s just made a fool of himself. Maybe he’s misread every sign. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off.

But then you smile. A slow, genuine smile that makes his heart skip a beat.

“Finally,” you exhale, and Sunwoo doesn’t have the room to press you on what you mean because you hit him with, “I’d like that, Sunwoo.”

So this is what it feels like, Sunwoo thinks, to finish P1.

“Great,” he stammers. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later,” you echo, your tone teasing but soft. “Looking forward to it.”

Sunwoo steps back, nearly knocking into a tool box as he tries to take his leave. You don’t care much for his less-than-gracious exit; in fact, it makes you laugh a little, and it only makes him feel giddier than ever. It’s like a pit stop in the middle of a race— short, but thrilling, and completely worth it.

Every millisecond does count.

And for once, he feels like he’s made the right choice with the time he’s spent.

🏎️ end notes: fan fiction of fan fiction? likelier than you think. if you love formula one and seventeen, you're bound to enjoy tara's ferrari!jeonghan piece, full throttle (part one & two). and to tara: this is insane. we have to stop exchanging fics like they're christmas gifts. <3 you.

#sunwoo x reader #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo fanfic #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #tbz fanfic #the boyz fanfic #sunwoo fluff #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #୨ৎ penned by ylangelegy #୨ৎ muse .ᐟ tbz #( diabolical that this is dropping mere moments after 'bad for business' ferrari jeonghan. )#( tara. i'll end it all. )

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hankwritten · 23 hours ago

Text

Boots n Bombs, cw: nonsexual nudity

They showered at the same time, those mornings when it would be their last act together.

A hotel room, a weekend elapsed: a tale as tired as life for them now. They chose not to waste time going one after another, instead clambering into whatever little tube passed for a shower in their dump-of-a-meetup, wringing whatever they could before the morning truly took everything from them. Minutes. Seconds. What was even the point? It was never enough, never enough of the man he loved to make the pain of splitting from him any easier.

Splitting. Not parting. A tree split by lightning would cruelly burst in twain under the force.

Demo massaged shampoo through Soldier’s scalp, humming, not letting the ball of grief choke him like the one in Soldier’s throat was doing a damn good attempt at. Sober, he always carried his melancholy quiet-like, though Soldier knew he was just as reluctant to go. Time wasn’t the only thing they wrung out in this morning ritual: they got as much skin against each other as they could, cherishing every inch, the curve of Soldier’s back fitting so tightly against the Demoman he would hard pressed to try washing him there again.

A kiss found its way to Soldier’s nape as the water’s stream freed him of suds.

He’d had mornings like this with other men, with soon-to-be-again-strangers — a discreet meeting in a hotel was nothing new. What was new was the pain, the knowledge that they’d be about to see each other again only a few hours later, and could in no way hint at the beautiful, irreplaceable things that happened between them. Soldier wanted to voice this, to admit how deep the splitting-tree wound went, but instead he glanced over his shoulder and said,

“You’re using up all the hot water again, Princess.”

“Mm,” Demo said. “Not like anyone’s coming in after me. And we’re both using up the hot water, might I remind you.”

“Not by my choosing! A shower should be eight minutes exactly and so cold stepping out is warmer than stepping in!”

Demo hummed, a sad, world-weary chuckle, and rested his chin on Soldier’s shoulder as the last tepid drops fell from the showerhead. He concluded, “Then then if we want keep warm, best stand here a moment longer.”

Soldier allowed him that.

#tf2 fanfiction #snippets #boots n bombs

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writingtraumaforever · 1 day ago

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Hey, I was wondering what your take on shadow and sonics sexuality is? I personally see Shadow as a gay aroacesep and sonic as bisexual but I was wondering what your take on them would be! I've seen other people headconnon sonic as Trans. I love your work and writing! Keep it up! I always get so excited when i see a new work or chapter! I'm sorry about what happened with the recent news on why you don't post art. People can be cruel without meaning, too. They should have asked for your age before doing that. Just so you know, we all support you and love you! Lots of love and kudos from one of your fans!

HELLO!! First of all, thank you so much for supporting my writing! <3 and thank you for the sentiment.. it feels like a lifetime ago, but I still get my anxiety. I’m trying to slowly integrate some art here and there to fight this anxiety, though! ^^ <3

I’m much better now and safe and feel very loved. <3

As for Sonic and Shadow’s sexuality ahhh—

Okay.

For Shadow, I find it to be more of a deeply rooted sort of attraction than physical. For this reason, I see him as a bit on the asexual side. He’s not a very sexual person to begin with, but is attracted to one’s mind and thoughts and abilities and what one chooses to do with them. Once connected in that sort of way, THEN he may be more open to physical interactions. Like with Sonic, they’re connected. They understand one another. He also sees him as this inevitable good which takes him back to Maria. Sonic pushes Shadow to be better as a person and as a fighter, and so Shadow respects him deeply even if he doesn’t always admit it. All this to say— I think he’s more on the demisexual realm of things. Because even when he and Sonic start talking more and go on dates, he doesn’t inherently become attracted to him in that sort of way until they’ve been dating for some time. And then it’s like BOOM. Oh, I like him, and he likes me. We should do something about that. Shadow doesn’t let people in, so when he does it’s pretty magical.

As for Sonic??? Dude is bi. I’d even say he’s pansexual to be fair. With how many different species he’s dated/flirted with, he’s just there to connect with whomever his heart is currently leading him to and that’s FINE. I’ve seen people headcanon him as trans and I always think that’s so cute to see!!! Representation is lovely, and people being able to express themselves through their favorite fictional character is a great form of comfort. As for me? He’s not trans in my writing. Not because I don’t like it, but because I, myself, am not trans, so to write the mindset of someone who has walked that path feels hypocritical and disingenuous to me. I feel like I’m a fraud when I try to put myself in the mindset of people (especially minorities) that I’ll never truly be able to understand or experience. I wouldn’t do that journey and all the complications and mental battles that come with it justice. So I simply stay away from that sort of thing out of respect. I feel someone who can relate to it more would do a far better job of writing Sonic being trans than I ever could. <3

#my headcanon #my headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #my posts #my post #my writing #my asks #my ask box #my answers

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herpartnerintime · 2 days ago

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I’m more convinced than ever on the Safi Theory

I played Double Exposure on Bay AND Bae and took a look at the friendship texts and let’s just say, this only made me more positive of the Safi theory.

So first of all, after you tell Safi about your Bae or Bay choice, you can find her looking at a blue butterfly on her phone. Chloe has always been symbolized by the blue butterfly, Max even uses a blue butterfly for Chloe’s phone photo. Safi is clearly snooping just like Max does. But it goes way deeper. You really have to read the texts on both friendship bae and romantic bae, to first of all pick up on how things went from really good to suddenly, very, very strange very very quickly. It all starts on Valentine’s Day. Let’s start friendship bae. Max is out. She is NOT out with Chloe. She’s alone. Valentine’s Day chocolate is on sale so Max is asking Chloe in texts how much she think she can eat. Chloe realizes the time and says there was an exhibit this week and the tickets were on sale. She was going to take Max as a surprise. She’s disappointed she missed it. That’s when Max says this Well, if you want to go get up in time to get those tickets I can make that happen This is what triggers everything to go wrong. Chloe gets upset, saying she doesn’t need Max to rewind and she’s a big girl and she can live with her mistakes. Max is all like what is that supposed to mean? Chloe’s all like i didn’t mean it like that and Max is all like there’s a place on the coast we used to call home that says otherwise. Chloe then says how many times do I have to tell u that I never asked u make that choice? i never wouldve asked u to do that. I was feeling confused. Chloe gave Max the choice. Why was she saying that? She let Max choose. She didn’t try and force Max to let her die. She told her to choose. She made it clear whatever she decided would be the right choice. It felt crucial to me this was happening in texts and not in person.

Chloe agrees to Max bringing chocolate after the fight.

And remember how I said it’s crucial to keep in mind they weren’t together when this happened? Well… ”Hey, where’d you run off to?” ”my stomach was rumbling and I didn’t want to wake u ”That never stopped u before”

Chloe behaves out of character, leaves to who knows where, and declares maybe she’s turning a new leaf. She says the motel room is on your card and she didn’t want Max to be liable. Max is and Chloe are joking a bit, with Max saying “Chloe I think your phone has been hacked blink twice if you’re in trouble.” They go back and forth and everything is pleasant. Chloe goes to bring Max gooey butter cake and ribs. Max is like Okay I didn’t mean to Wow me that fast. How did you pull those out of your ass immedately? Chloe is like I knew you’d want me to bring you something and I’m very good at google. Max tells Chloe she’s the best and she’s oddly like ‘yeah… I’m really something” And yeah that’s that. The next time Max hears from Chloe, it’s a post card break up.

Again, weird how this happens when they’re apart isn’t it? Now on romantic bae? Max is again up early. They are apart, Max went to a cute coffee shop. She wants to live with Chloe here. Chloe is all like ‘u askin me to move in with u for good? On VALENTNE’S Day? Max is shocked it’s today. She didn’t know. Chloe isn’t sure. She thinks it seems final. It’s a weird reaction, given they already do live together.

Chloe then out of nowhere asks Max if she’d just rewind until she said yes.

Max is shocked. She says she could never and how could you even ask me that? This is time for you all to remember. On Friendship Bae, Max brings up using her powers to get Chloe tickets. Max…or someone impersonating Max… is planting the idea in Chloe’s head Max is still using her powers in such a careless way. This feels very clear to me, as Max says in the game both in her own thoughts and to Safi she has NOT touched her powers since the storm. If Max HAD been been using her powers, or been okay with still using them, Chloe’s feelings wouldn’t have taken her by surprise but it is very clear Max is very blindsided by this, by Chloe questioning her, distrusting her. It’s very clear in her response, how shocked she is, how hurt, that Max has not been using her powers, which again begs the question, who is? Who is causing all this distrust?

On the romantic Bae, just like the friendship Bae, Chloe disappears on Max. Max again comments this isn’t like Chloe not to wake her. Chloe says she is turning a new leaf. The same convo happens basically, Chloe ends up getting Max some food and says I’m really something when Chloe says she’s the best… and then she dips out. Here’s what I want you to focus on. These strange interactions happen when they’re APART.

Or if they happen in person, Max has no memory. The Lis2 photo.

When Max looks at the photo of her and Chloe, she thinks about how she’s happy to remember the photo, but NOT the blow out fight they had afterwards. Why can’t she remember anything about that fight, only the photo itself?

And speaking of photos, how come she looks at the Joyce photo and thinks about how Chloe never looked at her the same upon finding out Joyce died? Chloe knew Joyce died. She gave her the choice, she comforted her with that gentle smile when they left the town. She knew Joyce was gone… Who planted that idea in Max’s head?

Ideas are being planted in both the heads of Max and Chloe, things that aren’t true, but somebody is causing it. Who? Let’s talk about Safi.

Let’s talk about Safi knowing she’s a shapeshifter, knowing we can’t trust her, and knowing things go out of nowhere weird and funky with Max and Chloe, and get a load of this.

Picture it. I’m sitting in President Fayyad’s office on my first day, and in comes this girl in acid wash jeans and a Dolce and Gabanana jacket. She says hi to me like we’ve been best friends for years, reaches over the President’s desk and snags her keys and announces she’s “taking the car and her too.” They then go out and have ice cream together.

Isn’t it interesting Safi acts like they’ve known each other for years right away? Isn’t it strange considering they both have powers? What are the odds? And what are the odds Safi would show up, literally lay eyes on Max and be like let’s go for ice cream??

This entry tells us something too ”When I met Yasmin Fayyad at my show in Boston I had no idea she was the president of a prestigious liberal arts College, she was just some hot older lady who seemed to really want to be my friend.” I think Safi was being her mom here. The wording is to odd, why would she want to be Max’s friend? Yasmin might want Max at Caledon because of her talent, but the wording of really wanting to be my friend sounds more like Safi… Max even thinking Yasmin is hot feels weird, but may make sense if she’s really Safi… Safi needed Max at Caledon. But why?

Now let’s talk about the weird threesome thing, where Chloe shocks Max by suggesting they have a threesome with a guy. She’s joking, but the vibe feels odd. “You’re MINE, bitch!” That does feel like Chloe, but I feel sus of this moment. Every moment has to count of what they include of Max and Chloe in the journal, so WHY THAT? I think that wasn’t Chloe in that moment either. It was Safi. Safi was somehow aware of what Max was, and was lurking, trying to figure out how to get to her, get her away from Chloe. On Bay, Max is alone and isolated. On Bae, she’s not alone. That’s a problem. A big problem. Safi would have to get to know her prey, slowly and surely. Chloe would be a threat, a threat that needed to be taken care of the way Safi knows how. But Safi didn’t know about Max’s powers! And why would you trust Safi, after what she did to Gwen? After what she did to Robbie? Her desire for revenge on Lucas was justified, but the way she went about it revealed a dark side. She was willing to hurt a child she had even babysat and been close too, willing to hurt him to hurt Lucas. She was willing to frame Gwen. And let’s talk about the storm. Let’s ask why Max killed Safi. We never found out why, since Max refused to do it, but a Max out there was willing to do it. Why? If this theory is true.. it is not hard to guess why Max may have killed her… did a Max realize her plan? What was the third timeline in the polaroids Max can find? Let’s think about how Safi… she seems remorseful one moment for the hurt she’s caused, then she’s speaking of how she and Max could be gods. Her masks slips, and she reveals what she truly wants. Her and Max. Side by side. What she wanted all along? Whatever Max decides, Safi leaves. And a Chloe text comes… one that feels oddly out of character in that Chloe should be way more worried, but a text I question, was that Chloe? Or Safi? The game isn’t over yet, is it? For Safi, it’s only just beginning.

Wake Up Neo - She’s been possibly Photo Resetting Max

We haven’t talked about another very crucial detail yet. Max keeps waking up… Before you choose Bay or Bae, Max wakes up literally.

The same way she wakes up when she alters a photo and her present changes and adjusts. Well, well, well. Would you look at that. Safi snoops in Max’s wallet…. and suddenly… Max wakes up. Did you catch that little detail? It’s all I’ve been able to think about.

Safi looks in Max’s wallet. Sees the Lis2 photo. Max wakes up.

We don’t know… Safi’s power, what happens when she shifts into someone with powers? Can she use them? Did Safi focus her way into the photo as Max, cause a fight, which is why Max can’t remember, then the past was altered and Max’s present altered. Is THAT why Max wakes up before THAT choice? You may ask what this means for the Bay ending, but there’s many possibilities. With the future having two timelines and a third timeline, time is getting all messy even before Max in the game officially experiences it herself.

I still have so many questions. I don’t know if I’m right. But something in me tells me this break up was not what it appears. I even wonder if there was a time loop happening, over and over, with each new loop Safi managed to erase away more of Max and Chloe’s past until only one photo remained on Bae? Or is that the result of Safi as Max altering Max’s past with her photos over and over? With it likely Bay and Bae either merged with Dead and Alive timelines or will merge soon, time could be messy and disjointed as well. Safi has been messing with time a LOT which could explain the storm.

Max wakes up a few more times like this, suggesting more of her photos are being altered. Safi is trying to force Max to move on from Chloe.

I know a lot of fans in their hurt and anger over the break up may dismiss this. I’ve been feeling a lot like Alderman as I feel like I’m losing my mind as everyone denies what I see in front of my very eyes. If they wanted to break the girls up, they could have made the journals and texts totally different, but they made them as strange as possible, they truly made it feel like Max and Chloe were being impersonated at different points, all with the goal of isolating Max and getting her alone at Caledon, with Safi ready to be Max’s ‘new’ bestie.

You know, on both friendship and romantic bae, it’s also clear they’re in love. They still sleep in bed together and they still are in love, perhaps the only difference is they didn’t get around to saying it until Safi came along… I don’t know what the future holds for Lis given recent news regarding the DE team, I don’t know if the next game was already in development and on the way or not or what happens next. But I will see the truth. I won’t let the hurt blind me. Playing as Max again felt so good, and I felt like I saw so many clues. Safi quotes Chloe… she knows so much about them both, even if she pretends she doesn’t. I think Safi wanted the storm. I know she’s up to something. She wants Max.

In both Bay and Bae, Max can find the polaroid where ‘Safi’ breaks up with Chloe as Max.. some truth coming out in the dream? Something tells me… Rihanna’s new lead role… Chloe has a lot to discover. I think she’s going to realize what happened first. And Chloe may meet up with Steph and Alex. And Alex may be the only one with the powers to stop her…

I even wonder at times if Caledon is even real. But an illusion itself, which I wonder from the music itself… sometimes I hear notes of the lis1 nightmare playing in Caledon… Is any of this real? I don’t know. I just know there’s a lot of odd things that placed together, feels sus!

Safi even writes in text just like Chloe, not capitals and she always spelling you as ‘u’ like Chloe. It’s like she’s trying to play the role of Max’s bestie… Studying Max, it makes sense she’d want to emulate the girl Max loves…

Maybe I believe this theory so hard because it has to be. My biggest fear is if this theory is wrong, I don’t want next game to fully canonize their relationship fell apart, as the idea of them canonizing that but them ‘getting back together’ upsets me as I want no part in the way their relationship was portrayed. This theory, or some kind of supernatural explanation, could save it for me. But I don’t know. I hope so badly I am right… all we really have to go on is a few tiny journal entries, texts, and a letter. But there are clues within those.

People are either accepting the break up as being done because they ‘hate Max or Chloe’ or accepting the break up because ‘not all relationships work out or last forever’ but very few are questioning the things that don’t add up or feel sus, like again Friendship Bae Max offering to use her powers for tickets, while she says and thinks in game she hasn’t used her powers since the storm and they shouldn’t be used carelessly, suggesting she was being impersonated in that moment. With a shape shifter running around, I question everything. I can’t accept anything at face value. Both Max and Chloe can come off as being impersonated, if you pay attention to the clues and context…

#pricefield #life is strange #max caulfield #chloe price

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ultimateloserboy · 3 days ago

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GIANT FLUFFYBIRD POST

@onlyballs i saw in my phone notifs you sent me an ask but tumblr isnt showing it. HOWEVER. I believe you asked for fluffybird, and of course I will deliver!

i suggest searching the fluffybird tag on my blog if u want more thoughts. because i have said a LOT of stuff. but of course ill always talk about my guys!

BUCKLE UP BROTHER ITS A LONG WAY TO THE BOTTOM!!!!

to kick things off let me explain their characters and relationship. duck sees red as his absolute best friend, the one person in the world he truly gets along with. he loves red very proudly and openly. when it comes to the world and its horrors, duck doesnt much remember but also doesnt quite care. why would he? he has his best friend right there with him! he also loves yellow very blatantly even if he doesnt show it properly. theyre his family, and this is his house, so why would he want to change things or leave? even when hes aware of the pain that he (especially) experiences— he STILL doesnt want to leave— because as his bigger boy self says “this is as good as it gets!”

red sees things completely differently. red obviously does care for duck, but the majority of the time he will deny it. even at ducks FUNERAL red denies caring for him. red is so obsessed with coming off as the calm and collected one he ends up making himself look apathetic to the point of cruelty. duck can also be very cruel, but hes very blatant about the people he loves whereas red will deny ever loving anything. duck isnt afraid of love, but red very much is.

when it comes to the world, red remembers a bit more than duck does. yellow actually seems to remember things too, but his batteries keep his thoughts fogged so he cant properly articulate them. red can remember AND articulate things from past episodes. its not perfect, and he absolutely doesnt understand whats going on— but he DOES remember— and unlike duck, he actually HATES it. theres an argument to be made here that duck doesnt remember because he simply doesnt care to. duck doesnt care so he doesnt remember, while red cares A LOT so he remembers more. but i digress.

red wants to get out of the torture of the house, but truthfully he wants to be a different person altogether. he wants a new life not just because this one sucks— but also because he dislikes himself. he just wants something different. hes restless. even if the house was perfectly safe hed most likely still be running. he’s desperate to find a place that feels like home— but until he accepts his own differences he wont be comfortable anywhere. he refuses love from anyone that isnt his perfect made-up family because duck and yellow are “weird” and if he accepts their love that makes him weird as well, which he fights to not be.

if you really look at red, he doesnt actually want to be loved. he wants to be someone else and have everyone love that guy. but it just doesnt work that way.

duck loves red as he is now. or as he was yesterday, and who he’ll be tomorrow. it comes naturally to duck— he doesnt remember meeting red or developing a relationship with him because he never had to. he was put into the world already prepared to love red. its what he was designed to do. the three of them were designed to be a family, and duck is happy to comply with that script. although he doesnt see it as a script and sees it as his own choice to love them— which isnt technically wrong! i feel the house doesnt give them feelings— only puts them in a situation. so while they have no choice but to live together forever— its their choice to enjoy that life. duck chooses to.

red isnt happy to comply with a script at all, but he was also designed to live with duck and has his entire existence. theres a point at the funeral where red slips up. he refers to the plates on the ground as “our plates” while arguing that he doesnt know duck at all. theres an intimacy in sharing everything down to plates. they also share a room and bathe together (shown MULTIPLE times!) so no matter how much red denies it— he is extremely close to duck. he has no choice but to be. i feel thats one reason why he denies it so much— because he sees it as forced, and he doesnt want that. but i think duck would choose him anyway even if they werent forced to live together and thats why it works.

duck doesnt see it as forced because hed love red no matter the situation. no matter if they were chained to each other or free to go— duck would stay right there. but red wants that freedom. so he presents himself as if he dislikes or doesnt know duck to give himself the illusion of freedom from their shared cage. he doesnt think hed miss duck fully if he was gone. he even gets excited at the idea of living apart in transport.

but its all denial. because he would also choose duck if they werent stuck together! when theyre in the dark and red cant see him— he realizes he WANTS to look at duck. he WANTS to talk to him. he would CHOOSE to do so if he wasnt forced, and he HAS chosen to do so throughout the entire show, whether or not hes realized it. red gets more comfortable at the idea of spending time together because, yes, they are technically forced to share the house. but it doesn’t have to be that way! not in their hearts. not in their minds. thats the way duck sees it, anyway.

they might not always agree on things, but when they do it sometimes devolves into something terrible. There is a point where red guy gives up. he starts to give into the lessons because its easy. because sometimes he DOES enjoy them. sometimes hes just too tired and falls into the pattern he hates because its simple to do so. and maybe after years of being beaten down into submission he starts to agree with duck and see no hope of escape. thats when, at least from how i see it— they evolve into bigger boys.

its not shown how the boys get bigger but its obviously a progression. a slow ascent into madness. i think it starts with them becoming hopeless, and then finding hope in the lessons. theres nothing else to latch on to— so they latch onto them with everything they can. they learn everything they possibly can. they grow and grow and get higher and higher until theyre dangerous. until theyre more self-centered and cruel than theyve ever been. eventually they become too knowledgeable to be taught anything. they become a part of the house rather than occupants of it. soon theyre pulling the strings and torturing smaller creatures for their own enrichment. it gives them a sense of power over themselves knowing once they were in that creatures place. they finally feel in control of their lives but at what cost?

all of this is done with them completely glued to the others hip. despite getting more self-centered they just cant let go of each other. theyre tangled together like weeds. they love each other and they cant let that go— but they cant admit that or indulge in proper companionship because thats vulnerable, and theyre too BIG now to be vulnerable! so they sit across the room. never quite separate but never quite together. its better to be 10 feet apart and never look at each other than to be without each other. loneliness was always their greatest enemy and even while being trapped in close proximity forever they cant seem to escape it.

but there is a smaller version of them, a small moment in time where theyre happy together. where they can sit and have a conversation without fear of judgement. theres no stage-lights on them and the darkness hides their shame. they can actually tell each other how they enjoy the others company. they can be honest and vulnerable.

to duck its normal to tell red he appreciates him (in his own way) but for red to say so is shocking. duck is surprised. but hes happy. and they can spend time together being completely honest and loving each other without it being a big deal at all. without any worry. but those are the moments that always go first. the moments in their memory that deteriorate the quickest. maybe if that moment lasted— maybe if their walls were broken for long enough— they couldve started to get better. they couldve grown to be kinder. they couldve grown to be happy together. but they never have the chance to keep it long enough.

they live everyday as close housemates. they slip into a domestic life that comes naturally to them even when they may not realize. but when they actually start to think. as soon as a song comes on its so much more than that. and neither of them really want it to be— or they do but they dont know in what way or how. they dont know how to explain things to each other. they dont REMEMBER enough to discuss it. so it festers until it ruins them. every single time

tldr fluffybird is like this:

i cant keep reliving the same day every day. I cant bear to forget it all again. even when im too tired to fight ill still have the belief deep inside of me that theres somewhere out there better than this. that theres a version of me out there better than the one i am. i hope to find it some day and i hope to have you with me. i wish i could leave without you but im too much of a coward. This cant be all there is and i will prove it to you someday.

im fine reliving everything as long as its with you, exactly as you are. as long as youre willing to listen when i repeat myself. this IS all there is and im alright with that. an organ or two is a small price to pay to live forever with my family. youre ungrateful for wanting to run, think of all weve done together! but i know you will anyway. so ill be waiting to say “i told you so!” and then we’ll walk home. it might tear us apart but its still our home. this is as good as it gets.

RANDOM FUN FACT AND FAVORITE SCENE TIME!!!!

easy one first— RED is ducks favorite color! which is made even more fruity with the context that duck enjoys specifically LOOKING at red guy!

red and duck have matching pillows! theres two green pillows that you can see in the living room. sometimes theyre together on reds chair and other times theyre split between his and ducks chairs! theyre also in the webseries on their beds— but ONLY on theirs! yellow doesnt have one of these. at least i dont remember so. might be wrong but from what i can tell these pillows are always for duck and red only. at least most of the time if yellow does ever have one!

there are multiple pieces of concept art of 1: them being silly and 2: them being closer than in the final scenes. the original concept for the big boys shows them sitting MUCH closer and their arms intertwined, whereas in the final shot theyre not touching each other at all and duck is moved completely across the room (they are fucking ginormous irl tho to be fair)

some of my favorite pieces of concept art tho are this little selfie of duck and red with his little peace sign and their arms wrapped around each other in front of a mountain <333 AND THEN DUCK DOING REDS HAIR :DD

one of my favorite scenes of them is in jobs when red is rambling about his lanyard and duck says “what have they done to you?” it sounds so genuine and its a really nice line. it really points out that as judgmental as duck is he worries when red isnt acting himself

speaking of jobs theres a running gag of duck disliking when red is clothed starting with this episode (ironically the first episode) when he walks into reds office he asks “what are you wearing?” and laughs at him. its obviously not about the suit itself because duck also wears a suit— so its easy to assume duck is mocking him because he looks silly in any clothes at all. red isnt supposed to wear clothes— and he also feels uncomfortable in them. its not HIM and duck thinks he looks like an idiot for trying to play someone else. he also gags when red wears denim in friendship which is honestly foul of him 😭. no matter the reason tho he canonically prefers red naked.

on a similar topic— there arent many dirty jokes in the show but when there are they almost ALWAYS come from or are about duck. but occasionally red will get caught in the cossfire. the CONSENT teacher shows up after something duck says in the big room. conveniently a room they share without a yellow normally there. thats then followed up by a rock teacher appearing which is a bit awkward considering duck has “private business” with a rock in transport. then to make matters even worse in the bigger room yellow tells them to “experiment on each other”(?!!?) to which duck turns to red and goes “would you be keen?”(😭⁉️)

(the scene where duck looks red up and down in the car is debatable but ill mention it anyway!!)

its hard to ever truly confirm this one because it was never recorded but the reason fluffybird kicked off so hard back in 2022/23 was because a producer on the show during a qna told everyone to continue shipping red and duck! there were multiple people from around different corners of the internet who went to this qna and all had the same story, so i dont think its a lie but i still cant tell you we have full proof. i know becky and joe repost and encourage fanart of them tho, and thats basically the same thing so. anyway

when dhmis won comedy awards they held the trophies together <333

do i even have to mention the fridge scene? well i am!! theres something to be said about how their little confession happens in an episode about and titled “electricity” when electricity and “sparks” between people is a very common trope/phrase in romance. this one is sort of a stretch but i think its neat!

i dont know if becky joe and baker terry had any intentions back in the webseries days for them but the LOVE episode and the way red and duck were left alone at the picnic (mirroring the fridge scene!!!) looks gay as fuck with hindsight bias

when duck comes back from being dead and red is surprised to see him i think the way he says “oh.. hi!” and duck says “helloooo :DD!” is really sweet :(( not to mention the whole argument at the funeral itself. absolute messy ass gay ppl. i dont want YOU i want my BEST FRIEND !!!! and duck was going to leave red his diary… yes it was empty but its still his DIARY!!

the way they email EACHOTHER during computer day is so fucking cute theyre so fucking stupid i love them 💔

the way duck reacts in the food episode isnt talked about enough!! he tears down EVERYTHING to find red. he literally knocks over a camera!! he literally broke reality because he was so desperate to answer the phone. he missed red more than anything and was doing everything he could to find him :(( not to mention how he had to fight his OWN memory in order to remember who red was in the first place! hes always loved him in whatever way :((

the way red laughs when theyre picking on yellow together.. its fucked up and also red is a hypocrite but duck made him laugh and thats something!

the way red tried to comfort duck in the beginning of electricity when he starts to freak out and worry about yellows behavior. he wasnt doing a good job and you could argue he was doing it for selfish reasons and not to actually comfort duck but i really feel it was both. just trying to calm the both of them down.

speaking of electricity again… the way hes washing dishes while duck does a crossword makes me wanna throw up. theyre literally a family. its one of my favorite scenes in the entire series. just in general. i love yellow here too its not abt him rn but i love my son :(((

alright there’s definitely more but im really tired lol so bye fluffybird nation hope this post was fun!!!!!!

EDIT: OH MY GOD I CANT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO MENTION STAIN EDWARDS! In death red molds someone else into being duck, looking like duck, sounding like duck— all because he cant let go of him. yellow goes out to dig him up but red doesnt think its possible so he just makes a new one. and you can hear how desperate he is to make sure hes JUST RIGHT. even stain edwards asks him if he has “issues he needs to work out”… which clearly he does. i cant believe i forgot to mention this cuz this is some insane levels of homosexuality. off the fucking charts

#im sorry if it reads wrong at parts i put in a lot of effort and actually had it a lot longer but tumblr deleted a HUGE chunk of it :((#i exited the app and it didnt save my draft….. sigh but ive rewritten it the best i could #fluffybird #dont hug me im scared #dhmis #dhmis fandom #duck guy #dhmis duck #duck dhmis #red guy #dhmis red guy #dhmis tv show #red guy x duck #dhmis webseries

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