#I need to write shadow with bae more

[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman////The Frontman's Secret

Anonymous request: Hi can you write a imagine for Hwang In-ho thanks

Warnings: Violence, Deaths, Trauma, Betrayal, Paranoia, Pregnancy, Manipulation, Emotional Distress and spoiler alert 🚨 

You and the players are gathered around sitting down, sharing a rare moment of calm amid the chaos. The tension of survival has made every bite of food feel like a luxury. Laughter and hushed conversations weave through the air, but you’re mostly focused on Jung-bae. You’ve always respected him for his calm demeanor and resourcefulness, so when he leans in slightly, his tone quieter and more serious, your attention shifts entirely to him.

“Y/n,” Jung-bae begins, his voice soft but deliberate, his eyes carrying a weight that immediately makes your chest tighten. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. You remind me of my own daughter. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve started seeing you as one, too. And because of that, I feel like I need to tell you something. About Young-il.”

At the mention of Young-il, your boyfriend, your heart skips a beat. The edges of your vision seem to blur as you focus entirely on Jung-bae’s expression. There’s something there hesitation, fear maybe, but mostly guilt. He lowers his voice even more, glancing around to ensure no one else is listening.

“You remember the Mingle game, right? When it came down to two players in each room?”

You nod, your mind racing as you recall the chaos of that day. The screams, the betrayals, the cold calculation it took to survive.

“Well…” Jung-bae exhales sharply, like he’s trying to summon the courage to say the words. “Me and him..Me and Young-il. we ended up in the same room. There was already another player in there when we got there, and…”

He falters, looking at you with an expression that’s equal parts regret and urgency. “Y/n, he—”

“Jung-bae,” a firm, familiar voice interrupts. You turn to see Young-il standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed in that way that sends a chill down your spine. He’s always had a knack for commanding attention, but there’s something different about him now something darker.

“Am I interrupting something?” Young-il’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows exactly what Jung-bae was about to say. His gaze shifts between the two of you, lingering on Jung-bae just a little too long.

Jung-bae straightens, his expression carefully neutral. “No, we were just—”

“I don’t think Y/n needs to hear any unnecessary stories,” Young-il cuts him off, his tone final. He moves closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. The gesture feels possessive rather than protective, and it takes everything in you not to recoil.

You glance back at Jung-bae, whose jaw is clenched tight, his eyes darting between you and Young-il. There’s something he wants to say, you can see it in the way his lips part slightly, but he doesn’t. The room feels suffocating now, the earlier camaraderie all but gone.

“I think we should all get some rest,” Young-il says, his voice softer now, directed at you. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod slowly, even as unease twists in your stomach. Young-il hand lingers on your shoulder a moment too long before he turns and walks away.

As he disappears into the shadows, you look back at Jung-bae. He’s still sitting there, his eyes filled with frustration and a silent apology. You don’t know what he was going to say about Young-il, but now, more than ever, you feel like you need to find out.

Later that night, you find yourself sitting on one of the worn-out beds with Young-il. The dim light overhead casts long shadows across the room, and the silence is heavy, broken only by the faint sounds of other players shifting or murmuring in their sleep.

He sits next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence, but his body language is off. His arms are crossed loosely, and his gaze is distant, staring at a spot on the floor as though it holds some deep secret.

You study him for a moment, your mind replaying Jung-bae’s unfinished words over and over again. You’ve tried to push it aside, tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, but the unease refuses to leave you. Finally, you can’t hold back any longer.

“Young-il,” you begin softly, your voice cutting through the quiet. He turns his head slightly, looking at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone calm and gentle, but there’s something underneath it a tension you can’t ignore.

You hesitate, feeling a lump form in your throat, but you push through it. “Did… did something happen in that room? During the Mingle game?”

The question hangs in the air like a heavy cloud. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his face unreadable. Then, he exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Y/n, where is this coming from?” he asks, turning his body slightly to face you. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously in your lap. “Jung-bae said something earlier. He started to tell me about what happened when you two were in the same room, but…” You glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of the truth. “He didn’t get to finish.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his expression softening, but his eyes remain sharp. “Jung-bae talks too much,” he says lightly, his tone laced with an edge of annoyance. “Nothing happened in that room, Y/n. You know how these games are people are always looking for someone to blame, always trying to stir up doubts.”

“But—”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, reaching out to take your hands in his. His grip is firm but not unkind, and his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I care about you more than anything. You know that, right?”

You nod slowly, but the knot in your stomach only tightens. His words should comfort you, but instead, they feel rehearsed, like he’s trying too hard to convince you.

“I just… I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly.

He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “There’s nothing to tell,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You want to believe him. But as you sit there, his hands holding yours, the shadows in the room seem to grow darker, and the doubt in your heart refuses to fade.

The following morning, the air is heavy with unspoken tension as the group prepares for whatever the next challenge might bring. Everyone moves with a quiet urgency, the weight of the games pressing down on them. Jung-bae sits on the floor near Gi-hun, pretending to sharpen a makeshift tool. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he’s buying himself time to gather his thoughts.

Gi-hun notices his demeanor and frowns slightly. “You’ve been quiet this morning,” he remarks, sitting down beside Jung-bae. “Something on your mind?”

Jung-bae doesn’t respond immediately. He keeps his focus on the tool in his hands, his expression distant. Finally, he exhales deeply and sets the tool aside, turning to face Gi-hun.

“Gi-hun,” Jung-bae begins, his tone unusually serious. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

Jung-bae leans in closer, lowering his voice so only Gi-hun can hear. “I want you to promise me something. If anything happens to me. if I don’t make it through this game. I need you to take care of Y/n. And not just her. everyone in our group. But especially Y/n.”

The words hit Gi-hun like a punch to the gut. He stares at Jung-bae, searching his face for an explanation. “What are you talking about? Why would you say that? Are you… are you planning something?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jung-bae says quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I need to know that she’ll be safe. That someone will look out for her.”

Gi-hun narrows his eyes, his suspicion growing. “Why are you talking like this, Jung-bae? You’re not making sense. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jung-bae insists, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about what it takes to survive here. The things we’ve had to do. The things we might have to do.”

Gi-hun crosses his arms, still unconvinced. “This isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”

Jung-bae hesitates, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. For a brief moment, it looks like he might say something more, but then he shakes his head again. “It’s nothing. Just… promise me, okay? If I’m not here, you’ll look after her.”

“Jung-bae…”Gi-hun begins, but the older man cuts him off.

“Promise me,” Jung-bae repeats, his voice firm, his eyes pleading.

Gi-hun sighs, the weight of the request settling heavily on his shoulders. “Alright,” he says reluctantly. “I promise. But you’re going to have to tell me what this is really about sooner or later.”

Jung-bae gives him a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Gi-hun. That means a lot.”

As Gi-hun watches Jung-bae stand and walk away, his concern only deepens. There’s something Jung-bae isn’t telling him, something important. And though he doesn’t press the issue now, he makes a silent vow to find out what it is.

Later that day, you’re sitting with Young-ll in the dimly lit at the dormitory, trying to distract yourself from the weight of the competition. The two of you exchange light conversation, your laughter quiet but genuine small moments of humanity in a place that feels anything but human.

“You know,” Young-ll says, leaning back against the wall, “I was never much of a team player before all this. Guess this place has a way of forcing you to see people differently.”

You nod, resting your chin on your knees. “Yeah. It’s funny how survival makes you care about people you probably wouldn’t even notice outside of here.”

Young-ll chuckles softly, but his smile fades as his gaze shifts to something or someone behind you. You follow his line of sight and see Gi-hun approaching, his expression as serious as ever. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Y/n, Young-ll,” Gi-hun greets, sitting down next to you. He glances between the two of you before settling his gaze on you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jung-bae’s been acting really weird lately.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Young-ll speaks first, his tone casual but with an edge of defensiveness. “He’s just nervous,” Young-ll says, shrugging. “The games are getting down to the wire, and everyone’s feeling the pressure. It’s normal.”

Gi-hun frowns, clearly not convinced. “It’s more than that. He’s been avoiding people, staying quiet, and the way he talks. it’s like he’s expecting something bad to happen. Like he’s preparing for it.”

Young-ll leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Can you blame him? These games mess with your head. Everyone’s scared, everyone’s paranoid. Jung-bae’s probably just dealing with it in his own way.”

You glance between the two men, sensing the tension in their voices. “Maybe we’re all just overthinking it,” you suggest cautiously, though you can’t ignore the knot of unease forming in your stomach.

Gi-hu looks at you, his brow furrowed. “Maybe. But if something’s going on, we need to know about it. We’re supposed to be a team, and if someone’s hiding something—”

“Gi-hun,” Young-ll interrupts, his tone firmer now. “Drop it, alright? Jung-bae’s fine. He’s been looking out for us since the beginning. Don’t start questioning him now just because he’s a little on edge.”

GI-hun opens his mouth to argue, but then he stops, exhaling sharply. “Fine,” he mutters, leaning back against the wall. “But I’m keeping an eye on him. Just in case.”

Young-ll shakes his head, giving you a quick glance and a reassuring smile. “He’s overthinking it,” he says softly, as if to put you at ease. “Jung-bae’s just nervous, like I said. No need to worry.”

But even as he says it, you can’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make you wonder if Young-ll truly believes his own words or if he’s just trying to convince himself.

As Gi-hun stands, brushing off his knees and heading toward the rest of the group, you and Young-ll sit quietly, watching his retreating figure. His concern about Jung-bae lingers in your mind, intertwining with your own growing doubts. The atmosphere feels heavier than before, the unspoken questions filling the silence between you and Young-ll.

You glance over at him, studying his profile. His expression is calm, maybe too calm, as if he’s deliberately masking something. The way he dismissed Gi-hun concerns earlier had been convincing, but now, in the quiet, you wonder if there’s more to it.

“Young-ll,” you begin softly, breaking the silence. He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice casual, though his eyes betray a flicker of something guarded.

You hesitate for a moment, then press on. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on? Between you and Jung-bae, or… just in general? If there’s something you’re not telling me, I’d rather know.”

Young-ll’s expression hardens for a fraction of a second before he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re worrying too much, Y/n,” he says, his tone light but firm. “Jung-bae’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let it drop. “Young-ll, please. I can tell when someone’s holding back. If there’s something I should know, just tell me. I can handle it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting past you as though he’s trying to find an escape. The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain, until he finally meets your eyes again. But instead of answering, he leans in without warning, his hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is sudden, catching you completely off guard. Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, the world seems to blur, the weight of the games and all your questions momentarily falling away. His touch is warm, his presence grounding, and yet there’s something desperate about the way he holds you. like he’s trying to distract you, to keep you from asking any more questions.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes search yours, his expression a mix of longing and something you can’t quite place fear, maybe, or regret.

“You don’t need to worry, Y/n,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just trust me.”

But as he pulls away completely, the doubt in your chest only deepens. His kiss may have silenced your questions for the moment, but it hasn’t erased them. If anything, it’s only made you more certain that Young-ll is hiding something. And you’re determined to find out what it is.

The tension in the air is palpable as you and Young-ll sit together in the dimly lit corner of the room, the quiet hum of the environment only accentuating the weight of the conversation unfolding between you two. The games have worn on you both, the stakes getting higher with every challenge, and despite the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders, there’s a shared silence that speaks volumes.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you ask the question that’s been gnawing at you. “What do you think happens if we actually make it out of here? If we survive and manage to get out of this hellhole… what happens then? Do you think we’ll be able to go back to some kind of normal life?”

Young-ll shifts next to you, his expression thoughtful. His eyes seem far away, almost like he’s not truly seeing you as he focuses on something in the distance. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Part of me wants to believe we could go back to normal, that we could forget this place and pretend like none of it ever happened. But I think we both know it’s impossible. After everything we’ve been through, after the choices we’ve made, nothing can ever be the same again.”

You nod slowly, feeling the truth in his words. The games, the violence, the way everyone around you has changed. it’s left its mark. Even if you made it out alive, you wonder if you could ever truly find peace again.

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking at him, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “But even if everything’s different, I don’t want this to be the end of it. I don’t want this to be the last chapter. I want to rebuild something… whatever that might look like. After all this, I just want to try to find some kind of peace.”

Young-ll turns to you, his eyes softer now, more intense, and there’s a kind of vulnerability in them that you haven’t seen before. His gaze locks with yours, and suddenly, everything feels a little too close, too personal.

“You’re not hearing me, Y/n,” he says, his voice deep and firm, the words more urgent than before. “I don’t care about ‘normal.’ I don’t care about rebuilding a life that doesn’t make sense anymore. What I care about… is you. No matter what happens, no matter where this game leads us, no matter what we face once we get out of here, I need you to promise me something.”

Your breath catches at his intensity. Something in his words feels different, like there’s more hidden beneath the surface than he’s letting on. The air between you thickens, and you feel the weight of the moment press against your chest.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Young-ll leans in just a little closer, his hand reaching for yours, fingers brushing softly against your skin. His eyes are full of something you can’t quite place something you don’t want to understand just yet.

“Promise me,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper, “that you’ll be with me. No matter what happens, wherever I go, I need you by my side. Promise me you’ll stay with me, Y/n.”

The sincerity in his voice hits you hard, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades into the background. His plea feels genuine, raw, and you find yourself drawn to him in a way that almost scares you. He’s asking for more than just companionship; he’s asking for loyalty, for a bond that might be impossible to break.

“I promise,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be with you. No matter what happens.”

What you don’t know, what he hasn’t told you, is that his request is not just a plea for partnership. It’s a plea for something darker, something far beyond the world you thought you understood. Young-ll isn’t just asking you to stay with him in the aftermath of the games. He’s asking you to join him in something much more dangerous something he’s already deeply entrenched in.

In the shadows of this twisted game, Young-ll is not just a player. He is the frontman the key figure in the organization behind the games. His role isn’t just to survive; it’s to control, to lead, to maintain the structure of the very system you’ve been fighting against. But this isn’t what he wants to offer you.

Deep down, he does care for you. Despite everything, despite the ruthless nature of his role, he loves you in a way he never thought he could love anyone. He’s seen the horrors of the game, the choices it’s forced him to make, but when it comes to you, he’s different. He wants to pull you into his world, but not just because it’s all he knows. He wants to protect you, to make you part of his life, part of the future he’s building one that, for better or worse, will never be ordinary again.

As you sit there, your hand in his, promising to stand by his side, he feels a surge of hope mixed with a deep sense of regret. The life he’s built, the world he’s a part of, isn’t one you can easily escape. But he’s determined to bring you into it, hoping against hope that love can somehow change things.

And as the promise hangs between you two, neither of you knows what the future holds, but for the first time in a long while, you both dare to believe that, together, you might just survive whatever comes next.

The night has grown quieter, the dim light casting long shadows across the room as you and Young-ll finally rejoin the rest of the group. You both had stepped away earlier to talk, the weight of the conversation still heavy on your shoulders, but now, you find yourself swept back into the rhythm of the group. Despite everything that’s happened the tension, the games, the unknown future there’s a strange comfort in being surrounded by familiar faces, even if only for a moment.

As you sit down, the laughter of your friends fills the air, the conversation shifting to lighter topics, even though the uncertainty of the situation looms in the background. Hyun-ju, ever the bubbly one, leans forward, a teasing smile on her face as she looks from you to Young-ll.

“So,” she says, her voice playful yet genuine. “When are you two getting married?” Her words hang in the air, and for a second, it feels like the room goes quiet, all eyes now on you and Young-ll.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question, and Young-ll chuckles lightly, looking a little more amused than you expected. “Marriage?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not even out of here yet. Isn’t it a little early to be talking about that?”

Hyun-ju laughs, clearly not taking the question too seriously. “I mean, if you two end up making it out of here alive, it seems like a good reason to celebrate, right? Maybe it’s better to plan ahead in case we don’t make it. If you’re going to get married, though, you should invite everyone here. You can’t leave us out of it!”

The suggestion is lighthearted, almost playful, but there’s something in the way she says it that makes the conversation feel more real than it should. It’s as though, for just a moment, the horrors of the games and the looming danger that surrounds you all are forgotten in favor of something that resembles normalcy something that feels far away from this nightmarish reality.

You glance at Young-ll, unsure of how to respond, but before you can find your words, Jung-bae, who has been sitting quietly nearby, suddenly coughs loudly. His eyes flicker nervously toward the floor as he shifts uncomfortably on floor, as though the conversation had caught him off guard.

The atmosphere shifts almost imperceptibly, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. You can sense that something is off with Jung-bae, his unease palpable. His gaze lingers on the group for a moment longer than necessary, his hand gripping the edge of the table in a way that suggests he’s trying to stay calm, but there’s a tension in his posture.

Hyun-ju, unaware of the sudden shift in energy, continues to smile, waiting for a response, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Jung-bae’s discomfort. He hasn’t spoken much since you and Young-ll returned, and you can’t help but wonder if his reaction is tied to something deeper.

You glance back at Jung-bae, your mind racing as you recall his earlier words. He had tried to warn you about something involving Young-ll something that happened in that room but he never finished the conversation. He had been interrupted by Young-il, and you still haven’t gotten the full story. The anxiety building in his chest now seems to speak volumes.

The room, which had been filled with lighthearted chatter only moments before, suddenly feels heavy. The playful banter around marriage, which was supposed to lift your spirits, only makes everything seem more fragile more uncertain. Jung-bae’s cough had broken the moment, but it also revealed the thinly veiled tension between the group, the underlying secrets that have yet to come to light.

You exchange a glance with Young-ll, who seems unfazed by the playful teasing, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. his expression still relaxed, but you sense that, like you, he knows something isn’t quite right.

Hyun-ju, still waiting for an answer, leans forward, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Come on, you two. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You could be the first to escape and get married. Maybe we could have a big celebration once we’re all out of here if you both want that, of course.”

The room goes quiet again as her words linger in the air. The awkwardness thickens, and you wonder if the playful remark has touched on something deeper that no one is ready to talk about. Jung-bae’s fidgeting only amplifies your suspicion. Something is clearly bothering him, but he doesn’t seem ready to share.

You turn your attention back to Young-ll, who’s still sitting beside you, a small, thoughtful smile playing at the edges of his lips. His calm demeanor is a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in your head. But as you meet his gaze, you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on if he’s hiding something from the group, something that ties back to Jung-bae’s strange behavior.

But before you can say anything more, Gi-hun, who’s been silent until now, clears his throat, looking at Jung-bae with a concerned frown. “You okay, Jung-bae?” he asks. “You’re looking a little off tonight. Did something happen?”

Jung-bae freezes, his eyes darting around the group as though looking for an escape. His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate before responding. But all he says is, “I’m fine. Just tired. I think we all need rest, that’s all.”

His words, though spoken with an air of finality, don’t seem to convince anyone. The tension is thick now, and though Hyun-ju tries to keep the mood light by continuing to joke about the hypothetical wedding, it’s clear that something deeper is at play something that none of you are ready to face.

As the conversation dies down, you sit back, quietly processing everything. The uncertainty of the future, the unease you feel from Jung-bae, and the unspoken tension between you and Young-ll. Despite the lightheartedness that’s returned to the group’s banter, you know that what’s truly happening beneath the surface is far more complicated, and it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

The room is filled with the low murmur of conversation as everyone eats, the exhaustion from the day’s events hanging in the air. You sit at the table with the rest of the group, the food almost tasteless, but a necessary distraction from the overwhelming weight of everything around you. The tension is still palpable, but for a moment, it feels like you can breathe, even if just for a while.

As you glance around the dormitory, your eyes settle on Jun-hee, who’s sitting quietly, her hand resting lightly on her stomach. Despite her exhaustion, she’s doing her best to eat, though it’s clear that her mind is elsewhere. You notice the untouched milk beside her plate. She’s been struggling to keep enough food down lately, and you know it’s because of her pregnancy.

You nudge the carton of milk closer to her, your voice soft but insistent. “Here’s mine. You need it more than me.”

Jun-hee looks at the milk for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she shakes her head. “Thank you,” she says quietly, “but I don’t need it.”

You shake your head gently, not ready to let her off the hook so easily. “Just take it. You do need it,” you insist, your voice firm but caring. “You know, because of your baby. And besides, I can’t have white milk.”

Her eyes soften slightly at your words, but she hesitates, clearly reluctant. You can see the hesitation in her expression, but before she can respond, a familiar voice interrupts the moment, and you feel a slight shift in the air.

“I was about to give you my milk,” Young-ll says, his voice light with playful teasing. You look up, and there he is, standing by your side with a grin on his face and a carton of milk in his hand. “Now that I know that you can’t have white, what a coincidence we have. I can’t have white milk either.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a small laugh escaping your lips at the sheer coincidence. He’s always been one to bring humor to tense moments, and this is no exception. You shake your head, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“You too?” you say with mock disbelief, eyeing him dramatically. “What is it with you and milk? I should’ve known, of course. You and I are basically the same person.”

Young-ll chuckles at your response, the playful glint in his eyes not entirely masking the underlying seriousness that’s always there. “What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “Great minds think alike.”

You glance back at Jun-hee, who’s still holding the milk carton you offered her. The smile on your face fades for a moment as you turn your attention to her, noticing the concern in her eyes. The lighthearted exchange between you and Young-ll has offered some much-needed relief, but you know it doesn’t solve everything.

“You should take it, Jun-hee,” you say softly, your tone gentle but persistent. “We all need to stick together, especially now. We’re all in this mess together.”

She meets your gaze, her lips pressing into a tight line before she finally nods, taking the milk from your hands. “Thanks, Y/n,” she says quietly. “I’ll drink it.”

You watch her for a moment, relieved that she’s accepted, but you can’t shake the worry that continues to settle in the pit of your stomach. The games are far from over, and even in this small, quiet moment of connection, you all know that danger is never too far away.

As everyone continues to eat, you glance back at Young-ll, catching his eye. For a brief second, the world around you feels like it’s standing still, just the two of you in your own bubble. The fleeting moment of calm doesn’t last long, but for now, it’s enough.

The evening wears on, and the group begins to scatter after dinner, some retreating to their beds while others linger in small groups, talking in hushed tones. You find yourself standing by one of the walls, trying to collect your thoughts. The weight of everything happening around you the games, the tension, the unspoken secrets feels heavier than ever.

As you lean against the wall, lost in your thoughts, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Jung-bae walking toward you, his expression tense and hesitant. There’s something in his eyes, something heavy, like he’s carrying a burden too big to bear alone.

“Hey,” he says quietly, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is nearby. His behavior is strange, almost paranoid, and it immediately puts you on edge.

“I need to talk to you,” he says finally, his voice low. “About something… important.”

You nod, stepping closer to him. “What is it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued. Jung-bae has been acting strangely for days now, and you’ve been waiting for him to open up. Maybe now you’ll finally get some answers.

Jung-bae hesitates, running a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s about Young-ll,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know, something that happened during the Mingle game. I’ve been trying to tell you, but…”

His words trail off, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. It’s clear that whatever he’s about to say isn’t easy for him. You step even closer, lowering your voice to match his.

“What is it, Jung-bae?” you ask, your heart beginning to race. “What happened?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, the sound of laughter echoes across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. You both turn to see Jun-hee and Hyun-ju walking toward you, their faces lit up with smiles, seemingly oblivious to the heaviness of the moment.

“There you two are!” Jun-hee says, her tone cheerful. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

Hyun-ju grins, her eyes darting between you and Jung-bae. “Are we interrupting something?” she teases, her voice light and playful.

You glance at Jung-bae, whose expression has shifted back to neutral, the tension in his face now replaced with a forced calmness. Whatever he was about to say, it’s clear that he’s not going to continue the conversation with Jun-hee and Hyun-ju here.

“No, you’re not interrupting,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone casual. “We were just… talking.”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she steps closer, linking her arm with Jun-hee’s. “Well, now that we’ve found you, why don’t we all sit together for a bit? It’s too depressing to be alone right now.”

You glance at Jung-bae again, hoping for some kind of signal that he’ll continue the conversation later, but he avoids your gaze. Instead, he nods at Hyun-ju, forcing a small smile. “Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

The four of you walk back toward the center of the room, but your mind is still spinning. What was Jung-bae about to tell you? What did he mean about Young-ll? The unanswered questions hang over you like a storm cloud, and as much as you try to focus on the present moment, you can’t shake the feeling that something big is about to come to light.

Jung-bae walks beside you, his shoulders tense, his gaze fixed straight ahead. You don’t say anything, but you make a mental note to talk to him again as soon as you get the chance. Whatever he’s hiding, you need to know. And deep down, you have a sinking feeling that whatever it is could change everything.

The room is dark and quiet, save for the faint sounds of steady breathing and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Everyone is sprawled out in their designated sleeping spots, exhausted from the day’s events. It’s a rare moment of peace, though it feels fragile, as if it could shatter at any second.

Jung-bae sits against the wall, his knees pulled up slightly, arms resting on them. His eyes scan the room, landing briefly on each sleeping figure, but they linger the longest on you. You’re curled up on your side, your face peaceful in sleep, though the faint furrow in your brow betrays the stress you’re carrying. Jung-bae’s heart aches as he watches over you.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice whispers nearby, pulling him from his thoughts. He looks over to see Gi-hun sitting up a few feet away, his sharp eyes catching Jung-bae’s. Gi-hun moves closer, careful not to disturb the others, and sits down beside him.

Jung-bae shakes his head, sighing deeply. “No. Too much on my mind.”

Gi-hun leans back against the wall, his expression thoughtful as he studies his friend. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he says, keeping his voice low. “We all see it especially Y/n. Whatever it is you’re holding back, you need to tell her. Why haven’t you?”

Jung-bae’s shoulders tense, and he lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he says, his voice strained. “I want her to be happy. More than anything. But I also fear for her safety. What if what I tell her makes things worse? What if it puts her in danger?”

Gi-hun tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening. “You care about her,” he says quietly. “That’s clear to everyone. But keeping things from her isn’t protecting her. It’s only making her worry more. You’ve seen how she’s been looking at you lately she knows something’s wrong.”

Jung-bae closes his eyes for a moment, the weight of Gi-hun’s words sinking in. “I know,” he says finally. “And it kills me to see her like that. Just like I told you before, I see her as my daughter. She’s been through so much already. It would break my heart to see her hurt because of something I’ve done or something I’ve failed to do.”

Gi-hun nods slowly, his expression understanding. “I get it,” he says after a moment. “I really do. But keeping her in the dark isn’t the answer. She deserves to know the truth, whatever it is. And she deserves to hear it from you.”

Jung-bae looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting as he processes Gi-hun’s words. “I just don’t want her to think I don’t care about her happiness,” he says softly. “Because I do. More than anything.”

Gi-hun places a reassuring hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder. “She knows you care. Trust me, she does. But if you wait too long, it might be too late. You’ve got to tell her before that happens.”

Jung-bae glances at Gi-hun, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and anguish. “Thanks, Gi-hun,” he says quietly. “I’ll think about it. I just… I need to find the right moment.”

Gi-hun squeezes his shoulder gently before letting go. “I get it,” he says. “But don’t wait too long, okay? We don’t have the luxury of time in here.”

Jung-bae nods, his gaze drifting back to where you’re sleeping. His chest tightens as he watches the rise and fall of your breath, his mind racing with the weight of his decision. He knows Gi-hun is right, and deep down, he knows he can’t keep this from you much longer.

But even as he resolves to tell you the truth, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers fears of what might happen when he does. For now, he stays where he is, silently keeping watch over you, hoping that when the time comes, he’ll find the strength to do what’s right.

The quiet hum of the room seems to fade as you sit across from Young-il, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. The tension of the games has been wearing on everyone, but here, in this moment, it feels like the rest of the world is far away. It’s just the two of you, stealing a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Young-il has been unusually quiet tonight, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving. You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his hand reaching into his pocket. Your brow furrows as you watch him, unsure of what he’s doing. When he finally pulls his hand back out, your breath catches in your throat. There, in his palm, is a small ring simple but beautiful, its understated design perfect in its elegance.

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Young-il…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He shifts closer to you, his usually confident demeanor tinged with a rare vulnerability. “I know this isn’t the way I would’ve wanted to do this,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “And it’s definitely not the perfect place or time. But nothing about this situation is perfect, is it?”

You shake your head slightly, unable to find the words as your heart races.

Young-il takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he continues. “About us, about what we’ve been through, and about what might come next. And no matter what happens—whether we make it out of this or not I know one thing for sure: I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your breath hitches as he holds the ring up, his voice trembling just slightly. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The weight of his words, the depth of his feelings, and the sheer courage it must’ve taken for him to ask you this here, in the middle of all this madness, overwhelm you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Relief washes over his face, and he slips the ring onto your finger with care, his hands steady despite the gravity of the moment. It feels warm and solid, a promise of hope in a place where hope is so hard to come by.

But before you can fully process the moment, his expression grows serious again. “Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You can wear the ring, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”

You blink, confused. “Why not?”

He hesitates, glancing around the room as if to make sure no one is listening. Then, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I have a feeling,” he says. “A feeling that it’s only going to be us me and you that make it out of this alive. And until we know for sure, I don’t want anyone else to know. I don’t want this to become another target on your back.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his foresight sinking in. You nod slowly, understanding his reasoning even if it makes your heart ache. “Okay,” you say softly. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks as he gazes at you with a mix of love and determination. “I mean it, Y/n,” he says. “No matter what happens, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you survive. To make sure we survive.”

You swallow hard, the enormity of his promise and your own feelings threatening to overwhelm you. But you nod again, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “We’ll survive,” you say firmly. “Together.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you. For a moment, it feels like nothing else matters not the games, not the danger, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. It’s just you and him, clinging to each other in a world that seems determined to tear you apart.

As he pulls back, his fingers brush over the ring on your hand, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips. “It looks good on you,” he murmurs.

You manage a small smile in return, your fingers curling around his. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

The two of you sit there in silence, your hands intertwined, as the weight of your secret promise settles between you. It’s a risk, but it’s also a lifeline a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love can still find a way to shine through.

The room buzzes with quiet chatter, the tension momentarily eased as the group finds comfort in each other’s company. Young-il sits off to the side, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observes everyone. His role as the Frontman is a secret he’s mastered keeping, and every move he makes is careful, deliberate. He’s learned how to blend in perfectly, to mask his true intentions behind an easy smile or a well-placed joke. But tonight, his thoughts aren’t on strategy or the games. they’re on you.

His eyes flicker to where you’re sitting, laughing softly at something Hyun-ju said. For a brief moment, the corners of his lips lift in a small, genuine smile. Then his expression hardens again, the gravity of the situation pulling him back to reality. He knows the danger that lies ahead, knows how fragile life is in this twisted arena. And he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety.

He waits, watching the group closely. They’re distracted, deep in conversation, their guard lowered for just a moment. It’s the perfect time. Rising to his feet, he stretches casually, as if he’s simply restless, before moving quietly toward the shadows where a pink-suited guard stands near the corner of the room.

Young-il’s movements are subtle, his steps light as he approaches. The guard, who had been standing stiffly at attention, straightens even more as he notices Young-il. There’s a flicker of recognition in the guard’s stance, an unspoken acknowledgment of who he’s really dealing with.

Young-il leans in, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Listen carefully,” he begins, his tone firm but quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. “I’ve got an order for you, and you better make sure it gets through to every single one of you.”

The guard doesn’t respond verbally, but the slight tilt of his head signals he’s listening intently. Young-il’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping even lower. “No matter what happens in these games, no one and I mean no one is to harm Y/n. Not a scratch, not a bullet, nothing. She’s off-limits.”

The guard shifts slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the directive, but he remains silent. Young-il takes a step closer, his presence looming, his voice carrying a sharper edge. “She’s going to be my wife once this is all over,” he continues, his tone filled with an intensity that brooks no argument. “And if any of you so much as think about touching her, you’ll answer to me. Personally.”

The guard finally nods, a quick, nervous motion that shows he understands the weight of what’s being said. But Young-il isn’t done. He straightens, his gaze piercing as he delivers his final warning. “If she’s hurt because of your incompetence or worse, your defiance you’ll wish for death before I’m through with you. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard whispers, his voice trembling slightly.

Young-il holds his gaze for a moment longer, ensuring his message is crystal clear. Then, with a slight nod, he steps back, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he murmurs. “Make sure the others know.”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, his posture relaxed but his mind racing. As he moves back toward the group, he catches sight of you again, your laughter soft but bright in the dim room. For a moment, his chest tightens, the weight of what he’s doing and what he’s risking hitting him all at once. But he pushes it aside, steeling himself. He doesn’t regret his decision. You’re worth every risk, every sacrifice.

Sliding back into his seat near you, he meets your curious gaze with a small smile. “What did I miss?” he asks casually, his tone light.

“Not much,” you reply, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Where did you sneak off to?”

“Just stretching my legs,” he says smoothly, leaning back as if nothing happened. “You know how cramped it gets in here.”

You give him a skeptical look but let it go, turning back to the conversation. As the others continue talking, Young-il glances down at the ring on your finger, hidden from view but glinting faintly in the low light. His resolve hardens. No matter what it takes, he’ll make sure you’re safe. Because in this brutal world, you’re the only thing that truly matters to him.

The room is dimly lit, the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. Most of the players are sprawled out on their makeshift beds, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them. The tension that normally lingers in the air is subdued for the moment, giving way to a rare and fragile stillness.

One player, however, can’t seem to settle. She tosses and turns on her thin mattress, frustration etched into her face as she glares at the locked steel door. After what feels like an eternity, she finally sits up, her movements abrupt and sharp. Muttering under her breath, she makes her way toward the door, the light clinking of her footsteps barely audible over the soft breathing of the sleeping players.

Reaching the door, she knocks firmly against the small window, startling the pink-suited guard stationed outside. He stiffens slightly before stepping closer, his expression hidden behind the eerie, faceless mask. He slides open the small metal window, his deep, distorted voice cutting through the stillness. “What do you need?”

The player folds her arms, her irritation clear. “I need to use the bathroom,” she says, her tone sharp and impatient. “I can’t sleep like this.”

The guard doesn’t respond right away, instead glancing into the room briefly, his posture stiff. “Go back to bed,” he says firmly. “You can wait until morning.”

The player’s eyes narrow, her frustration bubbling over. “Are you serious?” she snaps. “You’ve let people leave before! What makes this any different?”

The guard stands motionless, his silence only fueling her anger. She steps closer, her voice rising despite the risk of waking the others. “Then why did you let Y/n and Young-il go to the bathroom earlier?” she demands, her words laced with bitterness. “That’s not fair! You’re playing favorites, and we all know it!”

Inside the room, a few of the players stir at the commotion, mumbling sleepily as they shift in their beds. The guard tenses but doesn’t react to her accusations, his hand moving to the edge of the window.

“You can’t just ignore me!” the player hisses, her voice low but insistent. “I saw them leave. I know what I saw. You let them go, but you’re telling me to just hold it? What kind of crap is that?”

The guard leans forward slightly, his voice colder now, almost menacing. “Return to your bed,” he says slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate precision. “Do not cause trouble.”

The player glares at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters under her breath, but she doesn’t press further. The guard, clearly done with the conversation, slides the window shut with a decisive clang, cutting her off entirely.

Fuming, the player turns away from the door, her movements jerky as she stalks back toward her bed. She throws herself down onto the mattress, her frustration simmering as she glares at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, outside the door, the pink guard remains still, his posture tense. His mind races as he replays the front man’s words, her accusations hitting uncomfortably close to the truth. He glances down the hallway, his thoughts lingering on Young-il’s earlier command.

“She’s going to be my wife once this is over. No one touches her.”

The guard swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. He knows better than to question orders, especially when they come directly from the Frontman himself. Even so, the growing tension among the players doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the carefully maintained façade of control begins to crack.

Back inside the room, the player lies awake, her mind racing as her frustration simmers. She glances over at you and Young-il, who are sound asleep on opposite sides of the room. A bitter sneer curls at her lips. “Favorites,” she mutters under her breath, her words a venomous whisper.

But for now, the room settles once more, the uneasy silence creeping back in as the tension lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to explode.

The next morning, the group gathers for breakfast, the mood subdued but focused as everyone eats in silence. The room is filled with the sound of utensils scraping against metal trays, the occasional murmur of conversation breaking the quiet. You and Young-il sit on one of the lower bunk beds, sharing your breakfast and quietly talking, stealing rare moments of calm amidst the chaos of the games.

As you’re mid-laugh at something Young-il says, the same player from the night before approaches you both, her expression sharp and accusatory. She plants herself directly in front of you, arms crossed, her gaze narrowing as she glares at the two of you.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Must be nice being the favorites, huh?”

You and Young-il exchange a quick glance, confusion flickering across your faces. Before either of you can respond, the player presses on, her voice rising slightly. “You know what’s not fair? The fact that last night I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I got told no. Meanwhile, you two got to stroll out whenever you wanted! What were you even doing? Let me guess? fucking in the bathroom? Wasting the chance while the rest of us suffer?”

The accusation catches you off guard, your cheeks flushing slightly at her boldness. “What are you talking about?” you ask, your tone defensive.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she snaps, pointing a finger at you. “I saw it with my own eyes. You and him sneaking out together like it’s some kind of date night while the rest of us are stuck here. It’s not fair! Some of us actually follow the rules, and you two just—”

Before she can finish, Hyun-ju, who’s been listening from a nearby bed, cuts in with a sharp laugh. “Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You expect us to believe that? Everyone was asleep last night. You probably imagined the whole thing.”

The player spins to face Hyun-ju, her frustration boiling over. “I know what I saw!” she insists. “They left the room! I heard the door open and close, and they weren’t here for a while. What were they doing, huh?”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, unfazed by the player’s outburst. “Seriously, just let it go,” she says with a shrug. “Even if they did leave, who cares? It’s not like it’s your business. And besides, if the guards let them go, then maybe you’re the one who should think about why you didn’t get permission.”

The player’s face flushes with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters. “They’re playing favorites, and you all just let it happen. No wonder they’re so cozy over there. they’ve got the guards wrapped around their little fingers.”

You feel Young-il tense beside you, his jaw tightening as he places the tiny tray down. He meets the player’s glare with a cold, measured look. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “If you have a problem with the guards, take it up with them. Don’t come over here accusing us of things you can’t prove.”

The player scoffs, her eyes flickering between you and Young-il before turning away in frustration. “Whatever,” she mutters. “Favorites. That’s all you are.”

As she storms off, Hyun-ju chuckles softly, shaking her head. “She’s losing it,” she mutters, leaning back against the wall. “Honestly, the paranoia in here is getting ridiculous.”

You sigh, leaning into Young-il slightly as the tension settles. He places a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Ignore her,” he murmurs. “She’s just trying to stir up trouble.”

You nod, though the accusation still lingers in your mind. The games have been wearing on everyone, and it’s becoming harder and harder to tell who’s really trustworthy. But as you glance at Young-il, his calm presence grounding you, you remind yourself that you’re not in this alone. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

The room begins to settle down after the tense meeting about the rebellion. The players quietly move to their respective beds, though the air is thick with anxiety and unspoken fears. Everyone knows the plan is risky, but there’s no turning back now. As people murmur their last goodnights and lie down to rest, Jung-bae approaches Young-il, his expression serious and heavy with concern.

He hesitates for a moment, glancing briefly at you sitting a few feet away, and then speaks in a low voice, keeping their conversation as private as possible. “Young-il,” he starts, his tone measured, but there’s a clear urgency behind his words. “Listen to me. When things go down later today, I don’t want Y/n out there with us. She needs to stay here ,where she’ll be safe. I don’t want her to get hurt or worse, shot.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his arms crossed. His expression is calm but unreadable, his dark eyes narrowing as he considers Jung-bae’s words. “I understand your concern,” he says slowly, his voice steady but firm. “But she’s coming with me. Wherever I go, she goes. That’s the way it is.”

Jung-bae frowns, his frustration evident. “Young-il, this isn’t a game. today not just another day. It’s going to be chaos out there. You can’t guarantee her safety. Do you even realize what you’re asking of her?”

Young-il leans forward, his voice dropping even lower, but his tone grows sharper. “I know exactly what I’m asking,” he says firmly. “But don’t you think I’ve thought about this? I’ve thought about her safety, her life, everything. And the truth is, I want her by my side. Not just because I can protect her, but because I need her with me. If something were to happen to me today or the next day… I want my time with her. I want her time with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jung-bae stares at him for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He glances over at you again, his protective instincts warring with the reality of the situation. “You’re asking for a lot,” he says finally, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s not just another player to me. She’s… like a daughter. I don’t want her in harm’s way.”

“And you think I do?” Young-il retorts, his voice growing colder, though he keeps it low enough to avoid drawing attention. “You think I’d risk her life if I didn’t believe I could keep her safe? I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. That’s why she’s staying with me. No matter what happens today or after that I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Jung-bae sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it, Young-il. You don’t know what it feels like to—”

“To care about someone so much that it hurts?” Young-il interrupts, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Trust me, I know. And that’s exactly why I’m not leaving her behind. Because if this is the end… I want her to know how much she means to me. I want to spend every possible moment with her, no matter what the risks are.”

Jung-bae looks away, his jaw tightening as he struggles to respond. He knows there’s no changing Young-il’s mind, but the thought of you being part of the rebellion still fills him with dread.

Finally, he exhales slowly, nodding once. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if anything happens to her… it’s on you. You’ll have to live with it.”

“I already live with more than you can imagine,” Young-il replies, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken, something dark. “But this is one thing I won’t fail at. She’ll be safe. I promise you that.”

Jung-bae gives him one last, searching look before turning and walking away, leaving Young-il alone with his thoughts. He watches you from a distance, his gaze softening as you sit quietly, oblivious to the weight of the conversation that just took place.

As he approaches you, his expression shifts, the hard edges of his demeanor softening into something more tender. Whatever today brings, one thing is certain: he’ll do everything in his power to protect you, no matter the cost.

The air is thick with the deafening sound of gunfire and chaos. You cling tightly to Young-il’s hand, your heartbeat racing as adrenaline surges through your veins. You’ve never experienced anything like this, and the sheer terror of the moment makes your grip on him almost desperate.

Suddenly, Young-il raises his gun, and before you can even process what’s happening, he fires two precise shots. Player 047 lets out a sharp groan, followed quickly by Player 015 collapsing to the ground, a pained cry escaping his lips. The scene feels surreal, and you’re frozen in place, staring at the lifeless bodies in front of you.

“Young-il!” you gasp, your voice trembling with shock and disbelief. “Why did you—”

Before you can finish, the static crackle of a walkie-talkie cuts through the chaos. Gi-hun’s voice comes through, urgent and full of concern.

“Young-il, what’s going on? Have you guys made a move yet?”

Young-il, calm and composed despite the chaos around him, picks up the walkie-talkie and responds, his tone heavy with feigned despair. “I’m sorry, Gi-hun. It’s over. They got us… and they took Y/n with them.”

You look at him in disbelief, your mind reeling from the lie he just told. What is he doing?

Gi-hun’s voice crackles back through the device, more frantic this time. “Young-il, what’s going on? Are you still there?”

Young-il remains silent for a moment, his hand tightening around the walkie-talkie. The groans of the dying players nearby provide an eerie, convincing backdrop.

“Young-il! Say something!” Gi-hun shouts through the walkie-talkie. “Come on, Young-il! Young-il!”

Without a word, Young-il raises his gun again, silencing the groans of the injured players with two more shots. The sound of the gunfire reverberates in the air, sending a chill down your spine.

He then turns off the walkie-talkie, his expression unreadable as he speaks into the communication device meant for the guards. “Let’s wrap things up,” he says coldly, his tone commanding and final.

He turns to you, his dark eyes locking with yours. There’s something in his gaze a mix of determination and something you can’t quite place. You take a step back, your mind racing with questions.

“Why did you shoot them?” you ask, your voice shaky and barely above a whisper. “Why did you lie to Gi-hun?”

Young-il steps closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate. He holds out his hand, his expression softening slightly, though there’s still an intensity in his eyes. “Just come with me,” he says quietly. “I’ll explain everything. But not here, not now.”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Every instinct tells you to run, to demand answers, but something in his voice something raw and almost pleading stops you. You look at his outstretched hand, the same hand that just pulled the trigger moments ago, and then back at his face.

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior. Slowly, reluctantly, you reach out and take his hand. His fingers close around yours, firm but not forceful, as he pulls you closer.

“We don’t have much time,” he says softly, his voice low and urgent. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just trust me.”

As he leads you away from the carnage, your mind races with questions, doubts, and fears. You don’t know what’s happening or why he’s done what he’s done, but for now, you follow him, hoping that his promise to explain everything will bring you some clarity in the chaos.

Hyun-ju had been pacing anxiously, clutching the walkie-talkie as she tried to reach Dae-ho. The cool night air was heavy with tension, her voice breaking through the silence as she called, “Dae-ho? Dae-ho, answer me!” The static crackled in response, but no words came. She tightened her grip, her heart pounding with unease. Something wasn’t right.

Deciding she couldn’t wait any longer, she hurried back toward the dorms. Her steps quickened, echoing in the empty hallways. “Dae-ho! Dae-ho!” she yelled, her voice carrying desperation. She pushed open the door to the dorm, her eyes darting around frantically. “Dae-ho, where are you? Has anyone seen—”

Her voice faltered as she spotted him, hunched over in a shadowy corner. She rushed toward him, her pulse racing. “Dae-ho!” she called again, her tone sharp with concern.

He gasped at her approach, his wide, teary eyes meeting hers. His shoulders were trembling, and he looked like a man on the verge of breaking.

“Dae-ho,” she asked, her voice softening as she knelt beside him, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His head hung low, and his hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are they?” she demanded, her voice shaking now.

Hyun-ju’s eyes flickered with confusion and alarm. She glanced around and froze when her gaze landed on a bag nearby. Its contents spilled slightly open, revealing a stockpile of ammunition.

Dae-ho’s face crumpled as he shook his head, his voice cracking with each word. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I’m sorry.”

Before she could finish, the shrill sound of an alarm cut through the air. It was deafening, echoing throughout the dorm and sending a chill down her spine. Gasps and screams erupted from the other players, who scrambled to make sense of the chaos.

The dorm lights flickered, and the metallic voice of a masked manager came through the speakers. “Everyone, face down on the ground immediately!”

The command was cold, final. Players froze in terror, dropping to the floor in submission. Hyun-ju instinctively tried to get up, her adrenaline surging. But a firm hand grabbed her arm.

She turned to see Geum-ja, her expression steely and calm despite the panic around them. “Don’t,” Geum-ja said quietly, shaking her head. Her grip was firm but not harsh. “This isn’t a good way to die.”

Hyun-ju hesitated, her heart thundering in her chest. She glanced at Dae-ho, who was now curled up, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again, his words like a broken record. The weight of the situation pressed down on her like a crushing force, and all she could do was lower herself to the ground, her mind racing with fear and questions.

The masked guards stormed in moments later, their footsteps heavy and deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Hyun-ju’s eyes stayed fixed on Dae-ho, silently pleading for answers as chaos unfolded around them.

Over the speakers, the woman on the PA stated.“Attention, Players. The day has ended. It's time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you do not comply with these orders, then you will be eliminated.”

“No, don't it!”

Once more, the woman repeats herself. “I will now repeat the instructions. Attention, players. The day has ended. It’s time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you don’t comply..”

“Let’s put down our guns. If we surrender, they might not kill us.” Jung-bae tells Gi-hun since the both of them are out of ammunition. “Ah, shit.”

The player numbered 145 and the other player are trying to shoot down the pink guards who keeps coming, and the players notice that they no longer have ammunition, so they know that they’ll have to surrender. “The player numbered 145 talks over the walkie-talkie.”Advance team, do you copy? We're out of ammo over here. I'm gonna surrender.”

The guards quickly came and made their way, and they started shooting at the players, and the player 145 pulled his arms up.”Wait, please don’t shoot. I have a sick daughter at who—.”before he could finish he was shot.

Jung-bae gets down on his knees. “We surrender.” He tells the two guards, and he places down the gun, and as both Jung-bae and Gi-hun are kneeling down, footsteps can be heard, and they look up, and they see the frontman and lots of guards walking towards them. “Player 456 Did you have fun playing the hero?” The front man asks, breathing deeply. ”Now witness the consequence of your little game.” He shoots Jung-bae on the chest, and Jung-bae looks at his best friend. Hoping that Gi-hun will keep his promise of protecting you, “Gi-hun.” He said before hitting the floor

Gi-hun screams as he cries, trying to rush over to his best friend, ”Jung-bae!” But he gets pinned down to the floor by the guards who’s holding a gun at Gi-hun’s head as he cries again for his best friend.

The woman on the PA Informed that a another player has been eliminated. “Player 390, eliminated”

Young-il or should I say his real name Hwang In-ho made his way to his private quarters where you are waiting for him. Hopefully, you will forgive him and forget what he did because, in the end, all he did was to keep you safe and alive

[nocturnewidow]

hi dovey !! i luv ur work , i was wondering if u could do kylo ren x reader ? im on my HANDS and knees begging bae , ty ilysm !! ur writing is so mwa mwa mwa kiss kiss <3

omg yes ofc !!

Black Star⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Kylo Ren x reader⋆˚࿔

content warning: smut + intimate themes !!

It starts with the silence of space. The kind that hums against the bones. He’s been gone for sixteen days, and the cold has made itself comfortable in your lungs.

He sends no transmissions. He never does. But something arrives a coded parcel hand delivered by a frightened officer who doesn’t dare look you in the eye. Inside,, lace, Midnight black, finer than breath, the kind of lingerie that belongs in a song. Agent Provocateur. His name isn’t on the card, but you know the handwriting like you know the tremble of his mouth when he says your name.

He doesn’t buy things. So this this offering wrapped in silk is a vow. A promise he’ll return.

And he does.

The door hisses open and there he is dripping starfire and shadow, robes still dusted in ash from some skirmish you don’t ask about. His gloves are off.

“Come here,” he says, voice like smoke, like ruin. You’re already moving before he speaks.

He doesn’t touch you like a man afraid of breaking something. He touches you like he’s already broken, and this you are the only thing holding him together. The lace is forgotten on the floor, but his mouth is reverent, his hands greedy. His words are not sweet. They’re honest.

“You think I forgot how you sound?” he mutters, nose against your throat. “I memorized your sighs like scripture.”

The lace doesn’t last long.

It was never about the garment it was about the ritual. About him seeing you in it, bare under the black, every curve he’s imagined under starlight, every place his hands have haunted in memory. He sits on the edge of the bed as you step out wearing nothing but that slip of shadowed silk and lace. His eyes, usually burning with fury, are wet with something quieter.

You straddle his lap and it feels like gravity bends around him. His hands slide up your thighs, slow, possessive, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again. One hand cups the back of your neck, the other rests on your hip, holding you steady.

“I thought of this,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “Every fucking night.”

You roll your hips slightly and he breathes through his teeth, hands tightening. He’s still in most of his robes, but his armor is gone left on the floor somewhere between the door and his need to feel you. You kiss him then, not a soft kiss but a slow, bruising one. The kind that says I missed you. I dreamed of you. I’m not letting go.

His mouth tastes like space dust and secrets. His teeth graze your lower lip, and he sighs like it hurts to stop. “You’re not allowed to leave this bed,” he says, voice wrecked. “Not until I say so.”

You smile against his jaw. “Who says I want to?”

He shifts, flips you underneath him like gravity itself betrayed you. The lace slips higher. His hand traces the garter strap, up to the line of your hip, over your ribs, like he’s memorizing topography. “You wore this for me,”he says, more to himself than to you.

“I always wear it for you.”

He hums. Like you just gave him something else to obsess over. He palms your thighs open and lowers himself, mouth dragging down your torso like a curse. He doesn’t rush. He studies. He lingers. His lips against your inner thigh, the dark rasp of facial stubble brushing lace, the heat of his breath right where you ache for him. His mouth moves slowly deliberately like worship. And it is.

The lace is pulled aside, ruined, and forgotten. He doesn’t stop until your thighs shake and your voice is hoarse. And even then, he kisses the inside of your knee like an apology.

You pull him up. Tug him out of what’s left of his robes. His body is carved and brutal, but he softens when you touch him—when your fingertips trace the lines of his chest, your lips follow. His eyes flutter closed. You guide him to you, and when he sinks inside, he gasps like he’s been gone a year and just found home.

It’s not rough. Not this time.

It’s intimate.

He fucks you slow. Deep. Like he’s trying to leave fingerprints on your soul. His forehead presses to yours, eyes open, watching. His thumb brushes your cheek. You kiss his palm. He whispers things between thrusts your name, his name, where he imagined touching you, what he dreamed of seeing. You tell him how cold the bed was without him. How the lace felt lonelier without his hands in it. How you didn’t want anyone else to ever see you like this.

He grits his teeth. “They won’t,” he snarls, suddenly savage. “They won’t even look.”

You tighten around him in response and he moans. The rhythm falters. You both fall apart seconds later, with his hand cradling the back of your head like he’s afraid of hurting you, like you’re made of stars.

After, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull away. Just buries his face in your throat and breathes like he’s trying to memorize the scent of you.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You don’t even know what that means, do you?”

“I do,” you whisper back, tracing lazy circles into his spine. “It means you’ll burn the galaxy for me.”

He laughs. Soft. Dangerous. “I already have.”

And when you fall asleep, tangled in fur and sweat and dark silk, he watches you like a god watches his last worshiper. ⋆˙⟡

[vanilladollette]

Hey bae♡ can you write about the glory bully characters x quiet female reader?

I know you already did the other one but this one however it's more like female reader is quiet but except she's creepy, stares into your soul type

in this scenario: Park Yeon Jin was the one killed So Hee and thought no one would find out

But when creepy quiet female reader reunited with the bullies, she stares into Yeon Jin's soul and she eerily says "I know it was you who killed her" and left.

Leaving the bullies in stunned, especially leaving Yeon Jin scared

(No need to rush babygirl as always ♡ ̆̈)

Bury A Friend

Pairing: The Glory Bullies x Creepy Quiet Fem Reader

Summary: Yeon-jin’s guilt over a tragic accident she caused resurfaces when a mysterious, silent girl from her past confronts her at a high school reunion, exposing her dark secret and leaving her fearful of the consequences.

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's note: Okay sooo I feel reader isn't as creepy as I wanted her to be.

“Oh, I think I really messed up.” Yeon-jin’s voice trembled over the phone, barely above a whisper. Her hands shook as she gripped the cold edge of the abandoned building, her heart pounding like a drum. “We were being dumb, just messing around on the roof, and something caught on fire.”

Her gaze fell to the still body of So-hee sprawled on the hard, unforgiving floor. The girl’s clothes were charred and torn, smoke still rising faintly from the edges. Yeon-jin’s stomach churned, her throat tightening as she fought back a wave of panic. The weight of what had happened was too much. She didn’t know what to do.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as her mother’s voice cut through the chaos on the other end of the line.

“There was this girl...” Yeon-jin’s words cracked as she glanced down at the piece of So-hee’s clothing, which was now smoldering. “She started screaming and freaking out and then she… fell. It’s true, I swear! She just—she just… fell.” Her voice broke, but she quickly stifled the sob that threatened to escape.

“We were alone! Just messing around. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” Yeon-jin could feel the panic rising in her chest, suffocating her. “Mom, what do I do now? Huh? Are you there?”

Her mother’s sharp voice sliced through the air, harsh and demanding. “Get a grip, Yeon-jin! First, get away from there. I’ll have Mr. Shin call you right away.”

She could feel the panic draining her strength as she mechanically followed her mother’s instructions. What else could she do? She wasn’t equipped for this, for the mess she had created.

“Stop crying and get it together! Did anyone see you? Any witnesses?”

Yeon-jin glanced around the rooftop, her eyes darting frantically. The space was eerily still. No one. No one was there.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so,” she said, her voice trembling.

“You better make sure! Look around you!”

“I did, Mom. There isn’t anyone here! There’s no witnesses!” she yelled, her voice breaking.

If only she had checked more thoroughly. If only she had been more aware. If only she had seen you standing just beyond the corner, your presence blending into the shadows. You, the girl who never spoke, who never quite fit in with the others. The girl who always watched.

Sunghan High School organized a reunion for its former students. Yeon-jin had been hesitant, not wanting to face anyone, but when she learned that the others were attending, she couldn’t resist. They had to keep up appearances, right? She couldn’t let them see her as weak or scared.

The gymnasium buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional reunion hug. Yeon-jin entered with the same air of confidence she had cultivated, dressed in a sleek black dress that made her feel untouchable. She walked toward the table where the others were already gathered: Sa-ra, Hye-jeong, Jeo-joon, and Myeong-oh.

"Can you believe they set up a high school reunion?" Sa-ra asked, laughing as Yeon-jin approached. Yeon-jin laughed softly, setting her purse down on the table, but her mind was elsewhere.

An hour passed as the others joked and reminisced, but all the while, Yeon-jin couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong. Her heart started to race when she noticed a quiet, familiar figure standing in the corner of the gym. A presence she couldn’t ignore.

You were there.

Standing alone, like a shadow. Your unnerving gaze locked onto her from across the room. Her breath hitched, and a wave of unease spread through her.

The others didn’t seem to notice the tension mounting in the air. Sa-ra kept talking, oblivious to the growing discomfort around Yeon-jin. But Yeon-jin knew. She recognized you instantly. It was you—the quiet, eerie girl from high school. The one everyone ignored, the one who kept to herself. The one who never said a word, but always watched.

The tension thickened as your gaze never wavered. Not once. It was like you were looking straight through her, like you knew something she had buried deep inside. Yeon-jin’s heart hammered in her chest, her throat tightening.

The conversation around her seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding rhythm of her pulse in her ears. You hadn’t moved. Your eyes never left her. It was like you were studying her, dissecting her every reaction. A shiver ran down Yeon-jin’s spine.

“I think that’s y/n,” Sa-ra said, laughing. The others glanced over, unsure of who you were, but Sa-ra’s voice broke the heavy silence. Yeon-jin wanted to look away but couldn’t.

Hye-jeong, Myeong-oh, and Jeo-joon joined in the conversation, all of them casually commenting on how “awkward��� it was to see you back at the reunion. But Yeon-jin didn’t care. She was too busy trying to breathe, trying to ignore the creeping sensation that something was terribly wrong.

And then, it happened.

The gymnasium, once filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, seemed to quiet as you began to move toward their table. Slowly, as though every step was deliberate, you closed the distance between yourself and the group. The air grew heavier, like a storm was building. Everyone watched you, confused and curious, but also unsure of what to expect.

When you reached their table, you stopped. You didn’t say a word. You simply stood there, your cold, intense gaze still fixed on Yeon-jin. The others fell silent, the tension palpable, as if the very atmosphere around you had changed.

Yeon-jin felt her pulse skyrocket, her breath shallow. She tried to move, to say something, anything, but she couldn’t find her voice. She could only watch as you stood, unmoving, staring at her like she was a mere insect beneath your gaze.

Finally, you spoke. Your voice was low and soft, but it carried the weight of something far darker.

"I know it was you who killed her."

The words were like ice-cold water splashing on her face. Yeon-jin’s world seemed to slow, her body frozen in place as your words echoed in the room.

It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of undeniable fact. And in that moment, it felt like the world had tilted on its axis.

Yeon-jin’s face went pale. Her stomach churned as fear seeped into every bone in her body. Her eyes flicked around the table, but the others were silent, unsure of what to say. Her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out everything else.

"You..." Yeon-jin tried to speak, her voice a mere whisper. “You—”

But she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her words were swallowed by her fear.

And then, without another word, you turned and walked away, your presence still hanging in the air long after you had disappeared into the crowd.

Yeon-jin stood there, frozen, as her world shattered around her.

The others looked at each other in stunned silence, unsure of what just happened. None of them dared to speak. Sa-ra’s smile faltered, her previous laughter now a distant memory.

Yeon-jin couldn’t move. Her heart pounded in her chest, her skin cold as ice. You knew. You saw everything. The weight of your gaze still lingered, suffocating her with the knowledge that you were out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to expose her.

The reunion, once filled with warmth and nostalgia, now felt like a nightmare. And Yeon-jin couldn’t shake the feeling that you were out there, lurking in the shadows, ready to bring everything crashing down.

And with that thought, she knew: It wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

And there was nowhere she could hide.

[iznsfw]

Like a Feather From a Swan’s Broken Wing

LE SSERAFIM's Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader Smut

7,468 words

Categories | agent!You, ballerina!Kazuha, cunnilingus, daddy kink, spanking, fingering, slight bondage

Masterlist | Mobile Masterlist | Commission me!

This is a commission in which I was given the task to write literally anything I wanted (thank you!)

“The art of pleasing is the art of deception.”

— Luc de Clapiers

-

The gun’s in a steady direction, only looking forward. It’s aimed at the dark, at wherever the partners of the man you’ve been hunting for months might hide. On the darker side, you wish that if there would be anyone coming out, it would be the man himself so you'd be able to shoot him. He's the source of more headaches than you could count and the one who keeps you up late at night, and never for a good reason.

It's the selfish part of you speaking. You shouldn't let that interfere with the operation. 

You're in uniform, wrapped head to toe in camouflage green. It feels heavy on your skin, but that doesn't stop your determination. You'll carry the weight of your uniform before you carry the burden that is him, who prolongs the operation, leaves your coffee powder short, and keeps the nation in distress.

Today, you'll catch him, once and for all.

Look around briefly. The night covers you completely, and hopefully doesn't cover the enemy, too. You only take a flashed look; quickness is a skill you once were unlearned in but developed later into the senior years of your profession.

Physical strength is another—the door meets the ground with a harsh thud after you kick it down. Training isn't easy by any means, but it's worth it. Hopefully this mission is the same as well.

Teamwork is a skill you learned, too, for like a flock of crows, you and the squad enter the warehouse. Altogether, they're shouting. They call for the victim (add an "s" for plural form, if necessary), telling her she's okay. Everything's going to be alright, they say, no need to worry.

However, they promise a much bloodier end for the kidnapper, who's probably lurking in the shadows.

"Come out now!" Yunjin shouts. She's frightening when she's angry; her brows are downturned and her fierce eyes are locked onto any movement. Hands on her gun, she's always prepared. "We're not going to ask again!"

"Scan the whole place," Sakura, your leader and chief, commands the rest of your team. The hate for the man glistens in her eyes; for her fierce predator looks, the team often dubs her as the cat of your group. "Don't leave one stone unturned."

The cramped warehouse is emptied out by the sounds of boots on the stairs. You take over the mission half and half: you, Sakura, and Yunjin on the first floor and Chaewon, Wonyoung, and Minju on the second. 

Your half of the team knocks over the boxes. They spill out packing peanuts and hints of drugs packed in Ziploc bags. Doors fly open and welcome you into empty darkness. Above you, you hear the newer ones in the squad yelling. It's an amateur habit, but maybe it would work. Maybe it would finally draw the criminals out to justice, and all of this would be over.

But, of course, when they run down the stairs with faces devoid of any recognition and your face mirroring theirs with disappointment, it's clear that this whole thing is far from its end. 

In fact, you're only at the beginning of a long, uncertain road. 

-

Thread twisted around pins lead to everywhere but the answer. You've been staring at the billboard for too long, trying to piece together the olden newspaper scraps and sticky notes, but there's nothing. Any signs of an answer bring you to nothing. Each path, strung by thread and yarn of colors signifying this and that, draws to a dead end.

If you don't work harder with your team, Bae Suzy would be dead, too. 

So why haven't you caught the abductor yet?

You and your team sit at the rounded table. They look solemn, and perhaps a little irritated. You can't blame them—the mission you thought would be the last became another one to the list of failed rescue operations. 

They're getting tired of this, and if it were any other case, they'd let go of it. But this is Bae Suzy you're talking about—she's famous, reputable, and intelligent. She's an accomplished actress, a loveable idol, and an excellent model. All of these make her the treasure of many high-class individuals who’d pay billions and fans who'd give their lives to have her back, so you have to go through. Whether you like it or not, that’s how the story goes.

Your boss, chief Miyawaki Sakura, crosses her arms sternly. High curved nose, straight-set lips, and eyes that never failed to scour through the team, she nods at you. It doesn't take a sign language translator to get what she means: start talking.

"The mission was aborted due to fallacies in translation and sources," you say. You're using your classic, signature neutral tone for meetings like this one. There's an edge to it today, though. No one dares to tell you about it. "One of our sources translated the location and transferred the information to us incorrectly, hence bringing us to another failed operation."

Your teammates nod. Sakura sighs, pinching her nose.

"Due to this," you continue, slapping down on the table a picture of Bae Suzy, in which she smiles charmingly and waves to a mass of reporters, "we must conduct further readings into the case to ensure that the information is accurate. For Bae Suzy, and for us."

Another series of nods from across the room. Most of them are half hearted.

"So, do any of you have a proposal as to where the kidnapper is now? And where he might have brought miss Bae?"

The quiet Kim Chaewon raises her hand. She used to be the one who brought and made the coffee, but after she helped you solve a cold case during her night shifts, you brought it upon yourself to let her join the team. She listened to the seminars well and was excellent in the training. She had potential, is what you're saying, so you're more than glad to hear from her side.

"I believe the kidnapper is a dancer. Maybe he’s brought her to a studio."

"That isn't relevant," says Sakura, venom in her voice. It’s wholly unintended for her to lash out at the new member of the squad, but her exhaustion is getting the better of her today. 

Chaewon blushes. "I believe it is, chief," she retorts timidly. "He left ballet shoes and leotards in the last operation. It might lead us to his location, especially if he's the sentimental type."

"And you say that after we ransacked an old man's warehouse? After he thought we were little shits playing soldiers and looking for some coke?"

“B-but the operation was your idea!”

"I launch all operations, honey," Sakura informs her, smiling with fake sweetness. "What do you do?"

"Sakura," you warn. Your words are tight. You don't have it in your soul to deal with her feistiness today. Any other day you would have let the bickering go on, but the failed mission has downed your spirits. 

Silence passes around the table. Wonyoung's looking around, waiting for someone to speak. Sakura's staring daggers into the flushed Chaewon. Minju and Yunjin are as quiet as they can be. 

Let the silence ferment with acknowledgement: "Thank you, Chaewon, for your input. Any other ideas?"

"I believe Chaewon is right,” Minju pipes up. “We received a letter from the suspect after the operation.”

You smile, both at the good news and the fact that Minju is, so far, the prettiest out of the squad, and doesn't have only a pretty face but the good wits to back it up, too. That's part of the reason why you love welcoming her point of view, but a letter sounds interesting. Probably even more interesting than getting close with Minju, a thought you entertained more than you should.

“Were there fingerprints?” you ask.

She hands you the letter, which is wrapped in an envelope with newspaper and magazine letters carefully pasted on its front. “No. He probably used gloves.”

You carefully rip the hood of the envelope upwards and pull out the folded paper. You then read it out loud:

"To the police, agents, and detective teams—

"You won't ever find me. I float through the crowds unseen. I glide through the lake of circumstance like a swan. I bring her along, and though she's a kitten scared of water, she's mine now. Forever.

"It would take years before you're even able to save your precious little Suzy. It might not even happen at all.

"For that reason, although I abhor you more than you'd think for you all are built on a system of lies and corruption, I offer you this clue:

"I have flown to other nations where my flock calls for me in our garden. Will you be able to shoot me down?

"Soar with me,

"The One Who Dances, A Flame Eternal."

It must have taken hours to cut out all those magazine letters. That's one thing you'll commend the abductor for.

"'The One Who Dances,'" says Wonyoung in awe. She realizes that Chaewon was right about him being a dancer. For someone as young and new to this side of the profession, it’s like watching a thing straight out of a thriller movie.

"'The One Who Dances,'" Sakura repeats, but in a more sarcastic tone than the interested girl. She scoffs. There's a smile on her face that’s amused despite the situation. "Boo, what a fucking nerd. Did he take up human sciences or something?"

"That's not relevant," you tell her, avenging Chaewon (and defending yourself, too, because you also studied human sciences. That's not fair. You aren't a nerd.)

"I’m telling you, those essays they make those kids do rot their brains. Oh, and shut the fuck up. This is why you aren't a team leader."

Choose to ignore her. "I… I just don't get it," you say hopelessly.

Your hair is thin between your fingers as you crawl your digits into it. They're tense, just like you are. You've been tight and stressed through the whole investigation process, in fact, because you've rolled through every possible location: a school, a secret hideout, an old building. None of them are occupied by the criminals. None of them have Bae Suzy.

"We're getting there," replies Yunjin softly. She pats your shoulder and looks at your billboard of pictures and clues, too. "We already know Suzy's being held captive. We just don't know where."

She's lying. That's what friends are for: to lie to make you feel better in situations where it's impossible to be. In that case, Yunjin’s an excellent friend because you're getting abso-fucking-lutely nowhere. It's been one failed rescue mission after another, and it doesn't seem like the next one would be successful either.

"That's the problem, Yunjin." Twirling the black ocean of coffee with a teaspoon, you point to a newspaper clipping thumbtacked to the west side of the board. "Last time, they said the kidnapper took her to the USA because she was seen at the airport."

You rise from your swivel chair to tug out a printed screenshot of the CCTV at said place, and raise it for everyone to see. It shows the timestamps and Bae Suzy looking scared as she stares into the crowds.

"But then she went back to Dutchland," Sakura adds. 

“Correct.” Take another grayscale photo where Bae Suzy waits unwillingly at the airport, and tap on the sign at the very front of the line she's in that says the name of the country. "The sources are just as confused as we are."

Yunjin's furrowed brow quirks. She picks up the folder and goes through it. The papers reflect in her black-rimmed glasses. "Why would she be in Dutchland?"

"Because," jab a thumb into the picture of Suzy again, "Dutchland means something to the kidnapper. He wouldn't have gone with Suzy there for nothing. It risks everything."

Dutchland is the main setting of the case, actually. Everything begins and ends there. Everything you know about the kidnapper lies in the note he addressed to the police, issued by Minju earlier.

Wait—

Pull out the kidnapper's letter again. It's impossible to mistake it for anything else even through the mess on the table when it's smoother than the other scratch papers. The identifying marks are your fingerprints from pen ink branded onto the thin piece of parchment.

Open it, rolling it out on the table like a mantle. It's a mantle of clues you run your finger on. Flown to other nations… soar with me… our garden… The One Who Dances…

Your breath catches in your throat. "Chaewon," you say, looking up at her, “you’re a fucking genius.”

-

One Leaf Academy is a rich, well-established school for aspiring ballerinas and professional dancers alike. There can't be any other the abductor was referring to. There's only one particularly famous ballet academy in Dutchland, and since he's mentioned that he was the one who danced, this was it. The "garden" mentioned in the letter helped map it down to one location.

It looks good even from bird's eye view. You can see it properly without the pane of a window standing in the way. When you’re part of the squad, flights aren’t taken on planes. Instead, you use helicopters, government-owned and government-approved. 

It took only two days for Dutchland to issue an agreement to let you through the borders. They love Bae Suzy, too, apparently. They love her so much that the process went by quickly and you weren’t even stressed about it. There’s more things to stress about later on, but there’s no use in lamenting the future when the present is already good as is.

The green helicopter lands in the forest behind the school. It camouflages among the leaves and trees, giving you the freedom to hop out of it as noisily as you’d like. 

Twigs and branches snap under your feet as you do, and you have to catch Sakura to stifle her trip.

She slaps your hands away and brushes down her dress, as if your touch ruined it. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

"You're welcome, Sakura," you say, shrugging.

"Can you two please stop fighting?" Wonyoung asks. Her delicate voice, irresistible even to the hardhearted Sakura, ceases the argument before it could continue.

Pull the ridiculous blazer they made you wear on and look at the team. "Everyone ready? You know your jobs?" you ask. 

"I'm the mother," says Sakura spitefully. She glares down at the gradient dress assigned to her. "I'll pretend to take pictures and talk to you through the phone."

"Who's the baby daddy?"

"For once, I beg, shut the fuck—"

"Guys," Wonyoung repeats with a more pleading voice. 

Sigh. The fight was on you and it's up to you to end it as well. So, turn to: "Wonyoung?"

"I stay behind and watch out for suspicious people," she replies, back to her usual bright but professional self. You hope she doesn't lose the shimmer in her eyes years down the road of being on the investigative team. You'd hate for her to go through what you had to deal with.

"Yunjin?" 

"First round of backup with Chaewon unnie." Yunjin taps the gun hidden in the loop of her jeans. 

"Minju?"

The girl blushes. "Look for Bae Suzy," she says in a small voice. She looks pointedly at you. "And you?"

"Find the abductor." Look down at your shoes and wonder if they'd ever experience a trip that isn't about work. "Put an end to everything."

Everything's been fleshed out already. There are backup plans of backup plans, earpieces hidden on the sides of your head when the need to communicate comes. This is how it usually is with undercover work. 

You ponder, for a moment, and think if it would forever be like this: a game of cat and mouse, always led on but never going through. It just fuels your passion to find Bae Suzy once and for all.

"Remember, this is a recital," Sakura informs all of you. She points to the backdoors of the ballet academy, which suppresses classical music from the inside. "We have to fit in. Don't drop your cover."

She looks at you and narrows her eyes. “Even if somebody tempts you.”

-

"Operation One Leaf, launched immediately."

You enter the recital with the subtle earpiece strapped to your lobe and your steps light. You carry your posture well, and with the suit, draw looks from the other parents and from children, too. They're wondering if you're the owner of the place, or maybe you're a well-dressed teacher? A wealthy father? They'll never know because you won't dare tell them. 

Regard them with a cold yet polite nod and walk through the sides of the chairs. There's not much of the audience left, but you still have to play your part. 

You lock eyes with Minju, who steps into the recital wearing preppy yet casual wear. Mouth her good luck. She smiles, but proceeds into the backrooms without another word. Right. She plays a part in the mission, too. You shouldn't disturb her.

"You're here, agent," she says anyway, tapping onto her own earpiece. Her voice rings in your ear. "Break a leg."

Sakura gets in a little while later. As per her job, she pulls out the communication device disguised as a phone and lifts it to the air, "recording" the dancer on the stage. 

Blend in with the crowd as you will. You're a little embarrassed by the attention you draw with your suit since the whole thing is supposed to be undercover, but there's no going back now. You have to act the part.

So: stride confidently into the room, never looking down. Take the first seat you see at the very front and look at the performance.

That's kind of how it all started: a look. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, but yes, one single look keeps you hypnotized, not just because of the dance, but the girl who performs it.

She might as well be a swan in disguise. She's got this resilient, princess-like look on her face that's more alluring than it should be. Even her hair serves her royalty; it elegantly floats around her neck and shoulders as she prances and twists.

The uniform, a long-sleeved blouse finished off with a flattering tie and a flowing skirt, doesn't hide her gracefulness. She moves in it as if she were the swan lake herself. Her movements are as fluid as can be. Each rush and lift of her leg guarantees an upskirted moment in which you're allowed to bask in the beauty of her legs and the fullness of her butt, and you know you shouldn't look. You're better than that; you shouldn't let a young, pretty girl stall your job, but there you are, front seat at a recital for professional senior high ballerinas, hypnotized by a ballerina's dance.

You have to snap out of it. You have better and more important things to do than mentally undress a pretty dancer, yet your eyes are glued on her. It's like your vision was programmed to catch every twirl and glide she makes across the platform, to relish the poke of her chest through the blouse that's a little too small, to yearn for her.

The music is just a dreamful background to her. You're dazed. Hypnotized. Locked into a passive position because of her. 

You want this ballerina. You can't do anything but look and want and long.

It's almost heartbreaking when her performance ends. She bows deeply, and you swear she's fired you a wink right before she rises up again. 

You have to get to know her. You want to ask her out, maybe even escalate things further on the first date if she’s willing. But you have a mission to do. The squad and saving Bae Suzy come first.

Regretfully, you stand from the monobloc chair and turn your heel. But then there she is, dressed in perfection and uniform, and looking prettier up close when she shouldn't be that close but she is close and you swear one more centimeter closer and you'd be closed up to her lips.

"Hi," she says, casually. 

That deep voice, fuck.

Wait, when did she get here? 

"I, uh, hi? Wait, how did you… why are you—"

"Please." She rolls her eyes, sets a hand on her tiny pinch of a waist. "Did you think you weren't obvious staring me down?"

"Well, uh—"

(What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you stuttering and stammering and stumbling over your words like you aren't more mature and older than her? How could she say that to you and disregard that fact? 

You couldn't be assed to know, but she's intimidating you in a whole different way: making you feel like the platform she dances on by acting sweet but not too sweet, flirty but not over the top. That's what you know, but here's the problem: you have little idea what to do.)

"Calm down," she says. She's a tall girl, but smaller enough to smooth down your blazer and close it softly around your chest. Her eyes are enticing. "I'm just playing with you." 

Swallow. Try to collect your composure back into a neat pile, but it overflows and ceases. "Excuse me," you say, voice shaking, "do I know you?" 

She pushes out her pink bottom lip, bites it, then shakes her head. "It's Kazuha, if that rings a bell."

"If I didn't know your name, Kazuha," you say, "I'd say I recognize you from somewhere."

"You do?"

"Yeah." The more you talk, the more she looks like Bae Suzy. "You, y-you kind of look like someone I'm looking for."

Kazuha guides you with a hand around your wrist and walks you to the backroom. You have no sense of direction when your eyes are sealed onto her gorgeous face, perfect with their brown eyes and sculpted nose. It's a tour guide to danger, and you don't even know that you're hiking.

"Is she your wife?" She rubs the back of your hand with a thumb, looking at you with such authentic concern that you almost fall for it. Almost. "Girlfriend?"

"No." Breathe through your nose. "Just someone I have to look for."

Slam. The door shuts, and now you're effectively pinned upon its wood like a poster. Amazing how a woman smaller than you could do you like that: have you weak at your knees as she keeps you on the flat of the door, stares you down with no hatred in her eyes, but sultriness. You don't know how you pick up all those clues when she's not speaking, but Kazuha, as you come to find out, isn't like any other girl. She's known her whole life to speak through her body, and the message from her hands pushing you into a flattened position and her leg propped next to your hip is clear.

You’re not sure if you want to open her note and read it.

"Tell me," Kazuha says, chastely, although her actions are anything but, "am I as hot as her?"

Your eyes widen. It's utterly unprofessional; you as an agent shouldn't even begin to engage in a conversation about how the victim's sexually attractive when she might be in the most vulnerable place right now.

Stutter again. Broken words become a new language you're fluent in, and might as well be a native speaker of with how much Kazuha learned you into it. You have her slim, hot body pressed up against yours to thank, and the look in her eyes. The tilt of her pretty little head. Her subtle, knowing smirk.

"I can't talk about that with you," you say, because it's true—you can't. You have a mission to do and your morals to keep.

"Sure you can," Kazuha counters. Her eyes glimmer. "I'm the top student in One Leaf. They basically made me a star when they knew that my name meant 'one leaf,' too. Isn't that funny?"

"What's your point here?"

"The point is," she says, leveling your gaze, "if I fuck you right here in this room, they wouldn't give a damn."

She has a hold of your hands, imprisoning them and trapping them on the slopes of her sizable chest. Your breath hooks on nothing and is released incompletely. Kazuha's breasts are so soft, not the biggest but fill your hands up so well that you'd take them over any other pair. 

Have to resist the voice inside you telling you to squeeze. "What are you doing?" you ask. 

"Tell me, what do men like you want?" 

Kazuha curls your hand into her flesh so that she's making you squeeze—

"Tits—" 

—then leads it below her pleated skirt, lets it cup the globes and touch places that should otherwise be left untouched—

"—or ass?"

Both are tastes of heaven. The two choices are soft yet alluring. But you really shouldn't, though you want to rip that skirt clean off her legs and spank her till her cheeks are red. She deserves that for tempting you, for being such a bad girl when she's otherwise excellent at being a ballerina.

"I can't talk to you about that," you have to repeat. But it sounds more like you're convincing yourself rather than her. 

Oh, and she's far from being budged. 

Kazuha pulls you by the tie and drags you to the nearest monobloc chair. There are plenty of other seats just like that here in the utility room, but she chooses to throw a beautiful, toned leg over each side of your hips and sit on your lap instead. Her ass snuggles your crotch and her legs keep you trapped onto the chair.

"What about now?" she asks. 

Then her hips start to sway—it's another coax for you to drag out of your shell and do what you shouldn't. It's another dance besides ballet that she knows well, and you can tell from how her thighs flex and bounce underneath your touch, she's very good at it. 

"K-Kazuha… fuck—"

"Come on." She's straight up dry humping you, dragging her perfect pussy up and down your growing erection. Her eyes and mouth both pose a challenge: "Tell me I should stop. Tell me you want to do anything that isn't to fuck me."

Kazuha rubs herself on you. She uses your clothed cock as a personal toy for a few delicious seconds, then rises from your lap to unbutton her blouse. One by one, they undo themselves and the pale skin of her chest is revealed. There's her small cleavage. A collarbone carved from perfection. Her beautiful chest. Too much is what it is, yet your perverted self can't stop gawking.

You remember Sakura's words earlier. She told you not to drop your cover, not to get tempted. You dislike Sakura, yet it's her warning that ignites your hesitation. She suspected that you'd fall like this. She was only trying to hold you back.

"Well? What's gonna happen then?" Kazuha crosses her arms. They frame the underside of her tits, a perfect picture. "Do you want to go out there and find some stupid girl or fuck the one on your lap? What's it gonna be, daddy?"

You're not a daddy kink type of person. In fact, you don't really have that much of a sex drive. Intercourse and the like are things you have no time for when your job is like this, much less a discovery of a daddy kink.

So why is your dick so much harder now that she's said it?

Why are your hands on her hips?

Why are you carrying Kazuha's lithe form and placing her right on a desk?

Why are you kissing her?

When your lips and hers meet, an apocalypse is birthed. An apocalypse of sex, hunger, and desire breaks out. Your eyes are closed, yet your hands and Kazuha's own know exactly where to touch and hold. She unbuckles your belt and pulls down your pants. You slide your greedy fingers over Kazuha's perfect buttcheeks. Tug off the ridiculous shorts that saved her performance from being pornographic. Rip off the panties that are sticky with need.

"Oh, ohhh, you like that?" Kazuha moans while you kiss her neck and chest. Don't bother to rip off the uniform when it looks incredibly sexy on her fit body. "You like me calling you that, daddy?"

"Quiet. We're making this quick."

"So you do want to fuck me."

Thighs touch your lips when you make your way down. Or is it the other way around? Whatever, the point is that Kazuha's thighs are a delicacy. They're full yet sculpted and would look great looped around your head. Luckily, you find that the sopped core between them is more delicious.

Lick a line from the bottom of her slit right up to her bundle of nerves. "Who says I want to fuck you?"

"D-daddy!" Kazuha gasps, covering her mouth. 

"You're quick to call me that." You kiss the insides of thighs then start trailing your tongue around her clit. On top of it. Under it. Each side is subject to immense pleasure. "Where's the shame, little dancer?" 

"Right on with the nicknames." 

You splay Kazuha's pink lips and stick your tongue in between them. Her hips buckle forward. Her eyes are all wide and eager and needy, and it takes a few more thrusts of your tongue to have them shut. 

However, it doesn't take a lot for Kazuha to moan. Her voice is tinged with deep tones, and they pronounce out prolonged cries as you toy her cunt with your tongue. Her thighs threaten to crush your head, but, if anything, you'd welcome it. You're happy to be trapped in between her luscious legs and keep the feminine scent of her pussy right up close. Her juices could be your water, the food would be her core itself—you're already eating it like a meal anyway.

"Of course. If you want to play games, I'll give in." Toy with her clit, then proceed to give it harsh sucks and slurps that her lower body spasms. "I'm just playing along."

Kazuha bites on a bated breath and beats the table with a bent hand. "What if I'm not playing around, daddy?" 

"Hm?"

"What if, fuck, I'm not playing around?" She pushes you deeper between her legs and wraps them around your head. She toys with the sides of your ears. "Maybe I like fucking people who obviously shouldn't be doing it. Maybe I like calling a hot man daddy. It just feels so good for me. Did you ever think about that?"

And maybe you like fucking a girl who's a hindrance to your mission. Maybe you like eating out her wet cunt, driving your tongue deeper into the soaked fuckhole, and doing everything you wanted to do to her when she was onstage. 

But all of that is just one maybe after another. As far as you're concerned, you don't actually like doing it, yet when Kazuha whines and squirms like that, your mind is quickly changed.

Self-discovery, you guess.

"So do it," you challenge her. Look up at her while you quickly rub her clit. "Call me daddy."

"Daddy, hngnnn, fuck, daddy!" 

Kazuha's pussy creates the most obscene wet sounds. Your index finger doesn't rest; it fires away at her clit, her most sensitive spot, and urges it to become more swollen. More sensitive. More desperate.

Push her other leg up for more access. As you expected, it effortlessly rises. Who knew that her years of dancing as a professional ballerina would translate well when eating her pussy? You love how her thigh quivers and tries to stay upward while you eat her out. That's one thing ballet didn't teach her: to stay stabilized when there's a tongue and finger assaulting her center.

"Are you usually this wet, Kazuha? After you dance out there with your legs and thighs out for everyone to see?" 

"No, no, I'm not wet! You're, hnnn, daddy," her eyes lose focus and she rolls her head back, mouth gaped, "oh, fuck, daddy, I'm gonna cum!"

Start to jack yourself off to the unholy, R-18 scene of Kazuha approaching orgasm. Is it a known thing that ballerinas are the most beautiful when they cum? If not, it should be, for Kazuha's blissful face—eyes shut, mouth wide with moans—and her shaking legs enchant you. They draw you into her and have you rubbing and tapping at her core to coax out more euphoric reactions from her. 

Slip your fingers inside her. Be greeted with a fountain of liquid and scent. Appreciate how tight she is when it's only your fingers in her.

"God, daddy, not there!" Kazuha screams. Have to dodge a few times for her kicking and flailing legs to miss your face. "I'm so sensitive there, oh no, you can't—oh, fuck—daddy!"

Her deep voice thrills your erection, and you could have cum on the spot with her if you were more focused on rubbing her orgasm out. A bit of squirt stains your fingers, but you end up getting more stains of girl cum on yourself as you go on fingering and rubbing. 

Kazuha rubs her own nipples as she settles down from her high. "That, that was—daddy—"

You hush her. There's no time to talk. You unravel Kazuha's tie and wrap the little gray thing around her wrists. You knot them tightly after you wring her arms behind her back. She watches on with confusion, wondering why you're suddenly being so horny. 

If she asked, you'd explain that it's because of her. Who else could be the culprit when she's there with her incredible thighs and perfect, fuckable body? When she's the feistiest little thing who just turns out to crumble if the right guy crosses her? Everything about Kazuha seems to be designed and fabricated to tempt you, and look at you giving in.

"You're tying me up, daddy?" she asks, tone varying between disappointment and excitement.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

She's so cute, really—she closes up to you with the biggest eyes of hurt and want, with her slim lips curved downwards into a pout. "You have to fuck me," she says, like it's a promise you made that she's been waiting on to be granted for a while. "It's not fair. You can't even fuck well, daddy, and you're tying me up? You must be joking."

Scoff. "I wasn't so bad at fucking when I ate your pussy."

"I was just moaning to make you happy." Kazuha leans forward, presenting her exposed cleavage and face that looks otherwise innocent besides the smirk. "I love making big handsome daddies like you happy."

Her words and cutesy tone send chills down your spine. She's so attractive that it's becoming scary, even when she's bound by the hands. 

"Don't you feel bad, daddy?" she asks with a timely lull of her head to the side. "You're giving your whole career away to fuck me. You're supposed to be doing something else, aren't you? Something other than fucking me? So why are you here?"

Her words hit too close to home. "You don't know anything about me, Kazuha." 

"Sure I do."

"Turn around."

"Make me. Holy shit, daddy, you have such a big cock, but you're so pathetic. You didn't expect to fuck a girl tonight, did you? But you saw me and thought about it. And now that I've figured you out, you got mad. Why's it the fault of a good little girl like me that you're doing the wrong thing? Maybe it's because you know you're such a bad person, a bad guy—"

You grab her and push her stomach down on the table. Your rod slips inside the ballerina, and she breaks.

And it's everything you've ever wanted: she's hot and tight and wet around you. Her bouncy ass lives up to its description as you pump at a rapid fire pace inside her. Her pussy's so tight that it feels like it's pinching you to keep you inside, and you do exactly that. You'd never want to be anywhere else.

But you still make sure to pull out to let your length breathe, then submerge them into the tightness of her vagina again. Her lips cling to your dick. They don't want you to be anywhere else either. 

“Say you’re sorry.”

"S-sorry, daddy!" she's quick to say. A broken mirror lies across the table, and from there you can see the expressions of winces and moans on her beautiful face.

"Fucking mean it." 

"Kazu… ha, Kazuha… Kazuha's sorry, daddy!"

There's a certain power you impel on this thrust specifically, and it sends her legs buckling. Place a hand on her bound wrists to keep her in place just like she did when she had you trapped to the door.

Frankly, you did it for the chance to slap her cheeks. Spank one and it jiggles beautifully. Spank the other and her hole tightens. Make it a point of yours to spank there particularly, all while keeping the unyielding quality of her hole. It's how you keep the brat that is Kazuha on a leash.

"Daddy, daddy, fuck!" she screams. "You're so, so good, please keep fucking me!"

"Contradicting yourself." Pull out, much to her disappointment, and slide your cock up and down in the plateau of her asscheeks. The flesh of her ass hugs you. 

"Why'd you pull out, daddy?" Kazuha asks. She looks back at you and pleads with the shimmer in her eyes.

"I wanted to see if this ass is as soft as it looks."

For a few blissful moments you fuck Kazuha's ass cheeks, but never really entering her puckered pink hole. It causes her to whine and pout. It's impossible to not give in to such a pretty face, so you continue for a few seconds, letting the pleasure entice your cock to a full solidness, then pause.

"Are you a good girl, Kazuha?" Rub her pussy then bring your slick digits to her mouth. 

Kazuha licks them clean and nods repeatedly. If you weren't so focused on riling her up, you'd go back to the moment your squad nodded their heads as you went over the mission plan. "Yesss, daddy."

"So much you'd let me fuck this perfect pussy till I'm spent?"

"Yes!"

Twist Kazuha around and prop her on the desk. Then, you tear her blouse. Buttons soar in the air to make way for her full, ab-ridden midriff to be exposed. Her tiny slutty waist has your mouth agape. Her small breasts peek through her black lace bra.

"And let me cum all over this midriff?" you ask, staking the deal higher.

"Oh, what's that?" Kazuha smirks. "Is little old daddy scared to breed me?"

Her character when she's not being fucked confuses you just as much as it arouses you. She looks way better when she's being a submissive little dancer, though.

"Bad girls don't get to be bred."

Push inside her. Yes, you're doing this again. Kazuha's abs flex, and the breaths she takes and releases become more strained. 

As you pound her, she looks at you with this face that's lost any elegance from dancing. It's looking like she's slightly sleepy with pleasure, like she wanted to lay there while she let you have your way with her. And you'd be glad to—her ripped uniform and pretty legs would spur you on in no time.

You grab her ass and start dragging her to yourself, too, to fill her deeper. It works; your tip makes it to her womb and right then and there you're tempted to be hypocritical and breed her anyway. You'd love to imagine how her face basked in pleasure would look when you fill her with your load. You'd love to see her pull the weight of being bred well and dance out there with no care that your semen's rolling down her soft legs. 

But she doesn't deserve it.

"Pleaaaase, I'll be so good!" she says. Her hands end up on your shoulders and she's kissing you everywhere. "I'll be a good girl, daddy, just fffucking fill me up. I'll never… I'll be…. oh!"

You're going too fast. Your sudden burst of energy leaves her on the edge. On the wall, to be more precise, because you're ruining and rearranging her insides so well that she's knocked onto the walls again and again. 

"Daddy…" 

Kazuha winces. Moans. C-cries? She doesn't know what to do. Her legs feel hot and she feels like she's going to burst anytime soon. Your cock's impaling her in all the right ways, grazing her cervix and G-spot but also parting her walls just so that the pain transforms into pleasure. "Gonna cum now, daddy, please let me—oh, please—"

The last word comes out wrung in between pitches. Kazuha shudders and squeals. The pleasure's overwhelming her so much that she's let go of her strength. Her legs feel too weak. Her throat, although you haven't fucked it, is sore. Then you're painting her abs, white fluid against and above and over white skin, and she immediately fingers some of your release and pushes a digit inside herself. She's a resourceful girl besides being an excellent ballerina. Good to know.

"You really didn't breed me, daddy?" she asks sadly.

You regret not doing so seeing the hopeless look on her face. "Sorry, but I've got to—"

Your eyes size up to planets.

—"go."

It's only at the finish of your sentence that you realize that you're right. You do have to go. Why are you here when you have a mission to find the abductor? 

"Shit, shit, shit!" Pull your pants up and fix your blazer. It's cool inside the utility room, but your blood's run cold. "I have to go, Kazuha. I—"

Kazuha rolls her eyes. "Fix your earpiece first, daddy. You're a mess."

You blindly follow her words before you even suspect why she knew about the earpiece, or why it's off. After you tap on it, you hear the following, haunting words:

"Mission aborted. Mission aborted. We've been betrayed."

"No, no, no." You shake your head over and over. You can’t believe that was happening and you missed out on assisting your teammates out. Speak through the piece in a shaken voice, "What's going on? Yunjin? Yunjin, what's going on?"

"What the fuck?" she says, obviously infuriated. "I've been trying to reach you, agent! Where the hell are you?"

Look around. "Uh… I met a girl. We're in the back."

"Fuck. What's her name?"

"Kazuha."

Yunjin's voice reaches an alarm you've never heard from her. "Get the fuck out of there, agent! Get away from her, kill her, I don't give a fuck, just run!"

"B-but why?" 

"The kidnapper's not a 'him,' she's a 'she'! It's a trap!"

As Yunjin's voice echoes from your earpiece in the small room, Kazuha's creepy smile grows. 

"Yunjin," flash a look at the ballerina, who’s still smiling, then at the ceiling, "I don't understand."

"Get your fucking head in the game. 'The One Who Dances', agent. 'One Leaf'! The answer was right in our face, it's her!" Yunjin's practically shouting now. It deafens you, but you hear every word loud and clear. "She impersonated Bae Suzy at the airport, agent. The ‘cat’ in the letter wasn’t about Suzy, it’s about Sakura! She betrayed us!”

You look at Kazuha, and suddenly her smile isn’t as alluring as it was when you were fucking her. It speaks of an impending doom. It tells you that you should really run, but there wouldn’t be much change if you did because she’d still catch you. You’d still end up dead.

Suddenly, all the pieces to the story that played behind the scenes fall into place. They connect too well for it to be false. You never questioned once why Sakura led you in each of the operations, and now it’s clear why she did: she was holding you back from saving Suzy. There was a reason why she was team leader. How did you not catch it?

And Kazuha… she didn’t come up to you just because she wanted to, did she? She had a partner and a purpose. You were searching for the culprit ever since you stepped foot into the academy. It didn’t hit you once that you might be fucking her. 

Kazuha takes a few steps towards you and lays her forehead into your chest. “You’re not mad, are you, daddy?”

How did her tie suddenly disappear from her wrists?

[eleganzadellarosa]

BOUNCE BACK

pairing: dominic fike x oc

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 2.2K

AN: I wrote this on a whim for my best friend a few months ago to kick start my want to write. Dom is her bae fr so I obviously had to include him lol. Enjoy and thanks for reading <3

The beach was practically empty, a person scattered about here and there but nothing compared to how packed it usually is. That’s all thanks to how late it was becoming, the setting sun being a telltale sign. You didn’t mind the scarcity though, you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. Maybe the beach wasn’t the best or secluded place to be but you needed some fresh air and wanted to be somewhere where you normally felt happy. The sloshing sound of the waves temporarily took your mind off of today’s earlier events.

You found texts in your boyfriend of 5 years’ phone talking to some girl who carried no importance to you which was a good thing in its own way. The texts ranged from normal conversation to “I can’t wait to be inside you tonight”. You’d been together since the start of high school and you truly believed the relationship would last a lifetime. The feelings were apparently not mutual and after scrolling through the thousands of texts, this charade had been going on for years now. The girl in question was his ex who he dated right before getting with you and their relationship was comparable to a light switch, very off and on. Coming to the realization that he used you as a way to get his mind off of her until they were ready to kiss and makeup.

Nothing could have prepared you for today, but you were never one to turn down your gut feelings and they were right 99% of the time. You felt so stupid for trusting him and loving him the way you did but you constantly reminded yourself that none of this way your fault. The orange hue of the setting sun beamed on you, warming your skin and making the tears on your cheeks glisten. You were a mess. This was the third or fourth time you’ve cried within the past hour and your body seemed to have no intentions of stopping anytime soon. When you felt the vibration from the phone in your hand, you so badly wanted to chuck it into the water without checking it first, hoping the waves would take care of the rest.

Wiping your tears on the back of your hands, your sobbing finally came to a halt and you prayed for a bigger gap in between your next crying session. You lean back on your hands and scrunch the sand under your palms, closing your eyes to soak up the sun before it fully set within the next 30 minutes. The water seemed to move rapidly as the waves began to reach the shore and splash against your toes more frequently.

“Hey um, you might want to move a little farther back, the water is getting kinda high.” An extra shadow cast next to you along with the unfamiliar voice that came from behind you. Unfortunately for you, your puffy face and red eyes showed signs that you had been crying your heart out for the past hour no matter how many times your hands tried to rid your face of the evidence. Perhaps you had been staring at the sun for too long but it took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust and focus on the person now standing beside you.

“I- oh shit sorry, are you okay?” the handsome man asks, crouching down to be at eye level. Speaking of eyes, anyone with a pair could tell that this man was absolutely gorgeous. He had the perfect “boy next door” look to him. The look that made you want to be around him all the time, the look that would have every girl in school chasing after him but not because he was a fuckboy.

Everything about him was downright perfect, well at least to your standards. His hair, his face, his body, literally everything and thinking back to the two seconds you heard him speak, that was perfect too. Maybe all the crying made you let your guard down, but his presence felt so welcoming and you fought the weird urge to go up and hug him. You didn’t realize you hadn’t answered his question until he speaks again. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but I’d prefer if you did, maybe I can make you feel better.” He then sits down next to you and rests his arms on his knees, which created a space for his head to lay as he looked at you. “Umm…earlier today I found out my boyfriend of 5 years has been cheating on me with his ex. I don’t know if I can even call him my boyfriend because apparently I was just a rebound whenever he needed it and I never caught on.” The end of your sentence gets slightly caught in your throat and you can feel your eyes burning, forcing tears to swell yet again.

“Man…I’m so sorry, that’s so fucked up. Would you feel better if you talked about it? I have time on my hands so I really don’t mind. Shit, you could tell me over and over if that would help.” It wouldn’t hurt to rant right now and him being one of the finest people you’ve ever met was just an added bonus.

The conversations quickly turned from your dumbass ex to getting to know each other. Everything seemed to flow naturally with him, he was such a joy to talk to and you wanted nothing more than for this night to never end. Sadly the sun had already set and it was quite dark out, the moon being the only source of light for you both. The two of you sat in silence for a while longer before you finally decided to check your phone. 9:15 it read. The singular notification being from “person who shall not be named” and you could only imagine what it said, but you wouldn't bother checking now, not if you wanted your mood to be soiled. He was the last thing on your mind and with the way this new guy had two hours feeling like 30 minutes, it was more than you could ask for.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry I kept you here for this long. Thank you for listening to me though, I really needed it, I feel so much better.” He smiled when you finished speaking and shook his head as if to say “don’t worry about it”. “You know, if you’re comfortable with it, I can give you my number and you can text me whenever you need someone to listen. I know the feeling, so I really don’t mind and you’re a really great person to talk to”. Just hearing the offer makes your heart beat with excitement. Smiling maybe a little too hard, you hand him your phone so he can save himself as a contact.

“Wait, I never asked you your name. Dang, I’m sorry I was so focused on myself…” thinking about the selfish act had you almost in tears for the umpteenth time tonight until he rubs a comforting hand over your arm. “You really don’t have to worry about that love, I was here to listen. My name is Dominic but really just call me Dom.” The nickname gave you butterflies, more than his existence already did, if that was even possible. Whenever he smiled your eyes landed on the apple tattoo under his right eye. The longer you looked at him, the more things you noticed but nothing came across as a turn off. He stands up after handing back your phone and dusts the sand off his shorts. He reaches out for you to grab his hand to stand from where you sat.

“And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” Once standing, you mimicked his action of dusting off the sand from your clothing before you answer. “Jenna but really just call me Jenna”. Your response made him chuckle since you copied exactly what he had said to you moments earlier. You notice he still hadn’t let go of your hand and when you look up from where they intertwine, he speaks before you can. “Well Ms. Jenna, allow me to escort you back to your vehicle”. The night was ending all too quickly and your heart already aches with longing. “I kinda don’t wanna go back home yet Mr. Dom.” A small smirk paints his face, so small that you would have missed it if you didn’t look at him in time. “Um well, you can come chill with me if you want. I don’t really have anything to do at my house, but I do have food.” “Food is just fine and I don’t care if you don’t have anything to do, chilling is more than enough. Thank you for the invite.”

More hours are spent with you two learning more about one another and eating whatever random food or snacks he had in his house. You decided after chatting for a while that his laugh was in the top 10 things you liked most about him, it sounded so cheerful and he looked so cute whenever he did it. This was the most fun you’ve had in a long time, even more than you can ever recall having with your ex. “Hey do you want to hear something?” He says almost popping up from his seat on the couch. “What do you mean?” You ask clearly confused by his question. “I uh…like making music and I have something I’ve been working on. Do you wanna hear it?” You can tell he gets a bit shy with the way his ears turn a light shade of pink and he scratches the back of his head. Gosh could this man be anymore interesting? He lead you to a room near the back of his house and the door opened to a large space filled with instruments of all kinds. It looked like every studio you’ve seen in movies or TV.

“You can sit wherever you’d like, lemme just grab my guitar”. You find a place on the small couch nestled in the corner, sitting sideways to get a better look at what he was doing. He sits across from you on the couch holding the large brown guitar. He suddenly looked so serious, the guitar pick loosely hanging from between his lips, brows furrowing as he makes sure the guitar is tuned perfectly. Such a simple action, but you couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked while doing it. “This song is called 3 nights, lemme know what you think okay?” His voice mixed with the melody of the song possessed your body, making it move along to the beat. By the time he finished, the lyrics to the chorus were already stuck in your head on loop.

“No freaking way, that was amazing! You have to let other people hear this!” Your comment made him smile from ear to ear and a blush accented his cheeks. “Yeah? It’s still just a rough draft, but if you like it that much then I’m doing something right.” He sets his guitar down next to the couch and leans his head back against the arm. "You know, this is the first time in a long time where I didn't feel like I needed to smoke to get me through the day and I really appreciate that." He lifts his head and finds you staring at him with a sympathetic look on your face. "Obviously I wouldn't since we just met, but I didn't know you felt that way sometimes. I'm glad I could help you as much as you helped me today." He fully sits up on the couch and leaned over to you, his lips lightly brushing your forehead. The action made your body stiffen and he pulled away when he felt it. "Shit..sorry, I just felt like doing that. Sorry, I know that was so weird." You reached over to cup his cheek in your left hand and moved over to kiss him on the soft skin.

"It wasn't weird and I've been wanting to hug you all day. I could really use one of those right now." He wasted no time in pulling you into a tight but gentle hug and tears began to fall from your eyes. He lightly caresses your back and shushes you, trying to bring you some sort of ease to your pained heart. He plants another soft kiss on your forehead and you look up at him through teary eyes. "If I asked to stay longer, would you let me?" "Hell yeah, I'd let you stay the night if you were okay with that. You can sleep in my room and I can sleep on the couch in the living room." You nod your head and he rubs his thumb on your shoulder.

The night was over but the feeling of sadness never came to you as you expected. In contrast to yesterday, this day would start off a lot better and thankfully you had someone around that actually had the ability to take your mind off everything. Little did you know, this would count as the day you met the person who would later become someone you weren't ashamed to call your boyfriend.

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Okay, so I just read Salvatore and like, I've had this thought in my head for a while now. Kinda hoping for smut? I was thinking of a fan fiction of Leon's birthday. He comes home from the office, most of the lights in the house/apartment are out. There's candles and a birthday cake for him. And since his last name is Kennedy, like JFK, The reader is naked but does what Marilyn Monroe did for JFK'S birthday and sing him happy birthday!

Okay so this request was really fun to write! You just gave me the most plausible excuse to write some more porn, which honestly it's my favorite thing to do. Thank you for the trust and for this amazing idea and request; and I hope you enjoy it ♥

Happy b-day, Agent Kennedy |3.4k

ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x f! reader ✦ Summary: Its Leon's birthday. He thought you went out for a business trip, when actually, you have a little surprise for him at home. ✦ TW: NSFW MINORS DNI, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, smut, very much porn, soft dom leon, p in v, unprotected, lots of dirty talk, very pornographic, bit of fluff in the end

Leon was staring at his computer screen with little to no concentration at this point. He had spent the entire day trying to form connections between two clues he received on someone that the government had been sure was working for Umbrella. He sighed in frustration and let his body fall behind in the big chair; squeezed his eyes, he was tired.

So tired, the clock hit 8pm and he was still far from home. So tired he apparently forgot a very essential fact: his very own birthday. 

Realization fell over him when he unblocked his phone screen and checked the last text you’ve sent that day - a big red heart, after a cute “Happy birthday, bae! I’m sorry for not being there with u. Will compensate. x”. He closed his eyes, mindly damning himself for his workaholic behavior, how could he forget about his own birthday? “Must have lost my fucking mind, it’s drinking day.” He muttered to himself, before getting up and starting to pack up.

As much as he wanted you there with him, he was comprehensive to the fact that it wasn’t your choice not to be: you received an emergency call from work that same day earlier, and needed to pick up the first available plane to Seattle. Leon felt like a needy dog: always near you, always with his hands all over you – always checking you out. He didn’t want to look even more desperate about you and grumble about something out of your control, he understood better than anyone that work came first and foremost in situations like that.

He couldn’t help but feel frustrated to know that you wouldn’t be waiting for him when he got home; a box of beer for each, classic rock playing and you – dancing with you. Eating you. His expectations were put down, he would get drunk alone, listen to his songs alone, and probably find some relief in those polaroids of yours he affectionately kept to himself.

He gathered the documents and papers on the case and put it together in his backpack, turned off the lights and went out; let a deep sigh while going to the elevator towards the parking lot to pick up his car and go home.

━ ⟡ ━

Leon held two boxes of beer along with a bag with a few snacks and a tiny cupcake. He gave a little wave to a neighbor with a small, gentle smile on his face as he fit the key into the door lock and spinned it; to his surprise, the door was already open. His eyebrows instinctively frowned, he felt a cold feeling rising through his spine, he got worried. When working with what he worked with, caution became part of your daily routine; he held the bag in one hand and opened the door slowly, his adrenaline running through his veins, he was ready for anything.

There was a tiny source of light lighting up the spacious and cozy apartment living room; the light trembled through the shadows on the walls; candles. They were everywhere, some white, others red. An intoxicating, delicious smell floated through the air – your smell. Your perfume seemed to be deep-rooted everywhere. There was a small homemade cake on the center table, twenty-nine little candles lit up on top of it. 

The agent's alert state disappeared almost instantly, immediate relief swelling his lungs and releasing the most delightful breath of his life, and he couldn't contain the little mischievous smile that formed in the corner of his lips. He took a few steps forward to reach one of the chairs and leave the bags he carried on it, and intended to find you right after. 

Before he could even do anything, at the moment his figure gave a generous space between himself and the door, it shut itself behind him; Leon felt a shiver crawling through his spine, his stomach contracted slightly feeling your soft, naughty hands caressing his belly, raising his shirt up just above his navel, just enough so you could touch his skin under it with ease.

Your arms wrapped him, and your body clung to his back. His mind became white, slave to the sensations that you caused him; he could know by the perfect shape of your breasts against his back, and your spiked and delicious nipples, that you were naked. He felt a scratch coming down through his belly, the heat beginning to appear and burning his skin after every touch; your sharp nails scratched the skin of his chest slowly, those hypnotic movements of yours made him feel the blood flowing through his veins increasingly stronger, warmer, needier.

“Happy birthday to you…” You started to sing, your soft low voice tickled against his ear. You had to stand on the tip of your feet to reach him; one of your hands rose through his chest to his neck, causing him to drop his head back. You left a slow kiss followed by a roaring laugh down against his ear. “Happy birthday, Agent Kennedy... Happy birthday, to you,” you finished, the intonation of your voice seemed to move with every screw inside his head. 

“Full of surprises aren’t you, babe?” He asked in a rough, low voice, seeming like he could hardly control the excitement that at that point was already apparent in his voice. 

Leon closed his eyes with a smile on his face, he licked his lips slowly, already able to feel the resistance of his pants straining against his hardened cock starting to bother him. 

“Only for you. A special birthday deserves a special gift, hm?”

You smiled against his skin as you traced gentle, slow kisses against his jaw, his neck, left a bite there. Your hand squeezed slightly around his neck, your nails briefly crawling onto the skin with some traces of a recently shaved beard. Leon let out a low purr, the desire and tension almost unbearable to him at that point; his hand abruptly grabbed onto your wrist, and held firmly as he turned around himself.

In a matter of seconds, you felt him pulling you closer, his other hand grabbed your waist with desire as he attacked you with a ferocious kiss. You repaid in the same intensity, your arm wrapped around his neck, your hand grabbing the outstanding blonde threads that got messy with the intensity of the movement in your embrace, your body burned - his hand digging your hip, your ass - he tightened his grip heavily, as if he stated - your body was his.

“Want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” He muttered against your skin as he intensified his wet, messy kisses against your jaw and neck. His arm contracted in pure force when he raised you with one hand, causing you to wrap your legs around him in an intimate hug; you sighed in pleasure. That side of his belonged to you, and only you. No one else could provoke him that way, make him that horny and needy with only a touch, only a plead. That one Leon you had taking you, ravishing you right now was the death of you; when he held you tight, squeezed you with so much will, marked your skin with his bare hands.

“I like when you get wild, babe don’t blame me...” you hummed, trying to contain your heavy breath and the panting noises that came out of your mouth. “It’s your fault, I’m such a whore for you.” you smiled mischievous, biting your lip.

One of his hands still held you against him, the other moved to your neck as he moved into the combined kitchen next to the living room room; as his hands climbed over your body around the curve of your hips, he pressed you hard against the kitchen bench. Your back hit the cold surface and his body projected against yours, his weight immobilized you and you couldn’t hold back a soft moan when you started feeling the bulge on his pants pressing against the core between your legs.

“How am I supposed to not think about you all of the time when you’re like this…” he muttered, pressing his restrained cock against you once again. “Grab it.” he ordered, and you did it. Your hand squeezed into his rock hard cock through the thick fabric of his pants, starting to do slow and soft movements; he bite his lip and let out a growl in yearning.

Leon lowered himself, his mouth skillfully descended through your neck leaving a wet trace through your skin, his hand tightened around one of your breasts as if it were his favorite toy; you purred when he increased his grip strength, and breathe out deeply when he let go, the man’s lip suckling one of your nipples, his tongue slowly rolling into your most sensitive skin.

“No, you look at me.” He commanded, and one of his hands abruptly held your face by your jaw and forced you to lock your eyes onto his. He glared at you, lust overflowing from his look. Leon seeked to see your reactions, mindly recording them in his thoughts; to eat you alive, ravish you. One of his hands stimulated your nipple, the other squeezed raw your breast giving his mouth enough space to consume it. “Good...” he praised, as his kisses descended through your stomach, belly, fuck.

“L-Leon... Ah, fuck...” you purred, your body melting in pleasure against his mouth.

You were indecently trying to control your breath, but his slow movements seemed to destroy any part of you that was capable of self-control. Your hips instinctively moved against the volume in his pants, but Leon didn’t seem determined to finish you off quickly. He wanted to take his time with you. 

He pushed your body backwards against the bench, raising your legs around his shoulders; his head found space between your thighs, one of his hands palmed your stomach, pressing it down against the bench while the other tightened against one of your thighs. His tongue parted your folds in a smooth, almost insensitive movement. You felt your breath catching on your throat.

“You wanted that? You seem needy, darling.” he teased, the hand that caressed your thigh being replaced by now a finger movement, his index and middle finger parting your folds steadily leaving your clit even more exposed to him. “So wet this little cunt, aw...” he whispered, suckling you slowly. His body trembled and you frowned in pleasure with his tongue twirling around your clit as he traced slow kisses and slow suckles and velvety kisses against your core, your juices flowing through your thighs mixed with the spittle he was leaving there.

You growled in response, a submissive purr, a proof of your desperate need for him — more, of him. His hand against your belly intensified your sensations and made you squirm under him, your body started to slowly and autonomically move against his, your hip pushing yourself in a thrust against his mouth; you felt your conscience drop further every time he’d moan against you, like he was eating the most delicious meal he ever had in his lifetime.

“You close, aren’t ya?” he muttered with a naughty smile, why did he had to know you so well.

You lied. You were ashamed of how quick you felt you’d come. Tried to push him away from you, vain efforts - he ignored your hand and your push, and started to only push you harder towards your climax. He couldn’t hold his own needs by seeing you squirm ever so willingly onto his hands, that at this point, couldn’t help themselves but to work on his belt in record timing. He unbuckled it, unzipped his combat pants with ease just enough so he could pull down his boxers. His cock bobbled out in a very deserved relief, gleaming wet in desire.

Grabbing tight onto his length, Leon finally started pumping himself in slow, hard movements - masturbating himself to the obscene picture of you spreading your legs wide to him right now; everything about it was enticing to him: your wet cunt, your teary eyes while you were seeming so dumb, trying to hold back your orgasm, take off his control of you. You could hear the low and slicky sound of his movements while he was eating your pussy off with pleasure.

“Stop being foolish, my dummy baby… come for me.” he asked, with a pleading expression. “On my tongue, c’mon…”

“Leon, babe no- s-stop I’m- I can’t hold it longer…” you warned, and you were right - your eyebrows frowned in a painful, pleasured expression; your body started moving against your will stopping you from even trying to get away from his tongue. Your orgasm got you slowly, not on a surprise - like a very slow flowing sensation down your lower belly. You felt your body stopping for once, your feets squeezing themselves while Leon felt the little trembling pulses of your clit against his mouth.

“Delicious,” he whispered, licking off his lips and tasting every little piece of your slick he could possibly have. “You’re delicious.”

Another slow lick of his between your folds made you spasm a bit, you cursed under your breath before he smirked and left your pussy to rest coming up to you, kissing your body along the way, stomach, collar, mouth. He got rid of his shirt in record timing - you could feel his wet cock against your thighs, and so he pulled you out the bench and backed off slightly. The sudden void between your bodies made you whimper in need, but when you interrupted your kiss looking forward to complaining, the image of his got to you like a punch on your lower belly just again.

Shirtless; his pants open only enough so his cock was there, hanging ever so hard, twitching in need, reddened by the desire - pulsating, his arm contracted by the movements he was doing, pumping his length while staring you, drinking you in, licking off your slick from his own lips. 

He took you again, roughly putting you on your back and you couldn’t help but to mischievously smile, a naughty look on your face while your hands palmed the bench surface. His gaze was locked on your small figure under him; like a little bitch of his. A good, little bitch he had all to himself. 

“See how you get me… Fuck, can’t even hold myself, make me look like a teenager all again.” he hummed, feeling your wetness with a hand that palmed your cunt entirely, making you space out your legs. You could feel his tip against your folds now, tracing a path between them - it made you burn, tremble. “You want it? Yeah?” he asked, torturing you, finding it very amusing how your voice would get thinner and thinner, needier and needier.

“Yes, please.” you pleaded, biting your lip already so wet the sole contact of his cock with your core was making a nasty noise.

Leon wanted to make you beg some more; he wanted to, you knew it. He wanted to see you asking, pleading for more so helplessly, but he, himself couldn’t hold back any longer, he craved you. He took a handful of your hair and pulled it to him, making you arch your back just enough for your head to almost touch his chest; you were so drenched you needed no stretching, no preparations and he so knew it when he slowly fit his length onto your cunt. Your walls tightened to the feeling of his cock, the thickness making you let out a little cry in pleasure; he bent his head back, little drops of sweat forming on his head from how hard he was holding himself from not ravishing you restlessly for once.

He purred, and you felt that tip of his poke your insides the moment he fit the whole length; he stood, giving you a couple seconds to get used to this new filling of your empty space. God, how you wish you were filled all of the fucking time.

He kissed your neck, and breath heavy against your ear, none of you being able of forming complete senseful phrases at the moment; his hand was digging onto your waist, his body towering over yours, his weight pressing you even further against the counter you held so tightly into. 

“I want to die like this” he muttered, against your ear. “Inside this tight little cunt of yours”, he took a bite to your ear and before you could formulate a response, he thrust.

You purred even louder, your breath heavy, your mind going empty for a few seconds as he started to pump into you harder, those slow hard movements, your walls clenching hard against him while he was thrusting his hips so hard you felt like you could break anytime.

“Don’t stop-” was all you could say, your voice got caught stuck in your throat, your nails were digging tightly onto the counter wood; you were on your tiptoes so he could reach your entrance, your feets started looking for space as he bent you even further, stepping on top of his. 

He let go of your hair for a moment and pushed you down the counter, his hand pressing your head against the surface. The movements were wild, filled with passion, with fire, lust, chemistry - your sex was the best, you knew it, he knew it. He could barely hold himself together, he turned feral in a matter of seconds. The grunts of his need, your moans of pleasure alltogether. 

“You gonna kill me-” he grunted. “That’s it… That’s it, babe.” his voice was almost mute, you knew he was trying to hold back just as much as you. 

Your legs started to tremble from the effort, from your heavy breathing and from the pleasure that started taking over you once again; 

“Leon-” you moaned just again along with some incoherent sounds, and bite your lower lip, you could barely move yourself right now, he was toying you like a doll, making you his the way he fucking wanted it. He grunted out loud, you felt his hand reach up to your pussy through you body and stimulating over your sensitive and hurting clit - all hopes you had of holding yourself were vain at that moment, you lost the game; couldn’t hold any longer.

Your body squirmed and you let your head fall behind, a long and loud painful moan came out of your mouth, the pain mixed with the pure pleasure, your second orgasm of that day - it was almost too overwhelming for you. 

Leon’s stomach contracted, his muscles showed up, the veins on his arms were jumping from the efforts, sweat dripping off his forehead, his discharge was like a shockwave against his entire body; he shivered, almost unable of holding himself back the moment he pulled out and gave himself only a few pumps, enough so a big load of his cum hit your buttcheek, slowly dripping from your thigh while he tried to hold his breath steady; his head was now against your back and you could feel his breath catching your skin from time to time, while you tried to gain off conscience again.

You closed your eyes, tired and completely satisfied. He kissed your back ever so gently now, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you together standing again, letting your body rest against the counter in some support; after fixing his pants back in place.

“Thank you.” he muttered, digging his face against the curve of your neck, hugging you into a tight and passionate embrace. You smiled a little against his skin. “you tricked me just fine.” he raised his eyebrows.

“I know, right?” you laughed off a little, looking at him - his eyes, then low at his lips before stealing a little kiss. “You brought beer, right? I baked a cake. I’m not sure if it’s edible but it does smell nice.” you raised an eyebrow and he couldn’t hold off a little laugh to your commentary.

“Yeah, I did.” he sighed, not wanting to do anything else but hugging you in that embrace for at least some other hours, or perhaps for the entire night if you’d let him. “I love you.” he muttered, giving you a long affectionate kiss on the cheek; you couldn’t hold back a genuine, little smile.

“In italian.” you asked in a purr, your eyes with a solicit gleam. He brushed your hair with his fingers, before giving in.

“Ti amo.” he smiled, to which you answered a truly loving “I love you too, agent.” 

[kenobster]

Bae...... wtf is a peggat? and why would all the shadows need a finish??? 😣😣😣

Girl don't play with me I'm literally in your house rn

[context]

well I'm not in my house! I'm at work, so haha 🤪 come get me!~

lol jk, u made me laugh so I'll answer genuinely.

Basically, a year ago, I put myself into a situation that wasn't good for me. In retrospect, it's clear that my writer's block started at the exact same time as that situation started, but at that point there was so much going on in my life that I didn't connect the dots. Meanwhile, the longer I spent in that situation, the less I was able to write — which is why all my WIPs kinda just stopped.

Luckily, three or four months ago, I figured this out! And I exited the situation — which was a decision I'm really proud of! 😊 Unluckily, I had to spend a bit of time processing/mourning because not all of the situation was bad! A lot of it was good!

But over the last couple months, I definitely have been noticing a resurgence in my interest in Star Wars and an enthusiasm for my WIPs, so in short, yeah, I'm going to finish them!

5PE, my beloved 😍, already has a chapter ready to go, and I'm just waiting for feedback from a couple of people before posting it.

Every Shadow is a little trickier because it's an Obi-Wan centric fic.... and the situation I was in had the worst consequences on my interpretation of Obi-Wan's character. 😔 Right now, it's extremely hard to have my own independent opinions/headcanons/thoughts about Obi-Wan instead of just defaulting to ones from external sources. So, as a result of that, I feel pretty out of touch with his character and, thus, pretty out of touch with the fic itself. 😭

I'm optimistic though! I've already been repairing a lot of the damage that was done to my plans for Obi-Wan in 5PE, so I feel like with more time and effort (and therapy XD), I should be able to do the same thing with Every Shadow! It's just gonna take a while. 😊

[eevylynn]

Leaving Neverland

Ask me about my WIPs

Idk why I wasn't expecting so many Swanfire stories considering I haven't posted any since 2015, but here we are!

Leaving Neverland was one that I surprisingly don't have anything of in my Google Docs, so I don't really remember where I was going with it.

I did find some notes in one of my writing notebooks with different ideas of technology to explore that changed between when Bae was there with Wendy versus in the 90s. I also have notes on research on the Edwardian tech in terms of pens, running water, electricity, tvs, sliced bread, and music.

There's also lists of the differences and similarities between Neal's personality as well as young Bae from the Enchanted Forest, so that I could see what mix I think he would have been when he first arrived in the 90s.

After rereading the same paragraph three times, Emma figured she wasn't going to be getting any more homework done tonight until after all the little ones were in bed. As it was, her current foster mom and her four smaller foster siblings seemed to be having a rather heated disagreement on what exactly you needed to clean in a bath before you were considered "clean". Sighing, Emma looked around the cozy living room. The only other teenaged foster kid in the house, Geoffery, was sitting on the other end of couch, dressed in his usual head to toe in black, lost in whatever screaming was coming from his headphones. Figuring he wouldn't help relieve her boredom, Emma put her book back in her backpack and stood up.

"I'm going to go for a walk," she announced, catching her foster father's eye.

He nodded and replied, "Just don't be back too late, and don't wake anyone when you get in." He then turned his attention back to the game on TV.

Closing the front door, Emma breathed in deeply in relief of the nighttime silence. She glanced around a bit before walking down the porch stairs and went right upon reaching the side walk.

Her latest foster family wasn't the worst she's had in her 15 years of being in the system. Mr. and Mrs. Riston were nice enough. They seemed to at least care about the well being of the kids that lived there rather their paycheck unlike most families she's been sent to. She also likes that she's allowed a certain level of freedom over there that group homes don't allow. All in all, she was reasonably satisfied with them.

What she wasn't quite satisfied with was the small town the Ristons lived in. It's one of those everyone knows everyone. The only real hang out place Emma saw was a coffee and sandwich shop that doubled as the local movie theater. Heck, there were only a handful of traffic lights in the entirety of the city. As a city girl, the town really left something to be desired in Emma.

Crossing a street, Emma realized that she was right around the corner from an old abandoned house she had seen when her social worker first drove her into town. Hitching her bag up her shoulder, she decided to go check it out. She tried not to make herself look too obvious as she neared the old house.

The sprawling three story Victorian home had definitely seen better days. Its faded robin's egg blue paint was chipping from the sides. The wrought iron fence that encased the grounds was over grown with weeds and bushes. The extensive garden was obviously very elaborate at one point but was now creeping unkempt across the uncut lawn.

Emma glanced around as she crept closer. Seeing no one, she slunk over to the gate.

Thankfully, vines hadn't grown over it in such a way that it wouldn't open. She opened it just wide enough for her to slip through before quickly and quietly shutting it. Turning away from the gate, Emma eyed the creepy old house. Several of the windows were boarded up, and the door had a massive padlock locking it shut. Emma managed a few steps before she stumbled over something hidden in the shadows of the overgrown weeds. The echoing noise whatever it was made as it hit the fence caused Emma to duck into the shadows. Cautiously looking around, it didn't seem as though the noise disturbed anyone, so she carefully continued towards the house.

She made her way around to the side where an unboarded window stood just above her reach. She looked behind her for something that would give her the height she needed. Spotting an old stone bench, she congratulated herself for working out as she quickly drug the heavy bench to the edge of the house. Climbing on it, she looked through the glass. However, between the darkness of the night and the dirt caking the window, she couldn't see much inside.

Reaching into her backpack, she dug out a flashlight. Taking another cautious glance around, she turned on the flashlight and placed it right up against the glass, so it would light up the inside of the house instead of the glass. Inside she saw faded peeling wallpaper and old winged armchairs with stuffing pouring out.

Putting her flashlight between her teeth, Emma made quick work of prying open the window before pulling herself up and through it. Holding her flashlight in her hand again, she looked around what appeared to be an old sitting room. Greying cushions sat on the frame of an old settee in the corner. The old, faded Persian rug in the middle of the floor was fraying at the ends, and there seemed to be a hole in the ceiling that led to the floor above.

She was heading to the archway leading to the foyer when the light of her flashlight caught what appeared to be an old trunk in the room opposite. Thinking it might have something valuable inside, she walked towards it.

"Impressive."

The sudden male voice startled Emma who let out a small scream as she turned around to see a hooded boy with his hands in his pockets and a smug smile on his face.

"But you could have just used the back door."

(continue reading on AO3)

[glassgobbler]

you seem great ❤️💛💙 what kind of music do you listen to? or movies or books i guess if you're not into that..

Thank you, and thanks for asking :)

Ok, so my absolute favourite right now is THÉA, a French singer whose songs are usually more sad/angry, but I love her musical style.

Other than her, I’m in a bit of a French music phase right now. One album I’ve listened to a good bit recently is “Une Seule Vie” by Willy William.

English music I like varies a lot, more recently I’ve enjoyed Elley Duhé’s music a lot, and I’ve absolutely loved Voyager ever since noticing them at this year’s Eurovision.

An artist I’ve followed over the years is Neovaii and I recently rediscovered them thanks to their song Midnight after getting a little into this direction of Neoni and AViVA.

From time to time I enjoy some of S3RL’s music, although only his more SFW songs.

Porter Robinson, Jon Bellion and Enya are great too.

Quick interruption of this post for:

glassgobbler’s Eurovision 2023 Ranking

Voyager 🇦🇺 ­— Promise

Alessandra 🇳🇴 — Queen of Kings

Pasha Parfeni 🇲🇩 — Soarele și Luna

Andrew Lambrou 🇨🇾 — Break a Broken Heart

The rest :)

Alright, time for J-Pop (this might not all count as pop idk)!

I like to listen to quite a lot of Japanese music (although currently a bit less than usual), my favourite Japanese artists being Reol (one of my favourite songs of hers is B12), Chanmina, Ado, Sakanaction, Queen Bee, Yorushika, Giga and others I can’t all list here.

The ACCA Opening “Shadow and Truth” by ONE III NOTES deserves an extra spot in this section, it’s that good. The other Anime Opening that stands beside it is Moriarty the Patriot’s title song “DYING WISH” by Hatanaka Tasuku.

For calmer music/music I like when I need to focus:

The Lost Ember Soundtrack

Songs such as:

Rokudenashi — One Voice

Just a Gent featuring Nevve — Open Spaces

Vaundy — Odoriko

Ituana & Groove Da Praya — Talking in Your Sleep (Crystal Remix)

The Last Story — Toberu Mono (Thaehan Remix)

Low Roar — Bones

(This is not the complete playlist, but it desperately needs expansion, so I welcome any suggestions for calm (or any, really) music! 😁)

Finishing this post with some albums I like:

THÉA — MEMENTO

GHOST DATA — Cruel Choreography

SECONDWALL — Beautiful Lie

Neoni — Wars in a Wonderland

Voyager — Colours in the Sun

milet — visions

Pat Metheny — Still Life (Talking)

Yorushika — Magic Lantern

KEiiNO — OKTA guokte

IU — IU 5th Album 'LILAC'

Porter Robinson — Nurture

Zella Day — Kicker

Yung Bae — Bae 5

Fujii Kaze — HELP EVER HURT NEVER

Enya — Paint the Sky with Stars

Walk Off The Earth — Sing It All Away

Lindsey Stirling — Artemis

I hope you enjoyed this response as much as I enjoyed curating and writing it, and that it maybe helped you find something new you like :)

Edit: pinning this for a little while because i love discussing music i like and this post took too much effort to just let it dissapear in the flood

[bri-sonat]

Captain and the Mate - Part One

Pairing: Pirate!Captain!Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol & blood, brief death mention, sapphic yearning, the usual warnings when writing in the GoT universe.

Synopsis: When the infamous Captain Bri makes port to recruit members to her crew, you don't waste the opportunity. To your relief and pleasure, she accepts you, and the time spent aboard her ship and among her crew leads to many things. One of them being a relationship developing between you and the Captain herself.

A/N: Happy Pride Month!! This has been sitting uncompleted in my word since like, February? March? I am not sure. Either way, a very long time. The fact that I finished this during Pride Month was only coincidental, though I am glad it ended like this because Pirate Captain Brienne is the hottest thing I have ever seen in a long time and I hope you all think the same! The sea shanty referenced is this one, but I have modified it a little bit, of course. Either way, it's good. Listen to it if you wish. :) English is not my first language and so on. Enjoy!

Thank you to bae, wifey, co-brainrotter, sharer of brain cells, and co-writer, @daydream-cement for unknowingly giving me this idea by sending a picture to the GC all those months ago.

The summer evening sun set over Oldtown as you followed the Honeywine down to the nearby inn and tavern. The Hightower's fading shadow informs you of the late hours - confirming that you were right on time for your destination and its event. 

Word had spread fast when she had arrived. Whispers enthusiastically gossiped about why she was here, and what her business was. Eventually, the information reached your spiked ears: she was recruiting members for her crew.  

This was something you had dreamt of ever since you heard about her: sailing with her. Someone who struck fear in people with the same name she was praised with, her actions earning her a nickname traders rued to hear. Her sails and flag striking terror and fright across all nine seas whenever spotted, and rightfully so. 

She had quite a reputation. The pirate Captain who only raided, robbed, pillaged, boarded, and stole from the large, and wealthy trading companies. No one knew why she does what she does, why she only attacks the ships she does, only she knew. It was one of the largest mysteries surrounding her, she was an enigma, and she intrigued, and fascinated you at the same time. 

The glowing braze of the Hightower danced in the Honeywine along with the nearby torches of the various stone houses that stood along the river. Every step you took brought you closer to the tavern, and effectively closer to her, and it was only when the tall and wooden Quill and Tankard Inn came into vision that you realized just how stupid this was. 

What did you think was going to happen? That you’d just be able to waltz straight in, and that she’d accept you to her crew? No, that was wishful thinking. She would have many men on their knees in front of her, begging to sail with her, if they knew what was good for them. To even have an audience with someone with her renown was a privilege, and you were just satisfied with being in her presence. 

Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might be looking for more than just work power. You had heard whispers that she had lost her Quartermaster and that she was in need of a new one, but this was just hearsay, and gossip, and you decided not to trust any of the two. 

Opening the door to the wooden tavern, you quickly laid notice of the fact that it was quieter than you were used to, surely had to do with the looming presence in the room.  

In the back of it - in front of the hearth and under the slanted roof - an intimidating, short-haired blonde woman sat by a table. A goblet in one hand, the other fiddling with a dagger. Her booted feet were slung up on the wooden surface as she gently rocked on her chair.  

She looked bored, apathetic. The dimly light tavern only cast a shadow over her face, meaning you couldn’t quite see what she looked like from where you stood. 

The tavern was empty, well, emptier than you had expected and you wondered if she had turned any men away because they failed to live up to her standards, or if you were the first one to arrive. Judging from the fuming men who sat in a corner you could see as you approached the bar, you guessed the former. 

“Good evening. Do you want your usual?” The barkeep approached you as you stopped at the bar, her hands wiping themselves on the apron around her waist before they came up to help her lean against the bar top. You and she had formed an interesting friendship after your regular visits, and you had spent many evenings ranting to her about your long-time wish to sail with Captain Bri. 

Unbeknownst to you, the uninterested blonde’s eyes had found you the second your back was turned. She raised her goblet to her lips, taking a sip of the strong cider the tavern was known for. The movement in her other hand never stilled, the dagger constantly moving in her scarred hand. 

The reason for her eyes finding you was unknown to her, maybe it was because you had been the only non-man to come into the tavern that evening, the bartender excluded. Or maybe it was because she found you, a complete stranger to her, intriguing and magnetic, even if it was subconsciously.  

Either way, her gaze was fixed on your back for a few seconds as you interacted with the barkeep, only redirecting her attention somewhere else once one of the men from her crew exclaimed how ‘slim the pickings’ were from beside her. 

“No. I am here to meet the captain. However, now that I am here, it all seems like a most terrible idea.” You gave your answer to the barkeep, voicing your concerns. You were sure the nervosity was easy to hear in your voice when you spoke. The excitement of meeting Captain Bri had completely overshadowed the reality of the situation, but you couldn’t just turn around and leave. You had to at least try. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” the barkeep chuckled slightly. “She has yet to accept a single bloke. I’d say your chances are high.” 

“Well... I am here. I might as well go try.” You released a shaky sigh. Realizing you had to at least act somewhat confidently so that Bri would consider recruiting you, you pushed down your anxiousness to the best of your abilities. “She’s the woman at the table. Right?” 

“Mhmm,” the bartender hummed in confirmation. “Go wow her.” She gave you a thumbs up and a smile before she departed to help a customer who was waiting further down the bar. You turned around and approached the intimidating presence by the table with determined steps. 

When you stopped in front of the table, you could, by the help of the glow of the fire behind her, finally see her face. Her face. Many things were told about Bri the Righteous Beast, but none of the stories mentioned her immense beauty.  

She was incredibly handsome, her disheveled blonde hair framing her intense blue eyes as they raked you up and down. And her lips. Good Gods, her lips. The small, accented scar on her upper lip scrunched as she smirked, and you wondered how she had been bestowed such a stunning ‘flaw.’ 

She was a vision, there was no other way to put it and you could spend so many hours just staring at her. There would not be enough time to take in her entirety, but your life would have to suffice. 

Eventually, your gaze wandered to her hands. Her hands. They looked so strong, and her fingers were so long. Small, long, and deep, scars were visible on most of her fingers, her palms, and the backs of her hands, surely from learning to master dagger fidgeting and sword fighting. 

The hand that had previously been playing with a dagger had stopped, and the noise of sharp metal being stabbed into wood ripped you out of your observation. 

“Well. Look here. The Lady here wants to join our crew.” If Bri’s face was attractive, her voice only matched it. It was velvety smooth, so deep and so extremely intruding. Her accent only made it even more delicious, and you were sure you would never get used to it. Even if the captain’s voice and words sounded cocky, there was a mighty insecurity swimming in her eyes and her soul that did not match her outwardly persona. “I’m no knight, but I’m sure pretty ladies such as yourself should be in their castle... not down here with us peasants.” 

The smirk plastered on her face was infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that it was thought-provoking and so, so attractive. Her words didn’t have the effect on you that she might’ve liked them to have, not even the comment on your appearance, as the constant eye contact only reminded you of the self-consciousness inside of her. At the same time as you wanted to tuck your tail and run, you wanted to stand your ground. Show your grit. So, you did. “I’m no Lady. But I’m sure you knew that. You were right about one thing, however. I want to join your crew, Captain. I want to sail under your command.” 

The blonde raised a brow and her smirk fell. She threw her feet off the table to place them on the ground so she could lean forward in her chair. She placed her goblet on the table next to the wood-impaling dagger, her eyes scanning your face imperceptibly. “...Very well. Have you sailed before?” 

“Yes, Captain.” The intense eye contact was burning you up from the inside and you wanted nothing more than to break it - if only just to breathe, but you knew you couldn’t do that if you wanted Bri to believe your words. Because of this, you remained strong. “I was Quartermaster on my last ship before the captain got drunk and sunk it during a supposed boast. I wasn’t present.” 

The captain cocked her head to the side as she watched you, trying to assess whether you were telling the truth. In the years of being a pirate captain, Bri had learnt quite fast how to tell if a person was lying. From what she could tell, you weren’t.  

She was silent for a long while before she finally spoke. “Well, as luck would have it, I need a new Quartermaster. My last one had to be... let go. But I say that we should get you started as a crew member first. Just to see how you work. And to build trust. And gain respect from the rest of the crew. We just met, after all.” Suddenly, the blonde woman stood up from her chair to reach out a hand to shake, and oh, was she tall. At least six feet, you guessed. There was seemingly nothing about this woman that was unattractive. 

Her intimidating height and appearance made it hard to resist staring at her open-mouthed but that would be considered rude, and frankly unprofessional, so you abstained. Even if it was tempting. Instead, you grabbed hold of her incredibly soft, outreached hand and shook it, your eyes never leaving hers, even when you had to change from gazing down at her to up at her.  

The smile she offered was much softer than her previous demeanor had been, and it caught you off-guard. It matched her more than her earlier expression. Matched the emotions that you could see deep in her eyes and soul. 

You could only hope to get to know her on a level that would allow you the pleasure of seeing and meeting the real her. Until then, you’d be the best crewmate she had ever seen. 

“Welcome to the crew.” And just like it never left, the captain’s overconfident behavior had made its return. She let go of your hand and motioned with her head towards the men sitting in a booth diagonally behind her before sitting down in her chair. “Go socialize with the rest of the crew. Get to know them well. You will be spending a lot of time together. Don’t be scared... they don’t bite. But I might.” That cursed smirk again. Why did it have to look so good on her luscious lips? It was plain torture, that much was clear. 

The only thing you could do was nod and go sit down with the crew, the rejected men in the other booth groaning in anger as you did. When it reached your ears, you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit smug that you had been chosen and they hadn’t. Maybe this wasn’t the most terrible idea you had built it up to be when you entered the tavern. This had been the best idea it had originally posed itself to be in your mind. 

The men conversed around you, and even if you were sitting amongst them, you wouldn’t say that you were paying attention to anything they were saying. You were more focused on the woman who sat mere meters away from you with her back toward you. With the new point of view, you could observe her without her knowing it.  

Her booted feet had found their way up onto the table again and the dagger was back in her hands. Her trousers were dark, in this light you couldn’t be sure but either a dark grey or dark blue. The shirt she wore was loose on her upper body, it was off-white due to years of wear and slightly unbuttoned at the top which you had registered when you gazed down at her. 

There was a piece of cloth tied around her waist to ensure that her shirt didn’t blow up in the intense ocean winds. It was blue, close to the color of sapphire, but considering the sun was ruthless and had bleached it significantly, it was hard to tell.  

The sword that hung by her hip was broad but seemed light enough to offer one-handed handling. A broadsword if you had to take a guess.  

The rest of the evening was not as eventful as you had hoped. Bri turned away every single person that approached her except for one man.

When the tavern began closing for the night, the captain approached the table you and the rest of the crew were sitting at.

As the hours had gone on, you had grown more comfortable than you thought you would and had even had a cider or two. 

The rugged exteriors of the men did not match their insides and you found them to be quite charming and funny, which was rare for most men in Westeros, but especially for pirates. You could see why Bri had recruited them to her crew. 

Your chatter was cut short when Bri stopped by the table, her eyes roving over all the people who were sitting by it. When her eyes got to you, they lingered for a few seconds longer before they resumed their journey. You noticed this and you wondered if it was intentional or not. When she finished her scan, she spoke with that deep voice that made a shiver run down your spine. “The haul was scarcer than I had expected...” After she had uttered her first few words, she made direct eye contact with you and smirked, again. “But it will have to do. I’m sure our two new recruits will pull their weight.” It seemed like forever before she broke the contact, moving her gaze to the only other recruit. 

The sound of a voice coming from behind Bri made her turn around and the rest of you direct your attention to the person behind the captain. “If you don’t have a room rented, it’s time to leave. We close in five minutes.” The voice came from the barkeep who was holding back the largest smile when she saw you sitting amongst the men. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she addressed Bri and the rest of her crew. 

The captain nodded toward the bartender before turning to face you and the men once again. “It seems like we have reached the end of the line, gentlemen... and gentlewomen. Let us trot back to the ship and our respective beds, shall we?” Bri turned back to the bartender once again to offer words of gratitude. “Thank you for your hospitality.” 

The barkeep in turn responded with a curt nod and a ‘anytime.’ She then stood to the side so Bri and her crew could leave, only giving you the largest grin when you passed her by to leave the tavern. She whispered some encouraging words, well, they were short considering you had to keep moving to not fall behind. 

Bri led you and the crew out into the chill night air, and it was needed because the second you had stood up you had felt the tipsiness from the strong cider. The cool air would help in sobering you up, and if it didn’t, you were sure the salty ocean air would when you departed out to sea the next day. 

The walk along the docked boats in the Honeywine was longer than you had expected it to be, but when you finally reached the ship at the far end, you were more than ready to call it a day.  

The captain stopped right before the docked ship and let the rest of the crew board but stopped you and the other recruit. “This is The Bloody Sapphire. She will be your home for the rest of your life until you die or desert. You better not because if you do desert, I will hunt you down and kill you. If you treat her well and with respect, she will return the favor. Your beds are below deck, make yourselves comfortable. Tomorrow, we make way to Lannisport to resupply. They are not very friendly so put your best innocent face on for our visit. If you need me, my cabin is underneath the quarterdeck, but do not wake me unless there is a fire, we are sinking, someone is attacking us, or if someone is dying. Savvy?” 

You and the man looked at each other before you looked at Bri again and nodded. Both of you responded in unison, making the captain laugh slightly. “Savvy.” 

“Good. Then you may board.” The captain stepped aside to allow you both to step aboard, but before you could step a single foot on the wooden deck, Bri stopped you with a hand hovering in front of your sternum whilst she allowed the other recruit to step aboard and you watched him disappear below deck. 

You looked at her with a puzzled expression as your mind ran through the possible reasons for her stopping you. What could she possibly say that the other guy couldn’t hear? Then again, she had her reasons, and you shouldn’t question her. So, instead of voicing your confusion, you remained silent as you waited for her to speak. 

“I never caught your name. I suppose my mind was distracted and I completely forgot to ask.” Bri dropped the hand that had been hovering in front of your sternum and it came to rest on the pommel of her sword. Her voice was much softer than it had previously been when she had addressed you and your fellow recruit, and you wondered why that was.  

What you didn’t know was that against her better judgement, the captain’s brain had somehow convinced itself that you were a safe space. Even if she had only met you a handful of hours ago. She was drawn towards you. 

When you told her your name, she repeated it and the way it sounded rolling of her tongue with her accent was orgasmic. Never had it sounded so beautiful as it did when spoken by her. In return, she introduced herself to you, not that she needed to, you already knew her name. But you guessed that it was an act of honor. “Bri of Tarth.” 

“The Sapphire Isle? Is that where the name for your ship comes from... and your waist fabric?” Learning where she came from spiked your curiosity, and you asked more questions than you probably should have, considering she enjoyed her privacy. What you weren’t expecting, and that was a pleasant surprise, was that she answered. 

“Indeed. The ship's name is... a long story.” Bri looked down at the fabric around her waist and smiled before she looked back up at you again. “Well spotted. It is indeed sapphire blue... or it used to be, at least. It is from Tarth, I wanted to have something on me that would remind me of my old home. This piece of fabric has been with me since the beginning of my seafarer career. I’m surprised it hasn’t ripped yet.” 

You observed the fabric tied around her waist, excluding dirt stains from years of usage, the occasional blood spatter from seeing many battles, and the bleach from the sun, it looked strong. “I’d say it won’t rip for a while... looks like good material was used. Whatever it was intended for must’ve been important, the fabric looks expensive.” You looked up at Bri again and met her eyes. A flash of what looked like sorrow was briefly displayed in her eyes and you realized that your nice, late-night, alone chat was over. 

Her demeanor changed in the blink of an eye - as if she had mastered switching her expression and behavior. Her tone switched from gentle and tender to overweening, but her eyes never left the previous persona. “Sorry for holding you up. Off you go.” 

You wanted nothing more than to stay, to protest, to say that you wanted nothing more than to stay here all night and converse with her, but your feet worked against the will of your brain and before you knew it you had stepped aboard the ship and was climbing down the stairs that led below deck, leaving Bri standing behind.  

She boarded the ship after a few seconds and retired back to her quarters where she proceeded to think of you until she fell asleep. You fell asleep thinking about her, her intense blue eyes and her blonde hair stayed on your mind until you fell into slumber next to the rest of the crew.  

------ 

The weeks that passed after you were integrated into Captain Bri’s crew went by lightning fast. You and the recruit, who you had learnt was named Will, had worked hard and had earned both the respect of the rest of the crew and your captain.  

After your conversation on the dock, you had managed to get a private chat with the tall blonde five times. The interactions were cut short by various interruptions or her withdrawing from the discussion.

It was like there was some sort of conflict inside of her and she couldn’t decide which side to listen to. It was heartbreaking to watch. 

After a month of sailing with Bri and her crew, you began climbing the ranks. It started with a simple suggestion that ended up working well in everyone’s favor and before you knew it, you had been voted for and promoted to first mate. The new title didn’t do much in terms of giving you more one on one time with the captain, but it was a step towards it.  

After three months of being aboard The Bloody Sapphire, a chaotic boarding made it clear that the ship clearly needed a Quartermaster and the crew voted for you, considering your experience. Bri could not complain because it meant she would be able to see you more often. You were always standing by her side when she was standing by the wheel, after all. 

This new rank did earn you the privilege of having many alone talks with Bri as she steered the ship. Until she, of course, left for her chambers and left you to take over for her. The shortness of the interactions meant you didn’t learn that much about her that you didn’t already know, and it was starting to gnaw.  

That was until you were standing by her side by the wheel on a very sunny fall afternoon and the men started singing. The song was about some scorned woman killing a man who betrayed her and the woman by his side.

It took you until the middle of the shanty to realize that it matched some of the things you knew about Bri. You turned your head to look at her where she stood, her gaze fixed dead ahead. “Is this shanty about you?” 

The captain sighed and the noise of it disappeared into the chilly early Autumn air. She was silent for a few moments until she nodded. “It is. The story went down quite differently, however.” Bri’s gaze never wavered, her eyes never leaving the blue water. “I didn’t sneak aboard a ship for revenge. I snuck aboard a ship because I wanted to get away. The fact that the person who betrayed me was on the ship as well was only a bonus. She just disappeared, and I found out why when I saw her walk with her new lover. I didn’t kill them. Just to make that clear.” 

You listened to Bri’s story but completely stopped breathing once she so casually mentioned that the woman was her former somewhat lover. Even if it caught you completely off-guard, you were able to listen to the rest of her retelling.  

This was the most you had learnt about her in one single conversation, and it made you mightily happy. You so desperately wanted to ask more questions, about why she wanted to get away, who did kill the two lovebirds, but you didn’t want her to escape back to her quarters again. 

Even if you wanted to get to know her even more when the opportunity had presented itself and she seemed to be open to sharing, you would rather enjoy her presence in silence over not being in her proximity at all. Meaning you only said something to let her know that you had listened and acknowledged her sharing but kept your mouth shut to not let anything slip out. “I see.” 

You stood in silence for a while until Bri opened her mouth to say something but was inevitably disrupted by Will who had shown up at the captain’s side in the blink of an eye to explain that they needed to dock somewhere to resupply.

After the blonde woman had dismissed him, she looked over to you and within seconds you had moved to the sea map to lay a new course towards a pirate-friendly port. 

When you returned to the helm, Bri left for her quarters again. Your absence had surely led to her conflicting with herself again and had probably concluded that she had shared too much with you. You had no idea what she did in her quarters all those hours, but you didn’t want to ask because you wanted to offer her privacy. At least there was some progress. 

------ 

Six months after learning that Bri had a shanty written about her, you had been able to snag her for many more chats and each one lasted longer than the one before.  

You learnt more and more about her in every day that passed and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were so in love with her. You had known it about one month after sailing with her, but now, you were sure. Her looks combined with her gentle and loving personality made it so easy to fall for her. You just had to make sure that you did not hurt yourself on the way down, but it was a bit too late for that. 

You were more than certain that she didn’t feel the same way, even if she behaved so differently around you than she did around the rest of the crew. However, what you didn’t know, was that Bri was very much attracted to and interested in you and all that you were. Having you next to her every day was one of her greatest privileges and she reveled in your proximity. 

Seeing your face every single morning made her happier than any loot ever could, and she quickly found herself stumbling before she eventually fell for you. Yet, she couldn’t see how anyone could ever find her attractive, less love her. So, she didn’t allow herself to hope that you would feel the same about her and subjected herself to a life of yearning. 

It would have remained hidden until the day you both died - if it weren’t for a cold winter evening.  

The Bloody Sapphire had dropped anchor not that far away from Tarth, and the Sapphire Isle was visible from the deck. The ship was cleverly hidden with its sails and flag lowered to avoid a surprise attack should it be stumbled upon. 

You were just about to retire to bed when you spotted Bri standing by the railing, looking out over the ocean in the direction of Tarth.  

Slowly, you approached her and stopped next to her, looking out over the Sapphire Isle yourself. After so many of your conversations and her sharing so much, you felt confident enough to pose a query after you had stood in stillness for a few minutes. “Do you miss it? Tarth, I mean.” 

Bri leaned against the railing of the ship as she stared at the silhouette of Tarth. Her silences before her answers had become commonplace and you had gotten used to them at this point.

As you patiently awaited her response, you shifted your gaze from the darkened Sapphire Isle to the woman standing next to you. You really couldn’t help yourself when she looked so pretty in the glow of the torch.  

The fire cast a shadow over her face - her side profile looked even more angelic in this light, and you could only wish that you would be able to see her this close and like this so many more times in your life.  

When she finally replied, she ripped you out of your appreciation for her features and you began focusing your attention on her voice as well. “Sometimes. Though it’s very rare. The people I have met on my journey and my crew have treated me so much better than anyone on that island ever did. They have never insulted me. Not once. Not even when they learnt that I was a woman. I never wish to go back there. This is my new family.” 

She was so... vulnerable and it made you shocked. Sure, she had shared small things about herself in your talks but never something this deep. You couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste again. “When they learnt you were a woman? May I inquire in what it is that you mean, Captain?” 

Bri gazed at the Isle where she had grown up and eventually left as she told her story. It almost felt ironic in a way. Like it was coming full circle. Speaking about something she had never uttered out loud as she was close to and looking at Tarth. The island where the anecdote began.  

“When I first snuck aboard a ship that docked by Tarth, I told everyone that my name was Bri, and I even darkened my voice so they would believe that I was a man. When they eventually learnt I was a woman, they welcomed me with open arms instead of shunning me and calling me names. It was such a new approach and reaction. I’ve never been so happy.” Towards the end of her story, the blonde was smiling fondly as she thought back to how welcomed she had felt by a band of outlaws when she couldn’t even get the smallest amount of kindness on Tarth. 

Your gaze never left the captain’s pretty face. You could never get used to how beautiful she looked, and you simply could not believe how other people could not find her as attractive as you did. She was the most gorgeous person you had ever laid your eyes on in your entire life. 

Despite your mind coming up with all sorts of scenarios that would surely be deemed inappropriate should someone hear them, you still managed to ask a follow-up question to Bri’s tale without slipping anything that would let the blonde woman know that something completely different was going on in your head. “So... Bri is not your real name?” 

The captain shook her head before she responded. “No. No one knows my real name. The old band I joined and my current crew stated that to them, my old name does not matter. To them, my name is Bri. Though, I have nothing against my real name. I just prefer to have the rest of the world know me as it, so they get confused when they see that I am a woman.” Bri let out a small chuckle at the end of her explanation. Almost like she was thinking back to the different reactions she had gotten from various captain’s ships that she had boarded. “Except you seem to have known that I was not a man from the beginning based on your reaction when you first saw me...” 

“You are a legend... I had to know more about you. There was not a lot to learn about you from the people I managed to find. I only found out about your womanhood through a friend who works somewhere where tight lips go to blab. She also sees many things. Though, finding out that you were a woman only made me want to sail with you even more... I... May I pry?” Even if Bri seemed to be more comfortable with sharing and answering your queries, you knew that she had a habit of removing herself from the discussion when it was too much, and you did not wish to take her openness for granted. She had done nothing but treat you with respect, so you did the obvious thing and returned the favor. You had no interest in upsetting her when she was so exposed. 

“I see... Yes.” Her answer to your question was fast and equally as quick as she had responded, she turned her head to look at you who was intently admiring her. With her now facing you, you could see her breathtaking blue eyes that sparkled so bewitchingly in the light from the torch just meters away from you both. 

“What is your real name?” The inquiry was a whisper as your eyes scanned her face for any sign of the overweening personality you had gotten used to usually signaling the end of your conversations. It never came. The gentle and careful personality remained. The personality you assumed was the real her. 

Bri opened her mouth to answer your query but stopped when a noise sounded from below deck signaling that one of the crewmates was still awake. The captain turned her head to look at the hatch leading down and waited for someone to pop their head up, but that never happened.  

Even if it was still quiet below deck, she couldn’t risk someone eavesdropping on the conversation considering her behavior was completely opposite from how she usually acted. Before she spoke, she turned her head back to look at you. “We shouldn’t do this here. Join me in my quarters?” 

The question caught you by surprise. Never had you been inside of her quarters before and it was something you could never have dreamt of and now she was extending an invitation. At first, you were unsure if you had heard her correctly but as she looked at you expectantly, you knew you had heard her right. 

You almost screamed your answer, ‘Gods, yes please!’ but that might be seen as a little bit too enthusiastic and would surely weird Bri out. What came out was more composed and calmer - not a single trace of the previous excitement. You were surprised that your voice came out without a single shake, tremor, or stutter considering the storm that was going on inside of your head. “Sure, Captain. If you’d have me.” 

Your answer made Bri smile the smallest bit. She found it endearing. She found you endearing. She spun on her heels and started for the door that led to her cabin, and you followed close behind. 

------

Part two can be found here!

taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski

[drabbles-mc]

In Case Of Emergency

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Could I request a Drabble of angel having to ask a favor of a nurse he’s interested in? I’ll leave the rest up to you ♥️😊

Warnings: 18+, mentions of blood/injuries, language, no use of “y/n”

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: You said drabble. And when I sat down to write this I didn’t plan on it going past 1k. But here we are. And I hope you enjoy the excess 😂

Angel Reyes Taglist: @helli4nthus @buckybarneshairpullingkink @starrynite7114 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @beautifullboo @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @withmyteeth @encounterthepast @lilacyennefer @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @luckyharley1903 @masterlistforimagines @lilah1903 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @black-repunzel99 @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @mveggieburger @thanossexual @xeniarocks @choochoo284 @littlekittymeow​ @beardsanddetectives​ @bruxasolta​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @flacalatke​ @narcolini​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, let me know!)

“You have her number, man,” EZ sucked in a breath as he gripped onto his thigh just above his knee, “just fucking call her.”

Angel shook his head even though he knew that what EZ was saying was the most logical solution, “Nah, I’m not doing that. We’ll just, we’ll take you to our guy acr—”

“We don’t have that kind of time!” EZ snapped.

“What if she’s working?”

EZ rolled his eyes, “Tell her it’s an emergency!”

Angel fumbled with the phone in his hands, “I don’t, I don’t even know her like that! I can’t just ask her to leave work.”

EZ huffed, taking one hand off of his bleeding leg to try and swipe the phone away from his brother, “I’m not gonna bleed out here because you’re too nervous to call the fucking nurse you have a crush on, man.”

Angel held the phone out of his reach, “Alright! Alright. Fuck. I’ll call her,” he scrolled through his contacts until he landed on your name, “But if she reports us to the fucking cops, it’s your fault.”

“They’ve got doctors in prison, too, I’ll be fine,” he grit his teeth as he kept pressure on his leg.

You had just walked through the door of your apartment after a long shift. What was supposed to be an already long 12-hour shift, ended up turning into an 18-hour shift when someone didn’t show and they needed you to stay until they managed to get someone else to come in and make up the difference. You had been exhausted and ready to leave, but you were already there and didn’t see much point in creating an argument over it.

All of that to say, it felt more than amazing to drop your duffle bag on the floor just inside your apartment. You didn’t bother reaching down to untie your sneakers, instead just stepping on the heel of them and slipping your foot out of them. You were a few seconds away from peeling off your scrubs when your phone started going off in your pocket. A deep sigh came out as you grabbed your phone, hoping that it was literally anyone besides your supervisor at the hospital.

When you saw Angel’s name flashing across your screen, the first thing you felt was confusion. The two of you had exchanged a few texts here and there. If you were honest, sometimes you got the vibe that he was into you, and you would’ve been lying if you said that you weren’t into him as well. But he’d never been too forward, and you certainly didn’t think that the two of you were at the point where you would be randomly calling each other late at night. Maybe he butt-dialed you? Maybe he was drunk? Or maybe it was a booty-call that you shouldn’t even answer? It was anyone’s guess.

Before it could go to voicemail, you hit the accept button, “Hello?”

He could hear the exhaustion in your voice and he immediately regretted calling you, “Hey, querida.”

His voice was soft, nervous, which was so unlike him. But it at least meant that he wasn’t drunk at a club somewhere calling you for something that he probably shouldn’t be. Raking your fingers along your scalp you said, “Hey. It’s…late. Everything alright?”

“You up for doin’ me a favor right now?” he rested his hand on the back of his neck, trying to avoid looking at EZ who couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.

“What kind of favor do you need at,” you glanced over at the clock on your stove, “late,” you let out a tired laugh.

“My brother got shot,” he knew he should’ve tried to cushion the words, but he wasn’t thinking quick enough on his feet to do so.

“What?”

“Yea. We, uh, we’ve got a guy across the border but I don’t…I don’t think we got that kinda time. He can’t walk on his leg like this.”

“Jesus, Angel,” you sighed running your hand down your face, “You tie his leg off?”

“N-no,” he’d never heard you sound so stern, and he imagined that’s what you sounded like when you were directing other people at work.

“Alright. Well, do that, and then text me the address of wherever you are. I’m heading back to my car now.”

“I owe you.”

You could hear how apologetic he was, and if you had been less drained you might’ve felt a little more sympathy. But you were dead on your feet as you tried to pull your sneakers back on, “You just might, yea.”

Angel sighed when he hung up the phone. He turned back around to EZ, “Yo, she said we gotta—” he stopped halfway through his sentence when he saw that EZ was already ripping his tank top to tie around his leg, “Never mind. Fuckin’ premed.”

“Wanna help?” EZ gestured to his leg.

Angel was getting the tie as tight as he could, shaking his head as he did, “I’m never gonna be able to ask her on a fuckin’ date now.”

“Sorry my bullet wound ruined your shot at getting laid,” EZ rolled his eyes as he tried to find the least painful way to sit and wait.

“We gotta make friends with more doctors or something, man,” Angel shook his head.

They didn’t have to wait too long before they heard the knock at the door. Angel briefly wondered just how quickly you must’ve driven to get there so fast. Or maybe they were closer to you than he thought.

“Wanna get that?” he asked EZ, a smile just starting to curl the ends of his mouth.

EZ shoved him, trying to stifle a laugh through the pain, “Get the fucking door.”

Angel took a breath before pulling the door open. When he saw you on the other side, looking exhausted, disheveled, but somehow still beautiful even in dingy scrubs, he couldn’t help but to feel bad all over again. If the stakes had been lower, he would’ve found a way to send you away. But you were a Hail Mary call and he couldn’t let you turn your back on them now.

“What is this place?” you walked in, allowing Angel to shut the door behind you.

Truthfully, if he hadn’t been the one to text you the address, you would’ve assumed that you showed up at the wrong place. The outside of the house was in rough shape—looked like it hadn’t been lived in for a long time, and cared for, for even longer than that.

“Safehouse. For the club,” he motioned for you to follow him.

You’d help patch up enough members of the club to know that they got themselves into plenty of sticky situations. But a safehouse? A place where Angel smuggled his brother to after he got shot? A doctor on call over the border, you assumed, for things that they couldn’t have on record in an American hospital? You’d never given too much thought to what life was like for these guys, and they never really gave you much to go off of whenever you had to stitch them up. Scrapyard accidents, bar fights, wipeout on the bike, all the usual excuses for the minor to moderate injuries that you helped them with. It was never anything like this, though.

“Does the electricity work in this safehouse?” you asked as you made your way to the living room, where you saw EZ sitting on the floor, back against the front of the couch.

“Shit, yea, sorry,” Angel scrambled to turn the rest of the lights on in the house.

You locked eyes with EZ and he offered what he could of a smile given the circumstances, “Hey. Thanks, you know, for this.”

“Don’t thank me till I fix you,” you shook your head as you knelt down beside him and opened up your medical bag. You pulled on your gloves before getting to work on removing the bottom part of his pant leg, cutting off everything below the bullet wound, “Could make a nice pair of jorts out of these if you wanted,” you chuckled quietly as you tossed the excess fabric to the side.

“Yea,” EZ managed a laugh despite the fact that pain shot through him every time you had to adjust or clean his leg, “Heard they’re back in style.”

It wasn’t the first gunshot wound you’d ever tended to. It was the first time doing so in this type of setting, but you had everything that you needed. It was definitely not an experience that you were going to be forgetting about any time soon. EZ was a decent patient, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in order to sit still through the pain. He’d lost a decent amount of blood, but he was going to be fine. Luckily the bullet didn’t nick an artery.

“Angel?” you spoke up.

“Yea? Need something?” he stepped closer from where he’d been pacing.

“Yea,” you chuckled as you got ready to pull the bullet out, “I need you to sit down or something. Stop pacing. You’re making me nervous.”

“Shit,” he let out a nervous laugh as he forced himself to sit in the long chair in the living room, “sorry.”

“Not to sound like an asshole,” you said as you were about to pull the bullet from EZ’s leg, “But this can’t be the worst you’ve ever seen, right?”

“No,” they both responded in unison.

“Okay. Good. Then everyone keep it together, yea?”

Angel sat and watched, doing his best to bite his tongue. You were right, it was nowhere near the worst that he’d seen. But it was his brother, and it was you, and he didn’t know how to be calm knowing those two things. EZ didn’t seem to have those same issues, though, as he watched you carefully go in to extract the bullet that was lodged in his leg. Angel didn’t know how he watched someone fishing around inside his leg—he always had to be unconscious or at least looking in a different direction.

Once the bullet was out and he was stitched up and cleaned up, all three of you let out a collective sigh of relief.

You held up the rag that had the bullet in it, a tired laugh slipping past your lips, “Souvenir?”

“To go with my jorts?” EZ said with a shake of his head, “Keep it. Add it to your collection.”

“Who says I have a collection?”

“No one,” he slowly and unsteadily rose to his feet, keeping all of his weight on his good leg, “Just seem like the type.”

As you watching him limp over to where he could lean against the couch for support, a thought crossed your mind that hadn’t yet. You were so busy being wrapped up in everything else about the situation, that you didn’t stop to think about the logistics of it all.

“You guys rode here?”

Angel nodded, “Yea, why?”

You shook your head, “He can’t ride with his leg like that.”

Angel sighed, “I can call the guys, Have one of ‘em—”

“I can drive him,” you shrugged, “I’m already here.”

“Nah, querida,” Angel shook his head, “I can’t ask you to—”

“I’m offering,” you didn’t let him finish the sentence, “Might as well, right?”

“Yea,” EZ just wanted to be home, and he figured he already owed you big time in the first place, hitching a ride from you couldn’t hike up his tab that much more at this point, “that’d be good. I’ll have someone come get my bike tomorrow.”

“Alright,” you stripped your gloves off and tossed them into the garbage, “Let’s go, then. I’m fucking tired.”

It was a quiet ride to EZ’s trailer, and by extension, the clubhouse. Both of you were exhausted and not really in the mood for making much conversation, which worked out for the best. He gave you directions as you drove, but that was about the extent of it. You checked in a couple times to make sure that he really felt alright, that he didn’t actually need to go to the hospital, but he insisted that he was fine, and you decided to believe him until you had a concrete reason not to.

You waited outside the trailer while Angel helped his brother in. It felt eerily quiet at the yard, and you wondered where everyone was. You’d seen a handful of bikes when you pulled in, but the men who rode them were nowhere to be seen. You lifted the bottom hem of your top, wiping the sweat off of your forehead and brow-line.

Angel cleared his throat as he came down the steps, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t staring at you even though he very clearly was. You let out a deep sigh, knowing that him walking up to you meant that this whole mess was over. A sense of relief washed over you as he came to a stop in front of you.

“Thank you again for this,” he shook his head, “I’m sorry I just made a long day longer.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. Better than your brother bleeding out in some sketchy safehouse.”

He chuckled, nodding, “Yea.”

“Anything else you two need?” you asked, hoping to god that the answer was no.

He shook his head, “No, no. You did enough. Seriously, thank you. We…we owe you.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Remember you said that,” you started walking back towards your car and Angel trailed along right next to you, “You guys never have a boring day, huh?”

“Sometimes,” he said with a chuckle.

“I gotta admit,” you leaned back against your car, “this isn’t what I thought I was getting into when I saw that you were calling me.”

Angel felt heat creeping up into his face, “Sorry about that. This really, uh,” his hand landed on the back of his neck as his eyes dropped to the ground, “this really wasn’t the way I wanted to be callin’ you for the first time.”

“No?” you laughed, “How’d you picture our first phone call going?”

“Less talk about my brother,” he laughed with a shake of his head.

You smiled, “That’s fair,” you dragged your hands down your face, “And here I was thinking it was gonna be a booty call.”

His eyes popped open, “What?”

You laughed, “What? Why else would a guy be calling me at that hour?” you shook your head, “I mean, apparently to come take a bullet out of his brother’s leg. But you know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t booty call you, querida,” he shook his head, “Call you to ask you on a date? Yea. Not a booty call, though. I’m better than that. Gimme a little credit.”

You smiled, shaking your head, “I dunno, you toss querida around like it grows on trees. Just being practical.”

“Want me to stop callin’ you that, then?” he quirked an eyebrow.

Now it was your turn to feel your face getting hot, “No, no. It’s okay. I like it.”

He smiled, “Good to know,” despite his better judgment, he pulled you into a hug, “Get some safe, alright?”

You laughed, leaning into him for a moment before pulling away, “I should be telling you that,” you pulled the door open, “Oh, and Angel?”

He looked up from the ground, eyes focused on you, “Yea?”

“If you’re going to ask me on a date, do it in person, okay?” you smiled, “I’m not a huge phone call person.”

“Right,” he nodded, and he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life and let you get in your car and drive away. Luckily, his mouth worked faster than his brain, “You free this weekend?”

You paused just as you were about to sit down, “I mean, once I go home and shower the blood off of me and get some sleep, yea. Why?”

“Well I figured, while I got you in person and everythin’,” he smiled, “figured I’d ask you on a date in-person. So, you know, can I…can I take you out to dinner this weekend?”

You chuckled, nodding as you finally sat down, “I’d like that, yea.”

“I’ll pick you up?”

You smiled, “Sounds good,” you paused for a moment before gesturing for him to come closer. When he did, you pulled him closer still by the edge of his kutte and pressed a kiss to his lips. You couldn’t help but to laugh at the look of surprise on his face when you pulled away, “Next time you wanna ask me out, you don’t gotta go through all the trouble of creating an emergency, okay?”

He chuckled, still in disbelief, “Alright. G-good to know. EZ was gonna get sick of getting shot real quick anyway.”

You smiled and shook your head, “I’m sure. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

He nodded, “Okay. Drive safe, querida,” there was a small smile on his face as he pushed your car door shut for you.

[redbleedingrose]

Lemme just do an author recs list for y’all. Y’all about to be blown away by their writing. Absolutely top tier, like lady Gaga quote type writing.

@azrielhours - just read her stuff y’all. I promise it will be worth it. Seriously she writes the best fluff and angst and just I love her your honor. 💞😍💓

@violet-shadows - TOP TIER. Like I love alllllll of her stuff. One of the first authors I came across for ACOTAR and I immediately fell in love with Az from her writing!!! ❤️❤️❤️✨✨

@fieldofdaisiies - need I say more??? Some of the most amazing writing. Absolutely adorable. Love love love her Elucien stuff. Also my forever bae because she is the reason I started writing💓💓

@acourtofwhatthefuck - I mean… y’all already know her. And if you don’t? Where have you been?? Please check her out immediately she will change your life with her writing. Her fireleaf series is just to die for. 😫💞😮‍💨

@azsazz - daddy!Az 😭🥹 just such amazing beautiful writing I can’t

@writingsbychlo - has dropped some of the most test worthy fics on this app frl 🤩🥹😭

@moonlightazriel - just got into some of her fics and they are amazing no words!!! 🥺🥺

[wastingstarsss]

Just come back, please: a rumbelle fic

A/N: this was posted on my previous account but then the account was terminated… don’t bloody know why. So I’m re-writing it up here. There’s gonna be more rumbelle fics on this account in the future sooo maybe stick around if you like?

Warnings: none. It’s just angsty, set when Belle was in hospital in s2.

Word count: 803

Prompt: 98. “You don’t even remember me” from @emswritingprompts

Disinfectant invaded Gold’s nose as he sat in the cold, abandoned hospital room. Belle had had barely any other visitors besides himself, Ruby stopping by occasionally- which he greatly appreciated. The woman he loved shouldn’t be alone at this time, a time where her memories had fallen out her head and she didn’t even recognise her reflection. The quiet beeping of the machine told him she was alive though, and that he was incredibly grateful for. He had to keep repeating it to himself, Belle is alive. She was living and breathing and even if she didn’t know who he was, that was something. It was better than nothing.

For now though, she was quietly sleeping besides his seat. How, Gold didn’t know. The beds in this place were incredibly uncomfortable compared to their extravagant one at home. She didn’t even have more than two pillows. But still she slept and Gold did not. He hadn’t since the accident two days ago. How could he when she was in here suffering? The pawnbroker couldn’t imagine how lost Belle must’ve been feeling in that moment. Mind you, he had felt lost too. He had felt lost when he returned home from the war and faced that disappointment in Milah’s eyes, the eyes that wished him dead. He had felt lost as he laid at Captain Jones’ feet, his walking stick having been knocked from his hands. He had felt lost when his son asked for him to give up the powers of the dark one, his one and only source of strength. He had felt lost when Baelfire had fallen through that dammed portal and he couldn’t find the courage to follow him. There were countless times when Rumplestiltskin had felt lost, but even with Time chasing him he had never lost himself- not entirely. His need to find Bae kept him safe from Time’s influence. His face may have changed, his voice may have changed, but his want to apologise and make things right stayed the same. In his heart, Rumplestiltskin was still the spinner who wanted to protect his family. Meanwhile Belle, oh sweet Belle, her reflection and personality had turned into a stranger. It was a feeling the pawnbroker was unable to recognise, and so sat besides her the weakness within him came crawling back. He was suddenly helpless again, and not even his magic could fix it this time.

He needed to talk to her, to hear her advice. In every situation as of yet, Belle was always right. Her unwavering hope kept him on his toes and kept the darkness at bay. But that hope had been forgotten and he quickly found the shadows caving in on his mind again. God, he needed to hear her voice. More importantly, he needed to hear recognition in her voice. Belle would know what to do at a time like this.

“Belle,” he spoke quietly, whispering into the room. She didn’t even stir, he doubted she’d ever stir at his voice again. The thought of her never remembering him pained Gold to the depth of his soul- or what was left of it. “Belle, I-“ what was he trying to say? The words died on his tongue, every thought left his mind empty. He just needed to talk to her as if she was still her. “We still haven’t had our picnic. The strawberries are out of date and the cupcakes have gone dry. I haven’t unpacked the basket with the blanket in though…” Gold wrung his hands together as he spoke, leaning atop his cane. He had screwed his eyes shut and there was a slight quiver to his chin. A deep sigh rattled his bones and the sudden weight of age hit him like a freight train.

“Belle.” He began again. “I miss you. I miss everything about you. Your eyes, and your laugh, your voice. I just miss it. And this feels as if you had died again, but you’re here. You’re alive, but you don’t even remember me. Or yourself, for that matter. And God Belle, you’re so- so-“ his voice cracked as the anxiety muddled grief numbed his mind. “You’re perfect and I feel like I’m losing you again. Just come back. Please.” Rumplestiltskin bent his face downwards, biting his knuckles to quieten his sobs. “Please.” His voice was strangled, hoarse, but desperation gripped him and the only thing he had left to do was beg.

“Please.” God he needed to hear her voice. He needed her to recognise him.

“Please.” He needed her to feel safe again, to know herself again.

“Please.” He needed her.

Disinfectant evaded the hospital room space still, but Gold was unfocused on it. His mind had turned to the sleeping angel next to him, and had not wandered from it since.

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.21--Episodes 22-1

I have watched through S3E1; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—Let’s have a round of applause for the writers. The last episode of season 2 was exceptionally well done. There was absolutely no wasted time or unneeded drama.

—For example, Belle and Mr. Gold. She got her memories back and nobody had to go through the angst of her being mad at herself or at Mr. Gold. She’s just there for him right from the second she’s herself again. Also, that was beautiful for their sake, because they’re finally becoming the people together that they should be.

—Which of course means they have to split up. But I choose to believe that they’re going to be reunited, because I trust Belle to be persistent.

—He kept the cup even though it was broken!

—I doubt Rumplestiltskin would bring his dagger with him to Neverland, particularly if he fears Peter Pan this much, which leads me to conclude that he’s having Belle watch it for him.

—Grumpy is a lovely guy. Asking the Blue Fairy to make that extra dose of memory potion for Belle was very nice of him. I doubt anyone else would’ve even thought of it.

—I respect that Hook’s reason for turning against Tamara and Owen is “I don’t want to die”. Everybody and their grandmother has a noble, self-sacrificing reason to fight for something. It’s nice to acknowledge that some people’s motivation is self-preservation.

—That red vest Hook wore during Bae’s backstory was gorgeous. Actually, his clothes as a whole aren’t entirely atrocious.

—With other types of story being used in OUAT (such as Dr. Frankenstein) there should be a least one ballet story. Technically, Sleeping Beauty has been a ballet, but that doesn’t really count. Giselle, maybe?

—*sigh* now I’m never going to see more of Red or Dr. Hopper!

—At least the portal in the middle of the ocean looked cool. Which it did, by the way. Water tunnels are iconic.

—The Shadows in Neverland are very Kingdom Hearts. (Which, by the way, is a masterpiece of storytelling in itself. 10/10.)

—I disagree with Hook. Rumplestiltskin having a wardrobe change *is* a good use of our time. Getting to see him without his Dark One makeup, but wearing the Dark One clothes, is quite the experience.

—Regina’s blue jacket really stands out against the oceanscape. I mean, I like most of her fairytale clothes better than her “real” world clothes, but her jackets are nice.

—Yes! Tamara and Owen really just got bumped off right from the start. Outstanding.

—So they’re really sticking with the whole malevolent Peter Pan thing. Brilliant. It’s about time somebody figured out what a creepy bastard he can be.

—On the other hand, how am I supposed to take this kid seriously? He’s been set up well, with everybody talking about how terrifying he is, but now I need some action to back that all up.

—Vengeful granddad is a good look for Rump.

—I hope Bae keeps that stick to fight with. Also, he should get some fairytale clothes.

—Darn, Prince Philip is back. Well, at least we might get to explore how that happened eventually. It’ll be a fun adventure if nothing else.

—That storm was epic. Way to reinforce how scary Neverland is.

—It would be cool if Ariel was one of these mermaids. Not that I actually think she will be, because she’s one of the Princesses, but it would still be awesome. It would be so much more interesting if she loved a human when she’s supposed to kill them, than what OG!Ariel’s story is. (That girl is just so whiny. I mean, I could write essays about Ariel, both her good parts and her bad parts, but I think she comes out as a general dislike for me.)

—Okay, Robin, come on. If you move into a guy’s house because he’s been cursed out of the world, why would you trash it? Does he like living in filth? Couldn’t he be bothered to dust once in a while…like, once a year even?

—I’m glad they’ve finally acknowledged how weird it is for Emma’s parents to be her age. But I do feel sorry for them, they’re trying their best.

—My feelings about Hook have gone from “he’s so stupid” *annoyed* to “he’s so stupid” *fond*. I don’t even know what happened.

—Maybe it’s his soft spot for Bae. I mean, I still don’t buy that he loved Mila as much as he claims/believes he did, but the fact that he seems willing to care for a person outside of romance is important to me.

—Hook and Rump killing their feud for the sake of this quest is also important to me. Both of them have been rather uncompromising in the past, particularly when it comes to holding grudges, but now they’ve dropped it all because this is more important.

—I love seeing Charming with a sword again. I much prefer that to his guns.

—Emma doing pull-ups in the Jolly Roger (what a fun name!) reminded me of something I really like about her. Unlike Elsa, Anna, Rapunzel, etc., it’s plausible that Emma can pull off the physical feats that she does. She trains. Her background is a job that required her to be athletic and capable. It makes sense that she can do all the jumping and the running and the dragon-slaying (even though I disapprove of any and all dragon-oriented violence). Emma is a much more realistic person than many Disney ladies are.

—This stuff with Henry intrigues me. He’s the culmination of both the brightest and the darkest bloodlines in the fairytale world. If he develops magical abilities, that could be an interesting plot point.

—Although, having two very angry moms with magical powers makes him one of the scariest people in OUAT canon, so…anything else might just make him OP.

—I hope they go back to Storybrooke eventually, because I’ve become rather fond of it. And of the other characters who show up there.

—I love watching the actors’ names roll by at the beginning of each episode. I specifically look for Ginnifer Goodwin and Robert Carlyle—Ginnifer because I love her as Judy Hopps, and Robert because I love him as Rumplestiltskin. Seeing their names just makes me happy.

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I know it’s been a minute. I’m always thinking about these stories because I want to finish them, just can’t seem to focus on writing at the moment.  Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Part iv - Date with Destiny

Finding Ivar Lothbrok should have been easy. Between the two of them, he was the stable one. He was the one with the iron-clad schedule that consisted of drinking, smoking, and partying. Torren’s schedule was a bit more... fluid. She tended to go wherever the wind, or whatever car she acquired, would take her. Naturally, Ivar had the occasional meet-and-greet, red carpet, and/or Comic-con engagement that he had to attend, still, he was pretty easy to keep tabs on. All one had to do was look at (stalk) his social media accounts, and his whereabouts were posted for everyone to see.

Knowing where he’d be and finding out where he lived were a different story. Torren had done her due diligence when it came to locating the town in which Little Kattegat was located. It only took about two days and a few Google image searches of the background of a few of the photos and she had it narrowed down to a general area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

From what she could tell, the closest town to where he lived was pretty small, and there were only a few large estates hidden in the woods. How hard could it be to find? She was willing to drive to every single house and knock on the door to find him if she had to. But it would just be easier if there was loud music and a bunch of cars in the driveway. That way she could tag along inside with the rest of the guests to get to her man. 

Her shirt landed in the pile of dirty clothes in the center of the bed, as she reached around to unhook her bra. “I really need to tell Baby Boo to stop putting all of his business out in these streets,” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “What if some crazy, psycho bitch started stalking him, or some shit? Then I’d have to kill a bitch.” Torren’s head whipped around and she narrowed her eyes at his picture, still stuck on her wall, “Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to cut a bitch to prove to you how much I love you? I will, Bae! You know I would do anything for you. I’m your Ride or Die...” 

And being his Ride or Die meant that she needed to keep better tabs on him if she was going to protect him from someone crazier than her, God forbid.  She was only able to do so much on this prepaid phone, and going to the library to get online was becoming a pain in the ass. 

She’d considered stealing a laptop or iPad from the library but was still on the fence about the idea. Of course, the alternative meant going to stupid ass libraries and threatening little kids to get off the fucking computers, and that completely sucked ass. 

She always felt rushed when she logged onto her Bae’s Only Fans page from the public library. Without fail one of those little bastard kids would get the library Nazis to kick her off the computer, or bar her from the library altogether for watching porn. 

Ivar’s page wasn’t porn! It was art. It was sexy. It was love...his love for her. Stupid bitches. 

She had encountered far worse things than getting kicked out of the library, but some of these small towns usually only had one or two within their county limits. If she got banned, how was she supposed to check up on Ivar? In the time it took to log in until she got kicked out, she'd be lucky if she could check 2 of his accounts. What if he had some important information on another platform that she hadn’t checked yet? What was she supposed to do then?

Her relationship with Ivar was hanging in the balance, and she'd be damned if some snot-nosed kid or fucking uptight librarian would fuck that up. She needed a computer. But, on the flip side, when she finally got her man back, she wouldn't need one anymore. She could ask him directly what their plans were.

There was a lot to consider and that took time; time that she didn't have right now.

The thick layer of Nair shaving cream she had applied to her already hairless crotch, was just starting to tingle, signaling she had about 5 minutes left before the sweat-inducing, burning sensation would kick in alerting her to wash the cream off. Until then, she had time to consider an outfit for the night.

She knew Ivar well enough to know that he would want her to be sexy for him, but not so much to distract him from work. She could have gone for something slutty, like those skanky bitches he partied with. She could have gone for more demur, but then she would remind him too much of his bitch ex-wife and completely turn him off. The last thing she wanted on their first night back together was for him to be thinking about that bitch. She could have gone for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Torren never did simple. 

No, Ivar would want her to be herself. That's what he loved about her. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She would be sexy without being skanky; she would be demure without being a prude.

Fuck! It was already 7:33 p.m. How in the hell did she miss the beginning of his Live? Now she was running late.

She was supposed to be dressed and ready by the time his Live came on that way she could be out the door as soon as he finished. If she was going to make it to be on his Only Fans live stream tonight, she needed to get to his house before he got too distracted. Now, she’d have to watch his Live, while her cooch burst into flames before she had a chance to take a shower and finish picking out her outfit.

If there was one thing Torren was, it was punctual. It was bad enough that she was about 40 minutes outside of his town, but it could take her up to 2 or more hours to find his house. She only hoped that he didn’t plan on starting any real freaky shit on his Only Fans page until around midnight, cause it looked like she wouldn’t be getting there before then, anyway.  

With the smile still plastered on her face, Torren turned on the hot water for a shower, forgetting that the water didn’t get hot. She didn't mind, much, especially since the cold water gave her a break from the heat in her room. 

Phone in hand, she watched him, as she planted herself on the dirty bathtub floor, cross-legged, and started to get herself ready. Starting with her toes, she shaved each one, just below the knuckle, followed by her fingers, arms, pits, and each leg, from groin to ankle, three times. When the burning from her nether regions was so intense that she couldn’t tell her tears from the shower water dripping on her face, she quickly washed off the cream. 

All she could do was hope that she hadn’t broken the skin this time. The last time she had let that damn Nair stay on, just past burning, the skin broke and she bled. She was not having a bloody hoo-ha tonight. 

With that taken care of, she gently used the razor to remove any other pubes closer to the inside that needed to be removed. Then shaved her backside. When she had more time, she was going to get the internal hairs bleached, but she needed to find out what Ivar preferred. 

Shaving ate up so much of her time that she only had a few seconds to rub some body-wash that she had stolen from a drug store over her body and hoped it got rid of the smell of the summer heat. Her hair? Fuck it...she’d wash it another day, for now, this cold water would have to be enough. She’d spritz some perfume and hair spray in it and it would smell fine. 

Torren finished her shower, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet, only using a towel to wrap around her hair. She was glad it was so hot in her room that her hair would air-dry quickly. She finger-combed her damp tresses to complete that ‘just got out of bed, but it's styled’ appearance. She knew how much he loved when her hair looked like that. It would remind him of freshly fucked hair. 

She spent extra time applying her makeup, even using an extra dark, thick application of eyeliner. She usually went for more subtle warm colors. They matched her tan skin tone better. But, tonight, she had bold, dark makeup, complete with varying shades of purple and blue eye shadows, and dark purple lipstick.

Torren was glad that she decided to match Ivar’s clothes this evening. The swim trunks and smoking jacket he wore would compliment her beautifully. She wanted everyone to know that they dressed alike, the way real couples do. If he was going for less is more, so would she.

She settled on black leather chaps that tied up on the sides, and tight blue boy shorts that left the bottom half of her ass cheeks exposed. The blue shorts brought out the blue swirls in his trunks; she knew he'd appreciate that touch. Her top was a blue bandanna that she wore as a halter with a short black leather jacket with tassels on the sleeves. 

They screamed “couple” in her eyes.

Completely satisfied with how she looked, Torren locked the door to her motel room and started down the hall. She deliberately stopped by the window and peered through the partially opened blinds of the people staying next door to her. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the young couple inside. Judging from their appearance, they were too strung out to know who she was, or that it was her music that they constantly banged on the wall about. She didn’t care. She still flipped them off before making her way to the stairs. 

Reaching her hand through the busted window of the blue Ford Taurus to unlock the door from the inside. Torren slid into the driver's seat and leaned over to find the two cords that she had pulled out from under the steering column when she stole the car. Flicking the cords together, she listened as the engine reluctantly turned over.

She put the car in reverse, looked in the rear-view mirror at her makeup, then pulled out of the spot. As she turned onto the road leading to the highway, she listened to the knocks, bumps, and hisses that her car made. There wasn't time to do much about it now; not when she was on her way to get her man. But, she made a mental note to do something about it later in the week. The only thing she could do was turn the music up louder to drown out the car noise.

Truthfully, she should have stolen a better car than the piece of shit Taurus that she found in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart while driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma. There were plenty of better cars there to choose from but no one would have wanted to take this one. It was so sad looking that she took pity on it. She had been doing the owner of this crap car a favor, by taking it off of their hands. 

The car was truly fucked. The oil light stayed on, and it drank gas like her mother drank liquor. The car had protested every inch of the ride across the three states that she traveled through in one day. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before that piece of shit breathed its last breath.

She needed to get gas again, but fuck that car. She had already refueled four times since she stole it. Gas wasn't cheap and she wasn't putting another dime in that gas guzzler. Speaking of money, she made a mental note to steal another credit card. It would only be a matter of time before the owner of the one that was tucked snugly between her left breast and strapless bra, would eventually realize that it had been lifted from the table in the diner, and canceled.

Laptop, butt bleaching, car, credit card, and more eyeliner from Walgreen's…her To-Do list was growing. She really needed to take some time off and take care of the necessities. Not tonight, though. She had other things to do. She couldn't do anything else, right now, but get to her man. Besides, once Lothbrok was by her side, he would help her remember all the things she needed to do.

As she came off of the highway exit smoke started billowing out from the engine. It backed up through the exhaust system, and came through the vents, inside the cabin. It was ironic – the air-conditioning vents in the car didn't work, but they seemed to work well enough to clog the inside of the car up with thick white smoke. She drove a few more miles before the smoke was so thick that she could no longer see. As she pulled the car over to the graveled shoulder of the road, the car knocked and shook, before it finally cut off.

Just her fucking luck.

She reached under the dash to flick the cords against each other again, trying to force the ignition to catch again, but it wouldn't. The engine had nothing left to give her. "Fuck Murphy and fuck his fucking law," she said calmly as she pulled the hood release.

She opened the car door, taking care to place both black, platform boots on the ground before lifting her backside from the seat. Placing her sunglasses on her eyes, she walked with one foot in front of the other to the front of the Taurus and placed her hand on the hood. It was hot, but not so hot that she couldn't feel under the front of the lever.

As she lifted the heavy metal hood and placed the rod in the slot to hold it in place, Torren let the smoke from the engine engulf her. It was quite a head rush breathing in the thick engine smoke through her nose, and exhaling it from her mouth. She patiently waited for the smoke to thin out before she bent, at the waist, over the engine. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that someone would see her looking over the engine and stop to help her.

Now, if only someone would actually come down this dark stretch of road, she could be back on her way to Ivar.

It didn't take long before a pair of headlights rounded the bend of the road, just off to her right. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she accentuated the leather, chaps against her hips, and lifted her ass higher in the air, to catch the driver's attention. She couldn't help but smirk when she heard the tires of a large vehicle turn onto the graveled pavement in front of where she broke down. She didn't turn to face the car or the driver. She didn't care who they were or what they looked like. She had an appointment to keep and this pit stop was fucking up her timetable.

"You need some help?" A deep voice asked as its owner approached her.

Torren took a moment to peer around the hood, noticing that there were no other cars around. "Broke down," she answered, continuing to bear her weight from one hip to the other. She placed her hands on the metal frame of the car, arched her back, and looked at the man over her shoulder. "You know something about cars?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving around to her side, looking at her, and not the smoky engine.

She gave him half a smile, as she noticed him notice her. "You a mechanic or something?" She asked standing up. She rubbed her hands together to remove some of the visible engine soot while considering the guy in front of her. He was about 6 feet tall with a moderate build. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and Timberland boots. He didn't look like he was more than 25 years old. Judging from the way he was looking at her and from the ring on his left hand, he wasn't too worried about her car, or his wife, for that matter.

"Nah, not a mechanic, but I work on my own car... in my spare time." He smiled when she did. She was gorgeous, in that slutty kind of way. She wouldn't be dressed like that and leaning over the hood of a car if she wasn't looking to have some fun. "Lemme take a look at it."

Did he work on his car? Hopefully, that meant that his ran better than hers did.

Torren moved over to the side and let him take the position under the hood. "I'll be right back," he explained before walking over to the bed of his F150.

Grabbing a flashlight from the trunk, he took a second to admire the view of her, from behind. If he could get her car moving again, she would hopefully follow him to this cheap motel he knew that was just up the highway.

He leaned in close, taking a whiff of her hair, "You overheated…want to check the coolant level."

She had heard him say something else but she had stopped listening; she was too busy watching the street. "You want me to try to start it?" she asked, removing her sunglasses before making her way to the driver's door. She wasn't sure if he answered or not. She had no intention of driving the Taurus again, even if he could get it started. She just needed to get something out of the car.

She slid into the seat and reached down on the floor. She found the hard metal object on the floor of the passenger's side and gripped it tightly. As she walked back around to the front of the car, she heard him talking, presumably about the car, or maybe he was asking her out. Who the fuck knows? She was on a tight schedule and all of his chatting was holding her up. She stood by the side of the hood, looking at the angle he was leaning over the hood. Quickly, she lifted her arm, and with one powerful blow, she struck him in the head with the crowbar that she used to procure her now-defunct car.

Torren stood over his body, looking at him intensely. God, it felt good. The rush of knowing that one minute this dude was towering over her, and the next he was on the ground. She had dropped his ass. She was the one with the power.

 "Thanks," she said, digging her hand in his pocket to retrieve his cash, credit card, and the keys to his truck. She wiped the blood on the crowbar on his shirt before walking to her new mode of transportation.

Torren sat in the truck's driver's seat and turned on the engine. She had managed to cross two things off of her To-Do list without even planning to.

Thank God the truck had air conditioning. All this heat and humidity was bound to make her hair frizzy. She cranked the AC up as high as it would go and sat still for a moment enjoying the cool air. After a minute, she adjusted the seat and tilted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She was starting to sweat and her eyeliner was starting to run just a bit at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed at the black liner to even out the lines, and then pushed the mirror back to where she could see. Giving the area another once-over, she made sure that no one else had seen her interaction with that guy on the ground, before pulling out from the gravel and onto the paved street.

"Ugh!" Torren yelled. Chester Bradley, the printed name on the credit card, had shitty taste in music. She pushed the stereo button on the steering wheel to do a scan of the radio. Anything was better than country music. Once she found some trap music on the XM radio, she turned up the volume and pulled back onto the highway.

Part iii/

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1  @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @revolution-starter​

[lgcmanager]

LGC BOYS ADVENTURES ( RECAP )

( note: this post will summarize what happened during episodes 6-9. there’s no writing requirements for this post specifically, but it was mostly written to give everyone a general idea as to what happened and for potential netizen article topics if you need ideas. )

EPISODE 6 

the episode starts off with short clips of each of the LGC BOYS member heading towards the airport as they head to jeju. once they all arrive, the boys are escorted to a different place where the staff can reveal to them the results of the cooking competition. when the results are revealed along with the rewards that each team had, they were told to head to their first location. 

the screen then changes to a black screen with a text at the center saying, “MAZE LAND, JEJU-DO”.

with the boys standing in front of maze land, pd bae tells them that there was an additional opportunity for the teams to earn more money for their expenses. as they split the boys into the two same teams they were in before, each team is led by one of the staff members towards one of the two starting points of the maze. after the count of three, all of them began to navigate through the complicated maze. the scene focuses on JC and AJ, who are trying their best to navigate through the maze. a few minutes into the conversation, JC tells the other, “i wish i was taller. maybe that’d be helpful.” at the bottom of the screen is a caption that says, “dear height fairy, please make our 175cm and 177cm idols taller so they can win the maze!” followed by two cute headshot drawings of AJ and JC.

on the other end of the maze, the atmosphere is quite different as DEREK and NATHAN attempt the same task but with a different approach. “listen to me, i know the smartest trick to get through a maze fast. you have to keep one hand on a wall, and you just follow the direction that wall takes you until you find the exit. c’mon! we need to hurry up and run!” NATHAN tells his fellow member as DEREK tries his best to keep up with the other. however, with NATHAN being taller than him, DEREK said out loud, “this is the most running i have ever done.” followed by a male voice can be faintly be heard as he says out loud, “i agree. why is he so fast?” but when one of the other cameras records the same scene from a different angle, the audience quickly realizes that the faint voice came from the cameraman that was supposed to be recording them. the scene does a quick flashback to the cameraman’s attempt to keep up with NATHAN, only to be left behind and join DEREK through the maze.

after a while, it shows that TEAM A had won the maze race, which meant that they would be earning additional money for their allowance. at the end of the episode, the show gives the fans an opportunity to win VIP tickets to the LGC BOYS 1ST WORLD TOUR: BACK DOOR! If the fan tags their post on instagram and correctly answers the question, they will be rewarded two VIP tickets! 

EPISODE 7  

as the boys headed back to their vans and to their vacation house, the audience sees various shots of the modern vacation house that was rented for the show.

later into the night, the scene shifts towards AGITO’s leader, JIHO hiding something peculiar. but when the flashback reveals the tangerines he was eating earlier and how he hid them, the viewers are baffled as to what JIHO plans to do with them. “hold out your hand, i have a present for you.” JIHO tells the younger as it is apparent that HARU is wary and uncertain over what the present is. when JIHO places the tangerine onto his hand, the camera zooms in on the said fruit and is given additional sound effects to make the present rather ‘shocking’ for the fans. the two of them continue to talk over their time spent during project origin and the jeju items that JIHO had bought earlier.

and right when people thought the episode ended, they were met with a surprising situation as they see a shadow walking around the vacation house at night. it leaves the viewers curious as to who was awake around this time, but as the knock was heard the text discloses that it’s JC visiting room two. but when JC opens the door, he’s met with disappointment for a brief second before he’s startled by a ‘giant ghost’. JC’s reaction was caught on camera, along with UNO’s entrance from another camera. it leaves the viewers laughing even more when they show JC and UNO’s appearance on DREAM TEAM and how similar their situation was back then along with the words, “some things never change”.

it’s the next morning and as the boys were given their itinerary for the day, they show the activities the boys have done so far but there’s one that stands out and it’s the visit to AQUA PLANET JEJU. a brief history behind the place is explained before it transitions to the versus and type zero leaders. the two of them talk about the aquatic creatures that were swimming around them. as AJ points to the clownfish as his favorite, UNO responds, “i think my favorite is either the seabeauty butterflyfish or the clown triggerfish.” a doodle of the said fishes are placed side by side to the leaders in hopes that one day, the fans would draw the two leaders with the fishes.

EPISODE 8

after exploring jeju and participating in various activities, all of the lgc boys reunite as they head towards SAEYEON BRIDGE, known to be a popular spot to watch the sunset. as all of them are waiting for the sun to set, one could hear some of the conversations going on with some of the boys.

“i didn’t peg you for a ‘nature’ sort of guy, but i guess we have a lot to learn about each other, right?” YUSHIN tells JC as the two of them are looking at the nature view in front of them. and like YUSHIN had said, it seemed like the boys had learned a lot about each other. a montage of the boys practicing and performing is shown as viewers are reminded of the amount of work and stress all of them had to deal with to get to where they were at. now they were here, enjoying the sun set before they would tackle whatever tasks would await them in the future.

but despite the nostalgic vibe that was shown earlier, there was still a bit of lighthearted humor happening simultaneously as the camera pans over to K and WON, who are already talking about one of their concerns, which was the amount of money they had spent in the past couple of hours. with only a little bit of money left for team a, it seems like drastic measures had to be taken ( and by drastic measures, it’s really K and WON finding a way to convince pd bae to give them more money ).

“maybe if you act cute the pd will give us extra cash,” WON suggests and his suggestion is the start of ‘charm the pd with K’s cuteness’ plan. as the two VERSUS members discuss a bit further about their plan and K tries to convince pd bae to give them money, the pd eventually complies as he gives partial money ( because he really couldn’t give the money they requested for, but he wasn’t too mean to not give any ).

returning to the current situation, one of the staff members taps the shoulder of one of the members and secretly tells him to follow them. away from the rest of the crowd, the staff member reveals one of the purposes of this show, which was to get to know the members well ( both within the group and to the public ). each of the boys are asked separately to name one person that made a memorable impression to them, and instead of revealing what each of them said, the episode ends on a cliffhanger.

EPISODE 9

there’s one last activity left for all of the boys and it’s also the second and ( possibly ) last opportunity for their fans to receive VIP tickets to their concert. with all of the boys at the WIND 1947 JEJU EXTREME CIRCUIT, each one of them attend a quick safety lesson before choosing whichever kart they like. however for UNO the giant ghost, his height seemed to be a bit of a problem as he tries to sit down on the kart. WON does the same, but unlike the other it seemed like he had a bit of an easier time ( and perhaps being 6cm shorter really makes a difference ). the two of them begin the race, followed by others who seemed more focus on having fun with the race.

yet all of them are met with a plot twist that fits the finale episode of the season — they were asked trivia questions about jeju! with each one of them answering the questions to the best of their abilities, they do everything they could to do well ( after all, the reward would be for their fans )! on the final question, when the correct answer was given, there was a celebratory moment to commemorate their victory. but their celebration lasted for a short while before they were reminded that they would be heading back to seoul where they would be preparing for their comeback and concert tour.