#fuck everyone with a super yacht

[ecle-c-tic]

I fucking hate seeing the news on my nonsense website

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 4)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: apologies if this isn't 100%. i wrote this in between travelling to japan to attend suzuka. and then i got sick and couldn't even go lol.

P4 - L-sits and pull-ups

Charles Leclerc was known for being a nice guy. 

All the boys knew it. Lando experienced it when he saw how Charles was genuine with service staff whenever they went somewhere. Alex had experienced it in how Charles treated his family, leaving the F1 boys to spend time with Arthur whenever F2 joined the schedule - or when his mother visited the Paddock. Whereas George had just done a quick FaceTime to his mother on Mother’s Day, Charles had sent Pascale Leclerc a luxury basket with a surprise yacht trip and a massage.

“She was having a bad week.” The Monegasque reasoned when the boys found out.

Pierre’s PS5 was a result of Charles’ kindness; sourcing it for his upset friend who had missed the drop. Max's apartment was a result of Charles' kindness; helping him look for places in his home city for the Dutchman looking to buy property in the foreign Monaco. Max owed Charles a lot.

If not for his apartment, then for his F1 seat.

Mercedes were taking too long. Charles knew someone at Red Bull's junior team who could help him score an interview with Helmut Marko. And when you told Charles to stop being so nice to Max after all the drama that happened in F2, he shrugged and said it was the nice thing to do.

So you, a Torro Rosso trainer, helped Max Verstappen with an interview.

Because Charles was kind and he asked you.

And there was nothing you wouldn't do for Charles Leclerc.

Charles’ circles especially were all aware of you before he even joined the grid. It was just that sort of thing. Everyone knows everyone in motorsports. All those boys had seen you hanging around him at the karting races. Were it not for the stark difference in appearance, some might’ve thought you were family. Some did. Because for the longest time, that’s what you and Charles were. Family.  

You were always there for him. You celebrated him when he won. You supported him when he didn’t. You were always the first person he went to when he finished his race. Not his parents, not Jules, not anyone - you. 

He would come to you and you would quickly repeat some key English phrases for the interviewers who would surely come for him. You would pat him on the back and offer a warm smile - no matter the result - and offer some feedback based on what you saw. Performance was your speciality after all.

Then, after everything, you guys would finish with a homemade plate of your pancakes. No matter what. That’s how it went and how it would always go. 

Until 2018.

That had been a shit fucking show of a year. The rookie trio had been super confused when they finally arrived at F1 and saw you dressed as Hospitality. Charles gave no answer to Lando, Alex or George, no explanation to why he barely acknowledged you. It had been Pierre, the one who had been there through it all, who had quietly explained to them what had happened.

For a while, Alex had a hard time talking to Max when he found out. 

Charles hadn’t been surprised that the grid had found out. Nothing ever stayed a secret in this fucking place. NDAs were a joke. The whole agreement between him and Charlotte had been unearthed by some lower ranking Ferrari employee who didn’t know how to keep shut. Then again, Charles had expected it to come out eventually. Half the drivers were dating for PR anyway. 

Ferrari were already on his case about finding a new replacement, a pretty girlfriend for him to post boyfriend material pictures with so it can ‘increase his numbers’ with the female fanbase. Since Drive To Survive had done well to popularise the sport with a whole new demographic of F1 fans, teams were trying to capitalise on this as much as possible. Charles quietly suspected that this was part of the reason why Ferrari approached Carlos.

That and they probably wanted to get rid of Seb as quickly as possible after he found out what happened between to you and raged.

Though, Charles could understand Seb’s stance on it. He himself was conflicted about it, half the time unsure if he had made the right call to listen to Mattia. He had just been hurt and upset and his father had just passed away and the press had been vicious and Charles was just desperate to fulfil his dream of getting the coveted seat. 

Well, your joint dream. 

It had been the dream of the both of you. It was why you worked just as hard as he did. You had taught him English. He had taught you Italian. He networked and raced. You built cars and trained. He had helped you get a job in Torro Rosso. You had helped him get a seat in Alfa Romeo. 

Which, of course, led to him getting a spot in Scuderia Ferrari. 

Except by the time he was putting on the red, you two were no longer speaking to one another. Or, he was no longer speaking to you and you finally accepted he had cut you off. Gone were the days where he was searching the crowds for your face, rushing to you after the race finished.

Five years ago, he stopped eating pancakes. 

He knew you still made them, of course. And not because pancakes had been your everyday breakfast since you both turned fourteen and you started weightlifting and tracking your macros. He knew because he had seen some Alpine reserve driver eating them. 

His name was Oscar Jack Piastri. F2 Champion who also won F3 and the Renault Cup. He had more trophies than anyone else his age. For a moment, Charles thought it was because you back training drivers and were working with him.

Arthur later refuted this when Charles was grilling him that no, you weren't training Oscar Piastri. You actually hadn’t had much interaction with him when you would come down to F2. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to Y/N again?” Arthur had asked, assuming that’s why Charles was asking about you. “Can we be friends with her again?”

“No.” 

“You know maman still doesn’t believe what happened.”

Charles was known for being a nice guy, but he hung up on his brother. Charles really was one of the kinder drivers, but when Alex told them about the tweet, he had scoffed and sneered. When Oscar Piastri himself arrived in orange and held his hand out to greet the nice Monacoan driver, Charles glared and kept his arms crossed. Fuck this. He was not going to shake Oscar Piastri’s fucking hand. 

Even though, deep down, Charles knew there was no need for this. Arthur had confirmed that Oscar really was just a really talented driver - Y/N hadn’t trained him. This was no Max Verstappen situation.

Moreover, it wasn’t like Charles was in Daniel Ricciardo’s position.

If it weren't for the million cameras recording the first meeting of the two Australian drivers, Charles could only imagine Daniel's reaction to the rookie. It was one thing that Oscar essentially took Ricciardo's seat.

The other was that everyone had seen him with you.

Admittedly, Daniel had a reason to not want to shake Oscar’s hand, Charles could reason. Even if he still thought Ricciardo was an espèce de putain merde for what he did to you. 

Still, Charles couldn’t explain it. He wouldn’t explain it. He didn’t need to. The grid had so far understood it perfectly fine; you don’t go near Y/N. When Logan had joined the grid, Alex had the good sense to quietly fill him in on what had happened.

Why the fuck couldn’t Lando do the same?

Which brings us to right now: Bahrain 2023. A control unit failure meant a DNF for his first race of the season. When is this bad luck going to end? Charles retired his car, managing to make it past the McLaren garage on his way to the Ferrari red at the end of the Pit Lane.

It was just as well that his car was slowing to a stall. It meant that he managed to catch a glimpse of the McLaren garage - and the naive Australian rookie stood with a plate in his hands, very clearly eating some pancakes. 

Charles almost drove into a mechanic. 

It was 3am. $uicideboy$ was playing through your headphones. You weren’t wearing any shoes. 

This could only mean one thing: you were doing calisthenics. 

Your arms were shaking slighting as you bent your elbows and tucked your legs in before straightening them. Your grip on the parallette bars was slipping but you engaged your core tighter, hoping to keep balanced as you straightened out your legs and held the L-sit position. 

Oscar had DNF’ed on lap 13. The media was already going wild with questions about his decision to ditch Alpine for McLaren and whether or not this was just karma. McLaren looked horrible. Even his teammate had finished 17th. No matter your feelings on the young Brit, even you had to admit Lando Norris was a decent driver. 

During the course of pre-season preparations, wind had carried the gossip that Zak Brown had revealed the car to the team earlier this year with a sub-par level of enthusiasm. Whilst it wasn’t uncommon for cars to arrive at Sakhir with plans for future upgrades… you hadn’t thought it would be this bad. For McLaren. At this rate, the MCL60 was looking like a back of the field car. 

What’s more the team was struggling. One only needed to look at their qualifying session to see how bad it had been. Engineers giving mixed reports. Oscar’s radio not working and getting out in Q1. Lando getting mixed tyres and getting out in Q2. A whole ass clusterfuck, in your opinion.

And Daniel had been there, smiling smug whenever the camera decided to pan to the Red Bull garage.

The song changed in your headphones. Your arm strained. You dropped, fell forward. Cue the stream of expletives that would’ve made even Guenther blush.

You knew that going to the gym after the race had finished up - a night race that - was going to mess up your sleep schedule. However, you were too wired after everything to go to sleep. You needed the dopamine rush. There was too much going on for you to process any other way.

Because, firstly, you needed to get rid of the image of Daniel’s smug smirk that was currently etched into your brain.

You had skipped your post-dinner protein shake and had your coffees black today. You had started your session with a series of HIIT sprints on the treadmill before you did as many pull ups as your body would allow. It had been quite some time since you had done calisthenics training so religiously but you were already internally creating a new program for yourself. 

That is, you were already mentally preparing for the cut you had decided to undertake the moment Daniel Ricciardo had walked into the gym after finding out he'd lost his seat. And blame you for it.

You pushed yourself up off the ground and came to your parallette bars again. You grabbed each one and then lifted yourself up again. You closed your eyes and willed your brain to focus purely on the lactic acid running through your body. 

Because, secondly, you were stressing more than you should about Charles’ DNF.

You had watched the testing sessions carefully. You always did. Always keeping an eye out on the red car with the black T cam. Charles hadn’t done too bad but, obviously, it was hard to give a genuine judge. Everyone always sandbagged.

For example, Red Bull didn’t look as strong in testing, but then came out on race day and finished as they did. You could be happy for Max, especially since Jos was in attendance and knew just what that meant… but you also knew how it would look for Ferrari that Carlos had finished fourth and Charles hadn’t even finished the race. 

The car did look strong through. That was evident by how Ferrari had done in qualifying. Charles had out qualified Carlos, a narrow Ferrari 3-4 behind a Red Bull 1-2. However, your former childhood best friend had a bad luck streak unlike anything you had ever witnessed. 

And even though the word ‘former’ was in the equation, you never liked seeing Charles like this. Even if he was likely the reason no one in the grid spoke to you anymore.

Well, until now.

Because, thirdly, Oscar Piastri threw a spanner in the works.

You knew how it was going to look. You knew. It was one thing for you to interact this closely with a driver. It was another thing entirely for you to unofficially train him. However, as Zak Brown had found out, there was no way you could be allowed to join McLaren as a performance trainer for Oscar.

When the young driver had filled you in about his meetings with Zak Brown and his particular stipulation, you called him an idiot and told him to sign. When Oscar filled you in about his new plan to be able to work alongside you through all the loopholes his father's lawyer found, you called him an idiot and told him it wasn't worth it.

"I beg to differ. If you don't want to, that's fine. But not because of whatever drama happened."

He knew the drama. It was impossible that a team principle had looked into having you as his driver 's trainer and not found out what had happened. It was also impossible that Oscar Piastri, former Prema driver - as in, former Arthur Leclerc teammate - and current teammate to loose tongue Lando, didn't know about you and Charles.

You had honestly just waited for the moment he would bring it up. He never did.

Because Oscar, you were coming to learn, was far more level-headed and mature than most the drivers on this grid. And he was so young. You didn't want to see anyone fuck that up. You really, really didn't.

Still, you said no.

Then a week later you saw that fucking tractor make him DNF.

You leaned forward and brought yourself down into a handstand, counting to ten before bending your elbows and lowering yourself slowly. You lifted yourself up and then tucked your legs once more. Your whole body was shaking more and more know but and you fought to breathe through it. You finally lowered yourself and let out a deep huff. Whilst you weren't pleased with how out of practice you were, you were a little pleased that you finally managed to lower yourself - instead of falling down.

You looked ahead at the mirrors and then saw a familiar face of the driver walking into the gym. Oscar dropped his gym bag near yours and went straight to the treadmill to warm up. You kept your eyes on him as you held yourself up on the parallettes and watched the young driver fiddle with his phone and earphones before starting a light jog.

You took a moment before you pulled yourself up and went over to him. Oscar met your eyes as he continued to jog. He pulled down earphone but you said nothing as you pressed the button to increase the speed. Oscar raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"45 seconds on. 15 seconds off. 20 repetitions." You said. Oscar nodded and put his earphone back in. You shook your head. He frowned and pulled them down.

"You don't drive with music so don't play anything." You said. "Feeling something in your ear needs to become second nature."

He nodded and you went to his phone and pressed pause. Then you made a voice when you noticed that Ed Sheeran was playing.

"Don't judge me." Oscar said.

"I am. You're working out to fucking Ed Sheeran." You responded with a scrunched nose. Oscar shook his head, smiling slightly, but said nothing else. In the silence, you observed his form and counted his breaths. You noticed slight irregularity with his inhale and exhales and immediately pulled him up on it.

And so you spent the rest of the night training Oscar Piastri.

By the time you both finished, and he gave you a tired and sweaty high five, the clock read five thirteen in the morning.

< prev ch [3] | next ch [5] >

taglist:

@eugene-emt-roe @spookystitchery @vicurious28 @taytaylala12 @c-losur3

@hiireadstuff @samantha-chicago @fionaschicken @casperlikej @bookstore-of-dreams

@itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19

[wysteria-bloom]

Hazbin Hotel but the reader is an overlord that's like Miss Argentina

Genre : Songfic

Warnings : Val. Allusions to suicide. Self harm.

A/n : yeah bro idek I thought this was a cool idea if this post flops I don't give a shit I love miss argentina and her song is the best out of the whole Beetlejuice soundtrack and I will fucking die on that hill. This is Alastor x reader focused btw.

"I was hot!" The woman exclaimed, leaning against the bar stool seductively, grinning toothily at Charlie," Went to parties a lot, yknow?" She raised her eyebrows suggestively, mimicking snorting cocaine across her forearm.

Charlie smiled nervously at the woman as she watched her spin away from the bar towards Husker gracefully," I was driving lamborghinis sippin' super dry martinis in the tiniest bikinis on a yacht," Her smile dropped and she pretended to be a damsel in distress, leaning backwards as Husk caught her in his arms with a bored expression," but I was depressed~..."

She pet Husk on the cheek good-naturedly and spun out of his arms," Oh so completely obsessed... an unhappy beauty queen who dreamed to be Miss Argentina," She gave Charlie a wink, flipping her hair before she gave her a sincere look," I had such low self-esteem, I was a mess!"

Charlie frowned in sympathy before she was pulled into a side hug very suddenly, face pressed against... a generously gifted... cleavage. Her cheeks exploded a bright colour of red and she could've sworn she heard Vaggie growl.

"So I gave it all up for the netherworld, I've been here forever, girl." She gave Charlie a wink and a ruffle of her hair," If I was more clever, girl - I would've stuck it out. Knowing what life's about."

She spun Charlie around, putting on a dramatic performance as she clutched a hand to her chest," Pain and joy and suffering," She wiped away a fake tear," Failing but recovering. I'll tell you another thing," She gestured to Charlie's ragtag group of sinners who were watching the performance with interest and amusement," Everyone here is alone!" Their faces dropped.

She cupped Charlie's face gently, grinning wryly," so if you are breathing, go home!"

She took Charlie's hands in her own, swaying her hips from side to side, engaging in a tango," If I knew then, what I know now~!" She twirled Charlie around with a joyous laugh, the princess couldn't help but laugh along with her, the woman's energy completely infectious," I would have looked within and let love in somehow~!"

She pulled Charlie back towards her, her movements sharp and jumpy," If I only knew, the truth back then," she pressed a kiss to Charlie's hand and let go, showing her wrists to Charlie with a cheeky little smile on her lips, two blatant scars across her wrists indicated to Charlie what exactly happened to (name)," I wouldn't have had my 'little accident'~"

She swayed around, ignoring the pitying look the princess sent her way," Don't be blind," She stopped in front of the painting of Charlie and her parents, gesturing to it with a disapproving frown on her painted lips," You left your whole life behind!" She then counted with her fingers as she began to list," see a shrink, call a priest, ask the recently deceased!" She pointed at Vaggie who ruffled at her uncomfortably.

She then began to push Charlie gently towards the front door of the hotel, giving Alastor an inviting grin," Death is final and you cannot press rewind~!" She cheered out with a wide grin to her voice.

The Radio Demon simply closed his eyes with a simple little smile on his lips, striding over to the woman and holding his arm out to her in a gentlemanly fashion, which made her laugh and link her arm with his.

As they walked around the town, demons chimed in to (name)'s song, following her with stars in their eyes and wide grins.

"Don't jump when the light is red!"

"Toasters should be used for bread."

"Never smoke cigars in bed..."

"Nietzsche was right, y'know, to live is to suffer, bro!"

"Don't cheat on the one you wed!!"

"Never whip a thoroughbred."

"Angry pygmys shrunk his head!"

(name) gave Charlie a gentle pat to the head with a little frown on her lips as the demons harmonised with her," Why did it take death to see that happiness was up to me?"

The woman broke from Alastor and Charlie, arms gestured out widely as if she was offering a hug to the whole of hell. She wish she could.

"If I knew then, what I know nowww~!" She spun around in a circle as demons danced around her with wide grins stretched across their faces, her energy affecting them as well," I would've laughed and danced and lanced every sacred cow!"

She turned to Alastor and Charlie, bright eyes shining at them as she waved her hands at them to follow along with her and let loose," I thought I knew, but I was wrong~!"

Alastor's grin stretched as he placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder, gesturing a hand to (name) as the two of them sang to her," 'cause life is short, but death is super long!"

Suddenly, a demon with a bomb-shaped head poked his head around (name), a mischievous little grin on his face," I exploded!" And his head did just that. But instead of brains, confetti flew around the whole of street.

It looked like a festival was happening... and with (name) it might as well have been a festival.

Demon danced and frolicked around as they cheered and chirped out, dancing in the square like no tomorrow.

Angel Dust grinned at Husk toothily and offered the cat a hand to dance which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at but took his hand anyways, a grin ghosting onto his lips.

Sir Pentious was crouched down a little as he took Niffty's little hands into his and they flailed their arms happily in an uncoordinated dance. His eggs marching around them with stupid smiles.

Vaggie offered a hand to Charlie with a shy little smile on her lips. The princess' previous grievances were forgotten as she let the happiest smile spread across her lips, pulling Vaggie close to her to begin dancing.

Alastor made his way into the middle as (name) held her hand out to him. His large claws wrapped around hers, one of his hands settled on her waist as he sang along with her.

"If I knew then, what I know now~! " She gave him a bright smile, the two of them dancing in complete sync. (name) didn't know Alastor could tango so well, that was for sure," I would've crossed every line and drank all the wine before my final bow!" At this line, Alastor dipped her, making her squeal in delight.

"If I knew, the things that now I know~!" The two of them focused on eachother's feet as they tapped and moved along to the music sharply, the demons all gaming over singing from here.

"I would ride the highs and cherish the lows! Going, it's a quick trick 'round the rodeo!"

(Name)'s arm wrapped around Alastor's neck as he lifted her up bridal style, spinning her around joyously. The woman had an arm thrown out as she sang her heart out," So before they lower the curtain, be certain to enjoy the show! That's what I knoooow~!"

He let her down as she danced herself and then gave Charlie a supportive smile," life is short but death is long," she took her hand and trailed her through the crowd to the middle of the square, standing on the stairways of the hotel," here, one minute then it's gone."

Charlie joined in the song happily," thought I knew but I was wrong," the two then harmonised," If only I knew what I know now~!!"

- 👠 -

Vox's eye twitched as he watched the screen, just about ready to explode. Vox had it frozen on the frame of (name) in Alastor's arms as they sang together with knowing smiles on their lips.

Val hummed, tapping the screen with a claw," her tits are huge, huh?"

That made the TV-man snap as he glitched out from pure adultered rage, throwing his "Fuck Alastor" mug at Val.

[radiofreederry]

Hey everyone, meet my sona Muirgel! She's a coral reef and a butch dyke. She lives on a small sailing yacht docked in Santa Monica, and she loves going out paddleboarding on the water. She works as a bartender, and her signature cocktail is a sex on the beach with coconut rum instead of vodka. In her free time, she likes smoking seaweed and getting fuuuucked up, as well as sailing and enjoying the sea. She also plays guitar in a ska band, although she's often late to rehearsal because a girl slipped her a phone number at the bar and so of course she had to deal with that first. She's super chill and laid back, and values authenticity above everything. Also sometimes she likes to fuck with people by making up stories about fucked-up deep sea creatures that she makes up out of whole cloth.

Art by @bijillion

[momobani]

&TEAM hyung line + vacation romance

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! | smut under cut | 0.8k

a/n: summer is coming and i can’t wait, so here’s a little vacation romance with hyung line. i’m working on more stuff, but for now i’m pulling things out of the vault <3

K vibe check: tove lo - elevator eyes

you met at a pool party that a mutual friend was throwing. you’d never met before but there was definitely a strong attraction on first sight, the kind of sparks that could start a forest fire. you make so much eye contact for a while from across the pool and inside the house too before he finally comes over and asks if he can get you a drink. you start chatting, flirting, whatever and the tension only builds up before he’s pulling you into the nearest room and kissing you hungrily. then he’s reaching under your tiny skirt to pull away the bikini bottoms to the side and slide a finger into your wet pussy to tease you, mouth never leaving yours. ends up fucking you against the wall and you leave the party quickly after that, his cum threatening to drip down your legs. you definitely end up seeing more of each other after that, transcending the vacation part of your romance as the temperature dropped over the coming months, going for hot coffee instead of ice cream, and wrapping up warmly in scarves and mittens (matching sets if you can be convinced cuz K is a cheeseball and got you couple items lol). 

Fuma vibe check: call on me - awich

you were lucky to get some time off for your summer vacation so of course you hit the beach. you notice Fuma on the first day, on a neighbouring umbrella spot, lying down on his towel with his head stuck in a book. you thirst over him quietly while you try to focus on your own book, but your eyes keep wandering back to him, silently and shamelessly tracing over his back muscles and biceps, even when you’re in the water for a swim. he comes in too at one point when you’re drying off on your towel and you openly stare at him from a distance with your sunglasses on. so it becomes a thing - you run into each other several days in a row, picking the same spots everyday as you pine from afar and he reads book after book. you’re surprised one day when he comes over with a bottle of water and asks if you wanted to have lunch. it’s a surprise to you that he noticed you were staring (you were so obvious omg) but you agree quickly. the two of you hit it off, talking about books and food and needless to say, he asks you out again somewhere different than the beach, maybe to the zoo or the botanical gardens.  

Nicholas vibe check: big chance - superm

you went on holiday with a mutual group of friends and rented a super nice villa and hired a yacht for a day or two since with a bigger group you can afford it. you’d been flirting for a while since the two of you had known each other but there’s something about the hot summer air and endless summer nights that cause sparks to fly between you and you can’t get enough of each other. you’re constantly all over each other the moment you’re alone - the kitchen when everyone is still hungover and asleep, the vacant jacuzzi while everyone is out on a walk, the tiny rooms on the yacht where there’s just enough space to squeeze in for an intense quickie. it’s so difficult being quiet and not leaving traces of your little adventures but you learn to be subtle, even if you can’t stop staring at each other. the two of you even sneak away from the group, thinking you’re slick but honestly everyone has a bet on how quickly you two would get together lol. you come back, a bit more dishevelled than when you left but no one acts surprised or bats an eye, though you do see some cash being passed around.  

Euijoo vibe check: romantic sunday - car, the garden

you decided to go on vacation by yourself somewhere near your city, just for convenience, and ended up in a quant little seaside town where your favourite place quickly became the ice cream shop. as much as you liked the sweet treat, the owner’s son, Euijoo, was so much sweeter. it was obvious that the two of you had chemistry from the get go but it took some initiative in flirting to get Euijoo to reciprocate and soon you were waiting for him after work, hanging out at the neighbouring arcade, walking on the beach in the evening, watching fireworks if there was any festivities, while he took you for drives in his truck [yes that scene from the fireworks mv yes, that one]. since it’s a small town and you know people will talk, you take Euijoo’s truck away and go car camping, which of course means no sleep while you make love under the stars all night, like a scene straight out of a romance film. you decide to extend your vacation a little longer to hang out with Euijoo but he surprises you by declaring he actually lives in the same city as you lol.   

[radioisntdead]

Hello!! I just read your velvette fic and it blew me away!!

Would it be okay if you made a fic of lucifers new wife meeting the hazbin hotel gang, along with mentioning how she died? It can be a song fic, and if it was, maybe what I know now from Beetlejuice?

If I'm asking for a lot, I'm sorry, this is my second time requesting something :)

Either way, thank you for considering this request, and if you could tag me if you make it, that would be nice!

With love 💙💙

-Xin

Good evening my dear! First of all you're doing great requesting! @fuck-this-shit-xin

Normally I prefer not to write for Lucifer for a couple of reasons, but the moment I read what I know now, I immediately went into writing mode, I ADORE THAT SONG, and Beetlejuice the musical as a whole but that song changed me, I annoyed my parents by playing it all the time back in 2020. I may have gotten slightly off track of the request, (I got excited writing reader singing)

If I knew then what I know now

Warnings!!!

Suicide and Self harm, Reader was a child star, Reader like the others breaks into song.

Link to the song, highly recommend you listen to it while reading!

Well, meeting your new husband's daughter was a bust, you ended up at her hotel, and he proceeded to get in a fight with a radio deer man and it was chaotic, So you decided to have a redo dinner where you could properly meet her and everyone,

Unfortunately the duck obsessed man had some type of emergency leaving you with your stepdaughter, her girlfriend and a couple of the other hotel residents alone.

"I'm sure he'll be back eventually."

You said with a strained smile, nervously smoothing out your dress as Charlie nodded,

"Yeah! I'm sure it was something that was super important, So uh, how'd you meet my dad?"

"Oh! Well it's a funny story-"

"Better question how does he perform in bed?"

"ANGEL."

"I'm not answering that."

And that pinwheeled into everyone drinking at the bar, chatting about random things and eventually Angel dust said something about his erotic films and you said you were in a couple of films when alive, although yours were more.... Family friendly

"Life is a thing that should be cherished, let me tell you I wish I could go back to it sometimes," you said swirling the alcoholic beverage in your hand,

"What wassssss your life like?"

"Well,"

The radio flickered on, letting a tune pour out.

Alastor raised an eyebrow.

"I was hot, I went to parties a lot"

You leaned back in your chair, recalling when you were alive,

"Y'know?"

Well that's not what Charlie was expecting you to open with,

"I was driving Lamborghinis, Sipping super-dry martinis,"

You downed the rest of your drink before standing up, moving to the music

"In the tiniest bikinis on a yacht"

You were quite scandalous when you were alive

"But I was depressed"

You put an arm over your head and leaned back leaning back, Alastor pushed you forwards with his cane.

"Also completely obsessed"

You had competed in beauty pageants since you were a child, you had starred in some films both as a child and as an Adult.

"An unhappy beauty queen"

It had been installed in you to be beautiful, the best, you had to eliminate your competition by outshining them, you were thrusted into the spotlight at such a young age, you never stood a chance.

"Who dreamed to be Miss Argentina"

A role you couldn't reach no matter how hard you tried,

"I had such low self-esteem"

You were beat down verbally by not only those around you, but by yourself, no one could beat the words you told yourself in the late hours of the night.

''I was a mess''

You had drowned your woes in alcohol, cocaine and other things, no one truly knew how much of a mess you were, being completely functional to do your pageants or films.

"So I gave it all up for the netherworld''

You flipped your hair as you twirled around.

"I've been here forever, girl"

You couldn't tell how long it's been since you died, you witnessed the decades change slowly but surely as more souls fell below.

"If I was more clever, girl"

You smiled.

"I would've stuck it out, Knowing what life's about,"

Oh how you missed looking out your window and seeing the blue sky, the sun, you missed fresh fruit, you missed the trees, normal looking animals!

"Pain and joy and suffering"

Maybe if you were born into a different life you would've been happier.

"Failing but recovering"

You made the decision to fix yourself, you hated the way your coping mechanisms made you feel, it destroyed you.

"I'll tell you another thing, Everyone comes here alone"

You motioned at the residents of the hotel, you weren't completely wrong, Angel dust came alone, Alastor showed up alone but summoned forth Husk and Niffty later on, Sir Pentious technically had his eggs but still.

"So if you are breathing, Go home!"

You danced with the rhythm of the music, hips moving.

"If I knew then, What I know now"

You placed a hand on Charlie's shoulder,

"I would have looked within and let love in somehow"

She gave you a warm hug you returned the hug before stepping back

"If I only knew the truth back then"

It was the last time, that's what you told yourself as you opened the bottle of Vodka, just one last time.

"I wouldn't have had my little "accident""

The little voice in your head was telling you it was going to get worse, and worse, you would never escape this life, you would forever be watched like a puppet, there was a letter opener on your nightstand, you were using it to open fanmail early that day.

The bracelets on your wrists moved showing a glimpse of the red markings that ended your life.

"Don't be blind"

You laid on the cold ground, blood staining your clothing, you looked up and saw the night sky, the stars were so, so beautiful.

"We left our whole lives behind"

You wondered who found you, your manager? a friend? Family member?

"See a shrink, Call a priest"

You moved around,

"Ask the recently deceased"

You glanced at the hotel residents, they hadn't died recently, you snapped your fingers summoning forth little puppet like people, where they sinners, did they come from you? Were they like the eggs? Who knows.

"Death is final and you cannot press rewind"

Stage lights turned on.

"Don't jump when the light is red"

"Toasters should be used for bread"

"Never smoke cigars in bed"

Three puppets sung, different colored lights shining on them

"Nietzsche was right, y'know, to live is to suffer, bro"

"Don't cheat on the one you wed"

A puppet dress in a suit popped up next, mocking a groom.

"Never whip a thoroughbred"

"Angry pygmys shrunk his head"

"Why did it take death to see, Happiness was up to me?" They sung in unison, each puppet dressed to match their line.

You stepped onto the stage the puppets surrounded you, standing beside and behind you.

"If I knew then, What I know now,"

You moved with the puppets,

"I would've laughed and danced"

Regrets filled you through and through

"And lanced every sacred cow"

You never did the things you wanted too, you never truly indulged in the hobbies you loved,

"I thought I knew, but I was wrong!"

If you could turn back the clock you would, without hesitation,

"'Cause life is short"

You would've probably still ended up here but at least you could've said that you lived life to the fullest!

"But death is super long"

You had an eternity to make up for the things you never did in life, it wasn't the same for multiple reasons, the main one being you were in hell.

A puppet exploded into a pile of confetti beside you.

"I exploded!"

Niffty quickly moved to clean up the confetti.

You danced to the music, twirling the puppets around, pulling up Charlie up onto the stage for a quick dance, A stray puppet pulling Angel dust into a very disorganized dance as he was tall while the puppet was not, Alastor did a goofy dance while another puppet aimed to dance with the eggs.

it wasn't all bad being down there, after all you did met your darling husband who you loved, and being married pulled you up above the average sinner.

Charlie hopped off of the stage

"If I knew then, What I know now"

Lights moved with you around the stage

"I would've crossed every line and drank all the wine"

One of the puppets wandered off to grab a glass of wine only to be stop by husk picking it up and tossing it over.

"Before my final bow!'

You did a half bow before twisting around, face to the puppets as they danced around you.

"If I knew"

You raised a hand the faintest of strings could be seen

"The things that now I know"

"I would ride the highs and cherish the lows"

Life was something you should've NEVER took for granted, you longed for the sense of normalcy that came with it,

"Going, it's a quick trick 'round the rodeo"

A small wooden horse with a smaller puppet moved around the stage for a moment.

Your movements became more face paced, your voice

"So before they lower the curtain, be certain to enjoy the show"

You bowed elegantly.

"That's what I know!"

The curtains closed.

"Life is short but death is long, Here, one minute then it's gone""

"Thought I knew but I was wrong, If I only knew what I know now!"

Your legs gave out below you, collapsed on the stage, the puppets vanished as the song ended, you were glad the curtains covered you.

You could hear the hotel doors fling open,

"Sorry I'm back! Everything's dandy now, what'd I miss?"

You heard your husband say, you took a deep breath before standing up brushing yourself off.

"Why are there ducks stuck on your coat?"

"I see Alaska is still here,"

"It's Aʟǟֆȶօr."

"Dad, Alastor please behave"

And that was your cue to prevent another fight You opened up the curtains with a large smile,

"Luci! You just missed my performance"

You said leaping off the stage tackling the short fallen angel into a hug, flustering him at the sudden attack of affection.

"I- wHAT?"

You wished you could go back and live life to the fullest but you couldn't do that, you had to spend your afterlife with your regrets, you would forever have that desire to go back, to live a sense of normalcy but you had your husband and maybe a new family with Charlie and Vaggie.

You looked forward to what the future held.

Good evening folks hope you enjoyed! Lucifer didn't get much page time (??) because no idea how to write him and again I wanted to indulge in reader's musical performance, thank you for tuning in I am making my ways through requests!

[herejusttosufferalong]

I keep seeing people saying L and N will never work because their lifestyles are so different. Maybe they're new or maybe they're just blinded from the past year and a half, but HBS is not L's normal. It's not even R's normal. This is new territory for everyone. In my mind last summer was driven by R (similar to this summer, a big chunk was his bday trip) as well as a destination wedding. If we look back to L and J, they went on trips, but they weren't exactly yachting around the mediterranean. They went to Amsterdam, out into the woods in rural England, yes Soho FH as well, but they kept things so much more relaxed and down to earth. I know those of us who have been around for years sound like a broken record, but this is just a completely different L. It's jarring. Sometimes I wonder if L would've been able to lean more on JV after his breakup if he hadn't been married and settled. Him and R broke up with long term partners in similar-ish times (about 1 year apart) so it just worked out they would spend the most time together of the friend group. Sorry, rambling with my thoughts. Anyways, I truly think N and L (if L goes back to his former/true(?) self) would have very compatible lifestyles. I also think they have people in their individual circles who could mesh well. JR and DL are friendly with L already, C follows and supports N and I could see them being friends. R can honestly get fucked at this point, but L can stay friends with him and do "bro" things w/o N. It's weird to think couples need to do everything together. It's 3am and this isn't super coherent, but just wanted to get some of my thoughts out there 🧇❤️

PS R's ex was 2 years older than him...not uncommon after a devastating breakup to run to the exact opposite. Just saying, L might not be the only lost one right now.

💜🥃

[allycat75]

Other characters in this junior high drama-mystery, that is so bad, CAA would convince our Boston Dumb Fuck it was a smart vehicle for him.

Because let's be honest, the crazy fan narrative is tissue paper thin and frankly uninspired. So who else we got!

The Publicist, who couldn't sell a sweater to a naked man in Winnipeg in the dead of winter and did no vetting of possible partner's problematic behavior. Did she think the fans would be that dumb because they saved him from a dick pic embarrassment? By the way, this is way worse that any dick pic.

The agents, looking for extra revenue streams now that their human trafficking pipeline has gotten too much exposure with the biggest client rotting in prison. Also include some (streaming) studios here who have deals with said agents and need their own additional revenue streams now that they figured out their existing business models don't work anymore, but are in need of a fourth yacht and 3rd private jet.

The ingenue who has been told her value is what is on the outside and how she can make older men feel. They will give her anything she wants and she doesn't have to work hard like the racially inferior, ugly and fat ones. It's not her fault everyone else is jealous. And if she doesn't get her way she acts like a petulant child and throws a tantrum until those around her capitulate.

The clout chasing friends, and possibly family. Whether it is for free trips, social media exposure, acting roles or just plain dickishness, they love taking advantage of their little cash cow, even if he looks sick, over worked, depressed and empty. Just keep smiling in them fancy photos while your "friend" slowly fades away. But then I guess the joke is on them, because, like the destruction described at the end of "The Lorax", "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not."

The lawyers who can't seem to get The Golden Boy out of a super shady contract. No morality clause? No milestone clauses where if it looks like the situation is causing either party damage they could bail? Seems to me some of the requirements reek of illegal behavior- bribery, blackmail/coersion, immigration violations, along with punative emotional damages (just read the GQ article and look at most any picture of him since last November and you can see what I mean).

And finally, we have The Golden Boy himself. The one who could do no wrong. But that was only because he "shushed" all warnings out of his head. Whether it was hubris, greed, carelessness, frivolity, gullibility, obfuscation or just plain stupidity, he got himself into this mess somehow and can't seem to get himself out of it. It has destroyed his relationship with his fans, his ability to find and choose good roles, taken the joy and sparkle out of his eyes, caused him to dissociate from his entire life and career (says it himself in the GQ article), given up to smoke pot and play video games all day like a loser, "married" someone with the exact opposite traits he claimed to desire and is now associated with the antisemitic racists he used to fight against, while displaying some nasty misogynistic behavior throughout the process. And for what?

Yeah, but it's his fans that are crazy.

[targaryenluvs]

congrats on 200 followers!! :) could you write a super fluffy fic about reader being charles’ younger sister and finding out about her secret relationship with carlos?? <3

of course! here you goooo

The One

(you have no clue how much i love that gif, hes sooooo 🥵❤) per usual, shitty spanish n french translations and rushed ending

-

The party was in full swing at the moment.

Everyone was either stumbling over their friends' feet, tipsy or black out drunk.

You were standing in the middle of the conversation pit, looking around for Carlos. Right now you were on a yacht somewhere in Bahrain and that was all you really knew, not that it matter that much.

As you spotted your boyfriend, leaning on the railing while seemingly deep in conversation with some girl.

And you weren't exactly the jealous type, (or so you proclaimed yourself) but the fact that in any other circumstance you would've been fine with Carlos talking to other women let alone jealous sucked according to you.

Because what annoyed you was that you were expected to be okay with it.

Why? Perhaps the fact that your last name ends with the ever so prestigious 'Leclerc'.

Y/n Leclerc.

Youngest of the Leclerc family and only girl.

And who most defintely wasn't secretly dating her older brothers teammate and best mate Carlos Sainz.

Now you hadn't meant for it to happen.

Rewind to 2021 Monaco, although it may not have been the best, for your brother it had been great for your boyfriend.

A bunch of Ferrari employees and coworkers of his as well as drivers went out to a nightclub to celebrate. Charles obviously wasn't feeling super up for partying so he encouraged you to go along instead since he claimed you clung to him all the time rather than being on your own.

And as the drinks flowed and conversation waned the last resort for the night was dancing. And when an elated, smiley Spanish man dragged you to the dance floor despite your drunken protests you found yourself having more fun then you had expected. And you also found yourself viewing Carlos in a different light. Literally. With the clubs dark lighting and sporadic flashes of colours you found yourself in awe of him. Podium finished look good on him. And you weren’t the only one adapting new feelings. Carlos hadn't stopped looking at you the whole night. Which a certain Australian and French man caught notice of early on.

"Why dont you just talk to her rather than eye fucking her from across the table?" Daniel slurred into Carlos's ear as he proceeded to down the rest of his Estrella Galicia. To which he was met with a prompt elbow in his ribs.

Pierre wrapped his arm around Carlos's shoulder. "She's been looking at you too, and if you don't make a move soon I will. Because she looks like a fucking god in that dress Sainz."

And that sentence alone was more than enough to bring him to his feet and you to your knees.

That night ended in scattered feelings and shallow breathing.

Neither of you had meant for it to become anything past one night. It was meant to be a reliever of tension, not starter.

Everytime you visited the paddock he'd be there. Leaning against a doorway with a smirk on his face as he saw you.

Or the slight brush of your hands when walking past eachother.

Everything made you want to scream.

And you eventually did.

Again just not in the way you planned.

And it rolled onwards from there, Carlos and you becoming official in November after months of sneaking around.

From the media, paparazzi, friends, family, everyone. Mostly because there was one certain person, important to both of you that was a wild card. In the sense of the two of you had no clue how Charles would take this.

And it all led to here.

As the girl continued to laugh and touch just a little too much you decided to storm over.

"Mi am- Y/n. How are you?"

He asked as he turned around to face you fully.

"Good, I'm good. Great in fact. How about you babe?"

If this moment wasn't as serious as it was you would've burst out in laughter at the way Carlos's eyes bulged as if they were threatening to pop out of his sockets.

"Mi amor, ¿qué estás diciendo? Estamos en publico?"

"My love what are you saying? We're in public."

"Hi it's nice to meet you, I just need my boyfriend since we're going home. Enjoy your night!" You blurted out as you linked arms with Carlos.

"Copain?"

"Boyfriend?"

You were met face to face with a fuming Charles. His hair was sticking up in every what way from the humidity around and his face was bright red.

"I- uhm."

"Frère, s'il te plaît, laisse-moi t'expliquer avant de supposer-"

"Supposer? Supposer quoi? Que tu ne sors pas seulement avec mon coéquipier mais aussi avec mon meilleur ami?"

"Charles-"

"Et toi ! Tu sors avec ma soeur, tu te moques de moi Carlos ?"

"Brother please let me explain before you assume-"

"Assume? Assume what? That you are not only dating my team mate but my best friend as well?"

"Charles-"

"And you! Dating my sister are you fucking kidding me Carlos?"

"Can we please go inside? I don't want a scene. S'il te plait frère?"

"Please brother."

You were hoping that maybe the yacht would go through rocky waters, perhaps giving you and Carlos a shot at escaping Charles's fury.

But of course, someone had it out for you.

Since now you were sat at a secluded kitchen island with your secret boyfriend sitting next to you, holding your hand under the table as your elder brother paced back and forwards across from you.

"How long?"

Carlos looked at you, asking for permission before divulging everything the two of you tried to keep hidden. With the nod of a head all the details of Carlos and yours' relationship was practically laid bare, naked.

Charles had his head in his hands.

"Frère tu vas bien?" You asked cautiously.

"Ou- Non. C'est juste, je ne sais pas. Je ne sais pas pourquoi c'est arrivé. Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu me l'as caché pendant si longtemps, j'ai tellement de questions mais je-" Charles a divagué. alors que vous faisiez le tour de l'île et l'enveloppiez dans une étreinte chaleureuse.

"Brother? Are you okay?"

"Ye- No. I just, I don't know. I don't know why this happened. I don't know why you kept it from me for so long, I have so many questions but I-"

Charles rambled on as you circled the island and engulfed him in a warm hug.

As you let go Carlos stood behind you, arms draped around your neck as he kissed your forehead.

Ballsy move mate.

He let go and stepped infront of you.

"Charles, mate. I know this is super big and sudden for you but for us it is not. We have been waiting for so long for you to know so we didn't have to hide it anymore. We shouldn't have waited so long to tell you. I shouldn't have. But you need to know that I love her. I love your sister. So so much. To much. Ever since we've been together she's been there for me through every and everything. She's always been patient with me, my job, working out, everything. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to make her feel at least half as special as she has made me. I love her, always."

"I appreciate knowing that there is always someone to watch over her when I can." Charles said as he brought Carlos in for a hug.

"But if you hurt her in the slightest, I will hunt you down, Arthur, Lorenzo, Maman and I. Got it?" Charles jokingly threatened causing you all to laugh, & you couldn't help but admire Carlos.

He looked perfect. His soft hair, his gorgeous brown eyes, white button down and black pants. It was simple but he made it look amazing. He was so gorgeous. And as he laughed with Charles, at that moment you knew, there was no one who would even come closer to beating him.

He was the one.

[temptaetions]

boys like you 🌷 h.hj (m)

a/n: the photo above is from hyunjin’s marie claire shoot. i do not own the photo. that being said, this fic was originally posted by me on a different, now defunct blog, i own this fic. it was formerly titled “corre, amor.” i have since deleted it from that blog and am reposting a revised version on this blog. again, i wrote this fic and it is 100% my own. i also feel super self conscious about it. be nice plz.

synopsis: hwang hyunjin is like a burning fire - dangerous, passionate, and at times, hard to dissipate. you were frozen from within, your exterior only soft to his touch. when you are his polar opposite, it should be easy to melt at his fingertips, shouldn’t it?

genre: established relationship au | breakup au | x fem!reader | smut | angst | fluff

pairing(s): dancer!hwang hyunjin x poet!fem!reader | lee minho x han jisung

word count: 8.5k. lowercase intended.

rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

warnings: swearing, one-sided pining, minimal romantic fluff, some angst, minimal smut [between h.hj x reader: some degradation, heavy petting, heavy make-out session, handjob/semi-oral, nipple play, cum eating / swapping.] hyunjin has body piercings (nipples and belly button.)

what to listen to: advice - taemin | do it for love - thama, george | play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money | know me - dpr live, dean | different - woodz

everyone was convinced that your relationship with hyunjin was one-sided. from the outside looking in, you could understand why. oftentimes, it was him scouring the university in search of you, and yes, he had a photo of you in his phone case and his car dashboard. the boy you’d come to adore was nearly six feet of pure love for you — he even dedicated his showcase stages to you, choosing only the most sensual of love songs to show the student body that he was a burning fire.

and yet, as much as you loved hwang hyunjin, you remained solid. unmelted was your icy form, and as the time went on, people had begun to notice. slipping away from crowds after his showcases and losing hyunjin in them became a regular thing, and the apartment was often empty because neither of you were ever really home. much like your eyes when you looked at him these days, what used to be the world to you now reflected a beautiful blonde man with the prettiest lips this side of the han river. you still loved him, you’d convinced yourself of such. the only question left was, was it in the way he did?

once upon a time, all your poems screamed his name. from long winded monologues to neat, tight haikus, your words were stringed together to recreate the man you woke up next to every day for the past three years. exasperated sighs during your poetry slams showed the way your feelings for this man ate you up inside and god, you just couldn’t believe you’d finally found a good guy. a man that was the healing of the past and the brightening of the future, the man who truly made your days enjoyable. 

“good morning,” hyunjin was stretching in the living room as you allowed your sleep-deprived body to practically float through the apartment. lack of sleep due to the endless thinking and stress over school made you a zombie — one who didn’t have much of a knack for social interaction. nonetheless, you returned the sarcastic greeting, seeing as it was two in the afternoon on a nice sunday. the coffee in the pot was cold as you poured it, and you scowled as you grabbed some ice cubes but you couldn’t complain. had you been up on time, it would’ve been hot, you can hear hyunjin now.

“mm, you look nice,” you murmur as you slide onto the couch, watching your boyfriend’s shirt ride up slightly on his waist, exposing the sliver of skin you ran your fingers down before bed. he simply chuckled at your comment, a faint blush dancing across his cheeks as he continued his hip warm ups. “you’ve got rehearsal tomorrow after class, right?” sipping your coffee quietly, you saw hyunjin nod softly as he laid down on his mat. “yeah, unfortunately. i have to rain check our dinner tomorrow night, m’sorry, doll.” he closes his eyes as he rests his arms on his torso, and you slip off the couch to run your fingers through his soft hair. admiring him, you stroke his cheek gently as he opens his eyes, placing his hand above yours.

“your big showcase is coming up. dinner can wait, i’m always by your side.” you assured him of things you weren’t so sure of yourself, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. his eyes changed as you said that, but he nodded reluctantly as you placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “don’t practice too hard, my love. you know it worries me. i’ll be in the office if you need me.” 

“‘course, honey. don’t type your fingers off,” he’s muttering to himself, and he knows how much it bothers you but even the people who are supposedly perfect have bad days. a nice guy, really. “i heard that, pipsqueak.” you call back, placing your coffee cup on your desk, leaving the door slightly ajar to hear his recital music. as soon as you hear the first notes of the remix changbin made for him, minho and felix, you ease into your desk chair. closing your own eyes, you can see his movements in your mind from hours of watching them practice this routine, specifically two years ago when the dance team uploaded it to youtube. they planned on recreating it to see where it could take them, as a trio — seeing as the fluidity of the boys raked in millions of views, and thousands of dollars in donations to the school and the dance team.

none of which hit the creative writing and poetry department, but hey, the poetry slam videos didn’t do as well. to be fair, the poetry slam club didn’t do much to raise money but turned around to ask mommy and daddy — whereas, you worked for your fifty cents. unfortunately, your major had a huge influx of people who didn’t quite really appreciate the time and effort that it took to make your art — and a lot of them were actually there to please their parents, to say they went to college. as sad as it was, you realized your freshman year that you were surrounded by maybe a third of your class with an actual passion for writing, and even then, you would hear them mouth off about your classes being an easy a.

it sometimes made you wish to have picked a different field, at a different university. maybe even if you had pursued journalism like you had intended...maybe things would be different. you often notice your mind wandering off to these places, and you remind yourself you wouldn’t have met hyunjin. so, maybe things worked out in the end — even if you did watch your old friends travel out of the country on externship to major news companies and even land jobs before graduation. jobs you couldn’t pay to get, and so, you worked part-time at the italian restaurant down the street and hid from any possible peers that may come your way.

“y/n-ah, you promised me i’d score some free breadsticks if i brought you the coffee!” jisung was whining as you bagged up his order, missing the way you shot your coworker a knowing glance, chuckling to yourself. “yah! did your mother not teach you manners? i know what i said, now keep quiet while minho gets them.” you give him a pointed look, and he scowls as you take the warm bread bag and slip it into his knapsack. “love you, bud. take it easy, i know that ankle is killing you.” you pat his shoulder, and he smiles inwardly as he takes the bag shyly, whirling out of the shop with a soft call of goodbye.

“how’s hyunjin?” minho inquires, pouring some olive oil into his calzone dough mix. you watch as he turns the mixer on, leaning your cheek on the heel of your hand. you gave your friend a sad look, and he sighed as he took in the atmosphere. “i take it you’re feeling detached?”

“and i hate it. hyunjin is literally my best friend, he is the absolute love of my life! i don’t know what’s going on anymore.” you bury your face in your hands, letting out a groan of frustration. only minho knew of your inner turmoil, and that was because you knew he’d understand. he too, was in the same situation. the only difference was that he could give you a hyunjin perspective — because it was jisung that felt the way you did. but if you told jisung, there was a small possibility he would spill the beans — not on purpose, but it would happen eventually. minho was like a steel safe enclosed in another one that was bolted into the ground.

“you need to talk to him before he starts prying. why do you think jisung left without a word to me?” he’s kneading the dough angrily, and you wince at every harsh smack that lands. “do you think i enjoy coming home to an empty bed, while jisung is out late with chan-hyung and changbin? do you think i like opening my hulu account to see he’s watched seven episodes of how i met your mother without me? this is fucking ridiculous,” he was now rolling out the dough, the warm container of fresh marinara sauce nearly being spilt with the vigor in which the table was shaking.

“you seriously need to talk to him, babe.” you turn as the doorbell dings, and you’re met by the prettiest soul this side of the han river — hyunjin. feeling a small smile slip onto your face, you return to the register to see him smiling back at you. “why hello, how may i help you?” 

“hello, miss. i’m looking for a certain y/n, i’ve come to whisk her away for supper.” he’s holding a brown bag, and you just know there’s a steamy bowl of soft tofu stew waiting to be devoured. “i adore you, hwang hyunjin.” you skirt around the counter to kiss his lips softly, hands resting on his cheeks as one of his own comes to your waist, the tips of his fingers settling in your back pocket.

“minnie, i’ll be back in thirty!” you call out, and the boy waves you off with a chuckle. despite the obvious problems that you were skirting around, minho knew that you would always adore hyunjin, boyfriend or not.

physical attraction was also not an issue — he was gorgeous, but you hated reducing him to that, and anyone who did was immediately on your hit-list. hyunjin had talent, skill, and one of the kindest hearts you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. hyunjin was what you could call an all-rounder — he was efficient in every area of his life, including his relationship. which made you realize that perhaps, it was your lack of experience in relationships, in being treated nicely.

“i love those jeans on you,” hyunjin says as you walk hand-in-hands towards the back parking lot. “you say that because you bought them for me, even after i said i didn’t need them.” you roll your eyes as hyunjin lets go of your hand, instead using it to open the backseat door for you. this was routine, on days that hyunjin didn’t have late practices or managed to leave early — he would buy something you both loved, drive to your workplace, steal you from minho for a bit to grub, and then wait at home for you until you called to be picked up. sometimes you even drove minho home. however, hyunjin’s hand on your knee as he slid in after you, gave you a warm sensation throughout your chest.

you sighed contentedly, letting hyunjin get everything out of the bag. you began slipping your white jumper off, seeing as if any of the stew got on it, you’d regret blowing fifty dollars on it. you soon realized that the jumper was exactly why hyunjin offered to manage your finances. “spoon, napkin,” he was handing you things and you quietly took them, waiting as he began to lower the cup holder to place the stew between you.

“hyunjin, do you remember our first date?” you looked at the sun, hanging low in the sky as the nighttime approached. you had been sitting in this very backseat, your hands tangled in his hair as he showed you a song he loved at the time — and continued to, to this day it blasted through your speakers at home. it’d sort of become your song — but you shared many things with him that night. “you mean how you kissed me after you had texted me earlier that day that there would be no kissing? not saying i didn’t enjoy it,” he snorts as you whack his arm lightly.

“yah, it was a moment of weakness. the timing was perfect, you were perfect.” you lean against the door, leg propped up on the seat as your fingertips tracing the spoon in your hand. you feel a bit of emotion hit your eyes, but hyunjin softly pats your leg. “hwang hyunjin, how did i manage to find a man like you?”

“you didn’t, there’s nothing all that special about me,” you’ve both seemed to forget about the early supper as hyunjin lifts the cup holder up, and scoots closer to you, resting your legs atop his thighs. drumming his fingers along your shins, he smiled at the fond memory of the date. “if anything, i think it was a moment of rose-colored glasses. all i did was slide you a book from the top shelf.” it was true, you’d met hyunjin at the campus library. granted, it was your first time in there, and hyunjin had been a bit of an overachiever his first year — so he was in the right place at the right time as you groaned about the library stacking ten shelves high.

“i still can’t believe we had sex in that bathroom,” you shudder playfully, letting out a laugh as hyunjin gasped. “you suggested it! i just granted your wish!” laughing harder, you notice hyunjin admiring you softly. “yah, you’re making me shy.” 

“you’re beautiful,” his thumb caresses your cheek, and you glance at his lips before he slowly closes in. the softness of them, something you often envied, had always been enough to make you feel hot. the technique, his hand placement as he kissed you sweetly, always made you feel giddy. hyunjin was like a really good amusement park — you wanted to go on all the rides. without breaking the kiss, you adjusted yourself to sit on his lap, relishing the way his hands snaked to your belt loops to pull you closer. his tongue expertly slides into your mouth, a small gasp escaping your lips as his thumbs rub circles over your covered breasts, the flimsy tank top hiding your sensitive nipples but heightening the sensation.

subconsciously pushing your chest into him, your own hands struggle to find home as you slide them beneath his own shirt, feeling his softly chiseled muscles under your fingertips. the soft whine that emits from his lips as you brush his nipple accidentally, a gentle reminder of the small metal bar that he pierced in on a drunken night. if there was anything you and hyunjin shared, it was sensitivity.

his hands immediately pulled down the straps of your shirt, the material sliding off your breasts as he broke the kiss — lips dragging all over your chest, nipping and biting in all places. “wait, wait. take this off,” you pulled on his own shirt, and he obliged almost furiously, tugging his cardigan and shirt off in one go — pierced nipples and belly button on display. god, he was fucking gorgeous.

“mm, i like these.” your voice was low as you gently stroked them, adoring the soft rutting of hyunjin’s hips against your own. “be nice to me tonight, baby. i’m sore from practice.” he tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, and you look at his swollen lips. a shy blush coats his cheeks as he looks away, your hand grabbing for his jaw to make him look at you, your eyes boring into his own. “fuck, you’re beautiful. you’ve always been so beautiful.” he whines, his hand at the nape of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss, rougher this time. his free hand circles around your waist, holding you in place as your lips connect again, but briefly because you begin to kiss down his jaw, stopping to nibble at his earlobe. adding to the sensation, you grind your hips down, and you take a small nip near his jugular, a whine of your name leaving his mouth.

“you sound so pretty, so, so pretty baby. do it again.” you suck on the skin softly, and with your hands pressed against his chest, he allows another murmured whine to ring in your ears, his skin hot to the touch. “fuck, y/n.” 

you find yourself tracing his stomach and waist, trailing kisses down his chest — and a welcomed sensation to him when you teasingly flicked your tongue on his hardened nipple. his hips bucked up and you chuckled, his fingers carding through his hair as you swirl your tongue around his nipple, heart beating against his chest insanely fast. “your heart is beating so fast.” whispering, you place a chaste kiss right above it, before trailing down slowly, maneuvering your back and legs to kneel before him, carefully so you’d fit nicely. hyunjin looked at you as you did so, following your every move with glassy eyes.

“take off your pants.” slightly hoarse, but he slipped his hands under the band of his sweats, shoving them down as you’d instructed. you watched like a hawk, the way his thigh muscles flexed deliciously as he shoved them down carefully. springing free, his cock was beautiful — not too thick, maybe two inches above average, leaking precum any time he let you get your hands on him. glancing up at him, you notice the soft love bites blooming across his chest and neck, smiling to yourself as you hover above his cock. running your forefinger along the underside, you relished in the power as hyunjin shivered under your touch. leaning down slightly, you give his tip a kitten lick, gathering a bit of his precum on your tongue — and you rest your hands on his thighs to hoist yourself up towards his lips.

taking your tongue in first, hyunjin kisses you slowly, allowing the taste of himself to marinate in your mouths. you gently drag your nails on his inner thighs, noticing the goosebumps trail along your boyfriend’s skin before you grab his shaft snugly. a surprised gasp disconnects your lips, and you take the opportunity to spit directly on his swollen tip, taking it into your mouth shallowly as you softly spread your saliva with his precum. all is calm as you begin sucking towards the underside of his tip, your tongue running along the thick vein of his length.

practically drooling a river, you push yourself to sink down a bit more, allowing his tip to barely brush the back of your throat — his dull nails are digging into your shoulder as you swallow around him, the pace of your movements excruciatingly slow as you pull off with a pop. a string of spit connected you to him as you pulled away, your lips swollen lightly as you took hold of his thigh, pumping his erection in one hand, kissing his lips chastely as you whispered sweet nothings. “i want you, so bad, baby.” he whines against your lips, and you almost feel bad as you sadistically smirk. “you always do, don’t you?”

you can feel his thigh quivering as he tries to hold back, but the overwhelming feeling of your lips dragging over his upper body and the tight, rhythmic stroking of his cock in your hand was all too much. you can tell because he’s beginning to look away, his eyes fluttering as you continue to murmur filthy words in his ear, his hips swiveling in light circles into your hand. “does the little slut want to cum?” and without warning, hyunjin was orgasming, his cum shooting out in warm spurts all over your chest. his eyes screwed shut as he trembled under your touch, and you simply smiled as he exhaled a breath you were sure he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

“found a new word for you, baby. you did so well for me, my love.” you laugh softly as you begin to wipe your breasts off with your finger, not noticing the way hyunjin’s tired eyes still held a bit of lust in them. taking hold of your hips, hyunjin pulled you up into his lap once more, leveling your chest with his mouth. he slowly dragged his lips over every open part, collecting his cum as he swirled his tongue over your breasts, nipping softly. appalled, you watched him through hooded eyes, an absentminded hand tangled in his hair leading him to your nipples every now and again. “kiss me, baby.”

his hand quickly finds home on your jaw, guiding the slippery kiss full of passion..when you hear a knock on the window. the sudden sound causes you to hit your head on the roof of the car, in turn making you bite down on hyunjin’s lower lip. not that he cared, it was hot.

“what the fuck!” hyunjin throws his shirt over you before tucking himself back into his sweatpants, and you panic-wipe your face and his, realizing just how foggy the windows had gotten. he takes a shaky breath before rolling down the window, only to see minho standing there with his arms crossed. “y/n-ah, you said thirty minutes.” he’s not happy, but hey, it could’ve been worse. you sigh in relief, dropping hyunjin’s shirt, not caring that minho has now seen your boobs as you tug your straps back up. hyunjin’s stomach felt like it fell out of his ass, but minho grimaces as he watches his younger friend wipe his face once more. “in the parking lot? really?”

“listen, sometimes you gotta make do.” you smile, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek apologetically. “i’ll see you at home, baby. promise.” kissing his lips gently one more time, you wave to him as he tries to catch his breath. slipping away with minho, you try to hide the sweat on your face from riling yourself up in a hot ass car just to get your boyfriend off.

“i expected more from you, y/n. you were gone for forty minutes,” minho scoffs as he wipes a tissue across your chest, and you feel your face heat something awful when you realize you still had some of hyunjin’s residue on you. how embarrassing. nonetheless, you scowl at your friend. “that’s barely ten minutes over!” you want to be mad at minho, but your mind can only drift to hyunjin as your empty stomach growls for the last twenty minutes of your shift.

“yah, hyunjin-ah. i’m home!” you call out as you slide your backpack off, noticing his favorite boots abandoned by the door.  minho had walked you home, so you figured there was no use in calling him anyway. rolling your eyes, you pick them up to place on the somewhat empty rack (it was usually full of shoes stacked upon each other), and it is only then you hear the lo-fi beats coming from your bedroom that you realize he may have fallen asleep. smiling to yourself, you tiptoe into the kitchen, finding the soft tofu stew in the microwave and you grant yourself permission to heat it up while you get ready for bed. popping the lid off, you slide it back in and quietly walk towards your bedroom, seeing your boyfriend bundled in the duvet like a burrito. his eyes were shut, lips parted softly and he was beautiful.

leaning against the doorframe, you admire him quietly, his light breathing drowned out by the music coming from your television. you take in the purple-tinted atmosphere, ignoring the backpack and duffle bag hidden in the corner of the room.

“stop staring at me,” you hear him mumble, and you let out a laugh. “i thought hwang hyunjin was sleeping, sorry hwang hyunjin.” you chuckle, moving to turn on the desk lamp to remove your makeup. he grunts in response, before sitting up and leaning back onto the bed frame. “yah, y/n. i need my beauty rest.”

“yeah? do you? you also need to study, you’ve got a fat ass final coming up in that anthropology class.” you tap your shared calendar, and sure enough, he had a test in two weeks. “honey, i deserve a break.” he groans, and you simply shake your head as you wipe off your lipstick, that had somehow managed to stay intact during your...earlier endeavors.

“yeah, baby. you do.” you smile at him through the mirror, noticing the way he seemed a bit...drained. “ah, i don’t like it when you look like that, hyunnie. what’s nagging you?” you say, slipping off your jumper and tank top, rustling in his drawer for a shirt, which felt surprisingly less full. his silence makes you rush, grabbing a random shirt you were sure belonged to changbin at some point but you shoved your head in anyway.

“i just...i’m feeling a bit cold.” he says quietly, and you freeze. “cold...cold meaning sick, cold meaning temperature, cold meaning—”

“you feel far away, y/n. i feel cold.” he reluctantly turns to face you, his hands in his lap. frowning, you tug off your jeans, grabbing a pair of his shorts to slide on. “baby, i—”

“no, y/n. don’t ‘baby’ me, you always do this. anytime i want to be closer to you and i want to show you off the world, you hide from me. every time i want to go do cliché couple things, like matching sweaters or something, you brush me off. am i a joke, y/n? is this funny to you? do you get off on being cruel to someone who loves you more than anything?”

the outburst is unexpected. you feel your chest heat with embarrassment, and you back away from the bedside where you had been standing. you feel your eyes well up with tears but you know there is no excuse for the way you’d been acting, and that he wasn’t wrong — and you couldn’t brush it off this time. looking down, you fiddle with your rings as you let his words sink in.

“i’m sorry, hyunjin. i wasn’t aware you felt this way,” you feel a lump in your throat and you wonder why — maybe after so long of hoping he would mess up in order to break up, you realized you didn’t want that. you look at him through blurred vision, the purple love bites you left now fully bloomed and an eyesore. “i know you weren’t, y/n. you never ask me how i’m feeling any more, much less have you ever. i understand we get caught up in our lives and i know that all this ‘other half’ stuff is bullshit, but you would make time for me, y/n. you were melting, and now you’re just back in the freezer.” he sighed, throwing the comforter off his legs and standing before you. wiping tears off your cheeks, hyunjin pulls you into a tight hug.

“i just want to know what i’m doing wrong.” and you break. “you’re not doing anything wrong, hyunjin. it’s me, it’s always been me. i’m just this broken piece of ice that’s been floating over the ocean for decades, hoping someday the sun will melt me down and i’ll become one with the water. i’m tired of not being able to give you the benefit of the doubt and realize that you won’t hurt me like everyone else has. it’s been three damn years, hyunjin. what am i doing wrong?”

“maybe you’re not ready for a relationship, y/n.” his voice is calm as he strokes your back, and you feel your heart start racing at the thought of losing him. regardless of what you’d thought before, the panic of being alone has now set in and you can’t imagine your life without him — and that in itself is a toxic mentality. you were not incomplete before you met hyunjin, and you would be fine if and when he ever decided to step out of your life.

“no, no. i am, i am ready. that’s why i’m here, i swear i’ll fix it—” your panicked hands stroked hyunjin’s face shakily, and you noticed tears in his eyes as he grabbed your wrists, cupping your hands in his own as he stood. “y/n, you’re not ready. for the past three years, i’ve felt alone in this apartment, no matter how many times you walked through that door. i felt you try to warm up, i felt your effort but slowly, you just kept pushing me back. ice is meant to melt at some point, my love. maybe you are something far more solid.”

and that is when you notice that he is fully dressed. his jewelry is still in, and he’s in a different jumper and sweatpants. his feet are covered with the cactus socks you snagged at target for him, and you suddenly feel your stomach do a backflip. suddenly, the less-crowded shoe rack, the organized drawer, the bags in the corner...they make sense.

“are you...are you leaving me?” your trepidation is clawing at your throat, and you can feel your nails digging into your palms. “no, y/n. you’re leaving me.” hyunjin wipes a tear from his face, holding one of your poetry books in his hand. he must have hid it under the blankets, and he hands it to you, opening it to a bookmarked page. you now see your world crumbling before you. furrowing your brows, you close it, your hand going limp as you stare at his socks.

“you read my work.” you let the book slip onto the floor, landing on the carpet with a soft thud. “it’s the only way i’ve even made it this far, y/n.” you feel betrayal rip through you, and you hate that the only thing you ever asked him not to do had been done. you didn’t care about hiding anything besides this flimsy book of poems that you hid beneath your bed every single time you wrote something new.

“get out.” you mumble, and hyunjin opens his mouth, only to press it in a tight line. he grabs his bags quickly, and you’ve seen now that he even cleared his own cosmetics off your vanity. you would miss dolling him up for his showcases. “i’ll see you at my showcase. i hope you’re still coming.” he said quietly, before padding silently into the living room, and eventually, you heard the jingle of his keys and the slam of the front door. hearing the lock turn, you felt the tears roll down your face uncontrollably.

and slowly, but surely, you’ve fallen asleep with your face buried in hyunjin’s pillow, the soft tofu stew long forgotten.

things had always been so neutral with hyunjin. he didn’t like fighting but he was petty as hell, so that canceled out. he didn’t like cooking but he was great at it, which also canceled out. he didn’t particularly care for shower sex, but when you did indulge, it almost made you angry how well it went down.

sex with hyunjin was quite the opposite of neutral — it was filthy, wet, slippery even. it was hot and heated and you loved every moment of whatever was happening — whether he had been pounding you into your mattress, or his face was buried between your thighs, everything was euphoric. and what made you furious was that whilst you had let yourself wallow in your sudden heartbreak, you didn’t realize that you craved the skinship you shoved away.

you missed waking up to his hand literally dangling in your face, his leg thrown over your hip, or his cold ass feet tucked onto the back of your thighs. you missed holding someone’s hand as you walked around campus, being kissed goodbye as he dropped you off for class while he was headed to practice. you hated seeing hyunjin across campus and not being able to call out his name and hand him the milk tea that you’d mistakenly bought for him ten minutes ago, having completely forgotten that you were broken up.

so you felt like an idiot holding two medium wintermelon milk teas as your ex-boyfriend walked closer with his entourage. you looked at minho, and as if sensing your eyes, he glanced up. meeting your gaze, minho’s jaw dropped as you trashed the drink, tossing it in the nearest garbage can — an action not missed by felix and hyunjin. “hey, y/n.” minho tried, and you glared at him as you walked past, nearly slamming into changbin and jeongin as you did so.

you ignored the ache in your throat, your eyes scanning the campus for chan. you had set to meet with him to study for your statistics final, and had been running late by getting boba. only then you realize you could have given him the extra drink, but you shook it off as you see his built form appear a few feet in front of you, his thick legs cozied in warm sweatpants that read 3RACHA down his thigh. “channie! wait up!”

he halts, looking up from his phone to look around. “ah, y/n!! how are you?” turning, he gives u a soft fist bump as you both begin the walk to the library. your hand took his elbow, and he was puzzled as you rushed him down the path. “are you okay? you seem off. did something happen with hyunjin?”

you were inside the library now, and you feel your stomach churn at the sound of his name, simply swiping your student card to get into the study room. you set down your backpack, toying with the zipper before you begin trying to form the words necessary. you tried to hold it in, but you couldn’t help and let a few tears slip out of your eyes as your lips quivered. “we broke up.”

followed by silence, chan seemed to understand as he stood, enveloping your limp form in a hug as you broke down for the third time that week. trying to hide your emotions from your friends was always easy, but you’d never felt defeat like this. you’d never allowed someone to see your heart and learn its ways, so knowing now that you had seen hyunjin’s and ignored it simply showed that you had taken him for granted.

“haven’t you got any faith in yourself, y/n?” he mumbles as he wipes your cheeks with his sleeve, taking hold of both your hands. “being single is the least of your worries, girl. let’s just cool off a bit and focus on this dumbass final that we’ve got to ace tomorrow.” chan began writing up practice equations that your professor had assigned earlier that week, and though you wiped your tears and whipped out your calculator — you regretted renting the study room across the very library you met hyunjin in.

the boys had wound up dragging you out of the apartment on the night of hyunjin’s showcase, making the coping process much harder and the carpool was just a bit more suffocating as you turned into an unfamiliar neighborhood to pick up the soloist for the night, hwang hyunjin. you looked at the houses on the street as chan cruised forward, only to stop in front of an old townhouse with a nice vegetable garden. you quietly looked out the window to see your ex-boyfriend kissing and older woman’s cheek goodbye.

“hey, scoot.” he opened the door and you reluctantly scooted over, realizing now why the boys asked if you wanted the passenger seat. hyunjin’s freshly dyed black hair would definitely be a show-stopper, and paired with the dance he’d prepared, you knew he’d steal some hearts. “nice hair.” you mutter, and you feel hyunjin sigh softly, pulling out his phone.

a minute later, you feel your phone vibrate in your clutch. a small lump in your throat forms as you see you’ve forgotten to change his contact name.

[4:54PM] baby ♥︎🩰: would you be willing to do my makeup for the showcase..?

glancing up, you grimace as you see hyunjin staring out the window with flaming red cheeks. scowling, you type back a short ‘yes’ and stare at the bouquet in your lap for the rest of the drive.

backstage was crawling with dancers and makeup artists, but hyunjin had managed to convince the stage manager to get him and the boys off in a green room in the concert hall. seeing as the stage manager apparently owed hyunjin for some favor years ago, he’d snuck hyunjin the key as you strolled quietly backstage with the boys. minho and felix just needed to get dressed, they would be waiting in the audience for their turn on stage for the group performances. you feel set up, somehow.

you waited quietly on the sofa, scrolling mindlessly through twitter as you let the boys rustle around getting into their outfits. seeing as hyunjin had a solo and a group dance, his bag was twice as heavy. “okay, i’m heading out. we’ll be up third.” minho was buttoning his shirt as he started walking out, felix trailing behind him as he smoothed on some chapstick. the room felt thick with tension, yet you pushed past it to set up hyunjin’s makeup on the vanity table, your fingers dusted with eye glitter.

“these are for you,” you set the bouquet down on the vanity as you allow him to finish getting dressed. a bouquet of mixed flowers, bold and colorful — daisies, cornflowers, honeysuckles, red tulips and carnations. an eyesore that you adored. you knew you wouldn’t be around after the performance, so you simply slipped your note into the bouquet when he silently clipped in his jewelry.

best of luck, my love. forever yours, y/n <3

“why are you being so quiet?” hyunjin asked as he came up behind you, buttoning his shirt quickly. “yah, i’m not being quiet. i feel awkward, i want to get this done and over with, hyunjin.” you say, moving out of the way so he can sit down, and you sweep his hair off his face, ignoring the temptation to kiss his forehead like you usually would. you know, for someone who had had a hard time melting to form into what hyunjin ‘needed’, you sure had no trouble being what hyunjin craved. he hadn't realized that until his first actual night without you.

he was freezing.

“be gentle with me.” he said as you patted moisturizer under his eyes, listening out for the start of the first performance. “i always am.” you whisper, not allowing the tears building up to escape as you blink them back. hyunjin’s gaze on your face was intensely intimidating as you carefully blended a muted terracotta shade on his eyelid, and you think you imagine the pout on his lips until you go back in with a brown pencil liner. “yah, hwang hyunjin! why are you pouting?”

he looks down at his hands, toying with the loose strands on the holes of his jeans. you frown, dusting on an easy amount of blush before grabbing his lip tint. your hand grasps his jaw, his eyes widening as you do so.

“you’ve gotten so mean,” he mutters as he puckers his lips, and you feel a smile sneak onto your face as you dab the tint on lightly. “you’ve always liked it.” you almost kiss him, out of routine, but the cold air in the room reminds you of what can no longer be. a sad feeling washes over you as you spray his face lightly with a setting spray, and wave your hands around him to dry it.

“you’re going to do great out there, hyunjin. i know it.” holding his arms, you rub them gently one last time before hearing the second song start for the next group, starting your brisk walk out of the room. “wait.” stopping in place, you don’t turn as you hear his feet patter behind you, and you feel his presence on your back as his hand takes hold of your wrist. slowly, he turns you around and your eyes are closed, not wanting to know what the next two minutes may hold. you don’t realize you’re backing up against the door until you’ve hit it, and your eyes open to see his face ghosting over yours. his breathing is shaky, and you can’t help but feel tears fill your eyes as you brush your lips against his.

kissing you back softly, his hand finds home on your waist — and you feel a tear roll down as you wrap your arms around his neck. your lips are burning his skin but he relishes in the warmth he’d been missing for the past two weeks. your skin is hot to the touch and he realizes…

maybe it was him that needed melting.

“good luck, hyunjin. you’re gonna be fine.” you sniff as you push him away, exiting the green room as quickly as you could, hearing the second song coming to an end. you’re sprinting towards the auditorium at this point, nearly crashing into minho as he and felix are rushing towards backstage to set up in the thirty seconds they have. “first row, fourth seat!” felix yells as you open the auditorium door, and you nearly bust a lung trying to catch your breath while sliding into the seat next to jisung.

“hey, sungie.” you take a deep breath and han jisung simply shakes his head — his hand taking hold of yours as the curtain rises with the boys in position. of course, hyunjin is front and center as the spotlight catches him directly, his hands crossed across his face in a gesture you’d memorized from his practices. the music begins, and once more you’re drawn in by the fluid movements of his body, the body control he carried on himself was something many dancers would die for. suddenly, it’s like there’s no one else in the room but you and him. you’re locked on his swiveling hips, the flow of his arms as he melted into the music.

and you fall in love all over again.

“our last soloist for the night has been well anticipated in many ways. the star of the show, the one and only man of the hour — let’s hear it for our very own hwang hyunjin!” the announcer is far too excited in your opinion, and you roll your eyes as the entire auditorium goes up in screams, joining them in their clapping. the crowd dies down as the curtain rises, and you hold your breath as hyunjin steps into view, a piece of white ribbon in between his teeth as he looks into a gold-framed mirror. he ties his hair back carefully as he stares into the mirror, and as the beat drops in, your jaw locks. his hand wraps around his neck lightly, before looking back with a finger in his mouth.

he rips off the veil-like cape and before you know it, he’s on the ground and you understand now why the entire crowd is entranced as his knees alternate, the way his hand covers his joker-like grin and the way he’s sliding around the floor is simply delicious. fan service, you think reluctantly as you hear a group of individuals screaming in a lust-filled pitch.

the silver details make him glimmer as he releases all his emotions on the stage, and you feel your thighs clench as you catch a glimpse of the belly piercing you adored. your nails are digging into your palm as you realize how high the shirt has come undone, and it is only now that you recognize the song playing in your ears as hyunjin’s performance comes to an end with his hand around his neck once more, the lights dimming as the last line rings in your mind.

i’ve always liked to play with fire.

you feel your heart stop in your chest as hyunjin throws the rose he’d held in his mouth in your general direction, and the crowd screams once more as he leaves the stage, pulling the ribbon out of his hair as he exited. you ignore all the screams as you feel the urge to get up and leave the premises like you have every single time hyunjin had a showcase. you want to push your way out the doors and run home to a pillow that doesn’t smell like him anymore but you pretend it does in hopes of some sort of manifestation that he’d show up in your dreams again.

you can’t help but slip your heels off and bolt for the exit as the dancers come back on stage for their final bow. you see hyunjin in your peripheral view and like always, you ignore it. you ignore the beet red blush on his face as people throw flowers at him and scream his name, and you ignore the way he pushes through the crowd to find you in the parking lot. you ignore the cold on your back as you manage to hail a taxi and slip in, giving the driver your address in a hurried sob as you see hyunjin exit the building behind you. you ask her to step on it as you feel the lump in your throat grow, and she gives you a pitiful look as she steps on the gas. you feel bad. you always do when you run away from what is best for you.

“trouble in paradise, honey?” she asks quietly, and you nod as your phone vibrates repeatedly, surely spam calls from the boys. “he loves me far more than i could have imagined. it is sad that i am simply not enough for him in my own eyes.”

“oh my, dear. you will always be enough. look at you, you’re young! you’re full of life even when you look like you’re having a rough time, you look like what i wish i looked like twenty years ago! you’re the it girl, baby. cherish it.” she sighs as she stops in front of your apartment, and you dig through your clutch for some cash. “don’t worry. this one’s on me, but i think you could make it work.” she looks into your eyes and you feel your soul ache as you nod.

“i will, auntie. thank you.” you exit her cab, scurrying up the stairs to your apartment quietly. you feel winded as you unlock your door, and you throw your heels onto the empty rack. you wander mindlessly about your apartment, standing in front of what once held photos upon photos of you, hyunjin and all your friends. memories that were once stuck to the wall were now stacked up on the dining room table, and you sighed as your fingers touched the thumbtack holes.

“in this maze of memories, where did i lose you?” you whisper to yourself, sighing as you trail towards your bedroom, plopping face first onto your bed, ignoring the sudden whiff of hyunjin’s scent coming off your pillow. “how cruel it is to live in a world where you’re not even in my photo albums anymore.”

hyunjin had started to distance himself more, and last you’d heard, he was offered to study a year abroad in france with minho and felix. good for him, i wish him well, you’d told jisung when he shared the good news. minho and jisung managed to work it out, with jisung having been offered a year abroad as well for music production with the dance team, they realized it was time to figure out who they were to each other. you find out the person hyunjin kissed a few months back before the showcase was his grandmother — she’d recently moved into that old townhouse.

you couldn’t really swallow down the pill that hyunjin wasn’t yours anymore, but the universe didn’t give you much of a choice as it kept turning. you’d lost your passion for poetry, and the dream to be a huge name in journalism in the months after. you’d given your poems to be displayed in the creative writing hall at your university, and you realized that nothing you wrote was ever about anything besides hyunjin. everything was connected back to him, and it seemed the world knew that as you dropped your major entirely, and when your advisor questioned what you would be changing it to, you simply shrugged and told her you didn’t know. i want to see the world, you said. university is tying me down.

seeing as you had officially finished the year, you had no loose strands to burn besides packing up and moving out of your student apartment. you’d sent hyunjin his things via seungmin and jeongin, who were kind enough to help you move out and get a moving van back to seoul. you were going to spend the summer with them, seeing as they simply planned to go all around seoul auditioning for companies. 

you were taping the last box when you heard a soft knock at the door.

looking up, you see hyunjin. back to his blonde hair, glowing in all his glory. you give him a tight lipped smile, and stand up to greet him quietly. “hello. i heard you got offered a year in france. congratulations.” you mumble as you stand in front of him, and he nods silently. the tension is thick as he shifts from side to side, before clearing his throat.

“i saw your poems in the hall.” he whispered, and you scoff, scratching your neck shyly. “yeah, i decided to say goodbye. sort of lost touch with that dream.” he doesn’t say anything, but you look to see his eyes screwed shut as he leans against your doorframe. “i didn’t know you wrote so much about me, y/n.”

“everything i’ve ever written has been about you, hyunjin. you were my lucky star, the moon i talked to every night. you held all my creativity, because you were my only inspiration.” you shrug, and hyunjin simply stretches his arms out. “come, let me hold you.”

and for a moment, this is okay. you’re okay, feeling the warmth of his body against your own and hearing his soft heartbeat. you’re okay, realizing that you will never stop loving hwang hyunjin, no matter how far he is. you’re okay, knowing that he also loves you, and you’re okay with the soft kiss he plants on your scalp.

“i turned it down. i got into a company,” he murmurs, and you gasp. “and even though i’d be under a dating ban, i figured i’d let you know that i miss you and that i’d override that for you, if you’ll have me. i miss waking up with you and i miss walking to class together. i miss you, and i love you. i hope that we can be together someday, again. whether it’s tomorrow or in ten years, just know my heart belongs to you.”

you can’t begin to explain why he should run. so you won’t. you won’t crush him with your fears, or your doubts of what’s to come — because in the end, the love you fear you don’t deserve has already begun. you smile into his chest, breathing in the soft scent of his perfume. “i love you.”

temptaetions © 2022. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[incorrectringsofpower]

Season 2, Episode 7 liveblog reaction notes (spoilers behind cut)

Everyone else is like "did you just see Celebrimbor calmly drink tea in the middle of a siege?"

Nice of them to show more forge scenes before it's all very destroyed!

Silvergifters being fed lol.

Meanwhile, chaos outside and Sauron is walking around like a Bad Bitch.

Mirdania you are gonna dieee

Devastating Environmental Damage, brought to another kingdom near you by Adar!

Run, Arondir, run!

Don't hurt my faaaaaves (alas they do not have plot armor)

Durin III: My shareholders need the money for private yachts!

Ayyyy Narvi!

ELROND :D

MY HEART SINGS, TOO!

Elvish archers ilu doomed people

Ooh that's an orc costume from S1!

Celebrimbor is stuck in a time loop fanfic, RIP. (Heyyyy ficcers!)

Charlie Vickers angry face twitch time!

Yeah it's as bad as it looks, Brimby.

Sad Celebrimbor hours :(

BLOOD THEORY CONFIRMED???

HEY FAN WHO GUESSED THIS, YOU'RE A GENIUS

LMAO NOT THE "I HAVE MANY NAMES" LINE AGAIN

noooooo sad dog :'(

Well this sucks immensely ;_;

Fucking Annatar

Oh shiiiit poor Mirdania. I thought Annatar would kill her for sure.

Welp that was horrific.

RIDERS OF ROHAN

I mean, Lindon.

WHERE IS GALADRIEL?

ELROND IN ARMOR FUCK YES

Adar uses: Galadriel! It was super effective.

Sure would be nice to have our Druid Arondir and maybe also some Ents.

Don't call him a courtier. Rude!

Wow trying to use Melian on him. Bruh.

Orc revolt against Adar foreshadowing?

Maglor is Adar theory people ultimately devastated by a reunion scene that never could have happened due to licensing.

SORRY WHAT

HWAT

HER BAFFLED EXPRESSION IS MY EXPRESSION LMAO

I'M SORRY I'M NOT PAYING ATTENTION BC THAT WAS SO FUNNY

MORFYDD YOU FANDOM TROLL

HAHAHA WHAT A WAY TO FUCK WITH THE FANDOM AND GET GALADRIEL OUT I'M DYING

It's fiiine this was always a fanfic and haters wouldn't care that it was a ploy to pass her a get out of jail card anyway

Oh yeah cool Dwarf speech and my faves look so cool rn! I'm just highly distracted lol!

Durin's Bane next ep or S3 then?

Not the horsey :'(

Elrond girlies gonna love this ep

lol the trebuchet death was a bit looney tunes

Poor horse :(((

Elrond fighting but dreaming of building a nice Bed & Breakfast where no horses and friends die ever.

Glûg the union rep! Yeah I think he might kill Adar.

Adar: Clever Elrond.

Arondir where are youuuu

Orc medics? Fascinating.

Galadriel surprised by Orc funeral rights maybe?

ARONDIR

ELFIEST ELF TO EVER FUCKING ELF WITH ARONWYN THEME PLAYING AND BREAKING MY HEART

Galadriel and Arondir buddy time!

Something something forgiveness themes of this season.

Guess that means I have to forgive them for the Elrond and Galadriel kiss, doesn't it.

King Durin interrupting Elrond and Prince Durin's reunions as usual. Fucking Sauron!

Ra Ra Ra Ooh La La You and Me could have a Bad Romance, Celebrimbor

Ah this line again. Bruh it didn't work on his cousin.

God I hate his manipulative talk soooooo much. Charlie Vickers is doing such a good job.

Fire won't work, unfortunately. But hey, S2 soundtrack album cover moment!

This suuuucks so much. Charles Edwards is also doing an amazing job this season.

NOOOO NOT HIS HAND AUGH GORE WARNING

Getting knocked unconscious twice in an episode is probably bad for the head.

GALADRIEL HERE TO SAVE HER COUSIN (BUT TOO LATE)

So sad :(((

Sorry doomed OC elves. Nice knowing you tho.

Celebrimbor gets to deliver another Tolkien speech for this season. Thank you, doomed smith.

Run, Galadriel, ruuuun.

Rolling the Rs on Rían there lol. And yeah she's gonna die, as I predicted based on the trailers :/

That sucks. She was so cool for how brief her scenes were.

ARONDIR ELFIEST ELF TO EVER ELF

Dammit Damrod

Oooh creepy Sauron power moment. Terrifying.

RIP additional Eregion elf OC.

Sure glad Elrond has plot armor!

Not the horsesssss

It's fine, Elrond, Gil-galad can't die yet. The real concern I have is for Arondir.

Poor sad Elrond :(

The light is here!

RIP no dwarves :(

Poor bb Elrond :((((

So stressed about Arondir rn.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

STOP KILLING MY FAVES ;_;

FUCKSAKE

Dammit dammit dammit

[flyingspicerack]

Inside Job Pt2Ep3 Myc Analysis Pt1

ALRIGHT FUCKERS! AS THE OFFICAL CEO OF MYC ITS TIME i GIVE YOU MY BREAKDOWN ON EP 3 BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE WILL!!!!!

THIS IS GONNA BE A BIGGUN AND PRETTY MUCH A PLAY BY PLAY SO STRAP IN!!!

The way he's clinging to the rope here? Oh so cute. But also! Very telling of how he's able to distribute his weight? Body and tendrils seem much like.... idk squid/octopus like? Also in this scene, all of the insults he throws around <3 He's such a catty little bitch I also love that Gigi is the one he doesn't insult the most through the ep? Like I know everyone is like OMG ANDRE AND MYC are such good 'friends' and all that (yes i am one of those too) but we see in pt1 that Myc and Gigi hang out a fair bit and I like to think he's got like, a respect for her? Idk

The fucking way the little itty bitty orb inside his orb gets smaller when the flashlight from the security guard hits him is so brief but oh so important to me, oh my GOD this little bit of detail has me HGFUIEOHGFOI:SGHJIO

HHHHH OK FIRSTLY! Reagan tells Myc to, and I quote "Spurt on that guy!" And he refers to himself as a soft serve machine that needs to warm up and cannot just jizz on command, which definitely makes sense. He also says for no one to look at him so.... hes shy

SO THAT leads me to believe, that his jiss doesn't actually need to be processed at all to become the stuff they put in the memory erasing guns, so, they can just erase minds... SO what does that mean for sex with humans, as well as that one time Andre licked Myc's flagella on the yacht during the wedding, he didn't get erased.... thoughts thoughts thoughts

REAGAN YELLING AT HIM AND CALLING HIM A WASTE OF SPACE FUCKING HURT ME

OH MY GOD BABY! NO DONT CRY!!!!!!! UAOGH WHAT THE FUCK

Reagan: Okay I was not ready for that" ME NEITHER BITCH????? MYC CRYING????? WHY WOULD HE CRY????

WAS ANISE RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING IN THAT MYC IS ACTUALLY A DWEEB???? UH YEAH?????? IM AS SURPRISED AS YALL ARE

god ok you guys im never gonna stop talking about this, we got so much mushroom lore, we have so much mushroom plot, we have so much MYC LORE AND I AM HERE FOR IT!!!!! AND IM WRITING IT ALL DOWN IN ONE PLACE!! RIGHT HERE!!!

Myc LIED about how old he was prior to this. In Pt1Ep3 we see his RightSwipe profile says 4041 for his age, but this here is his 5000 year reunion, so he's says he's younger than he really is.

He's from "A million year old mushroom hive cluster from the center of the earth" MILLION!!!!!! HES OLDER THAN WE CAN EVEN COMPREHEND

FIRST he apparently lied and said that everyone was jealous of his "huge dong" and he left, THEN JUST IN THIS SCENE, he says that they kicked him out because he was too much of a rebel, AND THEN AT THE END OF HIS RANT he finally comes clean and says that he never went to prom, graduation, AND no one signed his yearbook BECAUSE HE WAS A FUCKING DWEEB THAT LOOKED LIKE THIS:

(yeah honey i'd hate you too)

he was .... a fucking DWEEB! HE WAS A NERD!! THE BRACES?! THE PIMPLES! THE.... somehow.... FACIAL HAIR?? The hat.. yeesh boy ouch

WHEN HE LEFT HE WANTED TO PROVE HE COULD BE SOMEBODY! oH MY LORD!!!! HE CALLS HIMSELF A SINGLE MIDDLE AGED LOSER.... HOW OLD IS HE IF HES MIDDLE AGED IM GOING INSANE OVER HERE!!!!!!!!!

also his name, can we take about the name we have a real full name for him its not Magic Myc, its fucking MYC CELLIUM im going feral here and frothing

This uh.... this makes me..... hes so.... PATHETIC!! He's crying!!! HES FUCKING WHIMPERING AND CRYING AND SNIFLING CAUSE HES SO ASHAMED ABOUT GOING TO HIS REUNION LIKE WHAT THE FUCK HES LITERALLY BABYGIRL I DONT UNDERSTAND???????????????????

why are you so moe? WHY ARE YOU THE CUTEST GUY EVER! HIS GASP! Also like, Reagan, you REALLLY think this dude is never gonna insult you again? I thought you were a super genius? How can you literally be this stupid.

SORTA MUCUS SORTA JIZZ CALLED JUCUS!!!!!!!

I think it is SO AMAZING that the hole down to the mushroom hive is in Oregon, cause like, the worlds biggest mycelium network is under there.... hehe

FRUITY FLAILING ASS BITCH!!

OK If you go to 4:40 and look in the bg, you can see Myc get on the elevator down and he is fucking TREMBLING!! HE is SO nervous!! IM FUCK NGKJENSfewtgfwsg

Myc confirmed leftist, so thats a W but an L for thinking u can ge a nobel prize in podcasting... then again hes a mushroom and doesnt care so he is always a W in my heart

Look how far his flagella can stretch

HOLLOW EARTH! OH ITS SO LOVELY! AND I HAVE A LOT TO SAY ABOUT IT

I am very curious to know, if when Myc tells the hive to put a 'psychic metaphor' over the place, is that... only for the characters in the show or is it also for the viewer? It has to be, because we are also human and therefore wouldn't be able to comprehend the societal differences of mushroom dynamics! RIGHT?! SO I will also touch upon things as they happen later with this mindset.

FUCK!! RIGHT HERE!! Myc's asking Reagan if his BREATH smells bad!!!! He touches the top little frills and then puts his tentacle under Reagan's nose!! Does he... His scent glands?? WHAT?? AHHHHH I DONT KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS???

... I got one thing to say about stem-mantha... myc sure does love pink bitches .... makes eye contact with anise

LOOK AT HIM ALL.... NERVOUS!

Okay so then... Stem-Mantha asks if Myc was the guy who did puzzles with her parents so she could go have sex... SO, yes, the fucking mushrooms DO fuck each other, AND they have like, parents They dont just grow?? (As seen from Myc wanting to be a mommy in Pt2Ep7)

THEN Myc gets fucking pelted with a goddamn football and we are now included on the information that Myc ran out at graduation before everyone merged consciousnesses and became assimilated. SO It is OH SO interesting to see that each of these mushroom clusters are there OWN individual personalities but THEN they all are joined and have a shared consciousness thats a part of the hive!

Stem-Mantha then asks if the gang are Myc's parole officers, so does that mean that everyone was under the impression he went to like, jail topside after he left hollow earth??

HIS TENDRIL HEART IM FUCKING LOSING IT AHHHHHHH

ALRIGHT!!! FUCKERS FIRSt things first. Yes he wore that stupid fucking "NO FAT CHIX" hat but are we talking about it? NO, well YES, in that he wore it because he was in denail thats it thats the story thank you very much

SECONDLY here is were I'm touching upon the psychic metaphor thing again right here. I am thinking waaaay too deeply about a silly little cartoon and i feel very much like 'charlie pepe silvia meme' right now in idk how meta this whole thing is supposed to be? Like I don't think Myc was actually into dragon ball Z considering it was 5000 years ago and dbz didn't exist then, and we're just supposed to believe dudes was the mushroom equivalent of a little itty bitty pathetic nerd with pimples and acne, right??

but im also crazy coo coo bananas insane in thinkiing how fucking funny would it be if dbz was some kind of true space epic and myc is like, the equivalent of a greek mythology nerd in that hes a little fanboy.

THIRDLY. MY MANS GOT EXTRA STRONG POWERS THAT MAKE HIM EXTRA SENSITIVE?????? HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NURSE

His fucking signature babygirl i loooove you its so cute what the FUCK!! and look at how he carried himself like a fucking .... beanie babie, hes full of beans or whatever, i just love how this fucker carries his weight its so cool to look at wtf

HES NERVOUS AGAIN IM JUST GFJHEL"GSGJ"LG I KNOW ITS NOT IMPORTANT BUT IT IS TO ME

They are SO fucking mean to him. But also this scene, you can see that not everyone is on board with Reagan doing this, like they're all really uncomfortable when she pulls this picture up, and Brett isn't even there

Why is there so much jucus... was he tearing up about getting found out? OH LAWDY I HOPE NOT ILL FUCKING CRY?????

HAHHA SO this post has gotten waaay too long so i think i'm gonna make it two parts, so part 2 will be post assimilation!!! Also because posts can only have 30 images and we at the max babes

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 3 - Post #4: Margin of Error

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 6.5K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

__________________________________________

IV. You knew it was absurd for the Mandalorian to worry that you would draw unwanted attention.

Walking down the grimy streets of Daiyu City, everyone you pass either stares with terrified awe or performatively averts their gaze at the sight of him. And despite his professed desire for discretion, the bounty hunter doesn’t stick to the alleyways or sidestreets but steers you down a wide, busy thorofare lined with carts, stalls, and kiosks.

You have to step carefully to avoid tripping over vendors hawking their goods on the walkway.

As you pass, many of the merchants stop mid-sentence to nudge their nearest customer and nod in Mando’s direction. You can feel the news ripple through the crowd, shifting like a current as the night market patrons realize who’s among them. Because a Mandalorian in Daiyu City could only mean one thing—that serious shit was about to go down between powerful people with deep pockets. 

You’d like to reassure everyone that your presence isn’t a harbinger of some impending gang war if for no other reason than all the anxious whispering is setting your teeth on edge. But who would believe you? Look at him. Who in their right mind is gonna believe this man is anything other than a walking magnet for trouble?

“They give you combat training in the Medical Corps?” the Mandalorian asks, perhaps sensing your growing unease. His voice is barely audible over the droids weaving in and out of the crowd gathered in front of Daiyu’s transit terminal, announcing gates and berths, departure and arrival times. 

“Ten weeks of basic,” you manage over the din. 

“Better than nothing.” 

His Beskar reflects and amplifies the loud, lurid colors radiating from neon signs framing every shop window and marquee. Entire buildings are covered in bright flashing advertisements that, without your visor, would probably induce a stroke. The night sky looms over the city, but the stars are shrouded in an impenetrable haze of artificial light.

“Just stay close and keep your head down,” Mando adds in a low rumble, which seems like odd advice since no one is looking at you. 

Your long mane of moondust hair remains hidden under your hood, and the black bodysuit camouflages your silhouette in shadow. But, despite his criticism, your original outfit would not have been out of place given the elaborate fashions you see on the passing females. All of whom slow down to give Mando an appraising once over.

Hardly the jealous type, you’re grateful not to be the only poor fool to fall for him in that armor. One or two promise him the 'night of his life,' a quick fuck down a dark alley...but as usual, he doesn't even bother looking in their direction.

The port is much quieter as you near the private docking bays, isolated but not neglected. Your stomach does a terrified little somersault when you realize where you're headed. Mando strides confidently toward an elegant Nau'ur-class yacht so immense it could probably house the population of a small moon. 

Except there appears to be only one way in or out—which has got to be some kind of fire code violation—and it’s guarded by HK sentinel droids. 

You pause before crossing the gangway and turn to the Mandalorian. “So—um—how confident are we that Vos will let us off the ship once this is over?” 

“Not particularly,” he sighs, sounding resigned.

“Do you just navigate life expecting everything to be a trap?”

“That surprises you?” Mando asks incredulous. “You fought in the Rebellion.”

“On the battlefield, where our enemies were very straightforwardly trying to kill us. Plus, they all wore these super distinctive uniforms. Made it easy to know who to shoot at.” 

Somehow, you can hear his eyes rolling. 

“I’m sorry.” You stop yourself from reaching for him, knowing someone onboard Vos’s yacht must be watching your every move over the security feed. “I don’t mean to make everything a joke. I’m just nervous.”

He starts to raise a hand to your shoulder but thinks better of it.

“You’re right to be cautious. Even if Vos agrees to help, he’s always searching for leverage. Best not to give him any.”

“Okay,” you nod in understanding. 

“Just keep a low profile and do as I say. Please.”  

A voice inside your head urges you to make a run for it, but another voice reminds you to have some faith in the Mandalorian. Kriffing hell, there’s nothing left to do except roll the dice and step inside.

“State your business.” 

You jump a little when the sentinel droids activate. Mando’s helmet turns to glance in your direction, and you can only imagine his regret at bringing you with him.

“I’m here to see Ryun Vos. He’s expecting me.”

“You’ll need to check your weapons.” 

When you enter the foyer, more HK sentinels wait for you inside, guarding a second set of closed doors. Another smaller droid rolls forward, holding out a metal case and opening the lid for Mando. The bounty hunter begins disarming, and you realize he’s got several weapons hidden on his person that you swear you’ve never seen before, including a micro pistol (?) secured inside the lining of his utility belt.  

Another droid approaches, holding aloft an empty case for you.

Unlike the small armory the bounty hunter is packing, you only have the knife at your waist and his two blasters holstered over each thigh. Mando leans closer to look at the Westars, sighing roughly through his nostrils when he sees that you’ve set them both to stun.

“You’re not the only one sworn to live by a creed,” you mutter under your breath.

Your words are lost in the soft whoosh of the interior doors sliding open. A woman clad in black leather armor and a gleaming cybernetic jaw steps into the foyer. 

“Not just yet,” she raises a hand and purses her black-stained lips. “I believe there’s a knife in your boot, Mandalorian.”

Wordlessly, he crouches down to remove the vibro-blade tucked into his left boot. In an added gesture of contrition, Mando shakes loose the whistling birds from his vambrace—but not the whipcord you notice. Which is a clever bit of misdirection. 

“Since when do you work with a partner?” the guard asks, finally acknowledging your presence with a disgusted sneer. 

While she scrutinizes your inexplicable appearance at the Mandalorian’s side, you think back to the toughest, most badass bitch you knew from infantry and try to remember her posture and the way she would stand with her knees straight, hips tilted. 

“Since now,” is the extent of Mando's explanation.

Some silent test of wills plays out between the two warriors before the guard relents. “I’ll let Vos know you’ve arrived," she drolls. "He’s busy at the moment. Not sure when he’ll find the time to meet with you, but you’re welcome to wait for him on level seventeen with the rest of the miscreants.” 

She—the Anzati woman—is absolutely terrifying. With skin so pale it looked ashen gray. The intricate facial markings carved into her cheeks are blood red. Her yellow eyes had slit-like, reptilian pupils. Jet black hair fell in heavy waves over her shoulders and down her bare muscular back. A portrait of lethal beauty. 

It's scary and arousing at the same time. Also distracting. What was the significance of that look she shared with the Mandalorian?

“Does this mean we’re officially partners now?” Alone inside the lift, you can’t stop yourself from saying something—anything—to shake the tension. The nerves bubbling up in your stomach have gotten the better of you already. 

“Why?” Mando looks at you askance. “You hoping I’ll introduce you to Vos?”

Wow. Okay. Guess you’re not sharing the elevator with the tenderhearted Mandalorian who'd stolen your heart. At some point, that man had transformed into this callous bounty hunter who did not appreciate collegial banter.

But as Mando so astutely observed, you’re no longer afraid of his cranky stoicism. Someone’s got to lighten the mood. “We did sort of team up for that job on Danvar,” you shrug. 

He clears his throat, “You think so?”

“Do you know what happens when bone marrow enters the bloodstream? If I didn’t amputate, that guy would have died of an embolism, rendering him literally worthless.”

“I believe you were compensated for your services.” 

“Would you be more comfortable if I used the term 'subcontractor' instead of partner?”

“I'd be more comfortable if you stopped talking so much,” the Mandalorian snaps. "But as I doubt that’s possible, can you at least keep your voice down?”

Good thing he wears that helmet cause otherwise, you might be tempted to break his nose.

“And I hope I don’t have to remind you that we’re not here to make friends,” he adds sternly. “These are Vos’s paid assassins and enforcers. They’re not your friends, and they never will be, so don’t talk to them.”

Oh yeah, you’d love to wind back a real sucker punch. Instead, you say, “Aye-aye, captain,” and give him a little mock two-finger salute. 

When the lift arrives on level seventeen, you step out into a pretty unremarkable mess hall, given the yacht’s extravagance. Lounge would be a more generous description since there are some gaming tables where people gather to play cards or dejarick. But the scene is closer to a military barrack, with a heated contest of arm wrestling drawing most of the room’s attention.

There are about twenty of them in all, a mix of species and genders, with a few droids amongst their ranks. Most pretend not to notice your arrival, but a few glare in the Mandalorian’s direction or exchange meaningful looks.

If Mando knew any of them, he didn’t seem to care. He stalks over to an empty corner of the room and takes root with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. 

Is this what he's like on the job? All business? Not that it's a huge departure from his normally standoffish behavior, but...what? Did you expect drinking buddies?

No, he saved his warmth and humor for the kids. With maybe a little left over for you, too.

Unfortunately, you aren't as skilled in compartmentalizing your emotions. There’s no way you’ll be able to sit still waiting on Vos indefinitely, not with this much tension circulating, so you take a seat at a nearby table and activate the holo-board. Nadu Chaal, a Huttese game testing memory and calculation, is an ideal pastime to divert your attention.

Keep your head down and eyes on the board. Maybe you’ll leave without humiliating yourself. Or the Mandalorian.

“Hello, there.”

Ugh, kriffing ... You look up from your discard pile to see one of the mercenaries, a male Togruta, approaching your table. He walks over with a tankard but without a shirt, his well-muscled body glistening with sweat. Perhaps he’d been sparring with the group over by the bar. 

“Don’t think I’ve met you before,” he says, handing you a drink. You take it because it seems rude not to, and you don’t know what merits retaliation around here. “My name’s Talsala. And you?”

You twist your head reflexively to look at the Mandalorian standing still as a statue behind you.

“Ha!” Talsala barks with laughter. “Well done, Mando. She’s very obedient.”

It chafes your pride hearing him say that, but ‘very obedient’ has got to count for something with the Mandalorian.  

The Togruta leans one of his powerful shoulders against the wall next to him, “I’d offer you one, too, Mando, but then you might loosen up a little, and I know how you hate that.”

“Talsala,” the bounty hunter says in an irritated tone. “This is Thulani Vildar.” 

Fortunately, your visor hides the look of shock sweeping over your eyes. What did he mean by giving you Tigran Vildar’s name, especially given how much he seemed to hate the man?

“Always thought you worked alone,” the Togruta says, speaking to Mando. “Certain advantages to bringing in a partner, eh?” He shoots you a lewd glance, making it clear what these perceived benefits might be. “She looks…eager to prove herself.” 

And then, to your horror, Talsala takes the seat opposite you. “I’m trying to get a game of Bako going. You know it?”

Your nod is more wary than eager. “I’ve seen it played.”

He waves over two others—a Rattataki female and a human male—to join you around the table. You sense Mando’s looming presence behind you, but you don’t dare to look back at him and reveal your misgivings. There’s nothing hostile or threatening about their behavior, yet you can’t help feeling outnumbered. 

“Valine,” the Togruta smiles as she takes the empty seat on your right. “This is Thulani. And this brute is Kasper.” On your left is a stout, round fellow with short blonde hair, a bushy beard, and thick eyebrows, whose nose had been broken in several places. He grunts by way of greeting.

Talsala leans across the table. “Do not mind Kasper. He is not much of a talker.”

“No, we save all the talking for you,” Valine says dryly, motioning a droid over to refill her tankard. She slaps the Togruta’s arms off the table so she can reset the game. “I’ll take red.”

“Green,” you say evenly. 

When the game commences, they’re careful not to pepper you with too many questions, curbing their curiosity to match the flow of gameplay.

“Where are you from Thulani?” Talsala asks with a politeness that doesn’t match his arrogant swagger. “Can’t quite place your accent.”

The Togruta is committed to sending you a flirtatious smile every time he looks up from his hand, performatively biting his lower lip in concentration.

Years ago, you might have blushed, but thankfully, you're too well-seasoned for that now. “I’ve called many places home,” you reply impassively. “I’m sure it’s a mix of them all.”

“How do you know the Mandalorian?” Valine inquires moments later.

“Mutual acquaintance,” you tell her. 

All the while, Mando keeps his silent watch. Was he furious with you for letting yourself be drawn into their net? For certain, this was a fishing expedition. But whether one motivated by malice or boredom, you can’t be sure. 

“You two making the jump with us to Coruscant?" asks Talsala. "Or are you looking for work after your business with Vos?” 

“Not really my place to say,” you insist, nodding towards the Mandalorian. 

Valine snorts, stretching her legs under the table, “She is well-trained.” 

Then, Kapser calls out, “What you paying her for, Mando?”

It’s the first he’s spoken since sitting down at the table an hour ago. The question is weighted with some significance you can sense but not fully discern.

Ultimately, the Mandalorian is saved from having to answer when Vos’s personal guard steps into view. “Lord Vos is ready to see you now.” She turns on her heels, leaving you to follow in her wake, her presence deeply unsettling.

As you pull away from your seat, Talsala places a chip card in your hand. “Come find me when you tire of this old monk. I’ll put you to work.” 

Arching an eyebrow, you point at the guy and mouth “I told you so,” to Mando.

While the bounty hunter was right to make you change out of your clubwear, you are fairly sure you could be brain dead, wearing a gunnysack, and Talsala would still have offered to poach you out from under the Mandalorian just for sport.

You expect him to make some sarcastic reply, but instead, he exits the room in silence. Shit! Is he really that pissed at you?

Vos’s guard waits in front of the lift. She steps aside, letting you enter the elevator car, before leaning inside the cabin to enter a code into the operating panel. “There’ll be someone to escort you upstairs,” she says, ducking back out. “Always a pleasure to see you, Mando.” 

You don’t have time to read something more into her words or the predatory look she throws the Mandalorian. The jolt of the ascending elevator forces you to take a step back to avoid falling into him.

Traveling up the ship's spine, you look out onto an aerial view of Daiyu City, choked in smog and radiant light. There’s a grim splendor to it. In the silence, Mando steps toward the glass to get a better look.  

Is it a seething silence? You can’t be sure.

Maybe he’s waiting until you’re both off Vos’s yacht to start yelling at you, afraid to open his mouth lest he fly off the handle. It was foolish to let yourself be caught in their game. If they had wanted to overpower you, they easily could have with only the Mandalorian there to save you. Yet nothing so dire had happened, and you were cautious not to give anything away. 

Curse that fucking helmet. You have no idea what he’s thinking. The job on Berchest had been a trial run, but this felt like the real test. 

"Why did you tell Talsala my name is Vildar?"

The question escapes your lips before you can swallow it back. It isn't the time or place to have this conversation.

He shakes his head absentmindedly. "It ... it's the first thing that came to mind."

Your stomach lurches. "Mando, I know you think there's—"

Erenada! The credits you’ve been fidgeting with fall to the floor, and you crouch down hurriedly to stuff them back into the pocket of your belt.

“You made that much on a hologame?”

“What?” The casualness of his tone catches you by surprise. He didn’t sound angry. “Oh, yeah. Well, they never catch on,” you smirk. 

“Catch on to what?”

“Bako is all about betting against the draw. It's pure probability.” 

When he says nothing in response, you clarify. “I can count cards, Mando,” you say before adding in an even lower voice, “Plus, it helps that I can tell if someone’s bluffing. Or excited about a good hand.”

“Don’t you need skin contact?” he asks. “Isn’t that why you wear the gloves?”

“It’s more about proximity. Touch makes for a stronger connection. But I can pick up on a lot just sitting next to someone. You ordinarily don’t sense it because the Beskar shields you from my influence.” 

“And this is what you use your abilities for? Gambling.” 

Ugh, there’s just no winning with him. “Did you never wonder where I get the money? You don’t pay me enough to afford these boots.”

While not as glamorous as your thigh-high red lace ups, the dragon leather boots you're wearing are both practical and spectacular. 

“Is that what you meant when you said we could get the money for repairs ‘another way’?”

“It would have taken me a few days, but yes.”

He pauses, once again dumbstruck by the revelation that you don’t simply go into stasis every time he leaves the ship. “Do you bring the kids with you?”

“No, I do not bring children with me to gamble!” You say immediately, which is not a lie since you never go looking for gambling tables. They just happen to be a common occurrence in most Outer Rim taverns. “Nito takes a turn watching the baby. Just like he is right now.”

If Mando has further concerns about your childcare responsibilities, they’ll have to wait. The elevator doors open onto a waiting circle of uniformed guards. Every one of them, except the Cathar standing in the middle, are HK droids. 

Or, at least, Cathar is what he started out as—he was more machine now than organic.

The HKs scan you for any remaining weapons, and once again, Mando’s whipcord goes unremarked.

Nevertheless, the Cathar steps directly in front of Mando, barring his path inside Vos’s private rooms. He's built like a brick wall and is at least a foot taller than the Mandalorian.

“You know the rules,” he growls between feline teeth. “No one sees Vos without showing their face.”

You can almost feel Mando’s hackles rising. Clearly, this was a frequent point of tension between them.

“I have worked for Ryun Vos many times, and he has never seen my face.” 

A tense silence unfurls. Then, like the coiled strike of a snake, the bodyguard’s metallic hand shoots forward, reaching for the Mandalorian’s helmet.

Mando catches him by the forearm, stopping his hand mere inches from the Beskar helm. The bodyguard snarls, bearing his teeth before striking out with the heel of his other hand. Mando ducks his blows—once, twice—an elbow catches him in the ribs, but he uses the proximity to hook an arm around the Cathar's shoulder and throw him bodily down the hallway. 

Both men turn to face each other, planting their feet and taking up fighting stances.

“Chirgar!” Vos shouts into the hallway. “I admire your loyalty, but must you harass the Mandalorian every time we conduct business?” 

The bodyguard reluctantly stands down. “No point in rules if you don’t enforce them,” he snarls, running his tongue over a row of pointed teeth and tilting his shaggy chin at a belligerent angle.

The shadowy figure of Ryun Vos had preyed upon your mind like a specter. Mando was never forthcoming about what happened on the job, but with Vos, he didn't have to. The work for Vos always left him visibly shaken. He's so wary of the man that he refused to dock the Razor Crest on the same fucking planet. You'd taken a ship from a nearby moon to Daiyu City.

Which is all to say that it felt incongruous to see an elegant, effete man smiling at you in a well-tailored suit.

“Come, Chirgar,” Vos says from behind his lacquered desk. “You know Mando and I are old friends.” 

With a wave, he motions you inside the handsomely appointed offices, supplying a panoramic view of the city below. Ryun Vos was quite an avid collector with an evident penchant for ancient weaponry. Displays of swords, daggers, and armor feature prominently on every wall of his study.

“Mando,” the crimelord calls out in greeting. “I can never seem to find you when I need you. Yet, I never doubt you'll show up at my door again like a stray dog.”

Vos chuckles genially, but the hairs along the back of your neck tingle. You sneak a glance at the bounty hunter to see how he reacts to being called a mongrel, but his posture gives nothing away.

“Are you in need of sanctuary? As I've said before, if you came to work for me exclusively, I could smooth over all this unpleasantness with the Guild.” 

“I’m honored by your offer, Lord Vos, but I've no need of your generosity.” 

Mando’s words are carefully spoken, his tone firm but respectful. Yet something dark crosses your host’s face, replaced so quickly by a jocular grin that you can’t be sure whether you imagined it.

“Then what, pray tell, brings you all the way to Daiyu just to meet with me?” Vos asks, pulling a hand over his cleanly shaven jaw.

“I hoped to redeem the favor you owe me.”

The word hope is doing a lot of work to demonstrate Mando’s deference.

“Oho! A dog in search of food then…” Vos nods his head smugly and shifts his gaze in your direction. “And what about your lovely companion? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

“Thulani Vildar, this is Ry—

“She knows who I am,” Vos says, waving a hand airily and leaning back in his sumptuous chair. “This favor. Name it, and it’s yours. Within reason, obviously.”

Mando pauses for a breath before launching into the pitch you devised. “While working a recent job—”

“Ah, working as a hunter? Warrior? ... Assassin?”

Has Mando worked as an assassin?

Alright, there's no need to be quite so naive. What else could the threat of bringing them in 'cold' mean? He's not referring to the carbon freezer, Thuli.

“My business is my own.” And the challenge in the Mandalorian’s voice is unmistakable.

Vos’s face tightens. “Careful,” he says softly. "I would hate to have to teach you manners, especially in front of the girl.”

At his words, Chirgar eases a hand down over one of the knives at his belt. In the tense silence that follows, you wonder if Mando really means to take down Vos and his bodyguard, armed only with his whipcord. He was a skilled fighter, but how would he withstand the Cathar’s cybernetic limbs, which could pulverize his bones to dust.

Finally, Vos breaks the quiet with a hearty stream of laughter. “I’ve forgotten that Mandalorians are not known for their decorum. My mistake. Please continue.”

The bounty hunter lets his gaze fall back to Vos. “I’ve come into possession of a wanted man whose contract I cannot collect on.”

“Being a wanted man yourself must make it difficult to navigate official, legal channels, I imagine.” 

“It’s not the Guild or New Republic I’m trying to avoid. But he was taken by mistake, and I would like to return him.”

“And you want me to arrange for his delivery?” 

Mando nods.

“Seems to me it would be easier for everyone involved to kill this man and be done with it.”

“It would,” the Mandalorian agrees. “But I think his safe return might be of value to you.”

Vos’s steepled fingers point toward the bounty hunter. “Now you have my attention.”

“This man is an engineer for House Galantis, one of the Nine Houses now ruling the Berchest system. With New Republic bureaucracy, it’ll be years before they obtain permission to sell their hyperfuel through official, legal channels.”

“I see. So, you are handing me a gift, which I may use to make an advantageous introduction. Very thoughtful of you. And what do you gain from this, Mando? My gratitude?”

“I need money.”

“Shocking how it always comes back to that. How much?”

“A hundred thousand.”

“Anything else? Perhaps you’d like my ship?”

Vos's tone is so egregious it's a struggle to keep from laughing. The sale of this yacht could finance a star fleet. Hell, he probably owned this yacht and a star fleet.

“You have the money,” Mando persists. “You have money and power because I freed you from prison where you were left to die.”

“Then you should have negotiated back in that cell. I’m not a bank, Mandalorian. And even if I were, given your current situation, I’d say your credit is a risky investment.”

“I’m not asking for a loan.”

“You want me to give you—" Vos paused. "Seventy thousand credits for some nameless nobody who might open a door for me?”

Mando looks at you questioningly. You shake your head. “A hundred thousand is the deal,” the bounty hunter says again.

It’s the first time since you walked into his office that you have Ryun Vos’s full attention. “And what makes you think you deserve anything more than what I dain to offer?”

“My Lord Vos,” you say, trying to match the reverence he so clearly felt entitled to. “We can sell this man only once. The political connections he provides will reward you many times over.”

“A brilliant assessment but, as I said, one that weighs connections he might provide.”

“House Galantis is offering a bounty of one hundred fifty thousand for his safe return. If his delivery doesn’t yield any business opportunities, there's still a profit to be made.”

Vos’s eyes darken as he considers his options.

“I will give you the one hundred thousand credits. But in exchange for my generosity, I would like a favor. One good turn deserves another, after all.”

Mando shifts his stance. “What favor do you ask?”

“I would like to borrow the services of your Miralukan crew member here—with the offer of an additional fifty thousand for you, my dear. Your talents are so rare; I would not wish to take them for granted.”

A lump the size of your fist lodges in your throat. 

Sure, you’re disguised as Miraluka. And here was confirmation that the disguise had worked. Because if Ryun Vos knew that you’re a wanted fugitive facing a death sentence back on Hapes, he’d have no reason to ask for your help.

No, it’s the creeping feeling that this entire encounter has been orchestrated to catch you in this moment that fills you with dread. 

Mando steps closer to you in a few quick strides, shielding you from Chirgar’s view. “She’s not part—”

“She can speak for herself,” Vos asserts, raising a hand to silence the Mandalorian. “The man whose life you saved on Danvar II has since made some accusations that I must verify.” 

“How would I—?”

“Don’t be coy,” Ryun Vos drolls. “The Mandalorian may rely on your services as a healer, but we both know the Miraluka can do much more than that.” 

Fuck! Fuck, shit, fuck. Hadn’t you just told Mando that you could sense when the other players were bluffing? Is that why Vos had left you to sit there for hours until a spot at the card table conveniently freed up? Had it all been a trap just to test you?

“I’m not asking you to tell me how you know…but you would know if someone was lying?”

“Yes,” you say in barely more than a whisper. Beside you, Mando’s body stiffens.

This is why he cautioned you against using your powers unless it was absolutely necessary. The quarry Mando captured on Danvar II had told Ryun Vos about his crimes and conspirators...but also about the young woman who'd healed him.

“Good,” Vos says cheerfully, clapping both hands together. “There are a few associates I’d like you to question.”

That he has them ready and waiting in the next room is confirmation of your worst fears, that this plan was set in motion the minute you stepped on board. 

“And what happens once I’ve found the person who’s been lying to you?”

Mando stands even closer, his broad shoulders enveloping you like a cloak. He was readying himself to defend you from attack. 

“I thought questioning a client’s intentions went against your professional code?”

You stare up into the Mandalorian’s viewplate, hoping that he understands—that he might be the only man in the galaxy to understand your conviction. “I’m not a hunter,” you tell Vos. “I’m a healer. And I took an oath to do no harm.”

Vos laughs with delighted surprise, smiling at you like the adorable idiot he believes you to be. “Very well. You have my word; I will not kill them.”

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s been some time since you bothered with wet work, Lord Vos.”

Next to you, Mando lets out a hushed curse in warning.

“Do no harm,” you repeat. “I need you to promise that this person will not be harmed. Evidence of their betrayal is what’s valuable.” A little taken aback at your own courage, you add, “These are my terms.”

Ryun Vos’s smile grows wider but doesn’t reach his eyes. “All right,” he says jovially. “Why not?” And he turns to a bristling Chirgar, “Bring in Pia'vak.”

The woman wears a tattered nightdress, a fine layer of grime, and several ugly burn scars. You shoot Vos a reproachful look. She'd obviously been snatched from her bed in the middle of the night to be tortured.

When she sits down at the table opposite you, your instincts have you reaching out for her. "Pia, give me your hand."

Pia’vak's spirit had been broken. You might have asked her to jump up and down on one leg, and she would have leapt onto the table to oblige. Subservient, she gives you both her hands so you quickly remove your gloves and hold them together between your bare palms. You can't remove the filth from her skin, but you do manage to clear up all the cuts and bruises.

She reaches up a hand to feel her mended nose. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Pia sobs. "Does...does this mean I get to leave?"

"Perhaps," Vos rests his chin on his knuckles. "You claim to have overheard Ivan say his information came directly from one of my lieutenants?"

Tears run down Pia's face as she nods frantically.

"Do you know who?"

"No! I swear! I never met him or saw his face or heard his voice or knew his name or —"

"She's telling the truth." You decide to save the woman from her helpless babbling. "Pia," you ask, staring into her wide amber eyes wet with tears. "You said you've never met him...if you didn't hear their voice, why do you think this person is a man?"

"That's what he said! Ivan said," she pleads hysterically. "That he knew where to find the weapons."

"Does Ivan know who this man is?"

"I don't know..." Pia'vak chokes, hiccuping as more tears spilled down her face, cutting trails through the grime on her cheeks. "I don't know...Ivan didn't tell me anything! I was out on the balcony, and I...he didn't know I could still hear him."

At that, she collapses into a fit of sobs.

You turn to glare at Vos. "Can we get Pia some clothes and a meal before she's on her way?"

He throws back his head to laugh. "You are a condolatory influence, my dear. I'll give you that. I can see why the Mandalorian is so...protective of you."

Mando's deep voice rumbles from over your shoulder, "Let's get on with it."

Chirgar hissed, but Ryun Vos merely gestured impatiently, "Bring in Ivan."

Ivan's appearance confirms your suspicion that these two were taken in some sort of pre-dawn raid. He wore a thin, ratty tunic over his briefs, and that was it. They hadn't even let him put shoes on.

Ivan also showed signs of torture. His face was a mess, with one eye completely swollen shut, his zygomatic bone likely floating around in several pieces.

"I need your hand, Ivan," you say calmly, reaching across the table.

"Stay away from me, witch!"

He draws himself back, looking both terrified and disgusted. The Miraluka were primarily known as healers and diplomats, but being able to see the world without eyes can make some folks superstitious. He was probably imagining grotesque, empty eye sockets behind your visor.

"Hold him down," Vos commands.

Chirgar shoves Ivan forward, pinning his chest against the table's edge. When you grip his wrist, the man tosses his head with a hateful sneer. Should you attempt to heal his wounds, or would he prefer not to be tainted by your witchcraft?

"Pia's safe now," you say, trying to garner some goodwill.

"What?" his brows furrow.

You don't pick up on any sense of relief, and no remorse either for endangering her life. Ivan could give a shit about what happened to Pia'vak.

Well, that made you feel less conflicted about incriminating him. You might have saved Pia, but you doubt Ivan will get out of this alive, whatever promises Ryun Vos had given.

"I know you've been stealing from me, Ivan. That much we've established," the crimelord drones. "The only reason you're still breathing is because I need to know how deep this rot reaches. Who gave you the stockpile locations?"

"I don't know! I never knew who he was. He didn't reveal anything about his identity!" Ivan yells desperately.

"So you say..."

You close your eyes to avoid watching Ivan's hysteric meltdown. The tangle of his emotions is a frustrating knot to unravel. His skill—like all good liars—was to weave in certain truths, along with things he told himself were true, to create the falsehoods.

"Is he lying?" Ryun Vos asks.

"No. He's telling the truth that his source never revealed themselves," you explain, and Ivan's shoulders sag with reprieve. "But he does know who it is."

"Fuck you, witch!" The man howls, but the shocked horror on his face is another kind of truth. One he can't hide.

"Give me a name," Vos demands, slamming a fist onto his desk, shaking loose his perfectly coiffed hair.

"He'll kill me," Ivan splutters, his one good eye darting around the room. "I'm fucking dead. I'm a dead man."

"Tell me his name, and I just might let you live," Vos growls. You throw him another glaring look. Could he not wait until you left the room to make a mockery of your principles?

Ivan turns his head back and forth, over both shoulders, hissing, "Shit! Shit! Shit!" and dissolves into unbridled weeping.

"Tell me his name," Vos roars, his voice full of cold fury.

The man raises his head, taking a deep breath. Then, a look of astonishment flashes across his face. Ivan gurgles, choking down the blood spilling from the knife protruding from his throat.

You sense, rather than see the second knife—the one that's meant for you.

It plunges down in a shining arc, ready to tear open your chest. You turn your head, squeezing your eyes shut in terror, but as you do, you glimpse the Mandalorian, his arm slashing through the air. There's a twang of colliding metal, and then…nothing.

Until you're knocked from your seat, landing with your face buried in the soft carpet, Mando's body shielding you.

“Stay down!” he yells.

You twist your head and open an eye to see the bounty hunter reaching for a gilded axe mounted onto the wall behind you. His fingers barely close over the handle before Chirgar upends the table and lunges forward.

Mando blocks the first swing of claws with the axe, but the next catches him in the ribs. Chirgar's bionic hand closes over the ancient weapon, and the wooden shaft splinters into pieces.

Grunting, Mando drops his elbow to launch a solid uppercut at the organic underside of the Cathar’s jaw. But Chirgar sees the blow coming and throws his head back to lessen the impact, blindly gripping the Mandalorian by both shoulders.

Mando’s body shoots upward to the ceiling, slamming into the crystal chandelier and crashing back to the floor with bone-rattling force. Chirgar lands kick after kick over the Mandalorian's prone body until he raises his knee high, intending to stomp the life out of the bounty hunter.

But at the last second before impact, Mando rolls between the Cathar's legs, launching to his feet with surprising speed.

Chirgar lets out a loud oof as Mando wraps his arms around him, pinning the Cathar’s cybernetic limbs to his side to neutralize their advantage.  He snarls, muscles straining, teeth bared as he tries to break Mando’s hold.

In answer, the Mandalorian drove his helmet into Chirgar’s nose with a nauseating crunch. Before you can blink, he releases the Cathar and lands a solid, well aimed punch to the solar plexus.

Chirgar hunches over, struggling for breath as blood gushes over his open mouth. Mando pivots on the balls of his feet to deliver a brutal kick to the back of the Cathar’s legs. Chirgar falls to his knees, swaying but somehow still upright. Mando lashes the whipcord around Chirgar's throat and dives for the floor, using his body as an anchor to drag the Cathar to the ground.

Chirgar makes a series of frantic choking sounds, slashing at the Mandalorian’s fists. But the Beskar gauntlets safeguard his relentless grip. Steadily, the grunting fades, and the flailing limbs still, until finally, the Cathar's body goes limp.

Staggering to your feet, the Mandalorian's arms surround you, holding you to his chest in a crushing grip. He looks down at you, raising a gloved hand to cup your face. You feel his gaze searching for yours to make sure you're okay. When you nod in answer, you can tell he doesn't believe you.

Despite the blood splattered across your face, you're unhurt. The shock of violence had turned your guts into jelly, but rugburn is the extent of your physical injuries. As long as you don't faint.

With Mando’s gasping breaths and your thundering heartbeat, it takes a moment to register the sound of clapping behind you.

You whirl around to find Ryun Vos leaning back in his chair, applauding. The Mandalorian had said the man would search for any source of leverage, and the look in Vos’s eyes, broadcast in his steadfast gaze, affirms what you know to be true. That Mando had betrayed his weakness with a single gesture, that comforting hand holding your face.

It had all been a trap. Or a series of traps that Vos had laid just to see what he could catch. Now he understood that a Miraluka and Mandalorian were within his grasp, and he only needed to catch one to get at the other.

Heeding none of this, Mando furiously demands an answer. “Why let him in here—armed—if you suspected him?” 

Vos shrugs. “Something’s different about you, Mando. I needed to see if you’d lost your edge or just gone soft,” he shoots you another glance. “Now I know.”

The crimelord looked bemused. “This prisoner of yours, how will I find him?”

Mando places a communicator down on the desk. “Once we’re off the ship, I’ll let him know it's safe to contact you.”

“Mando! This paranoia of yours is unfounded. Can’t you see, if you simply worked for me, there would be no need for all this worry? You’d both be highly rewarded for your talents as members of an organization that could protect you. And as you can see,” he nodded toward Chirgar’s lifeless body. “I have an unexpected vacancy.”

“My 'prisoner' will be in touch. Send Morrigan to collect him.”

Vos looks between you and the Mandalorian in surprise. “I’ll let her know she has your endorsement.” Sensing that there would be no further discussion of employment, Vos stands and places a hand over his heart. “You have my word, that I will return him safely to Berchest.”

With that, the office doors open.

“Is he really going to let us leave?” You mumble once you're back on the gangway. By the time you step onto the dock, your entire body is drenched in nervous sweat.

“We’ll find out soon enough.”

***********************

Continue reading Volume 3- Post #5: What did the wall ever do to you?

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

[zutaralesbian]

I was technically not tagged (which is fair. I haven’t been super active in the Gallavich fandom for a while). But this game is super up my alley so I’m doing it anyway 😊

rules (more or less): use this au generator to assign you an au, this fan fiction trope generator to give you a trope/situation/sometimes another au, feel free to keep clicking until you get something that inspires you.

then try to come up with the title, plot, vibe, and details of a fic including whatever the generators gave you. you don’t actually have to write it, just put the concept into the world! this is basically just a thought experiment.

I got:

AU: Shipwrecked AU

Trope: Write a modern royalty AU

The Gallaghers are a royal family from some European country. (Possibly somewhere in the UK or a made up one idk). They’re notorious because of the antics and scandals of their father, King Francis, and the whole world is basically waiting for him to finally get himself killed and for the eldest, Princess Fiona, to become queen.

Prince Ian, frankly, is glad that he is two people behind from ever becoming king. Being a prince in the public is bad enough with having to keep his sexuality on the down-low. Not to mention he always has the fear of his true parentage one day being leaked to the press. (In this AU, he is secretly Clayton’s biological son just like in canon).

The Gallagher siblings decide to take a break from the scandalous life the castle brings them by going on a long cruise on their private yacht.

Mickey is hired to work on the ship as a deckhand during the cruise. At first he didn’t want to take the job because working under a bunch of prissy rich royals was the last thing he wanted to do. But he eventually talked himself into it because hey, the pay is decent and it would mean a good month of being away from Terry. (And if he played his cards right, maybe he could find a few jewels or other expensive shit to snag).

Ian meets Mickey on the ship and is smitten immediately. There’s something about Mickey’s grumpy exterior that just charms him. Being a prince, he’s always had to be careful about his hookups not getting exposed. But they were on a ship and away from the general public. Perfect timing to have a fun fling, right? Only, Mickey doesn’t seem super receptive to his flirtation. Maybe his assumptions that Mickey wasn’t straight were off?

Mickey can’t tell if Ian is flirting with him out of genuine interest or just to be a cocky asshole. Either way, he’s not falling for it. Fuck him for thinking just because he’s a prince that Mickey will fall into bed with him. Sure Ian doesn’t seem all bad and is definitely less irritating than the other Gallaghers. And sure Mickey gets this annoying, fluttery feeling in his chest whenever the fucker smiles at him. But whatever, it doesn’t mean anything.

The ship ends up sinking of course, due to some sort of accident. Everyone makes it onto a lifeboat except Mickey. The worst part? He never learned to properly swim. Ian, having ended up in his own lone lifeboat, spots Mickey struggling in the water and quickly rows over to his aid, grabbing him and pulling him onto the lifeboat.

The tides separate Ian and Mickey from the others. They eventually find themselves on a small tropical island. And there are no other people.

Ian is panicked. Having grown up as a royal, he never learned proper skills to survive in a situation like this. Mickey, however, has grown up teaching himself survival skills and sets out to work on getting them shelter and food. He includes Ian in on all his plans because, as annoying as the guy may be, he did save Mickey from drowning and Mickey supposes he owes him for that. And right now, all they had was each other.

They eventually get themselves a pretty decent setup. They create a fort for them to sleep and take shelter from the sun in. There’s a stream a little further into the forest where they can get fresh water. And their diet consists of fish from the ocean, fruit, and small animals they hunt on the island. Mickey teaches Ian as they go.

Once the threat of death is for the most part evaded they begin to bond. After all, what else do they really have to do besides talk? Ian opens up to Mickey about the pressure he feels being a closeted gay man in the royal family. And eventually, tells Mickey his biggest secret-he isn’t really King Francis’ son.

Mickey in turn tells Ian about his life growing up under Terry’s thumb and his own dark secret. About how Terry once caught him with a boy when he was a teenager and was nearly beat to death.

Horrified by Mickey’s story, Ian makes a silent vow that, if they ever got off the island, he would come out to the public and use his fame and image to become an activist for gay kids who could be suffering the way Mickey did.

Mickey for his part makes a promise to himself that if he got off the island, he would finally leave Terry behind once and for all and make a new life for himself. Even if it means leaving the south side.

Months go by and they of course begin to fall in love. And both of them start to wonder…maybe being on the island isn’t all that terrible. It somehow becomes a solace and escape from the drama of their normal lives. And here, it’s just the two of them. They can finally be themselves.

They do eventually get discovered and rescued. The news of Prince Ian Gallagher being found alive on an island months after the family’s yacht sank becomes huge news. And Mickey somehow gets painted as a hero-the ordinary citizen who helped their beloved prince survive months on an uninhabited island. The Gallaghers are so grateful to Mickey for keeping Ian alive that they give him a large sum of money. Mickey doesn’t want to accept it at first but Ian convinces him to use the money to begin building his new life away from Terry.

Ian and Mickey reluctantly go their separate ways. No matter how they feel about each other, Ian is a prince and has an image to uphold. Mickey knows that Ian already has enough shit to deal with being closeted and having to keep his true parentage under wraps. The last thing he needs is to be tied to a south side thug. It’s better for them to say goodbye, or so he tells himself.

Some time goes by and Ian eventually reaches his breaking point. He misses Mickey and, as much as he loves his family, he’s never fully fit in the royal life anyway. He finally does what he promised himself while on the island and writes and publishes an article where he comes out as gay. And at the end of the article, he officially announces his intent to abdicate his title of prince.

Though Ian never name drops Mickey in the article, a lot of the public had already romanticized their relationship from the island story and assume Ian is abdicating so he can be with him.

Mickey is sitting in his new apartment and watching the news. His jaw drops when he see’s a story about the famed Prince Ian Gallagher coming out as gay and leaving the royal life behind. But before he has a chance to fully react, there’s a knock on his front door.

Ian is at the door. And he smiles at Mickey before asking if his apartment has enough room for two.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 4: Fire

Read on AO3

T.K. wants him. Carlos saw it in his eyes, read it in his body as they’d stood in the galley together and it had taken everything in Carlos not to go over and pin him against the counter and show him exactly how much he’d like T.K. to offer him sex.

That knowledge has Carlos sailing through dinner service on cloud nine. He cooks with a fervor and passion previously unknown, a smile permanently etched onto his face. He knows it’s a bad idea for them to be together. Like really bad. Like, if he fucks up his chance on this boat he’s got nowhere else to go, bad. 

But T.K. is starting to feel inevitable.

By the time the guests have gone to bed it’s nearly midnight. Iris is on lates with him and she’s seated on the counter, a bowl of ice cream in her hand as he cleans around her. “I can’t believe you made this,” she says, her mouth full of sea salt and caramel. “Remember when we were kids and we used to play in the backyard and make mud pies and stuff? This is better.”

“I certainly hope so,” Carlos says with a laugh.

“Andrea Reyes and all the tías would approve,” she tells him, and he feels a glow in the center of his chest. He’d spent so much time in the kitchen with her and all his tías growing up. It was their love of food that had sent him to culinary school and then onto is career. He misses them fiercely, it’s been almost a year since he’s been home, but it feels good to carry their legacy with him as he travels across the globe.

“Glad you think so,” he says.

“So, did you bone T.K. yet or what?” she asks.

“We have talked about this so much,” Carlos says in a tone of long suffering. “That is an inappropriate question.”

“I’m your ex. I’m allowed to ask inappropriate questions.”

“Nope,” Carlos says. “That’s not what that means at all.”

“You can ask about my sex life,” Iris offers.

“I really, really don’t want to. Let’s go back to talking about ice cream.”

“Mm.” She takes a bite and then makes a circular motion with her spoon while she waits for it to melt enough on her tongue that she can speak again. “One time, when I was working at this ice cream place, this guy and I went into the walk-in freezer and we—“

“Iris!”

“Okay fine. You’re such a prude. I’ll stop,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Can I ask how you feel about being on this boat?”

“Yes, that you can ask about,” Carlos says as he dries a couple knives and slots them back into their block. “I like this boat a lot.”

“Better than those assholes on your last boat?”

“Definitely,” Carlos says fervently. “Everyone is so nice here. It’s kind of unbelievable.”

“Right?” Iris says, her eyes wide. “Kind of feels like they’ve all been taken over by aliens.”

He stops drying a massive pot and looks at her with concern, which she waves off. “I’m kidding,” she says. “Like haha funny,” she reiterates when he doesn’t laugh. “I’m not off my meds. I’m making a joke.”

It’s a relief to hear. “Oh,” he says. “Right.”

“Carlos you have got to relax,” she says. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. I’m great, actually. Tommy and Nancy, everybody really, they’re all super understanding. I’m taking my meds, I’m doing calls with my therapist and my psychiatrist on the regular. I’m good. I didn’t call you here to take care of me. I called you here to take care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” he tells her.

Her face hardens. “I know how bad it was on your last boat. I could tell every time we talked that you were unhappy. Nobody here is going to treat you like that. Not on the crew anyway. And if any of the guests do, just tell Tommy. She’ll take care of it. Trust me.”

She’s not wrong. Working on The Precinct had been a special kind of humiliating torture. Getting off that boat was the easiest decision he ever made. 

“So?” Iris says.

“So…what?” Carlos asks, genuinely confused.

“Thank you for saving me from my miserable yachting job, Iris. You’re the best, Iris. Of the Blake sisters you are the smartest and hottest, Iris. I owe you a big one, Iris,” she prompts, quirking a sassy smile.

He chuckles. “Thank you Iris. You are the best. And I am very grateful.”

She kisses him on the cheek and hops down. “You’re welcome. Make me more ice cream tomorrow.”

It’s a demand, not a request, but he’d make her a five course dinner if she asked for it. She’s saved him from himself more than once and he loves her for it. “You going to bed?” he asks as she puts her dishes in the dishwasher and sets it to run overnight.

“Um yeah, it’s one am,” she tells him. “You should too.”

“I’m just waiting for some cookies to finish,” he says, nodding toward the oven.

“You work too hard Reyes,” she says with a sigh and shake of her head.

“Sorry Mom,” he says, bumping her with his hip when she passes by. 

She gives him a gentle shove in return. “Goodnight Carlos.”

“Goodnight Iris.”

He gets some fruit cut up for the morning, preps a yeasted mix that makes the lightest, most amazing waffles, and then pulls out the last batch of cookies before doing a final wipe of the counter. He rubs his eyes and checks his watch; it’s almost two o’clock. He’s exhausted. The rest will have to wait.

He sneaks quietly into the cabin, careful not to make any loud noises or let in too much light, smiling when he spots T.K. asleep in his bunk. The second stew has one leg hanging over the edge of the bed, the blankets all twisted around himself, an arm thrown over his face, his mouth open, a slight snore escaping every time he breathes. It’s adorable and chaotic and it makes that warm glow in Carlos’ chest intensify.

He brushes his teeth and strips down to his boxers before climbing into bed. He’s been up for so many hours he’s kind of forgotten what bed feels like and has to stifle a groan as he sinks into the cheap mattress and closes his eyes.

It doesn’t take long for him to drop fully into deep sleep.

He dreams of T.K. His eyes, his lips, the way he bounces around when he’s happy. He dreams of them together, kissing, touching, their bodies flush against one another. He can feel the softness of T.K.’s skin, hear him saying his name, “Carlos. Carlos.”

“CARLOS!”

Carlos’ eyes shoot open to find the overhead light on and T.K. shaking him awake as an alarm blares from somewhere on the boat.

“Carlos GET UP!” T.K. demands and Carlos follows his instructions, sliding down to the floor and looking around bleary eyed.

Footsteps go pounding by in the hallway and T.K. pulls open the door. “Where is it?” he calls.

“Galley!” Mateo yells over his shoulder.

“I’m not wearing a shirt,” Carlos says, looking around as if one is going to appear in his hands. He’s still half asleep and struggling to keep up. 

T.K. opens a drawer and tosses him one, Carlos pulling it on haphazardly as T.K. holds out a hand. “Carlos we have to go now.”

Carlos takes it, and T.K. pulls him out into the hallway.

There’s a lot of commotion going on, he can hear it even before they reach the galley, and realization slowly sets in. The fire alarm. The alarm going off is the fire alarm. And it’s going off in the galley. His galley.

“Move!” Marjan comes barreling down the hall in a fuzzy pink bathrobe and matching hijab. She’s carrying a fire extinguisher, and both of them having to go flat against the wall to let her through.

As soon as she’s past them T.K. starts towing him along again until they finally reach the source of the commotion.

All of the lights are on and it seems the entire crew is pouring in. There’s smoke spiraling out from somewhere, the alarm screaming overhead, everyone yelling over it.

“Somebody talk to me!” Tommy says, her voice cutting through the chaos as she strides in wearing leggings and a t-shirt she clearly just threw on.

“I think it’s the stove,” Judd says as he opens the oven door.

“Nancy, Iris, get the guests gathered in the main salon. Get them life jackets and be ready to move if we need to,” Tommy commands and they immediately disappear up the stairs, a flash of Nancy’s blue shorty pajamas the last thing they see. “Judd I need answers now.”

“I’m trying to get them for you,” he tells her, grabbing his radio. “Dave! Get the electrical to the galley cut off!”

The lights go out immediately and a couple people click on flashlights as Judd and Paul pull the stove away from the wall. “There it is!” he says after a minute. “Marjan hit it!”

She pulls the pin on the extinguisher and unleashes it in a hazy cloud. It smells terrible, the acrid scent of burning plastic and smoke filling the air as the fire extinguisher dust settles over everything. There’s a moment of calm as everyone waits to see if the danger has passed. Judd leans over and eyes Marjan’s work. “I think we’re good,” he says and there’s a collective sigh of relief in the room. “No fire, it was just smoldering. Good thing we caught it when we did.”

Fires on boats are incredibly dangerous, worse than a storm, a crash, or dragging anchor. They’re one of the biggest emergencies you can have, taking boats larger than the the Firebug down in minutes.

“Is everybody okay?” Tommy asks. “Is anybody hurt?”

There’s a murmur of “no’s” as they all look each other over.

Tommy thumbs her radio. “Nancy, Nancy, Tommy.”

Nancy responds immediately. “Go for Nancy.”

“The situation seems to be under control, but let’s have our guests stay all together for just a little longer please,” Tommy tells her.

“You got it Cap. Late night drinks coming up.”

Carlos finally finds his voice. “Did I—-“ It cracks terribly, full of sleep and smoke and panic, and he swallows hard trying to clear it. “I thought I turned everything off before I went to bed. I always check. I—I think I checked.”

He’d been so tired, is it possible that tonight, that this one time, he made a mistake that nearly got them all killed?

“I don’t think it was you Carlos,” Judd drawls, shining his flashlight around a little more. “Looks more like a short in the wiring somewhere.”

A hand squeezes his and Carlos looks down to find that through the entire ordeal, T.K. hasn’t let go, their fingers still entwined together. A rush of gratitude floods through him, combining with the lack of sleep to make him slightly dizzy.

“I think we oughta disconnect this so we can get the power back on and see if we can get it fixed,” Judd says.

“I trust your judgement,” Tommy tells him.

It only takes a few minutes to get the stove undone. When they flip the breaker and light finally floods the room again, Carlos is horrified by what he sees. Extinguisher dust covers nearly every surface. Pots and pans have been thrown around haphazardly in the attempts to find the source of the smoke. Fruit that was neatly put in baskets is now rolling around, some of it smashed on the floor. The place is a disaster.

“It’s okay,” T.K. says and Carlos jerks his head to meet the other man’s eyes, soft and reassuring. “We’ll get it cleaned up.”

“Yes, let’s get things taken care of in here so we can get a little more sleep before we have to start the day,” Tommy says briskly. 

“I’ll go grab some buckets and rags. This powder is corrosive, we need to get it off of everything,” Paul says, heading off to grab supplies from the closet down the hall.

Marjan bends over and starts picking up the scattered fruit, Tommy heads for the sink, turning the water on hot as Judd and Mateo continue to investigate what’s happening behind the stove.

T.K. gives his hand a final squeeze and then lets go to start wiping down the counters. It’s a display of teamwork unlike what Carlos has experienced before and he’s deeply moved by the sense of camaraderie.

Iris and Nancy rejoin the group after sending the guests back to bed, and even though the galley is tiny, they somehow all manage to fit and make it work. There’s laughter and jokes and not a single person makes a snide remark to him about this being his territory to clean up. It takes them almost two hours, but the kitchen gleams again when they’re done. 

“What do you think Carlos?” Tommy asks. “Anything else we need to do to get this back in working order for you?”

“No, this is great,” Carlos says. “Thank you. Truly, I appreciate it. And I’m so sor—“

“Uh uh,” Judd says, cutting him off. “You’re not apologizing for something that’s not your fault.”

“Yeah no way dude. It’s not like you left a pot on the stove. Or tried to make Easy Mac without putting any water in it,” Mateo says.

“Babe, tell me you don’t know that from experience,” Nancy says, sending him a look.

“It’s an easy mistake to make!”

“Okay, time for bed,” Tommy says, an amused smile on her face. “Try and get some sleep and I’ll see you all in a few hours.”

They shuffle off to their respective quarters, equal parts exhausted and wired. It will be interesting to see if anybody actually gets any sleep for the rest of the night. “You okay?” Iris asks when they reach the door of the cabin she shares with Nancy and Marjan.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, reaching over to squeeze her arm. “Get some sleep.”

“You too,” she tells him..

He probably won’t. His brain isn’t going to be able to shut off after this. Good thing he just started Madeline Miller’s Circe. That should keep him occupied for a couple hours until it’s time to get up and start breakfast service.

T.K. is in the bathroom when he gets back to the cabin. Carlos pulls off his shirt, realizing when he does so that it’s T.K.’s, not his. His heart does a little flip flop in his chest at the intimacy of wearing something that belongs to another person. He carefully folds it up and is setting on T.K.’s bunk when the bathroom door opens.

“You doing all right?” T.K. asks as he steps into the room.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah I’m okay. You?”

“Unfortunately not my first boat fire,” T.K. says. He takes a step closer, eyes searching Carlos’ face. “You’re sure you’re okay? You were shaking in the galley.”

The memory of the pressure of T.K.’s fingers between his makes Carlos long to touch him again.“I um, I did kind of wonder if we were goners for a second there,” he says. “Thank you. For making sure I got up. That I made it out of here.”

“I would never leave you behind,” T.K. says, eyes flicking downward to Carlos’ lips and back up again so fast Carlos wonders if he imagined it.

It feels warm in here, like someone has turned up the heat, and Carlos is suddenly aware of how incredibly close he’s standing to T.K. and how very little clothing separates them at the moment; nothing but his black boxer briefs and T.K.’s white t-shirt and adorable stripy sleep shorts. 

He wants this man. He wants him so badly. It’s crystal clear now: he’s never wanted anyone like this, has never felt this electricity, this sense of joy and safety in the presence of another human being before. 

Decorum and job security be damned. 

“T.K.” The name comes out on his next exhale, soft, warm.

“You should…try and and sleep,” T.K. says, his voice equally soft.

Neither of them are moving, but somehow it feels like their bodies are drawing closer. “I can’t,” Carlos says. “I just—I can’t.”

He reaches out, cradles T.K.’s face in his hand and T.K.’s eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching. “Carlos I—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Carlos says, taking a step forward, letting his hand slide down and wrap around the back of T.K.’s neck to draw him closer. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me too. Tell me that it’s driving you crazy that we share this room, that we sleep in the same space every night but not together. Tell me that you feel this thing between us. Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy,” T.K. says. “I feel it. I—“

That’s as much as Carlos needs, closing the gap, his lips finding T.K.’s in a kiss that feels achingly right. It sends a thrill down his spine to finally, finally be doing what he’s wanted to since the moment he stepped onto this boat. 

He tries to be gentle, keeping the kiss soft and light, even though his mind is screaming at him to get them both naked as fast as humanly possible. T.K. doesn’t seem all that interested in gentle though. He immediately responds, opening his mouth, inviting Carlos in, encouraging him into something more heated and intense.

His hands wind into Carlos’ hair and Carlos lets out a soft grunt of pleasure when they tighten in his curls, pulling just enough, exactly the way he likes it. He pushes forward, slotting his thigh between T.K.’s, the hand that’s not keeping their mouths flush finding the curve of T.K.’s ass and locking in like a vise so that there’s barely a part of them that’s not touching.

It’s dirty and hot and hard and everything Carlos has been dreaming it would be. Everything T.K. has been too, judging by the way he keeps sighing and making little noises of pleasure that escape from his mouth and into Carlos’ throat and then all the way down until Carlos feels like he might die if they don’t start taking their clothes off very soon.

T.K. shifts, pulling Carlos forward. “T.K.” Carlos grunts out between kisses. “We can’t get in your bunk.”

“You want to have sex in yours? That seems risky,” T.K. says, looking pointedly at how high off the floor Carlos’ bed is.

“No, I mean we won’t fit,” Carlos says. 

Boat bunks are barely made big enough for one person. They might be able to squish in there and cuddle, but anything more intense doesn’t seem like a possibility.

“You’re not up for the challenge Reyes?” T.K. asks, flashing him a smirk as he toys with the waistband of Carlos’ boxers. “Should we stop now and go back to our separate beds?”

Carlos does not want to get back in his bed. In fact he never wants to be separated from T.K. ever again. 

T.K. grins like he knows he’s won and strips off his t-shirt, sinking slowly back into his mattress, eyes locked onto Carlos’.

Carlos loves a challenge.

[jamtoasties3316]

Max getting a job on a super yacht not realizing he’d be the only omega and that part of his job was entertaining the guests and then the crew👀.

Max spends more time on his knees on the deck or tied to the captains (Toto) bed than he does working. Didn’t like it at first but with so many alphas on board it doesn’t take long for him to be permanently knot drunk.

Oh yes! Max getting hired as 4th stew ans being curious as most ships that size only have 3. He shows up and all the staff, even the stews, are Alphas, all except him!

Max quickly realising he is mostly there as entertainment. He has to serve guests naked or have food served on his bare body, and the Alpha stews love urging the guests to do shots where they lick max's pussy first!

Guests can also fuck any of his holes and Max is often gaping and covered in cum. And then when a charter is over, he has to service the crew too. Sure he has to blow everyone during charter but his cunt belongs to the guests then, although max ofcourse can't say no to captain Toto.

He hates it at first and protests but he gets so knotdrunk all the time he stops protesting, even starts to like his job. He will not be phased about folding laundry while someone is pounding his pussy, or making cocktails while someone is fingering his ass. He is made to be a free use slut on this ship!

Toto is by far the most kinky and rough with him, tying him up snd using him relentlessly just because he wants Max to remember who is in charge and who he really belongs to!