#i never go on my private ig anymore but i have some really close people on there like i know all the people on there since 2+ years and

[bewby]

.

[tomssexdoll]

Deceptive Devotion

PAIRINGS: Tom 2008 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and Y/N are best friends, at least to the public. In private they secretly hook up and have already confessed their feelings, he always tells Y/N to wait for the right time to tell everyone. One day they're at a party and she sees him with another girl, running off, heartbroken by his actions, did he mean anything he said?

A/N: hi all ILY!

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), fingering, teasing, light arguing ig

Tom and I were "best friends" to the public, in private we secretly hooked up, we confessed our feelings to each other, him telling me one day we'll be able to express it, show everyone what really went on behind closed doors.

I was at a party with him, just to celebrate the end of the year and have fun, getting our minds off all the exams we had to do. Tom wandered off somewhere, I just hung around my other friends, they were aware of Tom and I, keeping it a secret from everyone for us.

I grabbed some shots and let them fall down my throat, stinging slightly. "Have you guys seen Tom? I can't find him and it's been like an hour!" I sighed, a hint of worry in my voice.

"Oh Tom this, tom that! Just have fun with us!" My friend said, they all giggled and handed me another drink, wanting me to relax and have fun without chasing after him.

For the next couple of hours I just drank and danced, having fun with my girls, Tom not even popping into my mind for a second.

Then, as usual, he popped into my mind again. I was looking around, desperately trying to find Tom but I couldn't see him anywhere, the party filled with people. I started to walk off, my friends realizing what I was doing and running by my side, "cmon, let's get more drinks!" my friend said, chuckling slightly, trying to act super normal.

"Tom..I need to find Tom where's Tom," I whined, my friend just pulled me back, "who cares about Tom, let's have fun!" she said, growing increasingly more frustrated. I just nudged her off, grunting and finding my way around the party.

I was wondering why they were so hesitant for me to find Tom, that's when I saw it, I saw the reason why. Tom was there with her, Heather. The most popular and prettiest girl in our grade, his hand rested at the small of her back, the spot he always held me by.

She was covered by his large, black sweater, it was huge on her, covering almost her entire dress. He was flirting with her, sneaking kisses on her lips and neck, sometimes even being bold and grabbing her ass. I just stood there, frozen, my heart cracking with each second that went by.

He looked around, his eyes landing on me, his eyes widening and face going pale. "Y/N..." my friend said, gently grabbing my shoulder. "Get off me...I need time alone..." I said, my voice shaky as I tried to hold back tears.

I pushed through the crowd, not able to hold back my tears anymore, they just spilled out of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks as I kept running. I heard Tom call for me in the distance but I just ignored him, I wanted nothing but to run to him and be in his arms but the thought Heather's scent on him gave me chills.

I ran into a random bedroom, shitting it behind me and letting the loud music drown out, my tears never stopping. I sat down on the bed and kept sobbing, my heart ready to jump out of my throat with each sob.

My chest heaved up and down with intense emotion. A few seconds went by and he bursted in, shutting the door behind him and running to my side, the air around him heavy and eyes filled with regret and concern. He reached out a hand to gently wipe away the tears streaming down my cheeks, his touch warm and soothing.

"Get the fuck off me!" I yelled, rejecting his touch, "how could you? You feed me all this bullshit that you like me and turn behind my back and do that, how could you?" I screamed through my sobs.

His face fell, looking genuinely hurt by my reaction. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking, "please Y/N...I didn't mean it like that, she means nothing to me, it was just a quick flirt," he moved closer, placing his hand on my arm, but again, I resisted, smacking it off and standing up, walking away.

He rose from the bed, his eyes locked onto me, filled with a deep sorrow and longing. He took a step forward, his voice low and pleading, "Y/N just stop...just let me explain!" he towered over me and tilted my chin to look at him.

"Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty!" I yelled, pushing him off me and just glaring at him. "Y/N, don't say that..., you're beautiful.." he took a step back, hurt by my words. His hands fell to his sides, his eyes glazing with regret.

"You say you like me, you fuck me and kiss me, you hold me and whisper loving things into my ear and then do this? Are you fucking kidding me!" I screamed, "did I mean nothing to you? Was this all just to play with my feelings!" I kept crying, tears rapidly falling down my cheeks and onto my dress.

"No, no no...no..she means nothing to me, she is nothing compared to you" he sighed, taking my hands in his, his expression serious and sincere. "You gave her your sweater Tom..." I sighed, trying to calm myself down, my chest still heaving.

His eyes widened, a flicker of guilt crossing his face at the mention of the sweater, "I...I know, but it's just polyester...Y/N she means nothing..." he tried reassuring me but it just went in through one ear and out the other, his words meaning nothing to me. "You like her better...I wish I were heather..." I pulled my hands away, turning my gaze elsewhere, not bearing to look in his eyes anymore.

"Now I get it, for months you told me to wait, to be patient for us, because you were ashamed of me, weren't you?" I scoffed, shaking my head and crossing my arms over my chest, "what...y/n no, why would I ever be ashamed of you? I love you!" he whined, taking a step closer, knowing his words were going no where, he had to prove it to me differently.

"Oh bullshit, you're just saying this so I can come running back to you! I'm not a fucking idiot, I can see through your lies!" I tried to walk off but he blocked me with his body, grabbing my shoulders and leaning in close.

"Just let me prove it to you, ok? Just one chance and if I don't convince you I'll stay out of your life forever, please..." he sighed, this was his only chance and if I said no, everything we did, everything we shared, would of been for nothing.

He gently placed his hand on my cheek, "let me take care of you, hm? Prove to you how much I love you..." he leaned closer, his breath fanning against my neck, leaving small kisses against the skin.

I bit my lip, nodding slowly, "okay...fine.." I whispered, turning his head to face me and pressing my lips against his. He instantly deepened the kiss, his lips crushing against mine with a hunger that had been building for what felt like an eternity.

His hands slid down my back, grasping my hips and pulling me even closer, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth. "Mmmh..." I whimpered into his mouth, our tongues engaging in a synchronized dance.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he gazed down at me with an intense, passionate look. His hands still gripped my hips, holding me firmly in place. "Strip for me baby, let me see that beautiful body.." his voice was low and commanding, yet gentle at the same time.

"Okay..." I whined, obeying him. I started to strip, slowly pushing down my tight dress, letting it slip off my body and pool at my feet. He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his chiselled chest. His movements were slow and teasing.

I continued to strip, my arms reaching behind me and clipping off my bra, then moving to my panties, hooking my fingers around them and sliding them down, also letting them pool at my feet. His eyes devouring every inch of my naked body, his gaze burning with desire.

He stepped closer, his hands riding to cup my breasts, his thumbs teasing my nipples into stiff peaks, "Tom.." I gasped, looking up at him, my face contorting from the pleasure of his fingers gently caressing my nipples.

"Mmhh..." I moaned softly, his mouth descending, claiming one nipple in a hungry kiss, his tongue swirling around the sensitive flesh. "So good.." he growled against my skin. His mouth moved to the other breast, giving it the same attention as he kneads the first with his hand.

His other hand trails down my body, over my stomach, to the junction between my thighs, trailing his fingers closer to my heat. His fingers delved deeper, exploring the wetness between my legs, he detatched from my breasts and looked down at me, his eyes glinting with a mix of desire and satisfaction, "you're so wet f'me.." he groaned, his fingers gently circling my clit.

"Fuck..." I gasped, capturing his lips in a deep passionate kiss. He lifted my legs up gently, pushing them against my chest and spreading me wider, deepening the kiss at the same time. His fingers continued to work their magic, teasing my clit as he added a finger inside me, then a second, stretching me out deliciously.

"Mmmh...don't stop.." I moaned softly against his lips, our tongues crashing against each other. He smirked at my response, pulling back from the kiss and lowering his head to my neck, tracing a hot path of kisses down my collarbone while his fingers continued to move inside me. He couldn't help but let out a low growl of satisfaction, picking up his pace.

His fingers pumped faster into me. The sound of my wetness and his low growls filling the room, creating an erotic symphony. "I wanna hear more of those sounds baby...don't be shy..." he murmured against my skin, gently suckling on the skin of my neck, leaving marks everywhere he went.

"Please..." I whined, lolling my head back as he explored more of my neck, my pussy desperately throbbing around his fingers as my orgasm was rapidly building. His fingers curved upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside me, making me tremble and whimper in response.

His fingers kept moving faster, his thumb pressing against my clit, "you're so fucking gorgeous when you beg.." he chuckled lowly, his free hand gripping my thigh tightly as he felt my body start to tighten around him.

I moaned loudly at his vicious pace, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as the pleasure became too much, destroying my pussy with his fingers. He could feel my body trembling under his touch, "good girl..such a good girl, taking my fingers so well, aren't you?" thrusting his fingers deeper, curling them repeatedly to keep hitting that sweet spot inside me.

His cock twitched in his pants, eager to replace his fingers. "Cum for me baby...cmon.." he egged on, his words demanding and full of desire, "mmmh, so close!" I whined, a knot forming in my stomach.

His thumb circled my clit relentlessly as he sensed me impending release. With a final thrust of his fingers, I came undone, crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over me, "Tomm! Fuck!" he smirked, "that's it, baby. Let go for me..." gently slipping his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth and sucking the juices off, making sure not to waste a single drop.

A few seconds later, he gently pushed me back on the bed, climbing on top of me and palming his bulge, showing how hard he was for me, "fuck..the things you do to me baby.." instead of focusing on himself, he started to kiss me again, appreciating me and my body, making sure it was known how much he cared and loved me.

"So beautiful...so sexy...so kind.." he murmured, kissing from my lips, to my neck, to my shoulders, to my chest, to my stomach and all the way down my thighs and legs, he quickly came back up and pressed a passionate kiss to my lips, our lips locking in a loving embrace.

His kiss deepened, his tongue dancing with mine in a sensual tango. He broke the kiss to gaze into my eyes, his own filled with raw emotion, "I love you..." he whispered, his voice thick and husky, "more than anything, I'm so sorry I made you feel like you weren't good enough, you're my world..." he murmured, reaching down and unbuttoning his jeans.

He hoisted himself up, sitting on his knees and sliding his jeans down, kicking them off and leaving himself in his boxers. His cock strained against his underwear, a prominent print of his member, precum stained on them.

He reached down again, hooking his thumbs in his boxers and peeling them off, freeing his impressive erection. His cock stood tall and thick, the tip glistening with pre. He stroked it slowly, his hand a contrast to the cool air against his heated skin.

He came back down, hovering over me and lining himself up with my entrance, I put my hands on his chest, tracing gentle patterns. He slowly thrusted into me, filling me completely, "fuck!" I squealed, my pussy trying to adjust to his size.

The pleasure of him being inside me overcoming him. He started to establish a slow and steady rhythm, taking his time with each thrust. "You feel amazing.." he grunted, his breath hot against my ear.

He groaned, thrusting himself deeper into my tight and wet heat. His arms wrapping around my thighs and pulling me closer, his gaze never leaving line as he began to move faster.

His hips thrusted harder and more eagerly as he took me with wild abandon. He growled, his voice deep and guttural as he buried himself inside of me, his body shuddering with pleasure, "fuck, baby..."

I whined, grabbing onto the sheets around me, desperately holding on as he began to thrust harder and faster. He looked down at me, watching as my breasts bounced with each thrust, "fuck! harder!" I begged, his tip repeatedly hitting my g spot, driving me insane.

He smirked, enjoying the sight of me completely lost in pleasure beneath him. He instantly obeyed my commands, thrusting harder, the bed starting to shake under the force of his movements. "You like that baby, hm?" he asked, his voice rough and lust filled as he kept slamming into me.

"Yess! Yes, fuck!" I moaned loudly, throwing my head back, "don't stop! Don't ever fucking stop!" I practically yelled, his thrusts becoming erratic, driven by pure animalistic desire as he chased his release. "Fuck...I'm close baby..cum with me.." he demanded, his fingers digging into my thighs.

He let one hands slip down to my clit, rubbing rough circles, wanting my orgasm to be exactly timed with his, the other hand travelled to my hip, controlling my movements as he fucked me, "so fucking good...you're mine, all mine" he grunted.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, punctuated by my moans. He continued to fuck me hard and fast, driving himself deeper inside of me. He could feel my walls tightening around him as I got closer to my orgasm.

His speed on my clit increased, a knot forming in my stomach again, signalling my climax. "Fuck, gonna cum!" I squealed, rolling my eyes backwards and arching my back to meet his vicious thrusts, "yes baby, cum all over my cock, cmon!" he growled, pounding into me relentlessly, his own orgasm building to a crescendo.

I whined, my legs trembling as I came all over his cock, my juices spilling down his thick shaft. With one final, brutal thrust, he buried himself inside of me and unleashes a torrent of cum deep in me, "fuck!" he yelled out, his chest heaving as he collapsed on top of me, "ohh my god.." he panted, diving his face into my neck and planting gentle kisses as he rode his high out.

After a few minutes he popped his head up, checking on me, "you ok princess?" I nodded lazily, barely able to form a word, he chuckled and flipped us over, letting me rest on his chest, gently combing through my hair with his fingers.

"Y/N..." he called out, tilting my chin to look up at him, "hm?" I said, my voice quiet and soft, "I wasn't lying to you, yes there was a time when I didn't want people knowing about us. But it wasn't because I was ashamed of you or afraid of what others might think, it was because..." he hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to reveal the truth.

"I was scared and reckless, I didn't know how to even ask you out, I was worried that I wasn't good enough to be seen with you, I just let my insecurities get the best of me and it ruined a chance for...us.." he sighed, "I really do love you, I've loved you for so long, you're the only person I've looked forward to seeing every day, when I wake up and see you've texted me it makes me forget about all my problems, I always think about you" he said, his voice full of emotion, I looked into his eyes and all I saw was sincerity.

I just sighed, smiling softly, "I understand...I just, I want so badly to tell the whole world we're together, for everyone to know I'm yours.." he nodded, "I know, I want that too, I'm tired of hiding, scared of what other people may say, I will find a way to tell everyone, just you wait," he smirked, planting a soft kiss on my lips.

tags: @ballhair @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover

tags: @billsdolliest @tomscumdoll @tomsfuckdoll

tags: @tomriddlesrealgf @ella1289 @pa1n-0f-l0ve

tags: @miyukafujii

[zarazmnie-cos]

❝ [don't you know i want you so bad?] ¡! ❞

requested? yes, for 🦆 anon !

contains: park jihoon x fem!reader; enemies to lovers!au, fake relationship!au; smut, teeny bit of angst ig, some fluff; make out, fingering, teasing?? griding/dry humping, slight marking, begging if you squint???, unprotected piv (yall better wrap it up), nipple play, implied round two ig; lmk if i missed anything

words: approx. 2.8k

a/n: im not gonna even pretend i live atp but i hope you will enjoy this one. yes, it is rushed, not finished, but i still think it looks decent. lemme know ur thoughts on this one bcuz i love feedback <3 masterlist here

AS A NUMBER ONE PARK JIHOON HATER, YOU HAD NO IDEA WHAT OTHER PEOPLE SAW IN HIM THAT MADE THEM ADORE HIM. HE WAS HANDSOME INDEED, BUT BESIDES THAT, HIS ONE HELL OF EXISTENCE WAS ENOUGH TO BRING YOU TO MADNESS. JUST HIS PRESENCE MADE YOUR BLOOD BOIL.  

being neighbors with such someone who dared to call itself “human” was tough. seeing him a lot of times, happy and unbothered by the fact he ruined your dreams, definitely didn’t help in developing positive feelings towards that idiot. in fact, keeping those grudges inside as fuel for your hatred felt therapeutic. and it longed all the way from your childhood to adulthood.

you hoped for him to finally leave your life. it didn’t really matter in what way, you just wanted to never see him again. so why did you look out the window every time he was passing by?

saying these feelings were mutual would be a lie. but jihoon would never let you know that. 

“what do you want?” you asked, seeing him by your door again that day. “i don’t have any money. i wouldn’t lend you it anyway.”

“what do i want? to not suffer anymore, i guess. and to live a peaceful life with someone.”

“okay?” looking at him, confused, you reached out for the doorknob to close the door and end this meaningless conversation. 

“can i come in?”

“why?” now that was sus. jihoon’s tone got a bit more serious, even tired. he always seemed to be full of energy, confident, and untroubled. so what was going on?

“i need to talk to you. in private.”

still staring at him from under your furrowed brows, after a moment of hesitation, you let him inside. as he took off his shoes and went inside the living room, you decided to make some tea. from his tone, it seemed it will be a tough conversation.

and oh boi, was it one hell of a confusing ride. for you, at least.

“so, to conclude,” you started after a moment of silence. “you want me to act as your girlfriend? you know i hate you with all my heart, right? and the fact that i could murder you right here, right now is incredibly possible?”

“but you listened to me, so i don’t think it is that possible.” 

“get out.” shaking your head at his words, you got up from the couch, ready to mind your own business. 

“let me know when you’ll think it through,” jihoon said softly, looking at you with a smile. oh, you wanted to punch him so badly, but he left before you could even form your hand into a fist. dang, now it felt kind of lonely in here.

“damn you, park jihoon!” 

a few days have passed by and these were the calmest and the quietest days of your life. no one was bothering you, no one was bickering with you, and no one actually talked to you. at first, you enjoyed that silence. you managed to get some work done and sleep better. though with almost no time, it started to feel lonely. almost like you don’t matter that much to people. especially to that one person.

“if you really have no balls to admit you are as lonely as a stick, then fine.” 

you had no idea why you still had jihoon’s number on your phone. heck, you had no idea why you even got it in the first place, but now it was convenient. you had to battle yourself whether to call or say it in person. surprisingly, agreement to his plan came to your head without much hesitation, but you thought nothing of it. the fact that you could toy with him and maybe get a small revenge was motivating.

although you thought of it as a sort of revenge (and that you already got a plan for how to do it), at the same time it just felt wrong. you had no idea why, but using his feelings like that seemed to be brutal, even for you. 

jihoon came by the next day to talk through all the details of this plan, and boi, was it one heck of a plan.

“wait, hold on, i have to write it all down,” you interrupted him, trying to process all the information he bombed you with. as you got up from your seat to look for some kind of a notebook, his hand stopped you from doing so.

“don’t, or else it won’t feel natural. what if anyone finds these notes, huh?” the worries and desperation in his tone were crystal clear; this whole situation really must’ve been important as hell. and it was actually sus.

“fine, but don’t come for me when i mess something up.”

“i’m pretty sure you won’t.”

the urge to say “eh?” was too big, but in the end, you just ignored his words. you got back on the topic, and the explanations began again.

the most suspicious thing in all of it was that he chose you. every time you asked him why it must be you, he managed to change the topic, smoothly avoiding answering your questions. since he loved to rile you up and make your blood boil just for funsies, him getting so serious about a fake relationship with you especially just wasn’t adding up. too many loose ends in his reasoning, but all of them were covered flawlessly. apparently, all you had to do was just sit, look pretty (or at least alive), and play along.

what was even more surprising, was the way you didn’t even think about screwing the whole situation up. well, almost. at first, a few times the urge to say “it’s a prank” was too big to handle, but in the end, none of this happened. you really could pat yourself on the back for the way you kept yourself in place, which was tough around park jihoon himself.

the worst thing in that fake relationship was skinship and intimacy in general. yeah, you had a few boyfriends before, but dang it, around jihoon it felt so... weird. weird as in good, and that was why it felt weird. it was park jihoon, you were supposed to hate him, not leaning in for a kiss! what the fuck! 

still, what kept you sane through all this acting was the thought of flipping it all against him one day. someday. though with every next day, every next move of his, every next nice and gentle act from him, this first thought managed to fade away, getting replaced by some sort of yearning. yearning for this act to be real.

it all felt some sort of... illegal. illegal as in a way of betraying yourself. illegal as in a way of “you shouldn’t be doing this” and “that is not how you were raised” way. though everyone around seemed to be happy about this magnificent act, you weren’t so sure and so happy about it. but how not lean into this act when it felt so good? when it felt like you were finally yourself? and when it felt like you actually had someone by your side? when it didn’t feel so lonely?

“what’s going on, sweetheart?”

“don’t call me that when there’s no one around. no one is watching.” you snapped back almost immediately, as in a way of punishment for this cute nickname. getting back on track, you came back to chopping carrots. the dinner won’t make itself, and since this piece of rotten flesh is around, you had to busy your hands with something.

“but it rolls so nicely out of the tongue,” jihoon whined, pouting and finally moving around so you won’t see his painfully handsome face. “but fine, if you don’t want, i won’t.”

all you heard in your head was the windows xp error sound right now. wait a damn minute, did he actually respect your boundaries outside the act? what was happening to him?

noticing how you stopped every movement, even breathing, you came back to your body and continued with your life. taking a sharp breath, you chopped those carrots like your life depended on it. 

jihoon was silent. way too silent. why? because he was thinking as well. even thinking too much. should he tell you? should he ask? but what if you just laugh it off? or make fun of him? will he lose his face when he’ll do that?

“here. have this.”

dang it, he was thinking so long you managed to make a whole dinner already! wait, what? did you really want him to taste the dish? what was going on?

the food came into the equation here, so he didn’t think much of it, he just took the full spoon in his mouth. seeing how your face brightened up because of his approval made these butterflies in his stomach fly up high again. just what you were thinking, acting like that? you wanted him? to fall in love with you? like he hadn’t already did?

“stop looking at me like that or i’ll seriously think you fell for me.” 

“what if i already did?”

it was supposed to be a funny question. it was supposed to be a joke. but this damned park jihoon was serious, you could tell that without looking at him. you breathed in sharply again. that just couldn’t be real. 

“then that would be far from what i agreed on.” somehow, when you said that, you felt something aching in your chest. was it your heart? is that how a broken heart feels? but you didn’t have what to be heartbroken over, it was all just a mirage. 

the silence longed and longed for what felt like an eternity. finally, you heard the chair moving. you knew he was going to leave. everyone did, sooner or later. maybe you just weren’t made for-

“well, i don’t know if you know, but it is not like i can control my feelings.” jihoon started, standing right beside you, leaning by the kitchen counter. “whether you agreed on me falling for you or not, it just happened and i’m not gonna keep it inside anymore. i fucking fell for you, sweetheart. so much.”

“and you want me to believe it? you want me to believe that sweet talk after all that acting, after that mirage full of such words? how can i know it’s not a play?”

“because none of that was a play. or at least not for me.”

wait, what? hold on, what?

“so you’re saying this whole fake relationship was supposed to be real?” you asked after connecting those few dots in your mind.

“sort of. i just wanted you to finally stop fighting with me. and maybe see that i’m not that bad.”

oh, boi. that was a rollercoaster indeed. thankfully the dinner was already done because you couldn’t think about it and about what jihoon was saying. 

“i should go, right?” after what seemed to be a disappointed sigh, jihoon slowly moved towards the door. what was he thinking, saying all that? what was he thinking in the first place, when he came up with the fake relationship idea?

“don’t.”

you couldn’t bear the possibility he would leave you. you didn’t know if you just got used to his presence in your life or what, but it felt different, more likely to live with him around. you just simply couldn’t let him go.

there was a lot to talk indeed. and you two did while eating the dinner that slowly started getting cold. it was getting late and you still didn’t want him to leave.

“please, stay.” you said quietly, turning away from him since you were unable to look him in the face while admitting to feeling lonely. it was almost like admitting being defeated. and you hated getting defeated, especially by park jihoon, that little fuck.

“aww, my little baby wants me to stay with her? alright then.” he chuckled, but after he said that, he left a small peck on your head. 

it really felt nice having someone by your side, even if that someone was able to tease the living shit out of you so casually. 

“what’s that? my little sweetheart can’t wait a bit?”

“no. touch me already.” you actually demanded, breathless from the passionate kisses you two shared. jihoon chuckled again, much to your discontent. so you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. 

your lips met his again. seeing you so desperate for him made jihoon smile cheekily in between the kisses, but he finally touched you, just as you wanted. in the end, who was he to disobey his sweetheart? 

with one of his hands, jihoon pushed you even closer to him, and the little moan that escaped your mouth sent shivers down his spine. wandering with the same hand under your shirt, the other one held your thigh, squeezing it from time to time. 

with you on his lap, so desperate for his touch, jihoon just couldn’t help but smile. the sight of you slowly getting ruined by him really affected his mind and body.

“you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.” he stated so out of the blue, but you didn’t really think much of it. you just wanted to feel him.

“mm-hmm. now kiss me more.”

again, smiling cheekily, jihoon tasted your sweet lips. with his hands under your shirt, he managed to undo your bra, which he then took off both with your shirt. the cold air of the room caused you to shiver a bit, but then feeling the warm hands of your boyfriend made it all better. 

while his hands roamed around your body, yours moved from the collar of his shirt to his hair, pulling on the strands from time to time, causing some breathless moans from the man under you. acting almost instinctively, your hips slowly started moving, grinding on the still-clothed length of your boyfriend. 

“you seriously can’t wait anymore, right, sweetheart?” jihoon asked after a short laugh, and you only shook your head. he laughed again before kissing you, moving his hand to your front clothed only with slowly soaking panties. “you’re so wet already. are you so impatient for me?”

you nodded, wanting him to finally take proper care of you. seeing his confident smile caused you to move again, this time grinding on his fingers lightly touching your core through the cotton material. 

“please, jihoon-“ mumbling out, you tried to form the next part of the sentence, but you failed the moment he moved the panties to the side and slid one of his fingers inside you. as you moaned softly at the sensation, jihoon carefully observed every change happening on your face and body. 

then, the second finger managed to slide in and you had to bite on your lower lip to not make louder sounds. you threw your head back, happy with a bit full sensation. and when he started moving his fingers, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore and just had to moan softly. 

meanwhile, jihoon started trailing his lips from yours to your jawline, neck, and then to your collarbones. everywhere where he could, he just had to leave at least a small mark of his presence. of the fact that he was the one making you feel so good. 

“m-more, please-“ quietly mumbling out, you brushed your fingers through jihoon’s hair, pulling on it again. looking at you with lust-filled eyes, he stopped kissing your neck, but only for a while. 

“you think you can handle more, sweetheart?” 

“mm-hmm.”

with a fast yet burning with lust kiss, jihoon finally lowered his pants, showing what you craved; his dick. you had to refrain yourself with the last bits of self-control from licking your lips at the sight. 

“you ready?” after a nod from you, jihoon smiled again, letting you do the rest of the job. as you adjusted yourself and slowly lowered your body, the feeling of being full took all over your body.

with moans and groans, you started moving up and down, and lusty sounds of slapping skin against skin filled the room. your boyfriend again started kissing your shoulder and collarbones, occasionally leaving here and there marks. his favourite spot to nibble on was the one place that made you moan louder and clench around his length. with one hand helping you bounce up and down, the other one massaging your tits, taking your nipple in between his fingers. 

you two might’ve been close to your highs, but none of you wanted to stop there. thankfully, the neighbours went on vacation, so no one would eventually complain about the two of you. 

[daintymayhem]

I kinda start to resent my dainties. Most people in community treats the characters in the dainty community like trading cards and not like actual characters. It's really sad. And i did that too... I had my dainties cause they were, well, dainties. It was the only reason for me to have them, but due to private reasons i am not able to trade them, especially my most prized dainty. And i was mad about it. But now after using them in rp and planning a future dating sim, commissioning a lot of art, constantly drawing and using them, i noticed that my dainties aren't some trading cards, they're my oc's that i want to show off to the world. The fact i am not able to let them go, and this blog, opened my eyes. They're oc's i cherish and would never abandon. Turning an off-brand or dainty-looking character into and actual dainty, downgrades them. It defeats their commerical use and i have to redesign them now. I can't make VRC models, i can't make tiktoks with them, i can't make some animations with them to put on youtube, i can't even make Vtuber models, tf?

Honestly, i don't give a flicking fuck anymore. I can't do shit with my oc's cause pajuxi is scared that people call her a scam. I didn't spend a penny on dainties, so i am not a hypocrite for saying this. I am not judging anyone, it you like the CS and the community, you do you. Everyone uses their oc's diffrently.

I will change the stockings and use my dainties as much as i want, or i just void them. They're a scam anyway. Ig this is a hot-take?

Open species>>>Closed species

Go off king/queen/monarch

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

I don't ship jikook but I have to tell you, you're the only normal jikooker left. All jikookers are so delulu, screaming all day "jikook is real!!!! Jimin was hiding in the bathroom" - when they couldn't accept that tae and jk and hobi were together, and Jimin wasn't with them. It's true that we don't know their lives but - in my opinion - jikook are not seeing each other often as before, not only because we don't see them but because they never mention something like "yesterday I saw Jungkook" or "Jimin told me that blah blah" implying that they met or talked. For example, during the live on ig tae told jk "I see you tomorrow". Tae mentioned Jk many times. Hobi said that he saw Jimin for a drink. Vhopekook meet. Taekook met many times with Tae friends etc. Jikook, the closest duo of bts is disappeared and don't you think it's weird? Even when Jk said he wanted to go to see Jimin on music show, it was weird to me. Why he didn't ask Jimin's schedule? Why Hobi and Yoongi went to support Jimin and not him? Hobi and Yoongi knew Jimin's schedule. Why Jungkook didn't ask when he could go if he REALLY wanted to go? He mentioned the music show only because Jimin was doing the live after the work. But it was too late. So it means they don't talk that much. I think they're friends but it seems that Hobi and Yoongi are more close to Jimin than Jungkook. They don't share anything anymore. It seems that they have always time for the other members but when they could meet, they're casually busy and they can't anymore

I'm the only normal Jikooker left? Is that meant to be a compliment? Plenty of Jikookers are normal, the whole fandom is filled with crazy people and they are not all shippers. It's like you're praising me for being less of a Jikooker than others, and your ask just gives off major Taekooker vibes.

I didn't see anyone say Jimin was hiding in JK's bathroom during Vhopekook's live. Why would he have done that? I know some fans believe that, but I think we all agree their opinion doesn't matter.

Jungkook saw Jimin rehearse SMF yet didn't mention knowing the choreo before watching the MV with us; Jimin only mentioned it much later. So, it's not true they would necessarily mention every time they saw each other. They were probably together to record Letter and since Jimin played the guitar he was probably the one who gave Jungkook that "guitar" lesson, yet Jimin didn't mention Jungkook at all when talking about Letter, and Jungkook hasn't talked about it either. Whenever Jikook went out together in the past, with or without friends, they never mentioned it and we only learned about it because they left their autographs at a restaurant or had their picture taken. Like I said, Jimin is private, Jungkook as well. Hobi was the one who mentioned having a drink with Jimin, Hobi was the one who mentioned playing games with Jimin. He was also the one who said OT6 had a drink together for the first time after Jin left. They're all private in different ways. Jungkook never mentioned hanging out with V or J-Hope. We only know because there are pics and videos. Jungkook only occasionally mentions eating with his family. He rarely talks about his friends.

About V and Jungkook in particular, I watched that live and don't remember V saying "see you tomorrow", but Jungkook literally got on a plane that same day? You think they saw each other? JK is in LA right now. And if that's actually what V said, have you never told someone you'll see them tomorrow even if you won't? Last Friday I told my grandparents, who I see once a month at best, that I would see them the next day when I obviously wouldn't - especially since they were, ironically, leaving the country like Jungkook, to go on a cruise. And V had a pretty empty schedule so he could hang out with Jungkook more. They've also been rebuilding their friendship ever since ITS 1 where they talked about growing apart, so that's great. V hasn't apparently been spending much time with Jimin either, yet no one is saying their friendship is over or something. And V mentioned a song Jungkook recommended a few days after they hung out... But you can share playlists on Spotify or talk about music over the phone. And V mentioned JK many times? You mean the song recommendation and the fact that V watches Jungkook's lives? Jungkook and Jimin literally mention or talk with each other every time they do a live? They also watch each other's lives? JK knew Jimin had skipped Unholy and Jimin knew he had sung it.

Suga went to support Jimin because he had promised to do so in Suchwita. He was the one who wanted Jimin to go on music shows so he probably thought he had to go there once. And J-Hope is an angel who always visits the members. Jimin didn't visit the More or Arson MV shootings, yet Hobi visited Jimin during the Like Crazy shoot. J-Hope is leaving soon. He said he wished he could be there for all the members in their solo careers so he's clearly doing the most right now while he still can.

You think Jungkook should know Jimin's schedule? Or ask about it? I talk to my mom every day and she still forgets basic things about my every day routine, which is always the same, unlike Jimin's. Hobi and Suga are at the company a lot, talking with the management team (who told Hobi about Jungkook's schedule); they knew when Jimin was doing the pre-recordings because they had already made plans to visit him. Jungkook knew Jimin was doing live shows but not when they were recorded, or maybe he had a vague idea and forgot? He wasn't aware that the last show Jimin recorded was his last but knew he was recording that day. Jungkook was staying at home a lot so his sense of time was probably shot. My mom forgets stuff I tell her all the time and she literally lives for me. Maybe Jungkook didn't think to visit Jimin because he didn't think he needed to? He thought Jimin wouldn't need his support or would feel awkward having to perform in front of him? This is more about Jungkook's personality than anything. V didn't visit Jimin on set and neither did the other members. Hobi was the exception and Suga went to the recording because he told Jimin to do music shows in the first place. It's boring going to shoots and they're too close to feel the need to make a statement.

"Jikook, the closest duo of bts is disappeared and don't you think it's weird?" "So it means they don't talk that much. I think they're friends but it seems that Hobi and Yoongi are more close to Jimin than Jungkook. They don't share anything anymore. It seems that they have always time for the other members but when they could meet, they're casually busy and they can't anymore" Wow. They don't share anything anymore? Does a whole song not count? What a bold statement. Hobi and Yoongi are closer to Jimin now and V is closer to Jungkook, right? And V and Namjoon are barely on speaking terms because they haven't mentioned each other at all and only hung out once at Harry's concert but they didn't even sit together! And no one but Jihope visited Jin so those friendships are on life support as well. It's good to know "delulu" Jikookers are in good company of delulu whatever you are. As the only! normal Jikooker I'm sad to say you aren't one of the "normal" shippers (or maybe you're way more normal than me - you definitely sound like most shippers I've seen).

[nox-artemis]

Halloween isn't making me really happy this year.

I mean, there's a lot of other factors going into play too, but definitely my mind has been preoccupied extra since a lot of feelings have been catching up since last year.

J.G. sure picked a "appropriate" time of year to pull the ghosting act, if you catch my drift.

But again, there's a lot more.

Part One: Realization

The first thing I have to admit isn’t too surprising but still something people don’t condone. I feel comfortable admitting to it now since I blocked-unfollowed J.G. and I’m certain they don’t give a rat’s shit about me to do the same by coming onto my blog (like they ever cared enough about me to want to keep tabs on me). It’s ironic that I say this since what I’m about to admit is that yes: since around the time they ghosted me, I made a habit of lurking on their active social media, which was basically their Facebook. Not only was their FB a public profile (now that I blocked-unfollowed J.G. from IG, I can’t see their photos anymore because private account), it was also the only platform that we never mutually followed each other on, so I felt that this was the only place I could see the “real” J.G.

As the old proverb says, “curiosity killed the cat.” But satisfaction did not bring me back.

When I scrolled back to around the time the ghosting happened, I was a bit forlorn at first to see that there was no post alluding to the event, or of me in anyway, but J.G. did have a “shit post” model of social media as of recently – not really making any posts about their personal life – so I decided to proceed with periodically dipping into their feed, because in actuality seeing them regularly reposting cheesy/shitty memes gave the illusion that we were still talking to one another. I stuck to doing that for a few months because of that.

Until around February/March when they posted a rare personally typed post [changed some wording for privacy]:

People: "But why are you still single?"

Me [J.G.]: "Because I'd rather hold people accountable to their actions than entertain their crap."

And that was the last time I went onto their Facebook.

Weirdly, it was not the last time I tried to contact them, but definitely… I couldn’t look at their open-secret thoughts anymore. Maybe it wasn’t directed at me, but at that point it seemed like a double-edged sword. It was either J.G. felt so much resentment toward the type of relationship we just shared, or J.G. never cared enough about me to even acknowledge anything. It was a big stab to the heart.

And when I deleted all of our messages and the pictures they sent to me of them, I screen captured that post, because I wanted to keep it as a reminder of how much of a mistake it was to be involved with them.

Even though I haven’t accepted it yet.

Part Two: Shame/Embarrassment

This might be something to be discussed with a therapist, but I think a reason that I’ve been taking this whole ghosting/break-up saga so deeply is because – as much as I don’t want to admit it – I’ve been feeling a lot of shame and embarrassment when looking back at me and J.G.’s relationship. And despite how I’ve talked at lengths about my relationship woes to only two of my close friends (the only two people I’ve been regularly seeing for about the same length of time I’ve been ghosted by J.G.) , it’s a detail I never told either of them.

Me and J.G.’s first time together… was my first time.

Some people will roll their eyes and scoff, “ you’re seriously embarrassed about admitting *that*?” and in response I roll my eyes even further and scoff, “Yeah well can we stop pretending that in spite of the ‘sex positive’ façade of our generation some of ya’ll have a weird reaction toward mid/late life virginity loss (it’s possibly the only thing where I have a shred of sympathy for incels and the like since some people *do* talk down on people who are sexually inexperienced/shy/conservative) so can you shove your Adam & Eve promo coupon up someone else’s butthole?”

I deprogrammed myself to not believe in the whole, “save yourself until marriage,” stuff, obviously, BUT I had the expectation that my first time would be with a person who was understanding, kind, good-looking… I just wanted to be with someone who was a good person, because even if we didn’t end up together for whatever reason, it wouldn’t have been on bad terms, it wouldn’t have been regrettable. The good memories and experiences wouldn’t be tainted.

And I guess my embarrassment and shame comes with the gravity of the possibility that I gave myself to a person who by all accounts is a narcissist and/or a psychopath.

And I played into their game.

I know we fling those words around a lot, but this is based on what J.G. has told me about their family/upbringing and I’m not going to be so insensitive as to reveal *their* specific issues, because I don’t even think they know that I know, even though they were quite open about it on their blog.

I don’t want to sound counter-progressive in this era of mental health awareness, but a part of me deep down is regretful that I wanted to give J.G. some compassion and empathy by looking past their struggles… I asked myself if it was a good choice to get involved with some like this, someone like them; apart from our physical distance and cultural difference, this was probably the biggest barrier. Call it hindsight, it was written on the walls that J.G. would do something like this. I’ve read of other people getting ghosted like this by partners/friends who had such conditions.

And then I look at my own family, with so many women – including my mother – having to look after not just physically and mentally ill spouses, but spouses who are just so ungrateful despite their partner’s sacrifices, it seems. Did I really want to put myself in the same boat? It would honestly be safer to remain single even in advanced age and death than to be… weighed down with such a burden.

But I kept telling myself, “NO. Just because people have mental illnesses doesn’t mean they’re bad people. It doesn’t mean their evil/sinister. It doesn’t mean they can’t live complete lives. It doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to have love in their lives.”

I never wanted to fix them – hence why I never brought up the fact that I knew about/remembered their struggles – but I was willing to learn and to be with them throughout if they would let me, have me.

But now you see why I’ve gone nearly half-insane from this. Because I WANT to think that J.G. is an evil, heartless, sociopath so that I can finally realize that by them ghosting me I dodged a deadly bullet, BUT then I’m still suffering from the fact that I was still non-fatally shot by their actions. It’s proving to be very difficult because… how can somebody be both the worst and the best at the same time? J.G. is definitely the person who – out of all of my past relationships – hurt me the most, yet at the same time, whenever I have negative encounters with men and other people (patronizing, predatory), I always think about J.G. as a comfort tool. Like, “J.G. wouldn’t talk to me like that,” or, “J.G. would protect me and keep me safe.”

The thought of our entire relationship being just a game to them seems incomprehensible to me – it makes no sense to believe that for all of these years since meeting on Tumblr, J.G. held the thought, “yup one day I’m going to fuck this chick,” in their mind and saw an opportunity to do so when I began the process of admitting my feelings to them only two years ago (as I recall, I didn’t even make it on any of their “most attractive mutuals” lists). But then again, some people make it their mission to knock women off any pedestal they have just to “humble” them. Maybe they thought I was snooty or a know-it-all or that I was trying to get into their pants for ulterior motives.

And I guess I just made it easy for them. Stupid, stupid.

Part Three: Lessons

There was a time I wanted to be a teacher – like, a formal schoolteacher. The closest I got to becoming one was when I was an after school instructor for kindergarten and 1st grade kids. I learned a lot on that job – including that I didn’t really want to be around kids and that I was willing to go to graduate school to avoid those type of jobs (once people see that you worked in either public education and/or childcare, that’s all they focus on – especially if you’re a chick). At this rate I’m more cut out for college level teaching; maybe I’ll give teaching at the associate’s level a try in a couple of years.

But no matter my education experience and my experience in public education and the like, it turns out J.G. of all people was a superior teacher all along, unintentional or not.

Because it’s been through their cruelty of silence that finally cemented into my mind that this relationship shit isn’t fucking worth it.

They’ve taught me that no one can make them love or care for anyone whom they see as being beneath them.

They’ve taught me that it’s very easy to put on a veil of “niceness.”

They’ve taught me that it’s not worth it to be around certain people – or really a lot of people.

They've taught me a lot and they were very hard pills to swallow. But I had to. They forced me to.

Conclusion:

So yeah. A year ago around this time – oddly enough I forget which date it was exactly and I can’t exactly go back to check those messages – J.G. said that they’d text me back about coming up north to where I live to visit me. They still haven’t texted me back.

Another odd thing is that is that the event didn’t ruin my Halloween, per se. But that’s not a fucking excuse for them and if they try to use that as an excuse, well, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they’d stoop to that level to relieve themselves of any guilt – if they have any.

I’m in school again and school assignments are taking up my time. I’m still working at my current job, and that’s taking up my time. I’m trying to finish an independent research project for an archaeology conference in Portugal in January, and that’s taking up my time. And I’m going to Greece with my half-estranged brother in two weeks, and that’s taking up my time.

Shit always hits the fan in October, my favorite month, and it seems like I have no real time to indulge in Halloween after all.

But it feels like the trauma from last October is catching up to me at last, because in reality, the thing taking up most of my time, ruining Halloween, is thinking about J.G.

I wish it’ll end someday.

[sof-writes]

consequences ; shin yuna

Anonymous asked: bratty!yuna as y/n’s younger girlfriend that gets needy when y/n is at work so she sexts her 😻

content warning: not very descriptive but still nsfw! profanity, kinda sexting ig, implied masturbation, (verbal) degradation

word count: 1349

a/n: okay so short note here, I originally planned on making this a full fic. however, I got distracted halfway and decided that I could leave some room for your own 🌈 imaginations 🌈

You yawned behind your hand for the seventh time in a little over thirty minutes as your team lead kept on rambling about the roadmap for the upcoming quarters.

Some people really love hearing themselves talk and judging by the looks on your colleagues' faces, you weren't the only one thinking this meeting should've been an email instead.

You sighed audibly before peeking at your phone, which was on your lap under the long meeting table. Good thing you were sitting towards the end and your team lead only had eyes for his awfully messy Powerpoint-presentation.

[Messages] 10 new messages from princess ♡

Another sigh. It seemed like you really couldn't leave your girlfriend at home by herself... What the hell could it be this time?

With a swift movement of your thumb, you carelessly unlocked your phone, expecting something along the lines of 'How does the rice cooker work?' or 'Can I use shampoo for cleaning the windows as well?' However, you were met with something completely different.

[princess ♡ at 16:04] ugh I'm so lonely and bored whenever you're not working from home...

[princess ♡ at 16:07] also very needy

[princess ♡ at 16:23] baaabe can't you just come home sick or something? please? I promise I'll make it worth it

[princess ♡ at 16:44] don't ignore me :(

[princess ♡ at 16:44] [sent a picture]

You had never locked your screen so fucking fast. Your head shot up, quickly peeking at your colleagues next to you, who both seemed to be zoning out. Emotionless eyes focused on the big television screen at the other end of the meeting room. Thank God.

Even though you had only looked at the picture for a split second, the image was engraved in your mind. Your beautiful girlfriend in front of the mirror with only the very minimal hot pink lingerie you bought her recently covering her most private parts. It wasn't necessarily the clothes, or the lack thereof, that drove you wild. No, it was that look on her face. That bratty smile. Challenging eyes. An expression that screamed 'Fuck me so hard I don't even remember my own name anymore'.

Now you weren't necessarily a disobedient employee, but you had to leave this meeting room for a bit, far too curious about the remaining 5 messages.

Without making too much noise, you excused yourself. Mumbling a generic apology along the lines of "Sorry, have to make a call" to your coworkers, after which they gave you an understanding nod.

As soon as you closed the door of the meeting room behind you, you unlocked your phone again.

[princess ♡ at 17:48] last chance...

[princess ♡ at 17:55] 3

[princess ♡ at 17:55] 2 🥺

[princess ♡ at 17:55] 1

[princess ♡ at 18:01] ok fine I'll do it myself

Your eyes shot up to look at the time. 18:09. Shit. Without any hesitation, you tapped the voice call icon, hurriedly making your way to one of the call booths as the phone rang.

Just as you were checking if you properly closed the door, your call got answered. You turned up the volume and pressed the phone closer to your ear.

The blood rushed to your veins as your ear started picking up the sounds coming from the other side. Soft moans and ragged breaths accompanied by a low vibrating sound in the background. Without even realising, you clenched your free hand into a fist.

"Shin Yuna" you spat, praying the soundproof call booths were actually soundproof. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"A-ah" the sound of her moans slightly distorted due to the phone speaker "Fucking myself so good" she spoke between ragged breaths "So... Go–"

You didn't want to hear any of it "Fucking slut!" you yelled, slamming your fist against the soft wall of the booth "I can't even leave you alone for 9 fucking hours?!"

She ignored your words, no sorry, no begging for forgiveness, no nothing. The vibrating sound in the background got louder, and so did her moans.

"Please" she moaned, as if it was you satisfying her "I'm gonna cu–"

"If you cum, you're gonna regret it" you cut her off "I'm gonna make you regret it so bad" your jaw started to hurt from clenching it together, but it was the only way you could somewhat keep your composure right now.

A soft click was heard, you assumed it was her lowering the intensity of her vibrator "Oh yeah?" she asked, as if challenging you "What are you– ah" her sentence randomly interrupted by a high pitched moan "gonna do to me?"

The fucking nerve. What the hell was she thinking? That you were gonna dirty talk her to an orgasm while at the damn office of all places? This whole situation didn't even turn you on. It just infuriated you beyond limits.

"Are you gonna fuck me so..." the click again, seemingly intensity up this time "So hard" judging by the whiny moans, she was incredibly close. "So hard" she repeated breathlessly "Just how I– fuck like it"

At this point, you couldn't even think straight anymore. Honestly, you just wanted to smash your phone through the glass of the booth. Kick in the door. Anything to get rid of your anger really.

"Don't fucking talk back to me like that you fucking brat" you raised your voice again, but based on the sounds coming from the other side, you were too late.

A long moan was heard and as if that was your cue, you ended the call, furiously rushing towards your assigned desk to pack your stuff and leave, the roadmap meeting long forgotten.

The closer you got to the front door, the bigger your steps got. Your thumb turning white from all the pressure you put as you typed in the 4 digit passcode.

You kicked off your shoes and threw your bag down just behind the door. Five more steps and you stood eye to eye with Yuna.

There she sat, curled up on the couch wearing one of your oversized t-shirts, the position she was in revealing that she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Seemingly innocent eyes looking straight up at you as your eyes briefly scanned her figure.

"I forgot about your roadmap meeting" she broke the silence, her voice sweet and high-pitched "How was it?" her arms wrapped around her legs as she adverted her gaze towards the tv screen. Anyone else would've probably missed the slight smile that formed around the corners of her mouth, but you didn't. She knew exactly what she was doing.

You walked up to her, your hand grabbing a fist full of fabric around the collar of her t-shirt, forcing her to get up "Are you that fucking desperate?" you scoffed, tightening the grip on her collar.

Her eyes widened, supposedly in shock, but you knew damn well it was part of her act, just like the excuse that was going to follow. "Sorry, I just wanted to–"

"To get fucked like a little slut, right?" you used your free hand to force her face up "Fuck it's so insanely annoying how you act like a princess in public but you turn into some sex deprived bitch in private"

You could see her biting down on her cheek, probably keeping herself from making any further comments. She knew she reached the point where she wanted you already, so it was pointless anyway.

You loosened your grip on her collar just to tighten the one on her chin. "I'll be back in 5" you said, forcing your thumb into her mouth, causing her to whimper "When I come back, I expect you to be ready on the couch"

After a few seconds of silence, your thumb left her mouth with a soft pop. You didn't miss how her eyes lit up with excitement right before you turned around.

Defeat. As usual, you had lost this never ending mind game between the two of you... Not like there truly were any losers though.

[21burritoseavey]

Hey love!

Hope you’re doing good.

I have cute idea where y/n is having a bad day then she goes to Daniel house and she ask Christian where is Daniel he tells her he is in the studio and Daniel was live on ig but y/n thought he playing piano and recording himself so she sat on his lap , he panicked because they were still a secret and he wanted his relationship private.

I hope that’s not to crazy

Hey! I’m doing great and I hope you are too. thanks for requesting!

Secret Relationship (d.s)

a/n: k just pretend that the background of that photo is the studio lol. I will most likely do a little pt.2 for another request I got:) if you want other scenarios or anything let me know cos this was fun lol. enjoy!

It was fair to say Y/n was having a bad day. The morning rose and fell as quickly as the leaves fell from the autumn trees outside, but once it was time for the sun to descend, the hours couldn’t have inched past any slower, crawling in one by one as she worked quietly behind the wooden desk after school.

It was 4:56pm when she glimpsed over at her lock screen to realise, she had an hour left before the library would close for the day. The school building was quiet at that hour. Most people were revelling in the joys and relief the weekend had graciously brought and only the janitor was seen wiping down the windows in the distance.

She could barely keep her eyes open as she wrote down the last of her notes. Her fingers ached after scrolling through the pages...and documents...and slides on her laptop and her brain went practically numb from all the letters and numbers she’d stared at. The unsteady pile of books beside her was not helping either. All those thoughts of work had her craving her boyfriend’s presence. She just wanted one of Daniel’s hugs at that point. The warmth of his strong arms wrapped around her and the comforting beating of his tender heart right against her ear. Every aspect of Daniel’s affection was practically engrained in her mind. The thought of being with him squirmed in the back of her mind, tugging at her heartstrings until she finally sighed and closed her books. She tucked her belongings into her backpack and made her way out of the library - after giving the quiet librarian a wave - and across the campus.

Y/n found herself standing behind the Seavey’s front door. She knocked a couple times and heard the door handle rattle after a moment. Christian slowly came into view as the door creaked open.

Y/n cracked a gentle smile. “Hey, Y/n,” Christian moved to the side to let her walk through. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay, thanks for asking.” She replied. “And you?”

Christian noticed how Y/n’s shoulders slumped as she walked and the subtle frown playing at her lips, but he kept his thoughts to himself. “I’m great, just finished a self-tape.” He sat on the couch nearby.

“That’s great.” Y/n yawned. She’d come over to the Seavey’s house many times before so making herself comfortable was never an issue. Her blanket was tossed in the corner of the sofa, and she reached an arm to pull it towards her. Christian chuckled lightly as she plunked herself down and closed her eyes. The quiet of the home allowed her to enjoy some well-deserved rest. Only some, because in minutes Kobe was scampering down the hall and jumping into Y/n’s arms.

“Oh my God!” Y/n lifted herself up again and pet the excited dog as he licked her. She turned towards Christian again with Kobe shuffling further into her chest. “Is Daniel home?”

Christian looked up from his phone. “Yeah, in the studio.”

Y/n sent him a quiet ‘thank you’ before she was jumping out of her seat and rushing outside, across the patio. Kobe was quick at her heels.

Y/n had slowed down once she reached the door. She pressed her ear against the cold surface and listened in. The faint sounds of Daniel’s piano playing had sailed along the studio and seeped through the small gaps of the door, dancing with the steady breeze.

The soft, bell-like melodies emitting from the piano had smeared an unmistakable grin on Y/n’s face and she let her hands twist the doorknob quietly to not send Daniel out of his playing. She could sense his happiness from a mile away and today was no different. He was doing the very thing he loved after all.

The heart fluttering sight of him in an oversized, grey hoodie had her shoulders untensing and her face softening. “Hi,” She greeted. She trudged over and rested her palms on his shoulders from behind. His phone leaned against the music rack, with comments and questions gradually moving upwards beside little floating hearts. The live Instagram broadcast on his phone remained totally invisible to the young, tired girl. Daniel was hardly able to utter a warning before she draped her legs across his thighs to sit on his lap.

He couldn’t contain his nervous giggles as she hung her arms over his shoulders, “Hey, b-...Y/n.”

“Hi,” Y/n replied. She nestled her head into his chest and even clutched Daniel’s arms to rest around her waist. The Instagram live played on as the young couple rested together on the bench. Daniel kept his arms wrapped tightly around his girlfriend despite his heart’s intense beating.

He looked towards his phone screen again. “She’s just giving me a hug.” He reassured the viewers the best he could. He knew no one was buying it though. The comments were brimming with heart-eye emojis or excited comments in all caps.

Daniel peered down at his girlfriend, tucked comfortably and unbothered in his arms. “Just a really long hug.” He nodded towards the screen again.

Y/n went out like a light. She was perfectly content cradled in her boyfriend’s loving embrace, already drifting into a peaceful drea-

“Y/n.” A sweat broke over Daniel’s forehead. He snatched sneaky glances towards his phone before trying again, “Y/n!” He whispered sharply through the warm toned room.

“What?” Y/n mumbled quietly. She rubbed her eyes to spread her consciousness further.

“People are watching.” Daniel jerked his head towards the phone screen in front of them.

Y/n snapped her head to look at his phone propped up against the music stand. “Oh! Ri-right.” She shifted off Daniel’s lap quickly. He tried to wear a smile for the audience in his phone that were very much engrossed in the situation. Y/n dropped her gaze to the floor and picked at her nails. “I’m just...” She flung her arm to gesture towards the door, “gonna go.” Y/n’s nervous words were barely heard through the room and Daniel’s expression faltered as he watched her stride off for the living room without a second glance.

He felt terrible. He fought the urge to run after her and make sure she was okay, merely spinning back around to face the screen. “Okay,” he said breathily, pressing the keys harshly to produce a muddled mess of notes. He didn’t feel like playing anymore.

---

Daniel dragged his feet out of the studio towards the living room. He noticed Y/n sitting on the couch during the rest of his livestream and desperately wanted to make sure she was okay. Outside, the sunset bloomed beautifully, setting the sky ablaze with soft colours as Kobe played quietly on the patio. He ran towards the main house as Daniel slid open the door.

Y/n gave him a quick upward glimpse before lowering her eyes again. But then she looked up again, noticing his usual soothing smile replaced with a long frown. “You okay?” She asked softly.

Daniel fell back onto the sofa with a deep huff before glancing at her. “No. I’m sorry you had to leave like that.”

Y/n chuckled, “It’s okay.” She shuffled closer to him. Her body was angled slightly towards his and she dragged an arm to rest across his shoulders. Daniel moved to rest in between her crossed legs, and he rested his head on her chest. “We both want our relationship to be private, so...it’s okay.” Y/n consoled with a giggle. “I think your fans are suspicious now though.” She let a smirk tug at the corner of her lips. Daniel raised his eyes to meet her sparkly eyes.

“Oh, they’re definitely suspicious now.” Daniel took her hand away from his shoulder and entwined their fingers in a loose grip to kiss her knuckles. He cupped her face with his other hand and kissed her lips strongly. Y/n sighed pleasantly into it, finally feeling that relief she’d been waiting for all day. That reassuring affection that pulled her into a wave of warmth and comfort. They silently enjoyed the love that danced through their bodies and in between them for a few long moments.

Daniel pulled back and intertwined their fingers again. “It won’t be like this forever, Y/n.”

taglist: @chilling-seavey @randomlimelightxxx @marthagryffindor @hackerXavery 

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[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Decision

A/N: Well, well, well... it seems as though I have fallen victim to the things I said I’d never do yet again. What a clown. I do place a portion of the blame for this piece coming into being on @something-tofightfor who literally recruited backup to coerce me to write for Mando... but I like honesty and I believe in owning up to things. So to be fair, I probably would have ended up writing this anyway. That doesn’t make it less terrifying to share it, because it is so far from what I normally write, but one of my writing goals for the new year was to branch out so, no time like the present, right? (aka lemme post this right quick before i chicken out.)

ANYWAY THAT’S ENOUGH OF MY BABBLING. This falls into the season 1 storyline. You’ll know where. 

Word Count: 2,540

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The Mandalorian had been a member of the guild  for years. Hunting was second nature to him, his skills in tracking and combat making him perfectly suited for the job. Fighting was simple when the only acceptable outcome was victory; win, and maintain his honor, dignity and reputation, or die in defeat. Do whatever necessary to ensure the latter never happened. There was no middle ground. Even if these ideals weren’t written into the code that he followed, they would still be a part of his code. 

The Way. 

He never questioned the rulesets that he lived his life by. He was never given a reason to. How many bounties had he collected? How many pucks passed across tabletops or fobs followed to the far reaches of the galaxy, to dusty desert planets and backwater swamps? The number wasn’t worth even thinking about. He didn’t keep track, he kept busy, quickly moving from one quarry to the next, collecting his pay and setting a course for his next destination. 

Why then, after all those years, all those successful missions, had this one caused him to go against everything he had ever known? He never cared to learn anything about the bail jumpers and criminals that he captured. He never asked what would become of them once they were handed over to whoever it was that was after them. It mattered less to him than the number of completed jobs he’d done. They’d made the wrong deal or stolen from the wrong person, gotten in over their heads and gotten their heads assigned a price. Mercenary or nobleman, gambler or thief, it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was getting the job done. 

He hardly made a profit after spending on fuel and provisions, but he wasn’t in it for the credits. He wasn’t looking for riches or fame. He wasn’t really looking for anything. Just a life that didn’t require him to stay still for any length of time. It didn’t suit him, settling down. He’d had a home, twice. He’d lost his home, twice. His ship was the only home he needed anymore, and since it was just him, he didn’t have a need to profit so long as he had food and fuel enough to carry him through his next mission. So the questions? The hang ups? They weren’t about negotiating his prize or garnering recognition. 

Then why? 

He sighed, leaning back in his seat and letting his gloved hands fall from the controls to his lap. 

Why this one? 

It had started before he’d set out to track his bounty, before he’d even agreed to the job- a prickling sensation in the back of his brain. Whether it was an instinctual warning, some cosmic intervention, or a simple lack of sleep he couldn’t say, but it started as soon as he saw the first brick of beskar. 

He wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of taking on an imperial client. But the presence of a few stormtroopers wasn’t enough to give him pause. There had only been four of them, and for all the resources that the Empire had at its fingertips during the height of its power, top of the line weapons and armor for their foot soldiers had never been a priority. He liked his odds at four to one even if they had been properly armed and armored in more than the flimsy white gear that he had no doubt he’d make short work of. Regardless, once the door had opened there was no going back, not with a client like this.

The pin pricks in his brain weren't due to them at all. 

It was the heavy ingot, dark ribbons of silver-gray running through it, a distinctive clanging sound reaching his ears as the client set it on the table that had ignited the sensation. Beneath his helmet his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as the feeling intensified. 

Expensive, Greef Karga had said of the Mandalorian’s rate. Expensive typically translated to bulging sacks of coins, the origin of which didn’t matter much to him so long as the spending of them didn’t line imperial pockets. The Empire is gone. He’d said the words himself, but he knew that there were still hold outs, still those benefiting off of the crumbs of the former regime. He also knew that gone didn’t always mean gone forever, and he refused to play a part in its return by continuing to circulate the currency of the corrupt. Lower pay in less offensive coin was preferable to him, but lower pay wasn’t going to be the case with this one. He knew that going in. 

He’d taken unconventional jobs before, certain clients looking for an extra level of discretion or speedy results. His reputation as the best in the parsec was hardly a secret nor was it an exaggeration, and it got him more than his pick of pucks from Karga’s stack. A few times it had gotten him private meetings, face to face rendezvous in locked rooms and hidden basements with desperate customers seeking a chance to hire the Mandalorian. The pay for jobs like these was always as unconventional as the nature of the job itself, coming in the form of black market weapons or obscene amounts. Expensive. 

He’d never been paid in the stolen riches of his own people, though. 

He closed his fists tightly, the worn leather of his gloves groaning as he curled his hands into clubs. He could still feel the weight of that one single bar and the way that holding it made the foreign feeling intensify. His breathing was deep and heavy as he tried to fight the frustration and anger that were rising at his inability to reconcile his code with his creed. 

The alloy, stripped from the bodies of his fallen brothers and sisters, melted down and stamped with the symbol of the Galactic Empire, looked almost grotesque to him in that form. It wasn’t currency. It wasn’t something to be traded or sold. It had more meaning than money. And it didn’t belong in the hands of the client. 

It belonged in the hands of his people. The Tribe. And it was his duty to secure it. This is the way- he could already hear the Armorer’s modulated voice speaking the words as she hammered away at the metal, forming it back into a piece of gleaming, impenetrable plating. He could already see the flashes of his past that sparked each time he watched her work, the flames melting the walls he built around the memory of the last time he saw his parents. Each strike was a blast that brought him back to that day- his mother’s arms strong and tight as she hugged him one more time, his father’s steadfast determination to get him to safety. The day his future was written- in blood and beskar. 

Even though he hated the thought of being paid in it, there was no scenario in which he was presented with the metal in any amount or form and he denied it. And with the promise of more upon the capture and delivery of the asset? The Mandalorian was many things but fool wasn’t one of them. This job wouldn’t be like others before it. It would no doubt be one of if not the most difficult and dangerous assignments he’d take in his life. But the unsavory demeanor of the client, the overly eager troopers, even the unusual tingling inside his own mind- none of it was enough to make him walk away from the brick or in turn, the job. Not the lack of information on the target or the zealous way that the man across from him spoke of having the asset in his custody.

But that was before. Before I saw the kid. 

He moved without wasting time to think, and without taking his eyes off of the child that was staring up at him. Before the IG unit had even locked on to the small green thing peering up at them, his right arm was raised, his blaster putting a gaping hole straight through the bounty droid’s head. 

It was supposed to be fifty years old. An adult. It...  It wasn’t supposed to be a-

When the hatch on the hovering carriage that the child was tucked into opened, he saw more than the tiny being’s giant ears and enormous eyes as it shied away from the droid’s weapon. He saw himself, felt the helpless fear that he would never fully forget as the bunker that his parents had sacrificed themselves to get him to was torn open, a robotic assailant greeting him with the end of a blaster. But before he could even cover his eyes there had been another flash of movement as a man encased in armor, his face completely covered by a sleek helmet, appeared to dispatch the droid, extending a hand to help him climb out to safety.  

It wasn’t supposed to be a foundling. 

He had done his best to shake the unexpected connection to the child, closing the carrier and bringing it back to his ship, trying to treat it like any of the countless other targets that he’d captured. But it seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more that feeling in the back of his mind grew, two words bouncing around his brain as he set the course for Nevarro. Asset. Foundling. Asset. Foundling. Asset. Punching the shifter into drive, he took off before the other word had a chance to be the last. 

He had naively hoped that once he made the drop off, delivering his quarry to the client, that he’d be free of the conflict- that he could collect his payment and return to the covert. That false hope popped and fell flat the second the first question was out of his mouth. 

“How many fobs did you give out?” 

It shouldn’t have mattered. 

It never had before. Occasionally he’d run into another guild member while on assignment, and, more often than that he’d have to stave off other sloppier, non- guild hunters and mercenaries. High value targets tended to draw a lot of greedy attention from multiple sources. He had always come out on top, leaving his challengers empty-handed or incapacitated, and his target shackled or dead. Their presence was always negligible to him. Guild or not, no other bounty hunter came close to the Mandalorian in any measurable way. 

Instead of a numerical answer, the client had merely stated that obtaining the asset- the foundling. The asset. The f- had been of great importance. The man had then set a camtono on the desk, pressing a button to open the pressurized unit and silencing the war of words. It was more pure beskar than he had ever seen outside of the covert. Stacks. He’d been drawn to it like a woolly moth to a flame, mesmerized by its dark shine. Stacks of the invaluable metal that belonged to his people, the people who had saved him, raised him, made him what and who he was. Taking another step, he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch it, feel it’s weight and know for sure that it was real. Stacks of the very same beskar that had been pillaged from the corpses of men and women who had taken the very same creed that he had.

He wondered what illicit riches the client had used to tempt the others into taking this job. Setting the bricks back into the container with the rest, he wondered if perhaps some of them hadn’t been offerings, but threats. He wouldn’t put it past the man, who still proudly wore the empire’s symbol around his neck- the symbol that had been pressed into each brick of beskar, as though it gave him some kind of right to possess it. He wondered why he was wondering these things, and before he could answer himself yet another question was tumbling from his lips; one brought on by movement in the corner of his vision as the child’s carriage trailed behind the doctor into an adjoining room. 

“What are you going to do with it?” 

While asking questions about the fates of the unfortunate beings he collected, most frozen in carbonite to keep them quiet and cooperative for the return journey, wasn’t standard procedure for a guild bounty hunter, following his instincts was, and the prickling had not ceased even after the camtono was sealed and handed over to him. 

If anything it had become less of a needling, nagging feeling, and more of an acidic burn. 

He hadn’t gotten an answer. He’d been paid, the job finished. It was time to move on. What was it that the client had said? Those parting words that had been laced with authoritarian venom? Something about restoring balance, about the beskar being returned to the Mandalorians, and things being as they should be? 

Why then, had the entire trek back to the covert been consumed with those large round eyes as they seemed to plead with him not to leave? Where before there were two words, now there was just one. 

Foundling. 

It echoed through his brain with each spur studded step he took through the city. It followed him as he descended to the underground hideout that the Tribe had been forced into. It was what he heard when another Mandalorian had called his honor into question. Coward, the man had called him. 

Was he right? 

The Armorer had ended the scrum by reminding both men of the creed they’d taken. This is the way, she’d stated with finality before continuing to forge the beskar he’d reclaimed into a sleek new full set of armor. Again he saw his past with each strike of her tools against the hot metal. Again he saw himself in the same position that he’d found the child in. He’d refused the Mudhorn as his signet, and he’d left the excess beskar to be used for the foundlings under the Tribe’s care. But neither of those acts of penance erased the thing that had replaced the prickling; the guilt of turning the child over to those men and their agenda. 

“The foundlings are our future.” 

“I was once a foundling.” 

Beskar may hold up against most forms of force. But not even the glinting, impenetrable breastplate he now wore could keep the guilt from curling around his heart beneath it. It squeezed tight as he reached for the small round piece that the child had unscrewed from the gear shifter. 

This is wrong. This one is… He swallowed, eyes locked on to the silver orb between his fingers. This is wrong. 

Slipping the ball safely into his pocket, he quickly flicked every switch back to the off position, the Razor Crest’s engines powering down as he stood. 

The conflict between code and creed had come to a head, one superseding the other by a large margin of personal importance. He was a guild bounty hunter, and he’d delivered the asset to the client. 

But he was a Mandalorian first, and the child was now his responsibility. 

This is the way.

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I have no real clue who to tag here, so if you would like to be removed from or added to this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know! 

@something-tofightfor @pheedraws @valkblue @gollyderek @alraedesigns @malionnes

[ilguna]

Belamour - Chapter Five (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, murder plot ig

wc; 8.7k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

The second that you walk into the apartment, you’re surprised to see that the place is entirely clear, except for the avoxes that stand off to the side. There’s not even a note left behind. You find yourself grateful that you aren’t being bombarded with questions right as you walk in.

Finnick is, of course, nowhere to be seen. Assuming that he’s in his room like he normally is after long days, you head straight to your room, dreaming of a cold shower and a moment alone to your thoughts. After what happened this morning, you think you’re in need of a good moment alone to your thoughts.

The second you step in, you see that Finnick is sitting in front of your window. You know Finnick said that you have a good view and all, but that doesn’t mean that he has to come in uninvited, especially when you’re not here. You don’t say anything, and he barely acknowledges your presence.

He watches you disappear into the closet, and you don’t peek your head out once to get a look at him. Instead, you gather your clothes for after the shower. When you step out of the closet, Finnick is now turned to you, legs straight in front of him. 

“Are you still going with the careers?” he asks.

The entire wording of the sentence makes you bite the inside of your cheek, staring right at him. He can’t be serious, right? But the longer that he stares, without saying a single word and not laughing once, makes you boil.

“That was the original plan, wasn’t it?” you ask sourly, throwing your clothes onto the freshly-made bed. Your right hand forms into a fist, and you place it on your hip, “That was our original plan.”

“It was, you’re right. But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“I know, and I knew days ago. I’m not stupid, Finnick. In fact, I’m a whole lot smarter than you think.” when his eyes drift to the window, clearly not wanting a lecture, “Your alliance is going to get you killed.” you snap, watching his eyes find you again, “But you don’t know that, because you’re too caught up in making best friends with people that are going to die.”

“You don’t know that.” he says back.

“You’re accepting defeat.” you gather your clothes in your arms again. You don’t need him around you, not with that mindset. If he accepts the fact that he’s okay with dying and letting his friends win, then that’s his problem, “You’re a sinking ship.”

“No, you are.” he says, and you turn your back to him, “What would your brothers say?”

“They’d say to do whatever it takes to come back alive. If that means teaming up with the people that’ll carry me for most of the games, then so-fucking-be it.” when you look at him again, he’s halfway to the door.

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Finnick!” you shout, slamming your hand into the wall on your way out of the bathroom, “You’ve talked to me for years and it’s like you’ve learned nothing. They told me I can win. And I can, and the process will be a whole lot fucking easier without you in the picture.”

His eyebrows push in, mouth opening, but you finish, “So yeah, I’m with the careers, and I fit in just fine. Get the hell out of my room and stay on your side of the hallway.”

You watch to make sure he leaves, and then for good measure, you lock the doors shut. Your shower is cold, and it feels even colder after what had just happened. You sit on the floor, forehead on your knees as you close your eyes. Your body begins to cool down, no longer feeling so warm. 

You’d really wanted to come in here to think about this morning, worried about the nightmare resurfacing only days before the games. It’s recurring, and typically happens when you’re about to enter a part of your life that you’ll never be able to go back and change.

The first time that really happened was when your mom died giving birth to Alyssum. You went from having her around in the house after school, to her being gone completely. She was replaced by a baby that you loathed for months, until you realized that she wouldn’t be so bad once she got older.

There was a tension between you and your brothers even before your dad died. When he did, it broke it entirely. All of you were broken, and you buried a casket without a body. It was a fishing accident, a handful of fishermen had died. No bodies recovered, the boat was never found. One day you had a parent, and the next you didn’t.

The recurring nightmare is normally drowning out at sea. The boat malfunctions and sinks, and you swim for as long as possible, sometimes trying to get back to land. But it’s always too far away and you never seem to find it. In fact, you’re turned around most of the time. So, you could be swimming away or parallel to the land and you’d never know.

You’re a fantastic swimmer, it’s the worry of getting tired and giving up, slowly sinking into the deep blue depths. You run out of air and will to swim, limbs becoming heavy. By the time you take in your first breath of water, you always seem to realize that you don’t want to die. But it’s impossible to swim back up to the top. You drown every single time.

It’s exhausting. There’s some point where you always recognize that it’s a nightmare but can’t wake yourself from it. You have to go through with drowning, and wake up with puddles of sweat on your sheets. Normally after them back home, you won’t bother with a shower or bath. Instead, you’ll go out and do some mind-numbing task that you’d never do willingly. Like fold the laundry or do the dishes.

You scrub your skin free of all the grime of today, and when you’re dressed you go ahead and lay onto the bed, back turned towards the window because of the sunlight. It takes a long moment before fatigue finally drags you under, and when it does you’re so incredibly grateful. 

Anchor is the one to come and wake you up this time. He tells you that dinner is ready, and that Laurel and Pleurisy are here so don’t be shocked. You thank him, and when he leaves the room, you go straight to the bathroom to fix your messy hair. After trying to brush through it, you give up halfway through and pull it up.

At the table sits everyone but Mags and Finnick. You pick the seat furthest from the two open spots, and slowly but surely, the others settle in, leaving two open spaces. You pick at the lamb stew and rice, not too hungry because you just woke up. Mostly, you listen to the conversation between Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy, until they all turn they all turn their attention to you.

“How was the session?” Anchor asks, he’s playing around with red wine, you think, “We couldn’t ask earlier.”

Your eyes move to the hallway, you see no shadows, “I don’t want to give it away if he’s listening.”

“He’s not, I promise.” Elysia says.

You take a deep breath, stirring the soup, “Well, I had their full attention the entire time. They kinda laughed at me when I stopped in front of the knife throwing because of how bad I was yesterday.”

Elysia gasps your name, and Anchor seems disappointed too. This is exactly the same reaction that the gamemakers had earlier. Until they saw you throwing the knives, the room went entirely quiet and all you could hear was your heart pounding in your ears and your quick breaths. It was entirely satisfying to leave them speechless like that.

“But out of the nine knives I threw at the dummy, I only missed two, above the shoulder and between the legs.” you twirl the spoon handle between your fingers, “I got a few vital places, that’s all that matters. I was mostly focused on the legs towards the end because that’ll hinder running away.”

Laurel’s got a smile on her face, “Is that it?”

“No, I used the tenth knife on the spear throw and I still nailed the middle. It had to be at least fifty feet or more.”

“That was smart.” Anchor says, “To keep that as your skill.”

“Really, it was my first time throwing. I’m surprised I didn’t miss more.”

Before they can ask anymore questions, a door is opening and Mags appears in the hallway first with a quiet Finnick trailing behind. Automatically, the mood seems to sour. When they try to drill Finnick next, he shuts them down immediately, making it all the more worse. You think it’s clear to them now that you and him aren’t getting along. It was a matter of time.

After dinner, you’re brought to the living room where you sit next to the arm on the right side. Anchor sits to your left, yawning and eventually leaning on his elbows on his knees. Mags and Finnick sit together on the other side, talking about something. And Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy share their own couch, talking excitedly.

Then, Caesar Flickerman comes across the screen with a wide smile, saying that it’s time to get started. Naturally, it starts with District One, boys first. They’ll pull up a picture of the tribute, and have the numbers flash beneath. You watch as Lennox and Trink both get ten’s.

With Allio, he gets a nine, and Eytelle manages an eight. It’s typical for the careers to get anywhere from between eight to ten. So, Eytelle isn’t that far off but she’s teetering on the edge. You’d say it’s a way to make people underestimate her, so that they think she’s useless and therefore won’t be as worried about her, but the careers don’t work like that.

They want people to be worried, they want the sponsors to have their eyes on them. She just did something wrong inside of the session, and you can imagine that she’s not exactly happy right now. The next time you see her, she’ll probably talk about it.

Blaire scores an eight, Verda a six. The only reason why Blaire’s number is so high is probably because of the hand to hand he did on the second day. That was the only time you really saw him do anything physical, and he likely did that again inside of the private session. Verda isn’t much of a surprise, she’s small and pretty weak.

Then up comes Finnick, scoring an nine. There’s cheers for him, shaking his shoulder and congratulating him. The only reason why it’s impressive with him, is because of his age. It’s expected of the both of you, though. You’re District Four, not District Eight or whatever.

Your face appears on the screen, and you hold your breath. Heart pounding in your chest, you beg for anything above an eight. Something that’ll impress the sponsors, your career friends and everyone back home. Show them that you’ve learned something while you were here. Prove to your brother’s that you’ve got a fighting chance.

Below your picture flashes a ten.

You let out all the air you were holding in. The whole room seems to explode with excitement, feeling your shoulders shake, praise falling upon you. You guess it was for a number of things, the spear, the climbing, the hand to hand and the knives. All of those things combined did something to them.

You’re allowed to leave the living room. You give Laurel a hug and she assures you that tomorrow you’ll be beautiful and looking like you deserve a ten. Before you can actually leave, your arm is grabbed by Anchor, holding you back until Finnick has left entirely, and then turns you to him and Mags.

“You and him aren’t allies anymore, what happened?” Anchor asks.

It’s just the three of you here, and hopefully Finnick isn’t eavesdropping.

“I thought we had a plan with the careers, and I guess I was wrong. He changed his mind and never told me. I saw the people he was trying to be allies with, saw what he was trying to do, and decided that I’d rather go on my own. And I told him that earlier, after the session.”

Anchor nods, letting you go and looking over to Mags, “This is going to sway the citizens.”

“They still think they’re allies.” Mags agrees.

“Let it be a surprise, then.” you say, pulling on your fingers, “They all like a good plot twist, right?”

They don’t have a chance to say anything else, because you’re heading back to your room. You change into pajamas, steal a bowl of ice cream from the food station in the corner, and curl up by the window. You’re not all that tired because of the nap you took earlier. So, you’ll sit here and fantasize about being back home instead.

Your brothers and sister were probably gathered in a house with Naida’s family. Calandra probably brought sweets from the sweet shop in preparation of a high score. Even if you did score low, they’d eat it anyway. But you can imagine that they’re all thrilled right now, with some guilt mixed in too.

You’re only fifteen. So young to be scoring so high. And you’re about to be losing that precious innocence that you’ve been preserving for so long. Actually, you thought you’d get longer. That either you wouldn’t get chosen at all, or you would have been older and more knowledgeable about things.

They all must be conflicted. Celebrating the dangerousness of a fifteen year old child. Caspian is probably cracking jokes about it, much to Naida’s chagrin but Reed’s finding it funny anyway. It’s lightening the mood, and they all nibble on the sugar and try to ease the anxiousness in their bellies.

If they’re nervous, you can’t imagine how you’re feeling. You have tomorrow, the interview night, and then the morning of the games. Two and a half days before you’re inside of the arena.

After you finish the first bowl of ice cream, you go ahead and get a second one. There’s no point in worrying about a sugar rush. The higher you are, the better the crash will be and hopefully it’ll happen soon. You don’t want to stay up too late, but going to bed now will just mean you’ll be laying there for a while.

You hope that the score will ease their worries for one night and they’ll sleep soundly. One full night of sleep with no nightmares. Something that you’d like too.

When you’re done, you set the bowls together in a neat pile and then brush your teeth. You curl up on the bed, facing towards the window this time. You stare out of it, blinking occasionally until your eyes grow tired. Only then do you close them, and find yourself falling asleep quickly.

You wake by yourself in the morning. A look at the clock tells you that it’s nowhere near early, it’s fairly late. It’ll be reaching the afternoon in an hour or two. You should probably get up and take a shower.

With a groan, you stretch your muscles and stiffly make your way to the closet. You pick out an outfit that will be comfortable, and then move your way back towards the bathroom. The shower is quick and warm. Not wanting to deal with your hair in your face all day, you pull it out of your face once it’s semi-dry.

At the table, there’s one empty spot, far away from Finnick. You sit down, watch as a sandwich is given to you, and listen to what Mags and Anchor have to say, now that you’ve appeared at the table.

“You two will be working with Elysia today.” Mags says, “(Y/n) will start.”

You look over to Elysia to see she’s got a polite smile on her face, but when the corners of her mouth twitch, you feel hesitant all of a sudden, “For how long?”

“A couple of hours.” Elysia says, “Then I’ll work with Finnick.”

After eating, you’re brought right back into your room. Elysia disappears into your closet, and when she emerges, she’s got a floor-length dress and a pair of heels in hand. As you change, you watch as she moves some chairs out, and when you’re done, she immediately gets you to work.

You both quickly found out that you’re not half bad with the heels. You’re a little wobbly on some things, but the second after she corrects you and shows you a better way, you’re not wobbling anymore. She tells you that you shouldn’t ever pull the bottom of the dress up farther than your ankles if you need to. After walking, is literally everything else. 

She makes you sit up straight, has you smile on almost anything you say. If you were to make hand gestures, they have to be gentle and lady-like. And then she has you doing a series of sentences that are so drilled into your head that you’re sure it’ll be hard not to use them during the actual interview.

“How did I do?” you ask the end of the session.

“Better than the girl tribute last year.” she rubs your back on the way out of the room, “If you remember all of that tomorrow, you’ll win over sponsors just with your smile.”

You’re traded for Finnick, leaving you with your mentors. You have a small snack before sitting down in the living room with the two of them. You cross your legs, feeling the ache in your feet after walking in the shoes so much earlier. By tomorrow, the feeling will be gone. But for now it hurts.

They stare at you for a long moment, until Anchor snaps his fingers, “Sweet.”

“Sweet?” you ask.

Mags has a smile on her face, nodding in agreement, “Yes, that’ll work.”

“Sweet.” Anchor confirms.

You feel stupid, “Like, kind and nice?”

“Exactly that.” Anchor says, “You’ve already had that air since the tribute parade, it’ll be easy to play on.”

“What about my score?”

Mags has the answer this time around, taking a seat in a long armchair, “Mysterious.”

You hum, it can work. You can make it work.

With the interviews, tributes tend to play up a certain act. Cunning, mysterious, stern, dangerous, sweet, sexy, stupid, decieving, the possibilites are endless. It’s not a surprise that this is what they’re doing, finding an adjective that will fit you, and then demanding you to play that role.

Sweet is easy. As long as you don’t over-sell it, no one will suspect a thing. And Caesar can’t ask you why you got the score you earned, he can allude to it, though. That’s where the mysteriousness can come in. You can change the subject and make sure you leave everyone on the edge of their seat.

“Easy peasy.” you tell them, they look pleased with your compliance. It makes you wonder if Finnick was a nuisance, “So, what now?”

“Mags will ask you questions, and I’ll pretend to be the audience.”

The questions that Mags ends up asking, reminds you of all the years before. All those other interviews of hundreds of now-dead tributes. She’s definitely reusing some, and making some up by herself. You make sure to cross your legs, do the gentle hand motions and smile when you get the opportunity.

You give up information about back home, you know that’ll capture some of the audience’s heart. It always seems to scoop them up, you have family back home and they’re waiting for you. They’ll be at the train station with open arms and tears in their eyes. When you say this, Anchor’s got a wide smile on his face and encourages you to keep going.

You don’t push your luck. Mags then asks the golden question about how you, a fifteen year old, could have scored so highly. And you smoothly and slyly answer the question without really answering it, “Yes, it was a surprise to me too. I’m sure my family back home is excited.”

After the first round of questions is an intermission. “Very good,” they tell you, “now try complimenting the Capitol.” and so you do your best to try and make the Capitol admirable. But it’s hard, and it’s definitely a weakness. The entire time your mind keeps going back to that magazine on the train, and you struggle to not use the titles of the sections directly.

They see that this is hard for you, and instead suggest to keep it all vague. Mags starts again, and you’re doing much better this time around. By the time you’re done, you’ve got a headache, and your thighs hurt from all the chaffing of switching back and forth on your crossed legs.

At dinner, you eat a lot, enjoy the chocolate lava cake that’s served, and even get seconds while requesting ice cream. An idea pops in your head then. Since you’ve grown so comfortable, what would the harm be in trying to align yourself with the Capitol? When you ask your mentors this, they tell you that it’s a good approach, but will be hard with what you’re supposed to be doing.

Nonetheless, you note this and call it a night. You fall asleep easily, feeling exhausted after the day’s work.

When you wake, it’s because Cleo is ringing some annoying bell in her hand. Once she realizes that your eyes are open, she gives you an innocent smile and orders you out of bed. Today is the interview, and you need to get to it.

They shower you, pressing buttons that you’ve never considered before. Once your hair is like silk and your body is sore again, they pull you out. They lather you with the lotion, dry your hair and get to work. Laurel is nowhere to be seen, and Cleo tells you that she won’t be showing up until last minute, when you’re supposed to be wearing the dress.

You watch as they work together. Beth is sitting on the floor, holding onto your hand, applying baby blue nail polish to them. After one finger, she’ll spray something onto the nail, order you not to move it much, and then move onto the next finger. By the time she’s done with the first five and has moved onto the next, your nails are dry. She goes from your hands, to your toes.

Cleo blows bubbles of pink gum. She’ll pop it without flinching, ignoring the loud sounds that it makes. When she had first started the body spray paint, you were confused on what she was doing. Now you realize that she’s spraying on shimmery purple-blue scales here and there. A sort of mermaid effect, you guess.

Leo sits back at first, watching it all come together. Every now and then he’ll point out a spot that Cleo had missed, and she’ll go back and fix it. Soon, your nails are done and dried, no more scales are needed and they’re all heading to work on the most important part. Beth straightens your hair, and then curls the ends of it. When she sprays the hairspray it smells vaguely of vanilla and cinnamon, a smell you remember from when you first came onto the train. She pins half your hair back with a silver, wave-shaped comb. She lets a few hair strands occupy your face, but not enough to overwhelm you.

You don’t know what Leo does. For most of it, he makes you close your eyes. What he does comes in layers, until he’s eventually working at your eyes. All you know is that it has something to do with blue with the way Cleo is swooning over the color. Leo mutters something about glueing silver sparkles to the corner of your eyes to symbolize tears.

They put on fake eyelashes, and that’s the first time you’re allowed to open your eyes in thirty minutes. Before they actually let you get a look in the mirror, they cover your body in a soft glitter. Every time you move, you catch light and sparkle. One look into the mirror, and you’re instantly denying that it’s you.

They’ve accentuated a lot of aspects to your face. A sharper jawline, a slimmer nose and high cheeks. The blush makes you look childlike, but the blue makeup around your eyes with small pieces of glitter and big eyelashes completely ruins the idea. When you move your face from side to side, you can see a blue shimmer. They tell you its highlight. You’re not allowed anymore time in the mirror when Laurel arrives.

You’re not allowed to face anything reflective, so you end up in the corner of the room, facing the wall as you slip the dress on. There’s a clear difference in weight, considering you’ve been walking around in underwear for the past couple of hours. Cleo puts the shoes on for you, and when they’re done, they get to gawk at you before you get to see yourself a second time.

“Oh Laurel, she’s gorgeous.” Beth’s voice is soft, and she leans into Cleo.

“She’s going to completely sell it tonight.” Leo says, “There’s no way she won’t.”

“You’ll have them lined up around the block, (Y/n).” Cleo assures you.

“Give her the last of the accessories.” is all Laurel says.

More wave-themed jewelry. A silver necklace, a pair of earrings that look like water droplets, bracelets that are simply round or continuing the theme. And Laurel pulls out your mother’s engagement ring, slipping it onto your right ring finger.

“It’s been approved.”

In the mirror, you think you look like a princess from one of those books you read as a child. The dress is unreal, the whole experience feels unreal. 

The dress is off the shoulder, a beautiful baby blue, around the same color as your nails. It relies mostly on your upper arms to stay in place, and no matter how you move, it never slips. There will be no readjusting tonight. Your collarbones are clearly out for show, but there is no cleavage. That’ll be a win for your brothers, but a loss for the sponsors. 

Around the top of the dress are gems shaped like water droplets. They’re irregular in both shape and where they’re placed, making it look unpredictable. It makes you think of the days in Four where you’ll watch water droplets race down the window, always unpredictable on where and how fast they’ll go.

It’s long-sleeved but the material is mesh. It’s extremely breezy, and you know that you won’t be feeling hot on stage. It’s poofy, nowhere near skin-tight. The fabric on the top half of the dress creates wrinkles that end at the middle of the dress. More gems appear at the waist, before the bottom of it flares out. There’s a leg slit on your right leg, showing off the fake scales that don’t seem to smudge no matter how often it rubs against the material.

The inside of the dress is made up of silk, while the outside is mesh to give it volume. All together, the dress reaches just above the floor, so there won’t be any holding onto it when you move around. The heels that they had you step into are while, around the same height that Elysia had you walk around in. There’s thin, criss-crossing straps around your ankles, and they’re open toed too. 

Cleo makes Leo apply highlights to your collarbones, and then all four of them circle you like a pack of vultures to try and find anything out of place. They don’t find anything, Laurel is satisfied, and you’re allowed to leave the room now. You resist the urge to play with your curled hair, and instead go for your ring.

Your team is the last to arrive at the elevator, because everyone else is standing there already. Elysia gasps and immediately launches into compliments that you accept humbly. Deciding that it’s a nice time to practice what you had learned yesterday. Even Mags and Anchor are dressed up for the occasion.

You all squeeze into the elevator, with you and Finnick promptly up front. Finnick wears a snowy white suit, with an undershirt that’s the same color as your dress. You guess that Mags and Anchor have taken the plot twist idea into consideration.

At the base floor, you’re greeted with some of the tributes already lined up against the wall, ready to get on stage. The way it works, is that you’ll all be sitting behind center stage, but still in sight of all the citizens. When it’s your turn, or your name is called, you’ll get up and join Caesar in the center. When you’re done, you go right back to where you sit.

You’re going to be on stage for a long time. You’re just glad you won’t be standing the entire time.

You line up right behind Blaire, still playing with your ring. Him and Verda turn slightly at your approach. Verda is wearing a deep green color, and Blaire is in an all-black suit. They utter out a few quiet compliments to you and Finnick, the two of you returning the gesture.

Once everyone has arrived, you’re walking towards the stage in a single-file line. Even though you were sure you wouldn’t have to bring the dress up when you walk, you were thinking about solid ground. Not actual steps. You bring the bottom of the dress up just high enough to get up, and then quickly drop it back down again.

The seats are comfortable, and the gamemakers, and Capitol citizens point and whisper among themselves, excited about how you all look. You tuck the dress beneath yourself when you sit down on the soft, comfortable bubble chair. 

Staring out to the people is enough to make your heart jump in your chest. The entire place is packed, it’s like the entire population is here. For the ones who couldn’t make it, there’s cameras ready to catch every angle. People in the Capitol and districts have their tv’s on. Betters are eager to see their competitors, families anticipating the moment their member gets on stage.

Reed is probably huddled up right next to Mox and Caspian at Naida’s house. Just like the day with the training scores, they’re all together. Waiting for the moment they finally get to see you again, this time bedazzled and grown up. You look nothing like you did during the tribute parade. Then, you looked young. Now you look old.

Then, Caesar Flickerman is coming onto the stage, a white smile and a friendly wave to the crowd. This year, he’s got green all over his body. A light green suit, emerald green hair. The makeup on his face is some sort of medium between the two colors.

He warms up the audience first, and right after he’s calling up Trink. Her blonde hair is in waves over her shoulders, she wears a maroon dress that’s complemented with black and sparkles in the light. For an entire minute, she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, until the fun questions are done and Caesar’s taking a dip for a more serious air. Now, you can see the viciousness.

“I am going to win Caesar. There’s no question about it.” and then she smiles, and lets out a laugh, and the tension is automatically diminished. She made it seem fun, but it’s like a threat. She’ll kill anyone in her way.

Lennox, Eytelle and Allio are all the same way too. You start to get nervous when Verda is called up, because it’s Blaire and then it’s you. She blushes her way through her interview, but leaves a lasting impression on the audience even after she sits. Blaire makes a performance, even you’re on the edge of your seat. He’s so easygoing that it makes him look like the interviewer and Caesar the tribute.

Blaire takes a seat, and you take a deep breath. Eyes are on you now. You sit up a little higher, letting the smile naturally come to your face. 

“Now onto District Four, with (Y/n) Gallows!” Caesar introduces, you carefully uncross your legs and stand from where you sit. His arm is outstretched in your direction. Every move you make towards center stage makes you feel nervous.

Three minutes starts the moment you stop in front of Caesar, shaking his hand. Your hands are surprisingly dry, even if they were wet, you wouldn’t be able to dry them off anywhere. 

You take a look out to the audience. So many people to impress--no. Actually no, not a lot of people to impress. You’ve already done that with your abnormally high score. Now you just have to sell it to everyone. Sweet and mysterious. Two things that can mix if you do it just right.

Your eyes glaze over the camera. Your brothers are watching. 

You can do this.

When you look at Caesar, he’s already giving you a daring look, “(Y/n), you are absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Me?” you ask, eyes widening, “Caesar, I am nothing compared to you.”

“I have to disagree. Don’t you, folks?” loud cheering follows.

You’re a little surprised that he isn’t taking the compliment. Normally with others, he takes it gratefully and ends up spinning it back to you. He’ll share the spotlight somehow. There’s a difference here. Something is different.

“I love that outfit. The running water effect is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yes, I think so too. My stylist is very smart with her themes. She was even kind enough to incorporate my token.”

“Where?” Caesar asks, the audience seems to rile up at the thought. You hold your hand out for him to see, and he takes your hand in his delicately, turning to see the ring. Then, he shows the cameras and the audience, which projects onto a bigger screen for those who are too far away to see, “Does it hold any sort of significance?”

“Of course.”

He laughs, “Besides the fact that it represents District Four.”

“It was my mother’s engagement ring.” you begin to explain, “She wore it all the time before she died. My brother’s gave it to me as a surprise when they said goodbye. I think they were anticipating the day I’d get reaped, which is why they were holding onto it.”

Caesar looks sullen, as does the audience, “Do you think they’re watching back home?”

“I would hope so.” you laugh, he does too.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to them?”

This is perfect. A perfect lead up to steal the hearts of everyone, and show them that you can be more than just sweet and slightly mysterious. You can be mean too, just like the other careers.

You find the nearest camera, smiling lightly at first, batting your eyelashes. You lift your chin, staring right into the lens. They better realize that this is personal, “I will come home to you. I will win for you. I miss you. I love you. And I will see you soon.”

Caesar doesn’t have a chance to say anything else, the buzzer is going off. The audience is loud, cheering and screaming. They jump to their feet, clapping and some even demanding for a little more time. Caesar pulls you in for a side-hug.

“Ladies and gentlemen, (Y/n) Gallows from District Four. Best of luck to you, (Y/n).”

“Thank you.” you smile, waving one last time to the crowd and turning right around to head back to your seat.

You’ve got the eyes of a lot of tributes. All either captivated or suddenly intimidated. Maybe they’re suddenly realizing what they’re up against. Everyone wants to get home, but you just told your family outright that you will win, after scoring a ten. You know something that the rest of them don’t.

Hopefully that’ll keep them on the edge of their seat.

Next up is Finnick, and you spend most of the time fidgeting with the ring, unfortunately not being able to tune him out. You try to get your thoughts to stir, imagining what your brother’s look like back home. But your mind is blank, and you’re forced to watch your former ally dazzle the audience.

It’s only a minute in and they’re already swooning over him. When Caesar asks if he should expect any surprises inside of the arena, you think Finnick alludes to the fact that you and him are no longer allies by saying; “Not everything is what it seems.” and then moves on before Caesar can ask.

Caesar doesn’t even skip over the fact that he’s handsome, “How many girls do you have falling over you at home?”

“More than you’d believe.” Finnick says, “Would you like me to name them?”

You realize then that his motive is casanova. There’s no other way to describe it.

Him and Caesar shake hands at the end of his interview, and Finnick sits down next to you with a smirk. Under his breath he mutters, “That’s how it’s done.” and you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to embarrass him right now by leaving him a nice, red handmark on his cheek.

At the end of the interviews, you stand for the anthem, chin directed upward because it’s required. At the end of it, you’re all filing off the stage, starting with the first district and others following behind it. By the time you reach the lobby, it’s crowded.

Before you can even make your way over to an elevator, Trink is slithering up next to you, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Here’s our formal invitation to have you be in our alliance.”

“I accept.” you smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the cornucopia?”

Allio lets out a laugh, “Are we going to race?”

“I’ll easily beat all four of you, don’t even dare.” Eytelle, and suddenly a small argument breaks out between you all. Lennox tells her that just because she’s tall, doesn’t mean she runs faster. 

She tries to back up her claim, but it’s too late and she’s rolling her eyes. You all have to split anyway, so you bid them goodbye and good luck, to which they do the same. The lobby has mostly cleared then, so you get onto an elevator with a couple of tributes you don’t know the names of, and get off at the first stop.

Inside of the apartment, you’re welcomed with the sight of everyone already at the table. Your mentors, the stylists, the prep teams, your fellow tribute and Elysia.

You skip up the steps, a smile on your face. You gracefully take a seat at the table, and it’s hard to make the smile go away. Not with how you were confirmed in an alliance with the deadliest tributes there is. You are golden. All your ducks have been lined up since the beginning, and now all you have to do is execute it.

When Anchor finally cracks and asks why you’re so happy, you tell them, “I have an alliance.” and let their thoughts take it from there. Dinner is loud, and animated. You listen as the prep team and the stylists talk about what they did and didn’t like on the other tributes. 

You decide it’s a good time as any to bring up the fact that Caesar didn’t accept the compliment, and Elysia agrees that it was a little odd. Then, they’re moving on to how well you sold the part, and how you didn’t even need to worry about the training scores. Cleo says, “Just because he didn’t mention it, doesn’t mean that people aren’t thinking about it.” which eases worries you didn’t even know you had.

After dinner, you’re allowed to watch the interviews over again. You have to admit that everyone sells their part very well. But the second you’re bringing up your dead mom and brother’s back home, you can hear Beth hold onto her breath and Leo is eating every moment up. You did good.

You part with your mother’s engagement ring for the final time, Laurel assures you that you’ll get it back when she sees you tomorrow. Her, Pleurisy and the prep teams all leave after that. The only people left are Mags, Anchor, Elysia, you and Finnick.

Elysia won’t be seeing you in the morning, neither will your mentors. She hugs you and Finnick tightly, and you want to apologize for the glitter on her now, but she doesn’t give you a chance to. She disappears off somewhere.

“Find water.” Anchor says, “Remember the three rule.”

The three rule, yes. Something one of the experts at a survival station had taught you the first day of training. Back when you and Finnick were still sticking next to each other. You can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

You already know that water will be at the top of the priority list. You hope that it won’t be a struggle to find any. A while ago, the gamemakers seemed to have learned their lesson about not providing water for the tributes. They’ll all slowly die off like flies from dehydration. It doesn’t make much for a show.

“Right.” you agree, yawning.

They don’t offer much else besides luck. You carefully hang up the blue dress in the closet, and then you scrub your body in the shower. You watch as the glitter runs down the drain, as the body spray nearly stains your skin.

Your hair goes from stiff to silky smooth again. You try to take care of your hair the best you can when you step out, but you’re so tired that you give up halfway through and collapse onto the bed. With your back to the window, you can hear the distant celebration of the citizens.

You’re done with living easy. Tomorrow you fight for your life.

And your win.

--

In the early morning, it’s only Laurel that wakes you. She has you brush your hair and teeth, but tells you that there will be no breakfast in the apartment. You’re to be transported to the hovercraft immediately, and she’ll meet you at the arena. She hands off a yellow shirt and black pants that are similar to the outfit you wore on the first day of training.

It’s only a temporary outfit. What you’ll be wearing inside of the arena will be given to you in the catacombs below the arena. Either way, the outfit is comfortable and you have no complaints. She brings you to the roof of the Tribute Center, giving you a slight feeling of vertigo and wobbly legs.

A ladder falls from a hovercraft above. You think you’re expected to climb the entire way up, but the moment you’ve got up the first rung, you’re shocked in place. No matter how hard you try to move, you can’t. It’s a good thing. The ladder is pulled up, and no matter how hard it’s jerked, you don’t fall off.

Inside of the hovercraft, you’re fully prepared to be released, but it’s not the case. A man in a white lab coat with a syringe in his hand gives you a polite smile, “This is your tracker. It’ll only hurt for a second.”

You grit your teeth, still very frozen as he inserts the needle deep into your forearm. You can feel the metal tracking device being pushed in. If you weren’t kept in place, this would have made your toes curl and teeth break. When it’s in, you’re released and helped to your feet.

The ladder is dropped once more, and this time Laurel is helped up. Once she’s on her feet, she directs you to a backroom where breakfast is laid out. You go ahead and load up on as much as possible. This is the last real meal that they’re going to provide you with. After this, you don’t know when your next meal will be. 

Once you’re sure you’re full, you go ahead and drink a lot of water, too. Laurel lets you know that the ride is going to be long. For a while, you just watch as the city flies beneath the hovercraft, and then it eventually turns to a forest. You cross your fingers under the table, hoping that they’ve got an arena in favor of District Four.

Really, it could be anything. A frozen wasteland, a dry desert, a tropical island. Forest, city ruins, an old village. Every year, it’s a new place. This arena will only be used once, and after that it’ll be a playground for the Capitol citizens. To take vacations, go on tours, reenact fights.

Their deaths are always turned into some sort of joke. They don’t honor the dead, and you hope that one day that comes and bites them in the ass. It’s disrespectful. Back home, if you even did half the shit they do in the Capitol, you’d be yelled at until Reed’s face turned blue, and then be grounded for however long he feels like it.

Eventually, the windows black out, indicating that you’re almost there. You drink more water, and try to breathe evenly. The games start at ten, and you’d take a good bet right now that it’s an hour away. An hour before you’re inside of the arena. Now, the nerves begin to sprout.

The hovercraft lands, Laurel directs you back towards the ladder. She’s lowered into the catacombs first. You take this time to thank whoever is around you, just trying to be polite. When it’s your turn, you get frozen and you watch as you’re brought through a tube, down to the cement catacombs. From there, Laurel leads you to where your Launch Room will be.

The second you step inside, you begin to feel sick. You take deep breaths, reassuring Laurel that you’re fine and you just need to get a hold of your stomach. You pace, and press your hand against your forehead. She comes around with a cold water after that, and you mostly press it to your forehead, afraid that drinking it will trigger something in your throat.

When you feel better, Laurel makes you take a shower and offers last minute food. You take a small roll that’s the shape of a fish and tastes like salt. It reminds you of the time your mom bought you pretzels from the bakery one afternoon as a treat. You didn’t really like the salt, and had to brush most of it out. But you ate it anyway, and later you discovered just how much you liked it.

You brush your teeth, Laurel pulls your hair out of your face into a ponytail that you requested. You can’t have your hair in your face. You’ve seen all the years before where some tributes during the bloodbath will get their hair in their face while running. If you’re focused on getting your hair out of your face, then you’re not paying attention to your surroundings.

Finally, your outfit comes through in a box. Everything inside is brand new, and not even Laurel knows what’s inside. She didn’t get to choose this outfit, she tells you that you’ll be wearing the exact same thing as the other tributes. There’s complete fairness between all of you.

First is a sports bra and high-waisted underwear. She hands over a pair of black stirrup pants. It takes you a moment to get used to the feeling of the pants being directly attached to your feet. You’re worried about them being pulled down when you’re running, but out comes a thin, black belt to keep the pants from moving too much.

She gives you a thin, faded, blue-grey shirt, “Must be hot.” is all she says. Next is a jacket, which is also thin, but it’s white and has a hoodie attached. You pull on a pair of skin-tight socks. You do a series of motions, being sure that they won’t slide down. They don’t, but you pull them all the way up anyway.

The shoes are black boots, which you tie the laces tight. Once you’re sure that it’s not cutting off circulation, you make sure it all fits. You zip up the jacket halfway, not wanting it to get in the way of running. You have to go to the cornucopia, whether you like it or not. It’ll just be a whole lot easier if you get there first.

“Feels comfortable?” Laurel asks, you nod. Finally, she pulls out your mother’s ring and slips it onto your finger. 

She offers food again, and you ask for water. The two of you sit on the couch together in complete silence. You fidget with the ring, rub your hands against the jeans to get the sweat off of your hands. You’ll be fine, all you have to do is breathe.

This must be how all the tributes before you felt. How everyone after you will feel, too. Absolute terror of the unknown. The second you’re raised and the gong sounds, it’s fair game. Anything can happen. It’s like what you told Reed; the arena is unpredictable. One second you could be fine, the next you could be covered in injuries and fighting for your life.

“I want to go home.” you suddenly breathe out, tears gathering in your eyes, “I just want to go home.”

“And you will.” Laurel says, she’s extending an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her side and rubbing your arm. This brings a whole new wave of sadness. It’s the exact move your dad did after announcing your mom was dead, “You’re a fighter, (Y/n). You’ve beaten the odds so far, what’s a little more?”

It’s not little, though. You want to tell her that, but all you do is nod. It’s not a little. You have weeks in front of you. Events around every single corner if the arena is boring for longer than a die.

Then, a female voice is saying it’s time to prepare for launch. You take a deep breath, clearing your eyes of the tears. You and Laurel head over to the metal plate. Before you step inside, she’s readjusting your clothes, fixing your hair. It’s such a motherly thing to do. To fuss over things she won’t be able to control in a moment.

“I know you’re not with Finnick.” She says, “So be careful with the careers. You don’t know them as well as you think you do. They can act on whims, and bad thoughts will lead to bad moves.”

You nod, “I know.”

“Good.” she hugs you a final time, you can feel the butterflies start to swarm your stomach and begin to suffocate for you, “I can’t bet on you, (Y/n). But the prep team and I will be cheering you on, okay?”

You step onto the metal plate, “Thank you, for everything.”

The glass cylinder comes down from the top, slowly beginning to encase you. It’s like shutting the lid on the coffin. You wonder if your dead parents are watching you, right alongside your brothers, sister, and family friends. You wonder if they have the same feeling of impending doom dawning on them.

You hold back the tears, wave goodbye to Laurel, and then you straighten up, chin high. You have to look bold for Reed. No matter how awful you’re feeling, you have to pretend right now. You can’t screw up the chance you got, because it’s all you have.

Soon, you’re encased in pure darkness.

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

Flyboy (Floyd Talbert x Female! Reader)

this is my first fanfic, like EVER.  and i really wanted to write for Band of Brothers for a really long time now. sooo here’s my best shot at it. an i know this trope has been done a lot buuuut i can’t help myself. i hope i did well on my first ever fanfic

Description- It’s been a while since you had the time to enjoy yourself, and you finally get to spend it with the boys at the Currahee Party. As the night goes on, the boys decide you had a little too much fun after making a bet with Joe Toye. On the journey back to the barracks, you drunkenly slip out a few words to a certain guy you have your eyes on. 

Words- about 3.7k (oh wow)

Warnings- intense drinking, and vulgar language(i mean… it’s the Easy boys) rest is just fluff an two idiots fallin for each other ig <3

----------------------------

---------------------------

Adrenaline rushes through your veins, and you couldn’t help yourself from smiling the whole way down to the building where the party was gonna be held. You spent your time making sure you looked good. 

Hopefully good enough to catch that boy’s attention… Ever since you met him at Camp Toccoa, all of your thoughts were occupied by who other than Floyd Talbert. 

The way he looked in his PT uniform, his God-awful jokes, and that goofy smile of his. Any woman would have to be mad to turn Floyd Talbert down.

You two would joke like no tomorrow, and some of the Easy Company men would say that you two would make a good couple (to both of you guys’ embarrassment, but you two lowkey kind of like it).

 You don’t really hang out with him as much as yo, Liebgott, Bill, and Frank do, sadly. But you both made sure to make the moments you two spend together last.

He was like an angel, and he never fails to make your day just a tad bit brighter. No matter how many times Sobel punishes you, if you get to his cute face or hear his sweet voice, guess what? Everything else but him doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

It was understatement that thinking of him led you to getting into trouble by Sobel.  How many times did he make you run up that fucking hill just because you were distracted by some annoying, pissy, and undeniably cute bastard? 

You gave up on keeping track after the fifth time.

No matter how many times you try to push him out of your head, he somehow keeps crawling back.  You just wished that he would see you more than his best friend. And that was the one thing you hated about yourself… 

But this night wasn’t about him. Oh no, this is the night where you finally get off Camp Toccoa and escape Sobel’s never ending complaints.  You finally got the jump wings you and you’re boys deserved. 

After this, you’re gonna fight at Normandy and you're gonna show America the greatest soldier in existence. But it couldn’t hurt to catch his eye at this party tonight. Sooooo... 

You dressed to impress.

You made damn sure that everything about was absolutely perfect. Some light makeup to highlight your key features and to make your lips and (E/C) eyes pop. You decided to leave your (H/L) hair down and to slightly curl your (H/C) locks. 

The day you wouldn’t be soldiers’ eyes with the way you looked tonight was the day hell would freeze over. The way you looked tonight and you couldn’t help but be flattered when the boys whistled and complimented you on your look.

“Golly (Y/N), who are you tryna impress tonight? And oh Lord, please tell me it’s not Sobel.” Perconte jokes at you, wrapping an arm around your soldiers.

“Relax, relax, you sure as hell know it isn’t Sobel. I’m doing this for myself.” You throw your subtle lie at Perconte while nudging his arm off.

“You see boys, this is where I call bull. No matter how many times we go to bars, not one time, not ever have you ever put in this much effort.” 

“Shut up Perco, I never put effort because I know I already look good. Unlike a certain someone I know.” 

Your (E/C) eyes drift over to Perconte’s and you decide to lightly ruffle his hair before you jokingly punch his arm. Even though you were smiling, you were, in all honesty, a nervous wreck inside. The cogs and gears in your brain kept turning and, damn, was it giving you a headache. 

You were trying really hard to catch his eye tonight, and you weren’t going to let this opportunity slip by your fingers so easily. Fingers nervously patted down your uniform for any creases. Your arms reached to adjust the hell out of your hat. 

You twirled your strands of (H/C) hair on your fingers out of nervousness. Lastly, you decide to fix the tan skirt that hugged your legs ever so nicely. The pads of your fingers were turning ghostly white from how hard you were gripping the ends of your blazer. 

Huffing out in exasperation, you decide to run your hands to smooth down your uniform for what seemed like ages.Joe, like the older brother that he is to you, walks over like he somehow notices your nervousness.

Steady arms wrap against your shoulders as he pulls you to his side. His eyes glance over at your anxious face before starting to speak. 

“Hey c’mon, doll, what’cha nervous for? You look beautiful enough, I mean it. Now stop fussing over your clothes or else you won’t have hands before we even get to Normandy.” 

Joe’s words reassure you and you look up and stare ahead at the dirt road in front of you.

“God! When I’m done, my liver’s gonna shut down,” Guarnere states loudly, cigarette between his lips and arms reaching over to pull you and Perco close to him. 

“And both of you assholes better make sure the replacement that comes afterwards comes just as close as being as hot as me!”

A breathy laugh escapes your lips at Guarnere’s words, the beam in your eyes never leaving since Easy Company got the news that there would be a party just for them. With good food, no Sobel getting annoyed for no valid reason, and beer.

Lots, and lots, and lots of beer.

 And that was what caught all of Easy Company’s attention.

“Not on my watch Billy-boy. Wouldn’t want a freshman who could only aim his piss instead of his shot to replace Ol’ Gonorrhea! Don’t you think so (Y/N)?” 

Perconte’s eyes turn to you, lips pulling upward into a smirk.

“Well in that case, I wouldn’t mind if some newbie replaces Old Faithful over there.” 

You joke, making sure to raise your eyebrows and to look at Bill to look at his reaction.

“C’mon (Y/N), I bet you only want that because you don’t want competition!”

 He shows off his famous eat-shitting grin while he nudges your arm slightly.

 “I swear on my life that I could be dancing, spinning, and reciting three passages from the Bible, and I could still shoot a Kraut from 1000 feet better than you.”

“You talk a lot of shit for a sober man, Guarno.” 

Finally making it to the building. Bill opens the door and you, Perconte, and Liebgott walk inside.Your eyes were met by all of the Easy Company getting absolutely wasted. 

You even quickly lost count of how many men were downing glass after glass and how many men were already halfway to heaven. Shouts and cheers filled the air and your once anxious mood dissipated at an instant. 

You turn your head to look at your buddies before Bill cracked a smile.

“Try not to die before me, alright you pricks?”

Rolling his eyes, Joe flicks Bill’s forehead and you chuckled for a few good seconds. 

“No promises Bill.” 

Bill smacks your’s and Joe’s heads before walking over to sit at an empty seat with Bull. 

Frank leaves the doorway to saunter over to Johnny. Joe flashes a quick grin and gives you a pat on the back before quickly joining Bill and sitting at another empty seat at the table. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you spotted two of your best friends at the bar.  Walking briskly to the surprisingly not the occupied bar, you throw a smile at Toye and a wink at George, who gladly returns it.

“Now tell me (Y/N), how much money are ya willin’ to bet that I could drink more rounds of beers than you?” 

You scoff loudly as you smack Toye’s shoulder.

“Are you kidding? I could drink three times as much as you can Toye. So unless you’re planning to lose good money, then I suggest you drop this.”

“5 bucks, (L/N), take it or leave it.”

“I’m not stupid enough to pass up a bet that I know I’m winning. Count me in Toye, but you’re gonna regret this.”

The glare he gave you made you burst out laughing and after recovering you gave your attention to George. You lean over the counter to put your hand on George’s shoulder while beaming him a cheeky smile.

“Alright Georgie, you heard us. You’ll be the judge, okay? Now hurry up and pour us our drinks, I'm looking forward to a real nice hangover in the morning.” 

“Aye aye, private.”

Plopping back down to your seat, your eyes wandered across the room and, boom, there he was in all of his glory. Floyd Talbert, stealer and breaker of hearts. 

Your stare lingers for what seems like days and you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. My God, you could never get enough of him, no matter what you may push yourself to think. 

He was already a bit tipsy, you observed. Slowed down movements, slurred speech, and rosy cheeks. All of a sudden those beautiful chestnut eyes of his met your (e/c) ones. 

You could’ve sworn that his face was getting redder after you two made eye contact.

 You were sure that yours was. 

The world kind of started to slow down, and it felt that you and Floyd were the only people in that room. His goofy smile made you return one of your own while the world continued to dance around you.

 You were hypnotized by Floyd, there was no other explanation.

 Little did you know that he was feeling the same.

Not wanting your little encounter to be awkward, you decided to give him a demure smile while raising your hand to wave at him. You giggled like a schoolgirl when you saw him waving back at you, glass of beer still in his hand. 

Almost forgetting about your bet with Toye, you suddenly yelped when Joe came to tap on your shoulder.

“Yoo-hoo, earth to (L/N)? Don’t tell me that you’re drunk already, though i’m not complaining. I’ll be all too happy to get 5 bucks from you.”

Joe smirked as he watched you recollect yourself from your flustered state, failing to come up with sentences and only managing to stammer words that didn’t make sense.  Joe laughs before rubbing your shoulders to help you calm down a little. The clinking of glasses on the wooden surface causes you to look up at George.

“Two beers for the lovely couple, now just call me up if ya need more. Or throw your glass at me, either one works.”

After throwing a light glare at George you face Joe, who smirks at you, thinking that you’ll be done after two glasses. 

Well he’s wrong, cause you know you can handle more than two glasses. 

“Good luck.”

“I don’t need it Joey. No need for luck when I know I’m going to win.”

George then counted down from…

“One…”

“Two…” 

“Three…”

“Go!”

And as soon as George shouted those words from his lips, you and Toye rushed to get your drinks and down them as fast as you can. George couldn’t even see your arms move for your glasses. 

You quickly brought the cool glass to your mouth and downed the liquid like your life depended on it.  It burned as it went down your throat, but you could care less. You just needed fun and those five bucks tonight.

When you finished you slammed the glass hard on the table, so hard that you feared you could’ve left a dent on the wooden counter. You slammed back your empty glass about the same time Joe did. 

You both desperately called out for George and George hurried over to take your cups and refill them.

“Didn’t think you’d make it this far, Joey.” You directed at him a teasing grin and were met by a playful roll of his eyes.

George came as fast as he could and slammed the two glasses in a similar manner as he did before. Like before, you and Joe rushed for your glasses and heaved them up faster than light. 

Soon a crowd started to form around the two of you. The bar suddenly became louder than before and your adrenaline burst through the roof. However, now that Floyd was in the crowd, you couldn’t help but burn up again. (E/C) eyes flickered over the crowd, searching for him. 

When your eyes finally landed on him, you couldn’t be more surprised when he was already staring at you.  The slamming of the glasses caught your attention and you proceeded to gulp the amber liquid.

Round after round of beers, you started to feel lightheaded. The lights seemed to blind you and the pounding your head was only made worse by the cheers and shouts of the crowd around you.  You would be lying if you said you weren’t drunk. Images were blurry and sounds weren’t as clear as they were supposed to be.You could barely make out any sentences or words that anyone was saying. 

Mumbled words and incoherent sentences passed by your lips, and you could barely look straight ahead without seeing double. You swear you were on your 30th glass of beer…  You looked over at Joe and he didn’t seem to be better than you were.

“Alright kiddos, last round. You two don’t look so good.” George muttered, or at least that’s what you think he did.

The redundant sound of the glass slamming on to the wood barely registered in your mind before your whole head became too heavy for your neck to support. The last thing you felt was your forehead making hard contact with the wooden surface of the bar counter. 

The last thing you heard was the crowd yelling and your friends shouting for someone to help you.

The last thing you saw were those beautiful chestnut eyes and softly tousled dark brown hair.

---------------------

You groaned as you felt your body being shaken and as your eyes slowly opened, you could start to make out gentle words being said in your direction.  Slowly but surely, you start to gain back your consciousness. 

The quiet was the first thing that hit you. The loud yelling and shouting and the clinking of glasses of beer seem to have disappeared. Suddenly you come to your senses that you’re not in the bar anymore. 

You swiftly turned your head around to see exactly where you were, but that only seemed to give you a headache. Groaning out, you raised your to feel something for support. 

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), I got you now.”

A sudden burst of energy went through you when you heard the voice. 

You, slowly now, turned your head to see who was talking to you. Your vision was still blurry, and the pounding in your head still hasn’t stopped.

“Joey- That you- no, no, no… Are you Percy? Perseus…? Oh! Perco… No. It doesn’t sound like you. Ahhh. You’re Guadamalarkey, I don’t know. That doesn’t seem right…” 

You called out a few names, but none of the names seemed to fit with the voice you just heard. You continued to slur and ramble incoherently, but you were stopped when the voice started again.

“You’re that drunk? Thought you could recognize me by now.”

Huh? Who’s he-

Oh.

OH.

“Flyboy? Is that you...?”

 “Jesus (Y/N), Flyboy? C’mon, we should get you to bed.”

“Yeeah.. Flyboy… Flyboy Tablets. Right?”

 You muttered quietly, still unknowingly clinging on to his crisp blazer. Floyd laughed, and there it is again. The blushing and the stammering.  Floyd didn’t really seem to notice though, as he was enraptured by your parted lips, glazed eyes, and the soft yet husky ramblings of your drunk self.

“Close enough, (Y/N). We really need to go get you to bed, okay?”

Soft, gentle circles were rubbed on your back, and it worked slightly enough to calm you down and to stop the dizziness and lightheadedness. Floyd picked you up gingerly from the dirt road you were sitting on for the past few couple of minutes.

He helped you get up, and you clumsily wiped off any dirt that was clinging on to your uniform.  Floyd had carefully put your arm over his shoulder and gingerly wrapped his other arm around your waist.

 A slight pink tinge appeared on his cheeks as he looked over at you. 

What he would do to kiss those lips of yours. He mentally scolded himself for thinking about you in that way while you were under the very, very heavy influence of alcohol at the moment. 

Floyd was taking his time when helping you walk. He kicked tiny rocks and pebbles out of the way to make sure you wouldn’t trip, and every time you would stumble he would put his arm in front of you, while his hand was tightly gripping on your blazer. 

After a few minutes of walking, you turned to him with your glazed (E/C) eyes and ever so slightly leaned in closer to him. You two stopped near the barracks, just outside of it really.

The sky was dark and stars were shining, it once again felt like they were the only people in the entire world.

“You know, Flyboy… I- I liked you ever since I saw you… Like.. l-like like, I suppose?”

Did he- Did he hear right?  Floyd knew he wasn’t as drunk as you, but he had to have been drunk enough to have had heard whatever you were saying.  There is no possible way that he had just heard you say those words correctly. 

His eyes widened and no amount of drinking could have made his cheeks burn red brighter than right now.  Floyd’s breathing slowly picked as he looked over at your disheveled, yet oddly cute and beautiful appearance. 

You were so, so, so close… 

Just one more inch and his lips would be touching yours.. But he controlled himself, and urged himself to listen to your slurred speech. 

“An- and- every time, every single goddamn time, I h-hung out with you... The feelings just got wor-worse… I really didn’t want to like yoooou.”

Oh yeah, he was definitely drunk.

“But I couldn’t stop… You know? I really like yo-you, Flyboy… I think I love you too.. Really love you… You just make me so happy and you could make me sm-sm…. Smile.”

You continued while smiling like an idiot, and Floyd was burning up by the second.

“No matter how many times that prick Sable curses at me, just o-one good look at you. My troubles are awaaaay..”

“You’re really drunk, (Y/N), you’re probab-”

“But I do! I really do, Flyboy…” 

You suddenly whined out, interrupting him. You knew what he was going to say, and you had to prove to him that you really did love him from the start. 

You were burning up so fast already. Whether from the alcohol or from your close proximity to Floyd, you really didn’t know. Floyd really didn’t know how to respond, but he thought that since you were drunk, whatever he’s going to say to you… You’ll forget it in the morning.

“(Y/N), I-I know you’re just drunk. And that you’ll forget this shitfest in the morning. But I actually lik-love you too. You’re so smart,” 

He says while caressing your (S/C) skin, leaving goosebumps where he touched.

“So beautiful and funny,” His fingers brushed over your parted lips and your breath hitched for the 100th time in this minute.

“And so fucking brave and kind.” Floyd quietly murmured, only intending for only him and you to hear.

 He looks up to your dazzling (E/C) eyes with his equally stunning chestnut ones. You stare at each other, and you could see nothing but warmth and pure, genuine love inside of his irises. 

He takes his time to examine your face again. You rest in comfortable silence, the only sounds you could hear were both Floyd’s and your heavy breathing.

“I don’t care if you’re gonna forget my words tomorrow… I just need to get it off my fucking chest… I love you. I love you so much (Y/N), and I literally don’t know what I’m going to do without you.. When I saw you looking like that, my heart burst…”

Now you knew you were really drunk, and you stood there in shock, stupefied reaction pasted over your face.

“Every time you’re talking with any of those guys. I just… I get so jealous, but I'm too much of a coward to let you know how I feel.”

How many times have you blushed or had your breath taken away because of this guy?  But he still continues, glancing up and down between your hands woven between his and your alluring (E/C) eyes. 

“You’re perfect to me, and fuck what anybody else says, ok? And I know you’ll just forget this in the morning bu-”

Without any thought crossing through your mind, you yanked on his tie and pulled him towards your face. 

Finally, finally! 

After months and months that turned into years of pining… You were finally kissing Floyd fucking Talbert. 

His wide eyes slowly closed as both of you melted in each other’s touch. His arm snaked around your waist so your chest was flush against his. He reached up, fingers following your jawline and slowly making its way to run its way through your disheveled (H/C) hair. 

The kiss was so tender, and you could’ve died right there on the spot. The lips you imagined kissing you all over were right there. You couldn’t help but want more.

You wrapped your arm around neck, and tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss. (S/C) colored hands running through his short, soft hair, slightly pulling on the roots.

Truly, nothing else mattered, and you two were finally one.

As you two broke the kiss, your eyes slowly wandered up to meet his. You were entranced to see that he loved that kiss just as much as you did.

You two gasped for air and your chests were heaving up and down. 

Love was all you really felt right now. 

Drunk or not, you both really didn’t care. 

“I know I’m not going to forget this in the morning… Now will you shut up and kiss me again, Flyboy?”

And he did.

 Over, and over, and over again.

-----------------------------------

“SEE I TOLD YOU SHE WAS TRYNA IMPRESS SOMEONE!”

“Shut up, Percy!”

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whoooo what a doozy, gonna write speirs next ;)))))

 btw sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes or making any characters too OOC

5 bucks back then is like about 74-76 dollars today

[taewoongfmd]

hello! this is peyton (mun of impulse’s hwang daesung) with my second character — unity’s lead vocal, moon taewoong. like this if you’re interested in plotting & i’ll hit you up asap! (btw, i have a discord now; i didn’t drop the tag in dae’s intro bc i hadn’t made it yet, but it’s peyton#2067! feel free to add me there w/o asking).

private profile  /  idol profile  /  pinterest

woong is from seoul, which is where he spent the first seven (7) years of his life. but then his parents divorced super suddenly & his dad ~kept the house~ so woong, his mom and his four siblings had to find somewhere else to go. they ended up moving to handong-ri on jeju island and settling in with the mom’s parents on their tangerine farm. so....... yeah he moved from seoul to a fuckin village 😭

really spacious house, really spacious property, really pretty property, but woong was not happy at all. he missed seoul & missed his dad, who made no effort to continue being a father figure after the divorce which was also Really Shocking because he was a great dad before that.

but, life goes on. woong was still really young anyway, so he adjusted to the farm life + to jeju. he ended up finding an activity that got him off the farm and that he actually really, really liked, too  —  soccer!!! he was a fast learner, naturally athletic so he did well and his coach had a LOT of faith in him. eventually he formed the plan to return to seoul as an athlete / to train in a big sports center there but y’know... life can’t be that easy.

aka he got badly injured during a match in 2013 / when he was 16. managed to tear BOTH his acl and pcl, so his leg was Fucked. had to get surgery and the whole recovery process (including physical therapy) took a year and some change. very bad time. i would even call it a Horrible time. he didn’t feel like he was good at anything other than soccer so he was like damn... how am i gonna get out of here now?

but he had his height and his subjective good looks going for him 🤪 in 2014, he had more or less recovered as well as he was going to, was kinda tentative about trying soccer again but Wanted to. before he could work up the courage, he was street casted by a dimensions rep. his family clowned him hard for thinking it was real so he kinda went to the audition to prove that he’s not THAT dumb, kinda went bc he needed an excuse to get tf back into a city, man. handong was NOT cutting it for him.

long story short he became a trainee from pure luck (and some natural talent ig), moved to seoul which fucked up his family relationships to some extent bc him leaving was VERY sudden, no one except his oldest sister even knew that he had been planning to leave for sports. assumed he’d stay there forever, thought it was fucked up that he was so quick to run away.

i’m gonna jump ahead to 2021... i wouldn’t really say that he hates unity, but he definitely feels like an outsider looking in. doesn’t have a background in music, so being an idol at all still feels really weird, but especially with unity’s ~experimental~ music.

he’s distant. when he was younger (and even in his earlier idol days), he was nice enough. not loud, but would laugh and play along with others if they spoke to him first, would reach out to others first on occasion. but his company-assigned image is a mix between tsundere & the “assa” / outsider type; detached, fine on his own, a bit cold/mean/aggressive. like vixx’s leo earlier on but a little more toned-down. going with the outsider portion, he also has the clueless/living under a rock vibe going for him, so fans call him caveman woong 💀 it used to be JUST an image but ultimately fucked up his ability to connect with other people so now he’s rly like that most of the time (and really doesn’t keep up with the world LOL) you can talk to him but his social skills are so bad now that he’ll ignore you but not on purpose.... mf just doesn’t know what to say ever bc he’s been told Not To Talk so much.

he isn’t.... necessarily... mean. he can be, but i’d personally say that he’s more of a self-focused, no bullshit type. really lonely guy who doesn’t know how to interact with others anymore. i guess he wants to relearn people skills, but he’s not trying at the moment. content to just float around in his bubble.

known for being really strong/athletic, which has become one of his very few defining characteristics as an idol. he cannot count the times that he’s shown off his strength by holding a note while splitting fruit on variety shows or dribbled soccer balls for extended periods of time. He’s Tired.

a lesser-known skill he shows off sometimes is his ability to identify plants. if you don’t know him as the athletic guy or the cold guy, you probably know him as the nature guy. he has most korea-native plants memorized and he’s currently working on learning exotic plants. one unspoken goal he has is to show off on a show like law of the jungle.

he raises a bunch of different fish / water-dwelling creatures. has three different tanks.

talks to his fish like they’re babies. if you ever catch him doing this, no you didn’t <3

he used to be REALLY secretive about his family, only ever said that he used to live in jeju but never shared details or clarified any speculations. his privacy disappeared when his family started promoting the tangerine farm as “a place full of unity’s woong’s charms” and allowing visitors, which pissed him off SO BAD because they were making money off of HIS labor... and then they realized he has a lot of fans & they couldn’t handle it, so they closed off the farm to the public again. somehow, this made him even more angry.

he doesn’t really do any solo activities and idk if i’m ever going to push him as an individual? idk i might but he’s honestly not that interesting/appealing to anyone other than his stans so i don’t see the company pushing him and he doesn’t have much of a desire to do anything on his own in the public eye, either. lowkey so tired that he kinda wishes he’d just stayed in jeju but at the same time..... knows if he had, he’d still be looking for a way out??? idk he’s just here to promote unity’s ~experimental~ songs and pretend like he has a sense of identity.

[aaronhart93]

text || aaromtin

Discord text thread featuring: Aaron & @romanbeckett & @quentindelancret​​

When: March 7, 2020 and March 8, 2020

Mentions: @jamisonhq @codyhq @jayceelynd​

Description: Quentin gets upset at what Jamison said in the group chat, they just fight a lot. the next day he tells Roman and Aaron that he sexted with Troye Sivan. 

Trigger Warnings: mental illness, arguing, cheating if you consider sexting cheating ig

Quentin.

I’m just gonna go back to my place.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

wait why?

Quentin.

I need to go back to my place

I’ll text you guys later

Aaron.

is it about what Jamison said in the group? ignore him, Q

Quentin.

don’t worry about it. It’s fine

Aaron.

its not. i texted him on the side and told him to cool it

im sorry he said that to you

Quentin.

of course you did

I can’t do this anymore

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

do what??

Quentin.

deal with this

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

deal with what Q

Aaron.

Quentin, I'm making myself look like an ass to defend you in front of him. Don't take this out on us babe. Don't prove him right

Quentin.

being talked down to by all of Aaron’s ex’s who apparently think I’m just his pet now

just go deal with him I’m fine

I didn’t even do anything so I don’t know how I’m proving him right of anything

Aaron.

he's dealt with. it won't happen again

Quentin.

you just don’t even get it

Aaron.

maybe i don't, but come to bed and help me understand

Quentin.

no

I’m tired of it. Your little toys never do this shit to Roman or anyone else and I’m fuckin sick of it

Aaron.

i dont know how that's our fault

Quentin.

it’s not. I guess I’m just not worthy so I’ll step down

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

what have we done to ever make you feel that way

Quentin

You haven’t done anything. I just said it’s not your fault

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

then why are we being punished

Quentin.

you know what, never mind. I’ll just continue to be talked down to so that all of Aaron’s ex’s can pretend like he still feels some type of way about them and I’m just the flavor of the week

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

who cares what they fucking think. It’s not about them.

Quentin.

it’s not about what they think. I don’t care what they think. I care about the way they treat me. Only me

Aaron.

and you need to let me take care of that

Quentin.

yeah okay

maybe you can give him a job too

Aaron.

but don't treat us like this.

that's uncalled for Q

Quentin.

or my bad.. he probably already works for you

it is uncalled for Aaron. It is

Aaron.

cryptic

Quentin.

just let me step aside so you have have your toys close

Aaron.

text us when you cool off. then come back home to bed

Quentin.

yeah, I’m good. Just leave me alone

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

I’m staying at the apartment.

Quentin.

that’s fine

Aaron.

great ill just sleep alone.

Quentin.

maybe text Jamison or Cody I’m sure they would love to keep you company

Aaron.

or maybe half of my other employees

Quentin.

yeah maybe

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Jesus, can you all just stop

Quentin.

I just wish you would even try to see it from my side. Like what if Stas was saying that shit to me? And I worked with him and saw him every day and when he attacked you I ran to text him privately

is that okay? Or maybe if I went to Hawaii would that be okay?

Aaron.

Quentin, I'm on your side. I am seeing it that way. I'm just confused as to why you're getting upset at us.

Quentin.

I’m not upset at Roman

Aaron.

and why are you mad at me?

Quentin.

because Aaron. You tell me all this shit and then turn around and pet their heads

I just don’t get it. How you can just act like, oh I told them to stop and just want me to drop it

Aaron.

I just told you I’m making an ass of myself defending you to him

Quentin.

well, don’t go making an ass of yourself on my account

the only ass I saw was him

Aaron.

okay quentin. Reset. What can I do to make this better

Quentin.

leave me alone. That’s what you can do.

I don’t want to do this anymore

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Q don’t make any rash decisions right now. Just cool off.

Quentin.

I shouldn’t have to dread going into the town chat or have to watch what I say or else I’m gonna be attacked by Aaron’s thots.

it’s bullshit

Aaron.

read

Quentin.

I’m sorry, I do love you Aaron. I’m just so tired of fighting everyone just to be with you

Aaron.

Quentin. Cool off. Please

Quentin

I am cool

Aaron.

I love you

Quentin.

yeah

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

:(

Quentin.

the thing is. I’m not mad at either of you

I’m just so tired of it

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

nothing in life is ever easy Q, but what we have is worth it.

Quentin.

yeah okay

I’ve been belittled my entire life. I just don’t want to have to deal with it in order to have a boyfriend

especially when said boyfriend just talks them down and doesn’t really care enough to cut it off

Aaron

but cut what off?

Quentin.

all these ex’s you are so determined to stay friends with even though they make me feel this way

Aaron.

you just told me about Cody today and Jamo wasn’t an issue until now

Cody is going to raise my best friend’s child and Jamison is my business partner. It is not that easy

Quentin.

okay well, that’s why I’m making it easy

Aaron.

don’t talk like that

Quentin.

Jay is my best friend too ya know? I’ve tried so hard to be friendly with Cody. But every time I turn around he’s being an asshat to me

it’s fine. It’ll all be fine

Aaron.

I’m sorry

I’m so sorry

Quentin.

don’t be

I guess I just need to start being more of an asshole myself

Quentin.

anyway, have a good night

the next morning

Aaron.

can we promise never to let other people affect our relationship

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

I can definitely promise that

Aaron.

me too

♛ 𝕽𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 ♛

I don’t wanna lose either one of you.

Aaron.

and you won’t.

Quentin.

hello

Aaron.

morning sleepyhead

Quentin.

morning.

Quentin.

Troye and I messed around last night over text after you and Aaron fell asleep. I was rolling in molly and I wasn’t thinking straight and I swear I wasn’t getting off with him. I just didn’t think it was serious and I don’t even remember doing it. But I wanted you to know. I’d never keep that from either of you and I hope you know I don’t want him. It was a stupid crush and I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry

Aaron.

read

Quentin.

I just want to add that I don’t want him. I swear I don’t want him and I don’t even wanna go see him now. He’s been flirting with me for days now, which Roman I told you about that. But idk what happened. I’m not a cheater. I don’t wanna be a cheater. I’m so sorry I can’t even breath. Please don’t hate me. I love you both so much. With every ounce of my existence

Aaron.

read

I love you too

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

read

Quentin.

I love you both.

𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧.

I love you too.

Aaron.

read

[sanderssideswriting]

Youtuber Life Chapter 1

Based off this post

Ships: familial sleepxiety and eventual Prinxiety

Words:???

first  next

Summary: Remy Sanders is a famous beauty vlogger and just moved to LA with his teenage son Virgil after their location was leaked by fans. Remy AKA CoffeeAddiction has several million subscribers. Virgil also has a secret Drama channel, where he doesn’t show his face and uses a voice modifier. He just hit a million subs and grows more everyday because of the level of production his videos have, the mystery around who he is and the fact that he ALWAYS has the latest information regarding youtube drama.

The house was pretty big, it wasn't where most youtuber houses where but it also wasn’t to far. Remy was already vlogging about the new house.

“This is my new house, there will be a house tour later, this time I’ll be making sure you guys can’t find it. I love y’all but I don’t love it when people find out where I live and then put it on the internet. I like my privacy, well the little I have left and I’d like to keep it that way. See you soon babes,” and the camera was turned off.

the first thing they set up was the basement, where Remy filmed almost everything with another room to do voiceovers and editing.

Virgil and Remy had a pretty good time decorating the house and it turned out really nice.

Then school started.

Virgil was dreading it, to say the least, he did NOT want to be the new kid. Being the new id sucks, everyone wants to know everything about you. And Virgil tended to avoid talking about his personal life for obvious reasons. But the kids at his school wouldn’t know that.

Then he found out it would be private school.

“Dad! There’ll be fake stoners! They’re worse then real stones! Plus everyone will be stuck up and annoying! I’ll have to wear a uniform!” He complained.

“They have a Starbucks in the cafeteria,” Remy said.

Virgil shut up.

The first day of school came and Virgil did indeed have to wear a uniform, it wasn’t that terrible, but he still hated it simply because it was a uniform.

At school he was given his schedule and a map and left to find his own way to class. He was only ten minutes late to the first one and five minute to every one after that.

At lunch there was no Starbucks apart from stuff in bottles, Virgil bought two anyway but  texted his dad.

V: you lied about the Starbucks Remy: Technically they DO have Starbucks V: not the good kush Remy: It’s cold and it has caffeine and the logo V: you’d never drink it Remy: I can afford not to V: so can I, just can’t get any atm Remy: pay attention in class V: it’s lunch Remy: make friends! Or like idk make a sarcastic tweet on Twitter, apparently texting your dad isn’t very cool with the kids these days V: it would be if they knew that YOU’RE my dad Remy: go drink coffee or something, I need to edit

“Hey! You’re new right?” A boy with light brown hair and round glasses asked sitting down.

Virgil nodded.

“I’m Patton Foster and this is Logan Berry, our other friend Roman Prince is coming he’s meeting with a teacher,” Patton said.

“Virgil Sanders,” Virgil said.

Patton and Logan seemed to take that as their queue to sit down with him.

“Where did you move from?” Patton asked.

“Atlanta.”

“Cool! Why did you move here?” Patton asked trying to make conversation.

“My dads job,” Virgil said.

His phone buzzed, he best friend Janus and Remus had snapped him.

It was a basic snap saying “how’s LA treating you? See Jake Paul yet?”

Virgil texted them back.

Racoon: lol not yet, but I’m sure it’ll be soon Hiss hiss motherfucker: yeah, they’re like an infestation Raccoon: ouch Dukey: How’s the Starbucks at your fancy rich kid school? Racoon: A fucking lie, at this rate I’ll be drinking the bang they have Hiss hiss motherfucker: ew, no don’t Racoon: I know Dukey: Seen any stoners or druggies yet? Racoon: saw a few fake ones, including one kid asking everyone if they’d sell him their Adderall Dukey: weakass stoners Racoon: you have ADHD not a drug problem Remus, you’re not a stoner Dukey: I could be Hiss hiss motherfucker: well you’re not, so shut the fuck up Hiss hiss motherfucker: there’s a new pallet coming out in a few weeks... Racoon: Not doing it, it’ll be hard enough to get one, get your own Hiss hiss motherfucker: at least tell me how you LAWAYS get them Racoon: lol no

Janus sent a lovely picture of his middle finger

Virgil did the same, but with his face in it.

“Hey, you’re the new kid right?” Another guy said sitting down, Roman probably.

“Unfortunately, Virgil Sanders.”

“Roman Prince, your name sounds familiar,” Roman said.

Virgil shrugged “no idea why,”

“Where are you from?”

“Atlanta, isn’t that cool Roman!” Patton said.

“That’s how I know you! My twin Remus Duke, I think he’s told me about you before,” Roman said.

Virgil took a picture of Roman and sent it to Remus.

Racoon: you know him? Dukey: yeah, he’s my twin, why? Racoon: first of all you have a TWIN? I thought you where an only child. Dukey: child of divorce here, yeah we still talk. Small world ig Racoon: and you told him about me? Dukey: yeah, so? Or are you to stuck up to have people talk about you? Racoon: fuck off, or I’ll do your channel next Disgrace Dukey: try me bitch

“Yeah no, your right, Remus just didn’t say he was a fucking twin for some reason,” Virgil said.

Roman looked pretty offended at that. Virgil smirked “now I know why Remus says ‘offended princey noises’ all the time.”

“That fiend says what?” Roman demanded.

“Don’t hurt yourself Princey.”

The bell rang and Virgil made a quick exit.

At home he got in and saw the Filming light by the basement door was on. He opened the door anyway. “Has the espresso machine been unpacked? Also you fucking lied! There was no Starbucks!”

“Filming! Read the fucking sign, of course it was unpacked and it’s your fault for thinking it was a rich, rich kid school. Why the fuck would they have an actual Starbucks in the cafeteria? What did you learn today? And get me some espresso if you’re going to make some.”

“Fake stoners are worse then real stoners and they can go fuck themselves,” Virgil said before closing the door to get some espresso, which he promptly mixed into his coffee.

“People have been begging me to do an update on this so here it is. Trisha Paytas and DID, sorry it hasn’t been done yet but I’ve been getting new equipment and also moving stuff around so I can have a bigger space to edit and record. So we all know she’s faking, I’ve actually been doing research, not a ton, I’m not an expert but I have been learning. Not only to debunk Trisha but just understand DID more because I’m very uneducated and want to change that. DID is a very serious condition and Trish is not portraying it well or even describing it, she is describing things everyone does. Such as living in America and going to England, everyone’s accent naturally changes over time, you act differently around people. Those are not alters, that has nothing to do with DID. Let’s get into the video so I can correct more but not everything because I’m not an expert. “That’s it for today, I can’t take anymore stupidity so I’ll see you next week for another episode of “What the fuck did she say now?”

[nomattertheoceans]

Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest - Day 28

Did you say something?

Prompt: my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry - 1,5k words

Feyre was nervous.

It was stupid, because it wasn’t the first time she was eating over at the Knight’s house. As Mor’s best friend since the fourth grade, she had been here quite a number of times. But she had never received such a formal invitation before, the boys’ mom had even called her to make sure she was free. So here she was, standing in front of their door, not knowing what to expect at being invited at a formal holiday dinner.

She rang the doorbell and waited, and Mor opened the door almost immediately.

“Good, you’re here!” She grabbed her and pulled her inside.

“Why are you so excited? What’s going on?”

“I’m not excited. Come on in.”

They went into the kitchen and were greeted by the smell of various holiday meals cooling down on the table.

“Feyre, you’re here,” Mor’s aunt greeted her, and Feyre smiled.

“Hi, Mrs Knight, how are you?”

“Oh good, good. How is your Freshman year going, so far?”

“Good. Yale’s art program is great so far.”

“And do you get to spend some time with Rhys?” Feyre felt her smile falter, but he had promised he wouldn’t say anything, and she trusted him. So she forced her smile back on her lips and answered in what she hoped was a normal voice.

“A little. Not as much as I see Mor, of course.” She turned to her best friend in hope that she would approve, but Mor seemed too busy with sorting out something in the fridge to come to her rescue.

“Well still, Mor told me you two were studying together quite a lot.” She felt herself blushing, mostly because of how most of their studying sessions ended, but she nodded.

“We are. Can I help you with anything?”

“Sure. Can you grab this plate, and Mor, take this one. I’ll meet you in the dining room in a minute.”

They did as they were told and lifted the plates to leave the kitchen. As soon as they were in the corridor, Feyre stopped Mor in her tracks.

“What has gotten into your aunt?”

“About what?”

“You know, talking about Rhys so much and asking if we’re hanging out.”

Mor shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess she just wants to know how your year is going.” They entered the dining room, and found Cassian, Azriel and Rhys already sitting, chatting loudly. They all greeted Feyre, but her eyes met Rhys’ who gave her a large grin. Mor set down her plate, grabbed the one in Feyre’s hand, and pushed her with her hip.

“Feyre, why don’t you sit beside Rhys today?”

“O - okay.” Why she wasn’t sitting beside Mor, where she always sat when they dined at her home, she didn’t know. Had Rhys said something to her? Why he would have done it now when they had managed to stay quiet for more than two months was a mystery, but she didn’t see any other plausible explanation for his cousin and his mom’s strange pushy behavior.

So she sat down beside Rhys, and decided on ignoring Mor until she could talk to him in private.

***

The dinner started normally, and for half an hour, Feyre thought she might have imagined what had been happening. Everybody was talking and laughing, and she felt glad for the invitation, the dinner reminding her of every night she had spent at their house as a teenager, building pillow forts with Mor and the boys, eating candies until they all fell asleep right there.

But then Mrs Knight started asking her questions again, uncomfortably personal questions.

“So Feyre, are you dating anyone at the moment?”

She felt Rhys tense up beside her, and she forced herself not to look at him as she answered. “I’m not, no.”

“What about you, Rhys?”

She saw Rhys choke on the water he’d been drinking, and she felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. He mumbled a quiet ‘no’ and went back to his plate. She needed to make her change the subject. So she turned to Mor.

“Mor, you’ve been seeing that girl from your intro to gender study class, right?”

Mor grinned at her. “I have. But we already know all about that. What we don’t know about is you, Feyre. I live with you, and yet I haven’t seen you go on any dates. Maybe you should try it.”

And before she could answer, Mrs Knight talked again. “Exactly. I know leaving Tamlin must have been hard at the end of high school but -”

Cassian laughed at that, interrupting her. “Yeah right, she dumped him and she was right to do so, that jerk.”

And Feyre smiled at him, because she could always count on Cass to be on her side. “I did, and I really don’t feel bad, believe me.”

“Well, all I was going to say was that it’s not good staying hung up on old relationships.”

“I’m not. I just... “ again, she avoided glancing at Rhys. “I haven’t met many people yet.”

“Well, maybe you should try dating somebody you already know.” And she looked at Rhys intently, who did his best to ignore his mother’s stare. Feyre coughed. She really wanted to speak about something else, so she turned to Cassian. “Cass, how about you, anything exciting happening at Cornell?”

As she hoped, Cassian started talking incessantly, and she was able to go back to her meal.

***

“Rhys, Feyre, do you mind going to get the pies in the kitchen?”

Feyre would have said no, just to avoid playing into whatever game his mom was playing, but she really needed to talk to him in private. So when he got up, she followed him out of the room and down the corridor. Eager to be alone, she moved past him and entered the kitchen first. She went to grab the first pie, when she felt both his hands rest on her butt. She jumped in surprise, but before she could turn around, his hands moved from her butt to her waist, and she felt his lips rest on her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their leave.

“Rhys, what are you doing?”

“Kissing my girlfriend,” he whispered against her ear, chuckling when she shivered at the sensation, his hands roaming around her belly as he pressed himself into her more. “You’re so sexy today, I couldn’t think of anything else during dinner.”

She bit back a moan at the sensation of his body so close to hers, and let her head rest against his shoulder for a moment, relishing in the feeling of his kisses on her skin.

But then she remembered where they were, and straightened up in his arms, resting her hands on the kitchen counter.

“Rhys, your entire family is in the other room.”

“So?”

“So, I thought we weren’t ready to tell yet.”

And he must have understood what she was asking him, because his lips stopped, and he rested his face on her neck, his arms more gentle around her, not as eager as they’d been a second before.

“I didn’t tell them anything, Fey.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, really. I mean, you know my mom always liked the idea of us getting together.” She knew. That was one of the reasons why they had decided not to tell anyone about the fact that they were dating. They didn’t want the pressure of their families to weigh in on their relationship. “But she’s never been as forward before. I’m thinking, maybe Mor realized what’s been happening and she told her.”

She turned to face him and looped her arms around his neck. “You mean, Mor would know and she hasn’t told us about it?”

“Maybe she doesn’t know exactly but… I mean, you two literally share a room now, and she might have noticed you spending more time with me. I don’t know, maybe she thinks we’re flirting or something.”

She chuckled. Flirting. That was one way to describe what they were doing when they were alone. He seemed to think the same, because he bent down and captured her lips in his, a soft kiss that she never wanted to end. But of course, they had to stop. She pushed away slowly and looked into his eyes.

“We have to go back or they’re gonna come look for us.”

“I know.” He paused, and she waited for him to formulate what he had in mind. “Do you want me to tell my mom to stop bothering you?”

She thought for a minute. “You know what I would like? For them to know. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be able to hold your hand in public whenever I want.”

He smiled at her, and nodded. “Tonight?”

“No. I’m not that ready yet.” He laughed. “How about on New Year’s Eve?”

He considered for a moment. “Alright, on New Year’s Eve, then.”

And he kissed her again, before they grabbed the pies and went back to the dining room, a new certainty in their hearts.

Current tag list (send me an ask if you want to be tagged, I have a hard time keeping track of the comments):

@summernightskyy​ @illyrian-bookworm​ @amren-courtofdreams​ @vanilla28​ @rory050​ @philosophorumaurum02​ @illyrianbeauty​ @kybaeza​ @sincerely-unidentified​ @highladyofthesith​ @the-regal-warrior​ @inrealliampain​ @kiss-my-maas​ @highlady-of-dusk​ @amusedowl​ @highladyofelfhame​ @fucking-winchester-trash​ @sleeping-and-books​ @l0sts0uls1128​ @secret-lil-rendez-vous​ @everything-that-i-love​ @kingdomofbrokenhearts​ @fourshizzle149​  @musicmaam​ @voiceoftheroses​ @avenrebekah​ @queenofdorkville​ @outofstyles13​ @bow-dawn​ @iliveforfandoms226​ @city-of-fae​ @welcometothespeaknowworldtour​​ @notyourclassicshadowhunter​ @ellenoftroy​ @tonystarksbish​​ @propagandaprincess​​ @thelaughingzeebra​​ @ame233​​ @hopelesslyinlovewithbooks​​ @shadowstar2313​​ @eve-of-the-night-court​​ @quakeriders​​ @fireheart-of-your-dreams​​ @feeoly​​ @yikesitsmaddie​​ @buffykitten​​ @alifletcher2012​​ @faefromthenorth​​ @emmejo26​​ @lowhangingtreebranches​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​ @goldfishh20​​ @feyrearcherons​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​ @rtheinkqueen​​ @thereaderandfangirl​​ @the-last-apprentice​​ @whilma-warfstache​​  @julemmaes​​ @meltalgel-ig​​ @wifeofchrishemsworth​​ @worldoffae​​ @thesurielships​​ @chemicha​​ @kindofawalkingpoem​​ @rowaelinforeverworld​​  @booksstorm​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​ @awkward-avocado-s​​ @thesirenwashere​​ @tswaney17​​ @belamoonbeam​​ @faequeenaelin​​ @hedwig1751​​ @booksatteatime​​ @over300books​​ @keshavomit​​ @redqueen-marecal-lover​​ @musicalfae​​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​​ @thehuntersmoon-haven​​ @joyceortiz13​ @rainy-bookish-days​

[adcres]

         howdy hey , pardnerrrs :> i’m rox ( she / her ) ‘n i’ll be playing yr residential sullen broodin’ boy , nico . i didn’t have the time to write out a whole new intro , given that i have back to back classes again today :-’( , so please forgive me for recycling his old intro akawodkgrsd ; . that being said , i did tweak around some tingz and i updated his wcs for him , so if yr down to clown around just hmu on my discord :   𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔫𝔦𝔞#2854 !  okie okie , i’ll shut da eff up now ♡ 

BASICS.

༉‧₊˚✧ kim taehyung , cis man , he / him / his — did you see that nicholas “nico” yoon was trending last night ? the twenty three year old street artist has been getting a lot of press lately . i think it’s due to them being so + quixotic & + free-spirited , but i always thought they seemed - withdrawn & - sybaritic . their fans always say they remind them of soft smoke rings spun in a dreamy haze , silver-ringed fingers rapping against polished oak , and waning light refracting against broken glass though . i wonder if they’ve found out about REDACTED yet … i guess we’ll have to wait and see . [ rox , 22 , pst , she / her , none ]

PINTEREST & PLAYLIST .

01 and 02 .

PERSONALITY .

at first glance , nico reads as this aloof , arrogant type that doesn’t like to associate w the common public . always keeping the majority of people at a comfortable distance , nico moves almost exclusively within his own social network , and doesn’t like to deviate from what he knows best .  

not so much pretentious as he is lazy , making an effort to socialize with complete strangers is simply something that nico would never do . hehe ... he’s kind of shy like that .... ♡ though he’d literally never admit it ♡

despite giving the impression that he’s some intimidating and chronically indifferent kind of guy , nico is genuinely a sweet boy — ‏‏‎ one who’s in a constant state of confusion as to why people seem to be so scared of him . it always comes as a shock when close friends of his admit that they thought he absolutely hated their guts when they first met him .

b/c tho he’s p smart , nico is very oblivious at times , and he’s 100% the kind of guy who’ll walk away from a conversation thinking he did a rly rly good job trying to make a friend ... when in reality he prob said four words in the span of thirty minutes smh .

overall , nico’s a private person , especially with what he’s thinking ... and it’s really hard to get a clear read on what’s on his mind . sharing his feelings has never been one of nico’s interests b/c he just genuinely doesn’t think whatever he has to say is rly worth mentioning . so he usually just shuts da fuck up n lets other ppl talk so he can mentally gain the strength to continue socializing .

push nico’s buttons enough tho ‘n you’ll catch this mf speaking in full sentences .

lastly , it should b noted that nico is a romantic through n through ... this mf probably d*ed in the victorian era ‘n got reincarnated b/c he’s got that ‘ lets share furtive glances across the room but never say a thing to each other  ‘ thing on lock . mr. darcy headass

and while nico might play the role of long-suffering , ever pining lover to a T , he’s more in love w / the idea of love than he is w / any single person . and he literally cannot hold down a relationship w/o fucking it up for himself in some shape or form .

kind of sarcastic ... v much the teasing type .... 

can b very impulsive at times , loves to go on solo adventures at night , prefers his own company tbh ...

overview : melancholic , reticent , noncommittal , humble , mild-mannered , romantic .

a mix of : josh from clueless and j.d. from heathers

more here .

MORE AESTHETICS.

the chill of silver jewelry against flushed skin , forgotten graffiti on porcelain sinks , flickering motel lights , kisses sticky with vodka , eyes ringed with lavender , sleepless nights surrendered to the dull buzz of television , obscure art house films , sun-kissed cheeks , the surprise of summer rain , chest aching with lost loves , scattered baby’s breath and rosemary , and a shared smile between perfect strangers .

CHARACTER DISSERTATION.

nico was born on a brisk wintry morning in the fashion district of los angeles ( january 21st , 1997 ) to a family of six .

as the second youngest child , and the only male son to boot , nico grew up with his only inheritance being a generational kind of hunger , one that demanded for more than what his struggling parents could offer

the arts stole nico at an early age ... ushering him into a world of creation and freedom beyond the four bleak walls he daily occupied . from spending lonely summers tucked away in some forgotten corner in the library to practicing on a borrowed violin from dawn to dusk , nico knew that even with nothing at his disposal , there was always something to be made w/ the tools he’d been given  

despite not having the money for private tutors to hone their son’s growing artistic talents , his parents did whatever they could to support his dreams , whether that meant working double shifts back to back or scrounging for loose change underneath the sofa cushions to pay for whatever materials nico needed .

it was in this strange way that nico grew up p spoiled . somehow having nothing while also having absolutely everything at the same time .

very much a family man , the first big purchase nico made once he broke out in hollywood was a house in beverly hills for his parents . now that he’s finally at a place where he can take care of his family , nico makes sure that his parents and sisters want for nothing

while he showers everyone else with generous gifts and obscene amounts of money , nico doesn’t particularly feel comfortable doing the same for himself . he’s a simple man through n through . one who’s content to spend his time walking his dog late at night , listening to a podcast on his airpods , instead of going out to a club w/ other well-known socialites .

a true artist at heart , nico refuses to conform to the current trends of hollywood , instead insisting on wearing thrifted clothes to important galas — ‏‏‎much to the frustration of his PR team and the chagrin of his stylists . but none of the choices nico makes seems to surprise anyone anymore . driving flashy cars and wearing designer clothes has never really been his style , after all . and it’s important to him that he remain authentically himself despite everything .

WANTED CONNECTS.

pr relationship ( open ) : someone that nico is contractually obligated to date ... i could totally see there being drama ‘n tension from having to pretend to actually like each other ... would b better if they rly did not like each other at all ... 

fwb ( open ) : buddies who bump uglies sometimes ... they both agreed they’d never catch feelings for each other but we’ll see ... 

frenemies ( open ) : someone that grinds nico’s gears but they’re a friend of his friend ... so they’re forced to keep it civil . i can see them exchanging hateful comments in the back of their friend’s car while simultaneously posting pics of each other on ig to keep up the rouse . 

unrequited crush ( open ) : likely nico would not realize if yr muse had a crush on them ... but it’d be fun to play it out like a kdrama anyway heh heh

a close friend group ( open / any ) : i thought it’d b so cute if there was like a small group of friends , maybe 3-4 ppl , that do stupid shit like ditch going to celebrity after-parties to break into abandoned buildings , get real high , ask stupid ‘ would u rather ‘ questions , and do sum main character type shit ... yk what im puttin down ... ‘n nico is def the type to open up in the presence of extroverts so i think having a group of wild outsiders of diff bgs would b v inch resting ..

enemies / rivals ( open / any ) : tbh nico prob rubs ppl the wrong way since he has resting bitch face ‘n never wants to talk to anyone .. so im sure there r ppl who just do not like this mf ... and rest assured that the feeling is mutual ...

bad / good influence ( open / any ) : nico’s known to mount his high horse often ... mr morality over here ... so i just know he prob would butt heads w/ the residential troublemaker . tho nico’s artwork can be controversial and out of the box at times , his art style and his personality are at constant odds , and it’d b interesting to have that bad influence / good influence dynamic w/ someone .

family friend ( open ) : someone who grew up w/ nico in dtla ... couldve gone to the same public school as him ... or their families couldve gone to the same church ...

ok my intro post has become a fucking behemoth so im going to stop here ‘n just say i have so many more wcs in mind so if u wanna plot lets just talk hehe :>