#props to the whoever is still reading through these tags

[alvojake]

The Murder House | Masterlist & Intro ⏃

↳ this is inspired by an ask from the lovely @addictedtohobi

「parings」 : enha x fem!reader

「synopsis」 : it was halloween season once again, and your brother begged you and your friends to go to this new hit escape room that just came into town; the only problem? you hated going to them almost as much as you hated waking up early in the morning. however, being the good friend and sister you were you went with them. you expected cheesy props, dumb riddles and questions, and a rigged room, so you couldn't get out even if you got the right answers. what you weren't expecting was being drugged and waking up in a room with a dead body and separated from all of your friends.

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, heavy gore, blood, murder, mentions of suicide, cussing, death, manipulation, mentions of being drugged, toxic behavior, reader is speculated to be an 03' liner, trauma bonding, other specific warnings on individual parts.

𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆

「taglist」 : CLOSED

↳ a/n: I have decided to make this into a short series because I just know trying to write one long fic won't suffice, so I am making it into separate parts! I am super excited to see what you guys think so far and to hear all of your theories. don't forget to read the intro at the bottom!! I will be figuring out release dates for all of the parts at a later time, but they will all be subject to change depending on multiple factors! also, if you were on the taglist located on the wip post, then you are still on there, so don't worry! with that being said you will only be added to the taglist if you are 18+ and your age is visible on your page. if you don't meet either of those criteria, you will be ignored.

「start」 : May 8th, 2024 「end」 : June 20th, 2024

「synopsis」 : after waking up trapped in a room with a dead body, you are saved by none other than heeseung, but you're still left with questions. why were you and your friends trapped there, and who is behind it all? though it would seem that you won't be getting your answers very easily and definitely not without a few losses. 「word count」 : 10.2k 「warnings」 : blood, dead body, cussing, mentions of murder, mind games, drugging, mentions of mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, etc...), jungwon is kinda reckless, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : with everyone's lives on the line will luck be on your side? except it seems like whoever trapped you here doesn't plan on letting any of you leave that easy... suspicion is rising and trust is starting to falter, but can you save everyone and bust whoever put you and your friends through this hell? or will you have to watch all of your friends die? 「word count」 : 11.3k 「warnings」 : cussing, spiders/bugs, water, blood, mentions of betrayal, arguments, mentions of claustrophobia & arachnophobia/entomophobia, mentions of spider venom, life or death situations, more mind games, mental health disorders (anxiety, panic attacks, breakdowns, etc...), (some tags will be hidden as to not spoil the story!) 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : everything seems to be going downhill at a rapid pace and nothing is going right and you've already suffered the loss of two friends, but the mastermind behind this doesn't seem to be satisfied just yet. another test is thrown your way but things are starting to become more clear and you're realizing that the culprit has been with you the whole time... but will you be able to stop him and escape this hell house with your lives intact? 「word count」 : 10.5k 「warnings」 : cussing, even more 'games', blood, violence, gore, gun goes pew pew, poisoning, betrayal, gaslighting, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), knife goes stabby, threats, death, obsessive/stalker-ish behavior, mental health disorders, even more betrayal, traumatic events, police, pls lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say.... 「word count」 : 6.2k 「warnings」 : cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything! 「release date」 : read here

“Come on, y/n. We never get the chance to do this!” Riki whined as he draped his taller frame over your back, causing you to slouch forward. You let out an annoyed huff, letting your hands fall to your lap. Your phone slid from your fingers as you tilted your head to look back at your brother.

“Riki, how many times have I told you that I hate going to things like that?” You pushed back against him, causing the boy to fall dramatically back on the couch. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your discarded phone off the ground, Riki watching you with a pout.

“You watch too many horror movies,” he grumbled, remembering all the nights you would watch horror movies only to have some new-found fear afterward, even if it was something completely unnecessary.

You dropped your phone once more before glaring up at your brother, “ya know, there is always some truth to them.”

“y/n, please. They are just movies. Complete fiction. Ghosts aren’t real.” Riki rolled his eyes, picking at the loose strings of the couch cushion. 

“Even rumors stem from some kind of truth, Riki.” You huffed out, but it didn’t seem like your brother would stop pestering you until you finally gave in. So after hours of continuously asking and begging, you finally gave in to him, telling him that you would ask your friends only if he brought his own.

And he agreed.

When that dreadful night finally came, you were stuck in a car with all of your friends. The crisp October air was cold on your skin, but the heating in the vehicle that Jay had turned on was enough to leave you comfortable. Jake had some random playlist filling the speakers jamming out in the passenger seat while Jungwon, Sunghoon, and Heeseung were crammed into the far back of the SUV, all three on the brink of passing out from how long the drive was.

“I thought you said this place was in town, Riki.” You grumbled, flexing your jaw, trying to ease the discomfort from having it placed on your hand as you stared mindlessly out the car window. However, now that it was fully dark outside, there wasn’t much to look at, seeing that there were no streetlights.

“I mean, the address said it was in town; how was I supposed to know it was in the ass crack of it?” Riki sassed as he scrolled through his phone, looking at whatever was posted on social media.

“Language, dude.” Jay scolded the boy, his eyes staring at him through the rearview mirror.

“Korean, what else?”

Pursing your lips, you reached over and landed a smack on the back of his head, resulting in him letting out a groan as his head fell forward.

“What was that for?!” Riki exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t be such a smart ass.” You scolded him, and Riki grumbled before showing Sunoo something on his phone. 

Shaking your head, you lean forward, resting your arms on the back of Jay’s seat, “How much longer do we have to go?”

Jay quickly glanced at you from the rearview mirror, much like he did Riki, before glancing down at the GPS on his dash.

"It's saying we have about ten or so minutes left until we get there." He told you before putting his eyes back on the road. 

It was then that you started to notice just how desolate the surrounding area was. If this was such a hit attraction, why weren't any other cars around? Or any kind of sign of life. It was starting to give you the creeps. However, you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for your brother and that it was probably just your imagination playing tricks on you. So you just tried to relax, sitting back in your seat once more, eyes staring out at the blackness of the trees.

That feeling of unease only grew more once Jay pulled into the driveway, and you noticed that there wasn’t a single car in sight. You pulled your seatbelt off slowly, eyes searching everywhere, trying to find anything to settle this unnerving feeling that was twisting in your gut. As you opened the door, welcoming the chilling air outside, goosebumps littered your skin.

“Come on, y/n, get out. My legs are cramping!” Riki complained, pushing on your shoulder and urging you to leave the vehicle.

With a shaky sigh, you slowly let your foot fall to the ground, your knees feeling like jelly. Jay stepped out of the car, pocketing the keys before looking over at you. His eyebrows scrunched together, taking in the uneasy expression on your face.

“Hey, y/n, are you okay?” he asked, softly taking your arm and pulling you away from the open door so everyone else could pile out. 

“Yeah, it’s just…” You trailed on as your eyes caught sight of the small sign that was hammered into the ground.

The Murder House

You could have sworn that you felt your heart stop. What kind of douchebag names their escape room that? As if the air around you wasn’t suffocating enough, seeing that only made it feel like you were fighting for your breath.

“Sunoo, you’re in the back on the way home.” Heeseung groans as he stretches out, his joints groaning in protest. Sunoo just gave the older male the side eye before moving to stand on the other side of Jake, who had just gotten out of the car.

“Riki, I thought you said this was a hit attraction.” You looked over at your brother, who was inspecting the area much like you were until his eyes landed on you. “Why is there no one here?”

“Calm your tits, sis. I’m sure we just came on a night that no one else wanted to?” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that just means we won’t get stuck with some randos.” Heeseung shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"Come on, y'know, we didn't come all this way just to chicken out," Jungwon grumbled, tossing his hair with his fingers.

You curled your lips inward, knowing that they were right and that you were just thinking too much about the situation. Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded your head in silent agreement. Jay wrapped his arm around your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze, ignoring the prying eyes that were on the two of you.

“Don’t let it get to you too much, okay? We’ll just get it over with, and if anything, we just let the timer go out.” He whispered softly in your ear, and the warmth of his breath eased your mind slightly. 

“You’re right, I’m just overthinking.” You gave him a small smile before following after him and the others.

“God damn, Riki, why did we have to walk all the way up here?” Sunghoon huffed as all of you reached the steps of the porch.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he was right because that was a pretty lengthy walk uphill. All of the guys nodded in agreement before Jake walked further up the step, trying to see if you were able to get in. He then noticed a welcome sign hanging from the door, with a small basket underneath holding a piece of paper.

“It looks like we got some instructions, boys and girls,” Jake exclaimed with a broad smile, turning with the paper held high.

You looked at him uneasily as he unfolded it with a flourish and started reading it out loud so everyone could hear.

‘You will have two hours to uncover the grand mystery and escape the murder house. You will find clues and puzzles, but be careful, for everything isn’t as it seems… Good luck!’

A shiver ran down your spine as he finished reading. You weren't sure whether it was the chilling breeze that swept through or the cryptic words of the note. However, you did know that it wasn't just your mind messing with you; there was something deeply wrong with this place.

“Hey guys, this seems really weird. Maybe we should just go.” You voiced your concern, earning yourself a collection of groans from the guys.

“Oh, come on, y/n. Stop being such a negative Nancy and have some fun for once in your life.” Jake rolled his eyes, his hands falling to his side.

Your jaw clenched shut, and a glare adorned your features before you leaned forward, snatching the paper out of his hands.

“You’re such an asshole, Jake.” The words tumbled out quietly as you reread the same message that Jake had just read aloud, trying to see if there was anything else that he had missed.

“Yeah, yeah.” The brunette rolled his eyes before going on to complain about how thirsty he was and how he was sure that they would have drinks for sale or something inside. Then, without another word, he opened the door despite the multiple protests from you and a few others. 

“Jake, you can’t just walk in like you own the place!” You exclaim, hands slapping against your thighs as he disappears around the corner.

Letting out a huff, you step past the threshold, trying to shake off the eerie feeling that started to settle into your bones before going in the direction you saw Jake go, everyone trailing after you.

You walked into the foyer with a groan as you saw the older male chugging down a water bottle, some of it trickling down his chin before catching on his shirt. Your eyes then trail over to a tray that sat in the center of the table, six other bottles neatly placed inside.

“Jake, you can’t just take shit that’s not yours!” You scolded him, which only caused him to stop drinking, a gasp leaving his lips as he pulled the bottle away.

Riki then walked past you, looking down at the table and seeing some kind of note. Taking it, he held it up so everyone could see.

Free refreshments!

“The host probably just sat them out for people to take.” Riki shrugged, setting the paper back down on the table before grabbing a bottle for himself. 

Your stomach turned as you watched him unscrew the cap, “we can’t just trust drinks that are given to us by some random strangers.”

Heeseung then moves past you, his arm brushing yours, before grabbing one of the bottles. He inspected it for a few seconds before meeting your gaze.

"It's still sealed; there's no way someone tampered with it," he explained before twisting the cap open and swallowing a few drinks.

“Weren’t you the one complaining about being thirsty in the car?” Riki raised an eyebrow at you, and you just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but-” “But what, just drink the water, it’s not like you’re gonna die.” Riki quipped, causing your jaw to tighten. You knew he was right; you had been complaining about not bringing an extra drink for the road, but you weren’t quite sure if you were thirsty enough to drink some random water given out by a stranger. However, the dry feeling in your throat was telling you otherwise, so with some hesitation, you took the bottle Jay was handing you before twisting the cap off and bringing it to your lips; the liquid instantly quenched your dying thirst. 

After everyone got a much-needed drink, they all needed you all gathered around the coffee table. You, Heeseung, and Jay were on the long couch while Sunoo, Niki, and Jake cramped on the loveseat, leaving the armchair for Sunghoon, Jungwon perched on the armrest. 

“So… when does this game start?” Sunoo asked, leaning forward so his arms rested on his knees. Looking around, you couldn’t help but notice that the room was neatly decorated and clean, yet there was no sign of anyone being there.

Heeseung then leaned forward to grab something sitting on the table, catching everyone’s attention. He flipped it around, trying to find any indication of what it was, but nothing was written on the outside, so he opened the flap and pulled out the papers inside.

“It’s more instructions,” he explains as he starts to read them aloud. It says that as soon as the… the… sorry, I just feel really lightheaded.” He mumbles, shaking his head while squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stabilize his vision.

"Hee man, are you good?" Jay asked, putting a hand on the older male's shoulder, and Heeseung just nodded.

“Yeah, I just…” Heeseung’s words slurred as he started to sway, his eyes drooping. 

Panic started to set in your chest as you noticed that Heeseung looked like he was on the brink of passing out. Just then, Jungwon slumped to the side, falling right into Sunghoon’s lap, causing him to start calling out the boy’s name.

You quickly stood to your feet to check on him, but you fell back into your seat just as soon as you stood, your vision swimming. However, as you looked around, you noticed that all of the boys were either slumped over or on the brink of passing out. 

Worry then etched itself into your bones when your hazy vision landed on your brother's motionless form. You opened your mouth to call out for him and tried to get your body to move, but it wouldn't respond, and no words left your lips. Then everything seemed to fade, and your body grew weaker and weaker until you fell to the side, your head resting against Jay's back before everything went black.

Your body shot up with a gasp, and your ears rang so loud you could have thought it was coming from some kind of speaker. However, as it started to die down to a dull shrill, you realized that it was just you.

Looking around, you felt a chill run down your spine. You couldn’t see a thing. The room was shrouded in darkness, with not a single light in sight. Panic then started to set in as the earlier events started to play in your head. 

Where was your brother? Or your friends? What caused you all to black out?

So many questions started filling your brain, some overlapping others as you fumbled to get to your feet. You blinked multiple times, trying to fully stabilize your vision and to see in the darkness.

A scream escaped from your lips as you tripped over something, landing in some kind of liquid. Your heartbeat roared in your ears as you hurriedly tried to get to your feet, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Scrambling to your feet, you reach out in front of you, trying to find the wall, and as soon as you do, you start searching for the light switch. With shaky hands, you felt around the wall until you felt the switch. Letting out a relieved sigh, you flipped it, allowing the room to flood with light.

You looked up with a smile before remembering that your hands were still covered in whatever you had fallen into. Your gaze then fell down to your hands, only for the smile to be wiped away and your eyes to go wide.

Blood. Your palms were covered in blood.

Your stomach turns the urge to throw up very strong; dread then fills your veins as you slowly turn around. A high-pitched scream leaves your lips as your eyes are set upon the body of a man, blood pooling all around him.

Fear clouded your brain as you quickly turned back around to open the door. Rushing over to the wooden door, you wrapped your hands around the knob, hoping that it would turn. But it didn’t.

The door was locked, and you were trapped.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[hannieween]

charmer | heartbreaker series | c.sc

The thing about Seungcheol is that when he loved, he loved with a fervent force that nothing could ever stop it. When he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it. He was passionate like that. And he loved you. Past tense. Loved.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, smut (18+) ✧ word count: 12.7k ✧ aus: boss seungcheol, exes to lovers

₊🎧: habit - i.m ♡ | not over you - taemin [pls, this song is absolutely perfect]

₊ nsfw tags under the cut

✧ warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and drug use, coups engages in illegal activities such as hosting a gambling house (that's it but still illegal), sexual tension, dirty talk, sex in the workspace, angsty unprotected sex, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), marking (f), a bit of overstimming (f) multiple orgasms (f, m), bigdick!cheol, softdom!cheol, hints of daddy kink, pet names: love, angel, baby (hers) daddy (his)

✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part i

You arrived at a job interview in a bar.

It's been a week since you started to job hunt. With bills piling up and mediocre PhD student income, you took a chance and picked up a server job at a busy bar on near your neighbourhood.

Although the position seemed at odds with your rigorous PhD student program, you were very capable of managing your time. Plus, you could take the opportunity to increase your income thanks to your ability to get sizeable tips from your old jobs.

This bar, though located a few minutes from your apartment, you had never been. It is not unusual that you have not been to this bar, or any other. As you are busy surviving other jobs and doing research for your PhD research, you barely have time for yourself.

The bar was called The Spot. Nothing more, nothing that differentiated this Spot from other Spots. Whoever thought of that didn't think too hard.

As soon as you walked through the front door, you were hit by the smell of tobacco and dust. But there was no one smoking, in fact, there was only a lone person sitting in a booth at the back of the bar. It seemed to you that the place might be so old that the walls reeked of cigarettes.

You walked to the bar, and thought of maybe sounding the bell that was neatly propped on one corner beside the register. As you lifted your hand to sound the bell, the only other person inside the bar spoke:

"If you're here for the interview. It's with me."

You looked back towards the booth, the guy who spoke to you wasn't even looking in your direction. He seemed busy reading notes in a worn notebook and scratching something on a separate sheet of paper.

"Oh, yes. Hi," you answered awkwardly.

"Have a seat," he said flatly, he pointed with his pencil to the seat in front of him.

The booth, though worn, was clean, when you slid your body into the booth, the guy was in front of you. He wasn't much older than you, from his tired look you estimated a year or two or so, however the glasses he was wearing plus the black sleeveless t-shirt and yellow beanie made you think that he was way too young to be in charge.

"I'm-"

"Yes, I know. I'm Wonwoo," he put down his pencil and extended his hand to shake it with yours awkwardly. "Do you want a glass of water?"

You thought of the way he made his offer, even his handshake was almost robotically.

"Uh, I'm fine thanks. Here's my info. I know you didn't mentioned it when we talked on the phone but I thought you might want to take a look."

You placed your documents on the table. That made Wonwoo lift his eyes from the papers he was scratching absentmindedly.

"Keep it. I'll just ask a few questions," he put down his pencil and started cracking his fingers and wrists at the same moment he suppressed a long, eye watering yawn.

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Sorry. Had a long night," he said after seeing your incredulous expression.

You wanted to laugh. "It's okay."

You found it funny, but at the same time it was giving you major red flags. Is this guy supposed to be interviewing you? Well, can't ask too much from a place job this, right?

"Why do you want to work here?" Wonwoo asked, glancing at a page on the battered notebook.

You decided to drop the act of being the most eager candidate and answered naturally.

You shrugged. "I need money."

The guy almost, almost rolled his eyes. His hand grabbed the folder and skimmed through your resumé. "Here it says you have past experience English teacher. Why not just teach little kids?"

"I didn't like being a teacher, is way too much work. I figured I can do my research during daytime and work on a late shift."

"You could work part time on a coffee shop," he countered.

"I have tried it before. Didn't like it."

"And why is that?"

"It didn't suit my needs. Besides, I like the shift hours you offer," you added a smile, hoping he would be persuaded.

He blinked slowly, totally not convinced. "Have you ever worked at a bar?"

You decided to ignore the derision on his tone. "A few years ago. I know what I'd be up against."

He eyed the first page of your resumé again, his sharp eyes skimming fast. "So let me get this right. You're here because you're doing a postgraduate degree, you know that this isn't an easy job because you have experience... where does that leave you time to actually study or whatever it is you do?"

"I only have one course, and I spend most of my time writing. The stipend is no longer enough to cover my expenses, so I need additional income. Luckily, I have experience earning good tips," you explained, fed up with the questions he kept asking.

"Mmm, right."

Then Wonwoo stood up from the booth and stretched his long arms over his head, letting out a sigh.

"I expect you tomorrow, by... four? Yeah, four'll be fine. Gives time for you to get around," he said with another yawn.

You blinked. "Wh-what?"

He gave you a shy smile. "You have the job," he said with a slight shrug.

His entire demeanour had changed, he looked more relaxed and even a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry, I acted like a complete jerk," he said as you stood up, feeling perplexed. "It's a thing I have to do as part of the filtering."

"Why?"

"Well, you'll see. Our boss is a bit... demanding, to say the least," he muttered.

You blinked slowly. "So... you based your act on your boss?"

His eyes opened in an alarmed expression. "I shouldn't have said that. Don't get me wrong. He's nice. But he can be bossy."

"I'd expect that from any boss," you reassured, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"Well, you haven't met him," he countered, a hand massaging the back of his neck. "Anyway, can I get your details so I can add you to the system and stuff?"

You sighed, almost feeling like laughing again. Wonwoo now seemed boyish in contrast to how he behaved during his questioning.

"Sure thing," you stopped for a moment, "Can I ask why I got the job?"

His lips pursed and shrugged. "You were honest, and didn't break under my jerk persona."

"Well, I actually found it funny. But I was almost sold, though."

"Oh, dang it," he smiled shyly. "I might have to work on it."

"If you want any pointers, I can help," you pressed your lips into a smile.

His smiled quivered slightly. "I'd like that."

"See you tomorrow, then. Uh, is there any dress code?"

Wonwoo studied your frame from your head to your feet. He shrugged carelessly. "Just look a bit more relaxed."

Your brow furrowed. You were wearing a white button up, jeans and snickers. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. Wear something you like. There's no dress code. Boss doesn't care, I don't see why you should either," he brushed it off and started to turn around to walk away.

"Uh, okay. Will I get the boss' name?" you asked, feeling that it was a bit ridiculous the mystery around the boss.

"See you tomorrow, newbie!" he said as he disappeared behind a door marked in red with, 'STAFF ONLY'.

You hoped that you were wearing something appropriate.

Choosing what to wear was something you didn't think was difficult. You were used to wear the same combination of things, so your style was safe, comfy. At least that's what you thought, since all you ever did lately was attending class, work on your research and that was pretty much it.

So, ripped jeans, snickers and an oversized black t-shirt might suit the general vibe of the bar and also what you got from your new partner, Wonwoo.

You parked your old car out back of the bar, and didn't know if you were expected to use the back entrance yet so you used the front door again.

Ah, the smell of old tobacco.

"Oh, the newbie is here," you heard Wonwoo's low voice coming from the same a booth he used on your interview.

"Hi," you waved at the tall lean figure of his as he stood up, and noticed he was looking a bit nervous.

"Let me introduce you," he gestured you over with his hand.

From the booth, a second figure rose, a man of bulkier frame with tousled blond hair that partially hid him from your gaze. He brushed it back with one hand, finally revealing his face to you.

The whole world froze for a second. You almost didn't recognize him, but it was obviously him.

The moment passed in a blur, almost too swift for your mind to process. Yet, in that fleeting instant, you witnessed it all. His deep, searching eyes locked onto you, as if he were scrutinizing every detail–your face, your hair, your hands, your whole body.

It was as though he had stumbled upon a ghost, and you could feel your own disbelief mirrored in his eyes.

"Boss, this is-"

"This is our new recruit?" he asked, his tone not one of anger, but rather filled with genuine bewilderment.

Despite Seungcheol's demeanour, you found it hard to muster up any offense. You were too shocked to speak. Maybe even more shocked than he was.

Wonwoo seemed genuinely lost, his mouth agape. "Uh, yeah. She passed your filters and has some experience," his eyes darted toward you, looking for clues. "What's wrong with her?"

Seungcheol looked ready to explode at any moment. You recognized all the giveaway signs: the way he ran his hand through his hair while taking a controlled breath through his nose in an effort to contain his impending anger.

Given your actions two years ago, you would not be surprised if he decided not to contain his anger. You fully understood the damage you had caused him, and the possibility that his resentment would be unleashed was all too likely. And deserved.

Apparently, after two years, you could still read him like the palm of your hand.

"We'll talk later, Wonwoo," Seungcheol said, appearing to calm himself. "Show her around, the basics and stuff. I'll be out back making a call."

Seungcheol stared at you once and turned to leave, slamming the door shut on his way out.

"What the hell?" Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Well, you met him, that's our boss."

Oh, of course it would be him.

"A charmer," you said, trying to play it cool.

But deep within you, there was an uproar of emotions. Memories flooded your brain and just seeing him for a minute made your heart race, your whole body felt elated, all of this made you feel a little dizzy.

After two years of not seeing him, Seungcheol still has the same effect on you.

"I dunno what got to him. He's always nice with the newbies but..." he shook his head again. "Whatever, sorry 'bout that. Let me show you around."

You were eager to change the subject and start doing something else. Wonwoo signalled you towards the door where Seungcheol had disappeared moments before and pushed it open, revealing a long hallway with four other doors on each side.

"This leads to where we store crates with beer, whisky, vodka, everything bottled and such," he pointed at the first closed door and then to the next, "this is the utilities room. And this, you never go in here, got it?"

He pointed to the door behind you. It had extra locks and looked newer than the rest of the doors in the hallway. The last door was the back exit.

"You'll get a keys for all the doors except that one." Wonwoo said promptly, turning to the door that led to the bar.

"What's in there?" you asked slowly, pointing to the newer door.

Wonwoo stopped and turned to you. "Boss' room," he said simply.

Your heart stopped. "He lives here?" you asked a bit too horrified.

"Oh, God, no," he laughed stiffly. "Well, he might as well. But no, he... does general management stuff there."

"Management stuff," you grinned, spotting a lie.

"Don't ask more questions, it's easier. Believe me."

The two returned to the bar, where the space was neither too large nor too cramped. The place had four tables and an equal number of booths, all with a western charm. The vintage look of the tables and chairs indicated their origin, which seemed to date back to the 1980s.

At the opposite end of the back room, a large pool table occupied the space. The walls were adorned with posters of various rock bands from the eighties and nineties and red neon signs.

Between the tables and the pool table was the bar, which was arranged in a U shape against a brick wall, which also had a large red neon sign that said 'Heartbreaker'.

But surprisingly enough, everything was squeaky clean.

"There's the register, which you can handle if I'm too busy," he pointed. "Mingyu sometimes helps with the register, but he's mostly on the other side of the bar, or dealing with drunkheads."

"So is it just you two handling the drinks?" you asked curiously.

"Yup. We manage just fine, if you're wondering," he smirked and added a proud nod with his head. Then he pointed to the other side of the bar. "Sometimes we move the pool table to make room for the band. We host gigs almost every thursday."

"So, tomorrow," you added.

"Yup. And we're planning on adding stand up nights, but I... differ. Boss is a bit ambitious."

You huffed. That he is. "And does he... is he around much?"

Wonwoo eyed you. "D'you mean does he get his hands dirty?" he smiled. "Yeah, if it's too crowded he helps which is most weekends."

You nodded slowly. "O-okay."

Wonwoo made no further comment. He cocked his head to the side towards the door that was after the pool table. "Come, let me show you the kitchen, and then we get to work."

Most of the things that Wonwoo showed you, you already knew how to work and that made him happy because it, "Is a good thing that I won't be behind you teaching you things."

Wonwoo gave you the task to read the menu before opening for public.

You were sitting at the usual booth, reading in silence as Wonwoo took the task to turn all the neon signs on the walls, and the lights from the ceiling, and soon the room was dimly lit in red and yellow lighting. It was a bit hard to read under the red lights and the hard rock music, but most of the menu was normal stuff you'd find at a bar.

In the corner of your eye, you saw someone occupy the seat in front of you.

"What are you doing here?"

Seungcheol's voice jolted you off the menu and made you turn your head back with a surprised gasp.

The back of his head was resting against the back of the seat, his jaw clenched and his intense gaze piercing through his thick set of eyelashes.

A sharp pang of remorse tugged at your heart. Despite the years of no contact, the intensity of your feelings for him remained as powerful as ever.

Upon getting no response from you, he raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I work here now," you put in simply.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "Don't try to play games with me."

"I didn't know you worked here," you justified weakly.

"I own this place."

"Whatever. I had no idea that you'd be here."

He scoffed, and looked to his side at nothing in particular, his cruel smile vanished. "Right."

Did he actually think you had deliberately planned your arrival to his bar? Perhaps he believed you were intentionally trying to inflict him more pain, a calculated plan to further drive in the pain left over from the aftermath of your messy breakup.

"It's true," you insisted. "Why would I want to work with my ex?"

That made him visibly cringe, his dark eyes setting on your face again. "I thought that mommy and daddy were keeping you well off," his eyebrow jumped slightly again.

You sighed. "Well, not anymore. My parents cut me off."

"Again?" he quipped dryly.

"It is definite this time though," you said as you scratched an imaginary freckle on the back of your hand.

"What did you do this time? Got a tattoo? Cuss them off? Got another boyfriend they didn't like?" you could tell that there was disdain in his words, but he tried to deliver them offhandedly.

You recognised that the things he said were not innately bad, but your upbringing had been conducted by extremely strict parents. As a result, almost anything could seem outrageous to them.

As an additional result, you had become somewhat rebellious when you were younger. It was at this stage of your life that you came across Choi Seungcheol.

You hummed and smiled bitterly. "I might've told them some things they didn't like hearing. Anyway, that was over a year ago, haven't talked to them since."

Seungcheol smiled the way he did when he thought of something he didn't dared to say aloud: the tip of his tongue would slide on his front teeth. He quickly put in: "But why work here?"

Deciding not to probe into what he really wanted to say, you felt a peculiar relief that he was open for a conversation, despite the venomous comments he had made.

"Things got difficult. The stipend it's not enough to live on and I need some quick cash, so here I am." You eyed him again. "You can't fire me just because it didn't work out between us."

"Nobody said anything about firing you," he said rolling his eyes as he straightened up, placing his hands firmly on the table between you. "But I do want to make something very clear."

He leaned forward.

"I'm your boss now, not your ex. We won't talk to you unless is strictly for work. And I don't want the boys to know about us, got it?"

"Works for me," you muttered.

The fleeting thought of quitting had dissipated, replaced by a new determination to stay, motivated by a sense of defiance. Now you were determined to see how far his 'I'm your boss' stance could go.

You knew you were being childish. You didn't care.

Seungcheol nodded and patted the table twice. "Good. Now, get ready, people might start coming soon."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't catch that.

The other staff members that worked in the kitchen were already getting to work. It was a small kitchen, so there were few people working it.

Since it was a space mostly occupied by men, you'd expected that they would speak freely. That included very intimate talks and banter.

Mingyu, who was just introduced to you some moments before, was leaning on the bar hearing what atrocities came out of the kitchen. "Guys, keep it down!" he shouted back. "The newbie doesn't have to hear the atrocities you do off work."

As you returned the menu to its initial position, you reassured Mingyu: "No worries. I'm fine with it," mustering a smile, though the effort felt forced.

"Mingyu is just scared that you won't last long here," Wonwoo chimed in with a devious smirk.

The accused gasped dramatically. "Now, you might be projecting Hyung."

"People don't last long here?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Uh... not really, no," Mingyu said simply. And started to resume with his task of preparing a sour mix, he had a dish cloth thrown on his shoulder.

"May I know why?" you asked slowly.

"Like I said," Wonwoo replied with a firm tone. "Boss is a bit demanding sometimes."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "It's not normal for everyone who comes here to work to leave after a couple of weeks," he countered. "Obviously it's because the women who come here to work all fall in love with him and he has no choice but to turn them away."

"What?" you gasped.

"Boss is a bit of a heartbreaker," the taller man shrugged. "But he's persistent on hiring pretty servers."

Mingyu's words were nonchalant, almost as though they held no significance, yet you couldn't help but feel a faint blush rise to your face in response

"But why would they fall in love with him?" you asked with an awkward laugh.

"Well, you had the bad luck of meeting him on a bad day," Mingyu mused.

"He's always having a bad day," Wonwoo muttered under his breath, thinking no one would hear him.

"Dunno, 'suppose he's hot? Manly?" Mingyu continued, aloof. "Your guess is better than mine."

"You two are hot too," you blurted out, feeling flustered under the pressure of thinking someone falling for your ex.

The two bartenders exchanged a flat look.

Mingyu coughed up a chuckle. "Newbie, I appreciate the half compliment. But I'm already taken and Wonwoo... well he's a mystery."

"Can we not talk about that right now?" Wonwoo suggested pointedly, just as the front door opened to a handful of customers.

Admittedly, viewed from a somewhat skewed perspective, it made sense. The clientele was predominantly male, and it was an unspoken rule that waitresses tended to get the highest tips, especially in these types of establishments.

As the night progressed, the bar became more crowded, forcing him to constantly move from place to place, juggling multiple tasks, such as taking orders, delivering drinks and clearing tables.

Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. And you thought it was better this way. But you did find yourself glancing at the STAFF ONLY door a few too many times, expecting to see him walk through it.

Apparently, the bar had a special discount on Wednesdays. That's why it was packed with people from the office buildings near the block. And it was a minor detail that Wonwoo casually remembered to tell you when you started to wonder why so many people in uniforms came in packs around 9 PM.

But you managed all the tables by yourself just fine. The orders were simple, and as Wonwoo said, they did work with an efficient dynamic. The two bartenders communicated almost without a word, their coordination seemed to be something they had been trained in for years.

Four hours into your shift, all the tables were occupied. You felt sweaty, your hair stuck to the back of your neck, but the good thing about your first day was that you were kept moving and had no distractions.

That was until you turned around towards the bar, to find Seungcheol on the left end, near the backdoor. He was leaning forward, elbows propped on the lacquered surface of the counter. His heavy gaze was set on you.

The feeling of being watched was really hard to shake off. You felt it on the back of your head as you tried to get to the remaining hours of the shift. But it was nearly impossible. The tight knot on your stomach was so persistent that you sucked air every few minutes in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety that Seungcheol's scrutiny had imposed on you.

He just watched you move through the black and white checkered floor of the bar. You thought it was a tactic to make you feel intimidated, so you decided to continue as normal as you could.

But being watched by him also meant that he saw you smile sweetly to the customers, he saw you bend forward to talk to them over the music, the way you'd bite the tip of your pen as you listened to the customers. When you'd turn around, flicking your hair over your back.

When you mustered the courage to glance his way your eyes met. The red lights over him made him look dangerous, his hands tightly clasped over the counter, his head slightly inclined forward his eyes focused on you. You looked away anxiously, hoping he didn't see how you reacted under his eye.

The rest of the shift was like that.

"Good god," Mingyu said at the end of the shift while counting the tips jar. "We'd never had this much on a wednesday night."

You smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Seungcheol was still on the bar, but at least now he was helping around. Bringing in boxes of utilities to restock while Wonwoo cleaned the area and Mingyu managed the income for the night. You knew that he was avoiding you, but that was fine by you.

"Please, newbie, last longer than the others," Mingyu sighed dramatically.

Someone shushed. You didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Sorry boss," Mingyu mumbled, but he was smiling contentedly as he continued counting coins and bills.

It was 3 AM. when you pulled out into the parking lot, the slippery pavement reflecting the faint red glow of the bar's neon sign. Leaning against the car, you took a long drag of the blunt that you had been saving only for stressful moments such as this.

"You still smoke?" Seungcheol's asked as he came out of the back exit, his hands buried in the pockets of his black hoodie.

Something tightened in your stomach. You saw him walk up to you, feeling marvelled at the sight of him after so many years of not seeing him, years of wondering what he might be up to and here he was, standing in front of you.

You tried to bite back a snarky comment about 'not talking unless is strictly for work', to yourself. As you noticed he wasn't trying to chastise you anymore, you decided to chime in for a conversation with him.

"Sometimes," you admitted.

Seungcheol stood in the rain washed parking in front of you, he looked at you as if you were some kind of lost memory to him. The yearning in his eyes matched what you felt in your heart.

"You?" you asked, lifting your head to meet his dark eyes.

He shook his head silently. The features of his face looked more relaxed now.

The rattling noise from the back door broke your silent scrutiny of your ex's face, and you adverted your gaze to see Wonwoo and Mingyu coming out of the bar.

"See you tomorrow, newbie." Mingyu called and placed two fingers to the crown of his head, saluting. "Bye, boss."

Wonwoo just raised his hand to wave goodbye. The two bartenders got in a car and drove away.

"Can you drive like that?" he asked, still not chastising but it did make you feel a little optimistic that he'd worry about you.

"Yeah, it'll start making its effect by the time I get home," you tried smiling reassuringly.

"Mm'okay. But be careful, okay?" he seemed to roll his eyes with annoyance. "I don't want to start interviews again."

You chuckled and you started feeling a sense of normality in the conversation. However, you noticed that there was something unspoken written in his gaze, implying there was something that he was not willing to say.

"Are you staying?" you asked, noticing that the lights of the bar were still on.

He blinked lazily and you noticed he tried suppressing a yawn, the dimple of his right cheek deepened a bit.

"Have to finishing a couple of things. They can't wait till tomorrow."

"Don't stay up too late, Seungcheol," you mustered up a kind smile, turning your back to him as you opened the door of your old car.

As you drove away, Seungcheol remained standing in the faint reflection of the red lights from the bar. His figure disappeared from your rear view mirror as you changed directions.

The next day resulted a bit more challenging.

The bar was so packed it was difficult to move, the counter was surrounded by customers sitting on barstools. Tables and booths were occupied too.

As Wonwoo had mentioned, there were live shows every thursday.

The group, known as Midnight Haze, consisted of three members: a drummer, a bass player and a singer who played the guitar skilfully. Their performances had gained them a large following, and some customers frequented the bar solely for the pleasure of watching their performances, they were mostly groups of women.

And the loud noise from the live music was filling your brain and making your bones vibrate but it was nice to feel something other than the anxiety of being under your ex's relentless scrutiny.

You opted for an outfit that matched the mood of the night: black shorts and fishnet tights, paired with a black and red tank top. The side slits of the shirt, gave a small glimpse of the lacey bra you wore underneath, a deliberate nod to the energy in the warmth of the bar, despite the cold outside.

The blush on your cheeks could be partly blamed on the crowded atmosphere, but you were also aware that your own behaviour had something to do with it. You recognized the calculated flirting you employed with customers, a strategy aimed at getting higher tips, even if it made you feel a little foolish from time to time.

Every now and then you would catch Seungcheol eyeing you. Noticing how his gaze would momentarily linger on your lush lips whenever you turned in his direction or walked by, you decided to make it a performance for him.

Whenever you were talking with clients within his view, you would playfully tuck the tip of your pen between your lips, offering a coy smile. You'd twirl your fingers on lose strands of your hair while greeting customers, well aware that he was likely watching.

Again, childish. But who cares.

There was no denying that you liked the fact that Seungcheol kept a watchful eye on you. It reminded you of your time together, when you were so in love you could barely tear your eyes (or hands) off each other.

You had to bite your lower lip down as you worked on the tables. Going down on memory lane when Seungcheol used to be so clingy to you that he'd find a way to drag you to any corner where he could fuck you. And he'd do it so good you'd see stars.

You let out a silent groan. Feeling your body grow hotter just with the memory of him.

Goddamnit.

The band finished playing their last song after an hour and a half without interruptions. They had already started to pack up their stuff when you approached the singer, a tall guy with raven black hair and big doe eyes.

Shouting over the hard rock music playing now on the speakers, you said, "Boss says whatever you want is on the house."

It wasn't really Seungcheol who told you that. Wonwoo informed you beforehand that band usually get freebies, specially the lead singer of Midnight Haze, for some reason you didn't ask.

He turned to you, looking you in the eyes took off the strap of his guitar to leave it aside. "You're new," he pointed with a polite smile. "I'm Joshua."

"Hi," you returned the polite smile and told him your name. "And yes, I'm new here."

He let out a sigh, a faint smile playing on his lips as he attempted to conceal the fact that his gaze darted up and down your figure. "Well, let him know I'll have the usual, please," he responded.

"I trust he knows what your usual is," you replied with a smile.

Joshua jumped off the small stage and walked up to you. He was a beautiful man, even without his flashing smile or without the fiery energy he brought on stage while playing his guitar.

Suddenly you understood why there were so many groups of women on the bar tonight.

The Midnight Haze front man was hot as fuck.

"He knows, don't worry. And tell him that I'll take a table out back too, please."

One of his eyebrows was adorned with a silver piercing, and his lips, which he was pushing into a small smile were reddened.

You tried to smile at his kindness, totally not what you were expecting. "Uh, don't know what that means but... sure thing."

"Kay. Thank you, sweetheart," he replied with a content smirk, darting one final look at you before walking away.

You thought nothing of it, really. You returned to the bar, noticing that Wonwoo was watching your exchange with Joshua from afar. He leaned forward when you motioned to him that you were going to tell him something.

"He said he wants his usual," you informed. "And he said he wants a table out back."

Wonwoo's eyes glanced over to where Joshua was standing, chatting with some girls with a charming smile. "I'll tell boss about the table," Wonwoo turned to Mingyu. "One corrido prohibido for a table out back."

"Right away!" Mingyu nodded his head, and grabbed the sour mix he concocted earlier, a shot tequila and a beer.

Wonwoo exited the bar and went through the staff door. And then Mingyu pushed the drink towards you and swiftly rung the bell twice.

"Mingyu, I'm right here, you don't have to ring the bell," you chuckled.

He slapped his hand on the bell repeatedly, his lower lip trapped behind his teeth.

Ding, ding, dingdingding.

"Stop. Stop it, Kim Mingyu," you hissed and he giggled when you slapped his hand playfully.

You went to grab the drink, but as you turned over to where you last saw Joshua, he wasn't there anymore.

"What should I do with this?" you pointed to Joshua's drink.

"Boss wants you to take it to his office," Wonwoo told you, he was returning from the backdoor. He looked somewhat baffled.

Mingyu's eyes shot open. "Huh?!"

Wonwoo shrugged. "I don't ask questions," he said under his breath and pointed with his nose at the drink. "Go. I'll cover you."

"Uh, okay. Sure," you muttered, grabbing drink and turned to the backdoor.

The doorknob of the door that led to Seungcheol's office was unusually cold when you turned to open it. As you pushed in, you were received with a cool breeze that smelled like cigarettes, vape and alcohol.

It wasn't an office. Not really. Yellow lamps hung low on the ceiling, just above a few round black tables, surrounded by foldable chairs which were all occupied. The walls were bare, except for the three fridges were beer and other drinks were stored and the uncovered windows at the top of the opposite wall.

The faint echo of the music back at the bar was drowned by the mixed sounds of cards shuffling, clinking of poker chips, the finger taps on tables and constant chattering.

There was a desk on one corner of the cramped room, where you saw that Seungcheol was sitting, observing you make your way inside his room.

You closed the door behind you quietly. And quickly found Joshua sitting on one of the tables, accompanied by his bandmates. He was shuffling some cards, with a devious smile on his face.

He eyed you up and down again swiftly when you walked up to his table and handed him his drink. "Thank you, sweetheart," his lip curled into a smirk. "Don't stay too far."

Your breath caught for a moment, and though your typical response would have been dismissive, you managed a smile to the hot singer.

"Sure thing, hun," you chirped in your usual customer service voice. And turned to the door.

When you turned to the door, walking through the tables and chairs you eyed over the desk to see that it had been vacated. You opened the door to go back to the bar, feeling deeply confused about the secret gambling den on your boss' 'office'.

But as soon as you exited to the hallway that led to the door of the bar, you found Seungcheol leaning against the wall.

"Shit. You scared me, Seungcheol," you hissed.

He remained silent, and you briefly considered walking past him to head back to the bar. However, the expression on his face told you that he had something on his mind, yet he seemed set to not speak about it without some prompting from you.

"What is that room?" you started, pointing back to the door behind you.

Seungcheol crossed his arms over his chest and shifted on his feet. "It's my office," he replied in a simple tone.

"So what, you run a gambling house now?" you laughed dryly.

"It's just between friends. No one enters without my permission," he put in flatly.

"But I do?"

He blinked again, rolling his eyes with a hint of annoyance. "Joshua asked for you," he said through his teeth. "Normally I'd say no, but I wanted to see what you'd do."

"And what is that?"

"Don't try to play innocent with me," he warned, throwing a dark look at you.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about," you shrugged, trying to look serious.

"Do you honestly think I don't know what you're trying to do?" he demanded, taking a step towards you.

Suddenly you felt small under his gaze. And now that you realized how close his body was to yours, you took the opportunity to really see him. He had gotten bulkier, his arms were more muscly, and his chest and shoulders were wider, more voluminous.

You swallowed hard.

"Flirting with customers, with Joshua?" his face was dangerously close to yours.

Your eyes narrowed as you scrutinized him for a split second. Seungcheol wasn't angry. If he were, you'd now it for sure. He was playing a game with you and you were to slow to catch it.

"I didn't flirt with him," you muttered, playing his game now. "And why do you care?"

"I don't care," he remarked, rolling his dark eyes. "Just quit it."

You scoffed at him. "You're not my-"

"Boss?"

Your breath caught in your teeth.

Seungcheol smiled cruelly. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You can't tell me what to do, Seungcheol," you snapped.

"Fuck yes I can," he bit back.

Whenever Seungcheol was angry, he could be downright scary. But he wasn't angry, he was just annoyed, running a hand on his pale blond hair, looking at you as if he didn't know what to do with you.

Seungcheol was jealous.

A sigh escaped your lips trying to suppress the rush of emotions you felt at that moment. Whatever judgement you had on your mind slipped away when with a sudden movement, you grabbed your ex's face in your hands at the same time he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer his body.

Your face was so close to his that you could feel his breath landing softly on your chin. Then your lips brushed, not kissing. Waiting for either to push away. Until your mouth was clashing with his followed by a groan from Seungcheol.

The first kiss was heated. Your lips were clasped tightly on his and a small snap came out when you separated from his face.

Seungcheol didn't say anything at all, but his widen eyes were reading your face. He looked troubled for a second, and that almost shattered you. The ache in your heart robbed the air from your lungs.

You knew that kissing your boss was a terrible decision, but kissing your ex-boyfriend was an even worse decision. But, fuck, you missed him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," you whispered, retracting your hands from his face.

His thick eyebrows arched in response. "Why?" he inquired, his voice sounded small, vulnerable.

Hearing his question made you notice that he was genuinely curious. As if the past between you never had happened. And as if you weren't his employee now.

"Because it's not right," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Why?" he prodded again. Seungcheol's dark eyes drooped from your eyes to your mouth and wandered back up.

"Exes don't kiss," you whispered.

A grin appeared on his lips along with a sigh, as his warm hand crept up the nape of your neck, making you shiver.

"Yeah, right," he whispered in your lips before kissing you again.

This kiss was greedy, as if he was making up for lost time. His lips locked in yours, the hand on your hip moved up your back so that his arm was encircling you, pulling you closer to his body with a groan on your mouth. His tongue swiftly slid inside your mouth, finding yours, knowing well what would elicit a moan from you.

He had missed you too. He didn't need to say it either.

Kissing Seungcheol again after so two years was so brutal that it left your head buzzing. But who were you kidding? You knew this would eventually happen. His arm around you, his other hand on the nape of your neck, the taste of his lips. It was deeply familiar, all of it.

"Do whatever you want," Seungcheol mumbled, breathing heavily in your lips. "Just don't flirt with him. Okay?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you whispered with a playful smile.

He laughed softly, but now his eyebrows arched up. "I mean it. He's my friend."

"Okay," you mumbled, not caring to contradict having flirted with Joshua. "I won't."

Even though Seungcheol was your ex, there was something in the way he made his request that made you feel sympathetic.

"I need to go back," he mumbled reluctantly.

"Me too," you replied.

But none of you moved.

He smiled again and pressed his forehead on yours gently. "Come on. We're almost done for the night."

You stole one final glance at his eyes before kissing him softly and turning away from him, not daring to look back as you made your way to the door.

As you returned to the bar, you noticed that it was not as crowded as when you had left. Many of the tables were still in use, but there were noticeably fewer people.

But as soon as Wonwoo saw you returned, he groaned: "Thank god," he threw a dishcloth over his shoulder. "What took you so long?"

Wonwoo returned to his initial position, behind the bar. He looked sweaty and stressed up from tending to your tables.

"Sorry, Wonwoo. B-boss needed to talk to me," you lied stuttering a bit. It wasn't much of a lie since you two did talked a little.

"Oh. Really? Everything okay?" he raised his head to look at you.

You sighed, still feeling flustered but it made up for the lies you were trying to tell Wonwoo. "Yeah, don't worry. I'm fine," you pressed your lips in a smile, and continued checking up on tables.

You returned to Seungcheol's office to check on the table Joshua was with his friends. They have resorted to drink from whatever was offered on the fridges but asked for a bottle of tequila, since they were playing an friendly game of black jack.

You returned with the bottle and placed it on the centre of their table.

"Thank you," Joshua smiled sweetly, you could tell by his glazed eyes that he was already tipsy. And you thought that might be the reason why he had dropped the flirtatious act.

"No problem," you replied and turned away.

Seungcheol wasn't observing you this time. He was sitting at the desk, counting a big pile of chips and putting groups of them in separate piles. At least he could busy himself, you thought.

You tried not to think too much what had happened, but just couldn't help it. It was driving you insane. Your skin felt ablaze still, like it was patiently waiting to feel Seungcheol's touch again.

The rest of the night went by quickly. And you were eager for your shift to end quickly so you could return home, have a cold shower and scream into your pillow until you fall sleep.

When you were finishing up your activities by the end of your shift, the noises coming from Mingyu's voice counting money, and Wonwoo running a list of things needed for restock slowly turned into a background noise for you.

It was hard to concentrate. You found yourself deep in thought, remembering over and over again the feeling of Seungcheol's lips on yours.

"Newbie, come to collect your tips," you heard Mingyu calling from the cash register.

"How much did we make?" you asked, aloof. You were just trying to divert your attention elsewhere.

Mingyu told you a number and you feigned surprise by seeing his big content smile.

"Nice, isn't it?" he giggled at the same time he bounced on his knees.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Very nice."

The bar felt really eerie when the lights were off. It was your turn to get the neon signs and lights because, as Mingyu put it, "The last one to get out gets all the lights."

Thankfully Wonwoo stayed behind and helped you out to get the neon signs, since you didn't know where all the switches were.

As you were going out, you made an additional stop to the restroom to wash your face, since nothing seemed to fully snap out from the constant overthinking. Nothing seemed to be able to put the buzzing in your head to rest.

When you came out from the restroom, the hallway was dark except for dim source of light came from Seungcheol's office, which had the door wide open.

The people that occupied the gambling tables had long evacuated the place, so it was all quiet and empty. You stepped under the doorframe. Expecting to see Seungcheol deep in work.

But he was leaning back on his desk, a leg crossed, hands resting at his sides on the edges of the desk. As soon as he saw you by the door of his office, he smirked, lifting his triumphant eyes to see you.

"Did you know I'd come?" you asked, walking a few steps up to him.

"I hoped you would," he replied simply.

A long silence filled the room. You felt hesitant about touching the subject of what had happened earlier in the hallway, but you knew that in reality, you and Seungcheol had to talk about many other things that went down between you.

But instead, you dropped your bag at your feet to then close the distance between you and your ex. Grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull him yet again to another fervent, needy kiss.

Seungcheol was expecting that as well apparently, locking lips with you almost instantly, his hands quickly found your hips, pulling you as close as he could to his frame.

"We need to talk, Seungcheol," you gasped in his mouth.

A groan in annoyance came from him as he captured your lips again. Then his hands moved from your hips to your lower back, ignoring the t-shirt you were wearing. His hands making contact with your bare skin sent a shiver up your spine.

"We'll talk later," he replied with a hoarse voice.

Then Seungcheol was back on your lips, fully knowing that you would make no real effort to make your demands happen. Hungrier this time, when his lips slid in yours he did it with more impatience, the hands on your body pressed you towards his body tightly, earning a soft noise that coiled in your chest.

It was almost as if you remembered perfectly the way he used to kiss your lips and your mouth parted just exactly when his tongue slid in your mouth, a soft moan coming from him in approval as his tongue lapped yours.

Soft pecks landed on your lower lip, to your chin and jawline. You angled your head to give him access, a mewl escaped your lips as he reached the tender spot beneath your earlobe.

"I'm sorry for being an asshole to you," he said in a raspy tone, pulling away so that he could see eye to eye with you. "I was just so angry. Seeing you again just brought everything back."

You could say the same. You never imagined you would see him again. For the past two years, your ex had been a living ghost in your mind, making you wonder constantly if he had ever found it in himself to forgive you. Above all, you wondered if he thought of you as often as you did of him.

"I should be apologizing to you, too. For everything that happened."

He shook his blond head once. "Later," he commanded before his lips sealed yours again.

Then he took you in his arms, turning you around to sit you down on the edge of the cold glass surface of his desk. Slotting himself between your legs, he removed his arms encircling you to cup your face before he kissed you fervently.

The muscles on his back felt hard as your hands slid on his white t-shirt from his waist to his shoulder blades, your hand found the back of his neck, fingers tangled on his soft blond hair. You used that hand to push him closer to your face, earning a throaty moan from him.

Then the tip of his tongue dragged on top of your lower lip, finding your tongue to stroke yours as his hands dropped from your face to roam on your body. His fingers squeezed your waist, grabbing the fabric of your top to lift it up slightly to dip his hands under it. Greedily roaming your skin.

Deciding it wasn't enough, he yanked the tank top from your body and you willingly lifted your arms for him. His dark eyes marvelled on your body for a second, tracing an invisible line with ginger fingers over your neckline.

You swallowed up a whimper at the gentle touch of his fingers.

"You looked so fucking hot tonight," he uttered in a raspy whisper. "Prancing around my bar in those shorts. Everyone had their eyes glued to your ass and all I could do was stand and let it be like a fucking idiot."

You smiled shyly, feeling flustered that Seungcheol actually fell in your little game. "What would you have done?"

One of his dark eyebrows arched up. "Given my way?" his hand moved from your neck to the back of your head, a fist tightening on your hair at the scalp. "I would let everyone know that you're mine. Mine to look at, mine to kiss, mine to fuck."

Your breath hitched, eyelids fluttered when he pulled your hair softly to angle your face for him to look in your eyes.

"But I'm not," you breathed. "Not yours."

His lips brushed beneath your jawline and you could tell he was smiling. "Really?" he placed feathery kisses on your neck, so gently that it tickled, but he continued making his way to your mouth.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling his lips on yours now as you spoke, you wanted more. "You'd have to make me yours."

You stole a glance at his eyes, a faint smile of victory appeared on his cherry lips. "What are you saying?"

Seungcheol's eyes looked at your face attentively, as if absorbing every movement and gesture you made. Taking advantage of the moment, you scrutinised the features of his face. A lock of pale blonde hair had fallen over his forehead, covering one of his eyes.

"Make me yours," you breathed and with your fingers you gently brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. Your touch caused his eyelids to flutter briefly. "Fuck me, Seungcheol."

You weren't sure what overpowered your mind in that moment. But every cell, every inch of your body felt an unbearable ache for him, it made your heart race, rushing blood in your neck and face. Harder to ignore was the throbbing pain, pooling in between your legs, demanding his undivided attention.

A groan escaped his mouth as he clashed it on yours again, demanding, suffocating. His hands slid down your back, unclasping your black lacey bra skilfully, removing the straps from your shoulders as he threw it aside. The cold of the air bit at your now bare skin as your breasts were now exposed to his view.

"Lie down," he ordered in a low tone.

You lied back on the cool surface of his desk, which was empty now so you had enough room for your body. Seungcheol wasted no time, busying himself in removing your sneakers swiftly to then take your shorts off. So now you were wearing fishnets and panties only.

His hands caressed your legs above the fabric of your fishnets, your body flinching when his fingertips reached your inner thighs, so close to your crotch. You let out a broken sigh when two curious fingers slid down your clothed pussy, pulling the fabric of your thong aside to dip the pad of his fingers in your entrance.

"God, you're soaking wet already," he smiled and then pulled his lower lip in between his teeth.

"I've been wet for you all night, Cheol," you confessed with a muffled whimper.

Seungcheol sighed under a bitter smile. "Flirting with other guys hoping to make me feel jealous gets you horny. Is that it, love?" he asked in a feigned sweet tone.

That made you blink and try to protest at the same time you felt his fingers on the sides of your hips, yanking down your panties and fishnets all together.

So he was jealous, but at the same time all too knowing that you were doing it on purpose.

A rush of warmth and eagerness flooded all over you just as his fingers ran down between your pussy lips again, skipping all build up, but it was just what you silently desired: his index finger sliding inside your wet core. You gasped and closed your eyes again when his finger was joined by his middle.

"I asked you a question," he purred as his fingers massaged your inner walls.

"Mmm, thinking about you makes me horny, Cheol," you gulped hard, giving up the last bit of your sanity at the delicious thrust of his fingers. "I saw you looking at me and that alone got me wet."

"Really?" he asked, just before running the tip of his tongue down your neck, making you moan and blink to see him bending down on you, his fingers buried in your wet cunt, pumping in and out.

It was a little game Seungcheol liked to play. You remembered it too well. He would tease you, pleasure your body while making you either beg or show him just how down bad you were for him. He loved it, like a cat playing with its food.

"It made me remember..." you breathed as he placed open mouthed kisses along your collarbones. "M-made me remember when you'd fuck me so good I'd see stars."

That took him off guard, his breathy chuckle brushed your skin softly, making it prickle. "So you were going around my bar with your panties wet because you'd think about us?"

You nodded. "Mmm-mmph."

He hummed as his mouth kissed one of your nipples, lapping around your areola just before his fingers crooked inside you, eliciting a loud moan from you.

What followed then were wet sounds coming from your cunt, while Seungcheol worked his fingers inside you and his tongue slid across the underside of your tits, to then suck harshly at your skin. The skin around your nipples started to flare and prickle as you whimpered and writhed under him.

"What would you think of?" he asked in a gentle tone. Then his teeth grazed at the soft underside of one of tits, causing you to whimper and grab his hair by the scalp and tug softly.

"Anything, really. I thought of your hands, your lips..." you whimpered as he repeated the same process with your other breast, leaving a trail of drool on your skin. "The night of your twenty-fifth birthday," you muttered.

"You thought of that?" he asked, lifting his head to catch your gaze. "While working? Angel, you can't be doing that on the clock..." he cocked his head to one side slightly.

He wasn't actually reprimanding you, but the tone he took when he said that was almost as if he were concerned. Seungcheol was well aware that you liked it: being told off by him while his fingers were still plunging inside your cunt and the palm of his hand pressing down on your swollen clit.

Your whole body tensed up. "I think of that night when I touch myself," you confessed, looking at his face through your lashes.

"You do, love?" he asked in a sweet tone.

"It's the only thing that does it for me," you replied in a broken moan as he continued to fuck you with his two fingers inside your cunt, his palm pressing hard on your sensitive bud, pushing you further to your release.

And in fact, you almost confessed that you haven't been able to cum with someone else since you broke up with him.

But he doesn't have to hear that.

Seungcheol hummed thoughtfully and turned his attention to the hand he was using to fuck you with to start using more speed and force on your cunt, causing the sounds of your arousal to splash on his hand louder.

"Oh, shit," you hissed. "Cheol, I-I'm, oh–,"

The veins in his forearm flared up, as he appeared to be determined to do it for you again. You knew what he was trying to do, and you got your body ready for it–your swollen clit pressed under his palm and his fingers twisting inside your walls, as he moved his hand harder on your cunt.

Whimpers and incoherencies came out from your lips, feeling the thrusting of his hand forcing an orgasm out of you. You cried out, stirring your back on the cold surface of Seungcheol's desk, hearing your own lewd cries and moans reverberating across the dark room.

"Mmm, that's it baby, cum all over my hand," he hummed softly, as his hand continued to move inside you mercilessly despite your walls clenching hard around his fingers.

Coming down from the rough orgasm, your body twitched and coiled, giving deep shaky breaths you opened your eyes to see him.

"That reminded you of something?" he asked in a gentle tone, but you could see in his face that he was tense: pupils blown in lust, the tip of his tongue dragging on his lower lip. And then pulled his fingers out of you, they were coated in your arousal, almost dripping to his knuckles as he took them to his mouth, licking them clean.

You nodded silently, and shuddered at the sight of him licking your slick off his fingers.

One of his eyebrows rose, a sigh escaping under a sweet, genuine smile. "Only the memory of us can make you cum yet you say you're not mine?" he tilted his head to one side and clicked his tongue. "Now, you might be lying to yourself, love."

You returned him a shy smile. "Maybe I just want to relive the memory."

Bingo.

He only hummed in response, his hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers reaching your scalp as he bent down to kiss you, his tongue sliding inside your mouth. You tasted yourself in his tongue and that made him moan sweetly before pulling away.

You felt restive under his lust-ridden gaze, impatient for him to just keep going. But you knew better than to pressure him, you knew when to beg for it and now you knew he was taking his time.

"I never imagined I'd see you here like this," he muttered in a low voice, taking a step back from his desk and his dark eyes studying your naked body splayed on the heavy glass surface. He ran his fingertips over your abdomen, tracing a line from your bellybutton to the middle of your clavicles, prickling your skin.

You bit your lower lip hard when your ex knelt down before you, taking your thighs in his large hands. You knew exactly what would follow next, because if Seungcheol knew what made you had you begging for him faster was his tongue lapping on your folds, licking your arousal from your core.

You cried out when you felt his tongue glide on your sensitive clit, your hands grabbed at his pale blond hair. Thrashing, you glanced down at the lower half of your body wholly naked on his desk, his blond head between your lush thighs.

Seungcheol hummed softly as his the tip of his tongue made a trail from your core up to your clit, giving it broad and generous strokes at your pussy, not neglecting a single inch. As he licked your arousal from your entrance, the tip of his nose bumped gently with your clit, knowing that would make you moan louder.

You arched your back on the cold surface of his desk, crying out his name and his calloused hands immediately slid on your lower abdomen, pressing his palms down on you before his tongue focused on your clit.

The tip of his tongue flickered at your already swollen clit, to only give it a few swirls around it and start nibbling at it with his lips. The movement almost sent you over the edge, just before his pointed tongue started flicking your clit as he moved his head up and down slightly, giving more motion to the movement of his tongue on your clit.

His hands pressed down on your lower abdomen, knowing well that would elicit more cries and whimpers from you. Your body grew tense and you let your body savour it. Your mouth parted, letting soft gasps out, your body twitching uncontrollably on his desk.

You jolted up, propping your upper body up on your elbows to see his face buried in your pussy, his mouth on your clit and folds as if he were making out with it. The image was almost sinful to watch. The lewd sounds coming from the interaction of his mouth on your cunt plus the whimpers and moans coming from you.

"Ohmygod, Cheol," you cried out, grabbing his hair tightly and your other hand found one of his that was pressing down on your lower abdomen. "'m going to cum, I'm going to–," you whimpered, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

As your cries of pleasure echoed across the room, you heard Seungcheol hum softly with you. Your body relaxed into your orgasm, mind going completely blank, eyes rolling back so hard that you saw colours behind your eyelids while you let your orgasm take you in waves of pure bliss, moaning his name over and over again.

He planted soft kisses on your pussy lips and one last kiss on your swollen clit, humming softly as he pressed his lips on your pussy lovingly. Your legs went limp as you felt him place them back on the cold hard surface of his desk.

"Cheol," you called in a lazy groan, still recovering from your high with shaky thighs and blurred vision. "I need you."

Seungcheol smiled at your soft pleas and whimpers, but his hand cupped your chin, his dark eyes locking on yours. "Are you still on the pill?" he asked while his other hand brushed a lose strand of hair from your forehead.

"Yes," you whispered and nodded with your head. Your hands searched for the hem of his t-shirt, sliding it up his back and he pulled away to help you take it off.

You sat up on his desk again, hooking your fingers on the hem of his jeans to pull him closer, your legs framing his body as you unfastened the buckle of his belt, hearing him sigh. You darted a look at his face, finding the ghost of a smile on his chapped red lips.

Seungcheol had definitely buffier since you last saw him. You noticed that he had accumulated more muscle mass, his lean chest showed more mass around his pectorals and shoulders, the muscles of his abdomen that would tighten softly when he breathed out at the touch of your fingers.

He placed a small kiss on your lower lip, making you smile as your fingers rushed to undo the button and zipper of his jeans. He helped you get rid of the rest of his clothes, standing completely nude before you in the middle of his 'office'.

"Remember when we used to do this in your bedroom at your parents'?" you asked sheepishly, a hand cupping his face as he kissed your face and lips fervently. "We'd pretend to study."

Seungcheol's lips rose in a bittersweet smile. "I remember everything, baby," he replied in a raspy tone. "We could barely keep our hands to ourselves. We didn't care if we got caught."

You placed impatient, rushed kisses on his wet lips. "I miss that," you muttered. "We'd fuck anywhere. In your brother's car, the park, the school library."

Seungcheol laughed as his hand snuck in between your bodies, grabbing his cock with one hand to guide it to your core. He gently dropped his forehead on yours and you whimpered when you felt his cockhead pushing on your entrance.

"We were so crazy about each other. So fucking in love," he whispered.

A sob coiled in your throat second before Seungcheol slid inside you slowly, his cock buried in you so deeply that you had to bite his shoulder to not scream. Your legs were wrapped around him as he started thrusting his hips on you, fucking you hard on his desk.

You groaned loudly when you felt his cock fill you up so nicely that you almost forget where you were, and everything that had led you to that moment.

Seungcheol fit in your body so perfectly that nothing–no one had even come close to making you feel like he did. Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes when you felt tears of pleasure brimming in the corners.

His hands held you close to his body, a hand placed in one of your glutes and the other flatly on your spine–holding you in place as he plunged his cock deep inside you, fucking you open so good you couldn't think of anything else.

"You feel so fucking good. So tight around me. Just how I remember," he whispered in your ear, pushing so deep in you as if to make his point across.

You shuddered against his body at the same time you nibbled his shoulder with your teeth, drowning your cries of pleasure as Seungcheol plunged in your walls with little heed for being careful, but he knew you liked it just like that. You liked it hard, you liked that his cock was so big for you that it made your eyes water.

"Look at me, love," he commanded and you pulled your head back to face his dark eyes. "You're okay there?"

He read you so well.

You nodded, blinking lazily. "'m okay. Jus'keep going, Cheol."

The thing about Seungcheol is that when he loved, he loved with a fervent force that nothing could ever stop it. When he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it. He was passionate like that. And he loved you.

Past tense. Loved.

Now, you were sure that he was trying to relive the memory of what you had together, his desperate kisses and moans as he pushed his cock deep in you. His arms holding you as if you were a product of his memory, torturing him, kissing him softly.

Soft whispers of incoherent mumbles brushed in his lips, and you could make out your name in between broken sentences as Seungcheol appeared to be so lost in you that he could barely breathe.

"Fuck," he muttered through gritted teeth. You saw him shut his eyes tightly, his mouth parted a little, forming a little 'oh' but not quite uttering anything. Small giveaways that he was about to cum.

You used a hand to cup the side of his face to angle his lips to yours. "Cum in me," you whispered on his lips. "I want you to fill me up, Cheol."

Usually, he was the one telling you when to cum. Never the other way around. But the way he was trying to resist his release made you want to take control for a second.

Your hand slid on the back of his head, grabbing his long hair in one fist as he blinked and found your eyes. His hips buckled a second before he plunged them so hard and deep inside you, gasping for air as he came inside you.

His chest was so close to yours that you could feel the stutter of his heartbeat against you. A long second happened between you, exchanging longing glances as he breathed hard on your face, trying to calm himself down.

But then he made a motion for you to lie back down on his desk again, confused you followed his silent command and understood when he started plunging his cock inside your walls again.

Your brow furrowed, noticing how tired Seungcheol looked. "W-what–,"

"I'm not done with you," he explained and you could feel that his cock was still hard inside you.

Then he placed the palms of his hands flatly on the surface of the desk, his eyes wandering all over your body before stopping on your sopping cunt where his cum had already mixed with your juices.

You saw the features of his face as he pulled his hips back until the tip of his hard cock reached your entrance again and then he slammed his hips back in.

Seungcheol sucked in a breath and then bit his lower lip and muffled a long strangled moan in his mouth, sending a shiver along your spine.

"You look so fucking gorgeous," he groaned, his lust-lidded eyes looking at you.

The wet sounds that the movement created made him sigh in pleasure and throw his head back a bit, the enjoyment on his face was so arousing that had you moaning with him.

"So fucking wet and tight on my cock. Like its made for me," he sighed.

Your walls fluttered around him in response. Because probably he was right and your body was made for his. The way your body responded to the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands, when you felt his eyes on you, all for him.

Seungcheol shuddered as he pushed inside you before bending down and place open mouthed kisses on your chest. He hummed along the trail of kisses he started making while plunging inside you, his lips stopping on the soft skin of one of your tits to start sucking.

"Cheol," you whimpered.

The pressure on his lips against your skin intensified, leaving a trail of red spots all over your tits as he continued moving his hips mindlessly on yours.

A loud moan escaped your mouth and your body started trembling in pleasure uncontrollably beneath his weight, barely holding on for him.

"Shit," you hissed at the feeling of him marking you and your hand tangled in his hair.

A small snapping sound came from his lips when he finished marking hickeys in your skin, lifting his head to see you. His lust blown eyes found yours, a faint smile stretching on his chapped lips.

Then, you felt a hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit immediately to start rubbing fast and hard with his thumb.

"Cum for me, baby," he instructed, already knowing that you were nearing to your third orgasm.

"Cheol–Daddy!" you called in a high keen whimper; the pressure from your release taking you over and washing you into uncontrollable waves of joy and ecstasy that roamed all over your body, leaving you breathless.

"I'm here, baby," he groaned and watched your face as you cried and thrashed under his body, the merciless plunging of his cock in your throbbing, aching walls.

Then his thrusts became shallow for a second before he slammed his hips against yours so deep and slow that you cried out and bit your lip, your body still twitching from your high.

"You're mine," Seungcheol said in shaky breaths as he came inside you again, blinking slowly but never looking away from your face. "You've always been mine."

Sharp breaths left your mouth, trying to regain conscious under the weight of his body as he too appeared to be trying to compose himself. You blinked away some tears, reaching for his face to kiss his face.

While panting, he pressed lazy kisses on your lips and you returned every single one.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too," you replied, pushing a blond strand of hair away from his face.

He shook his head once, his eyes glinting with anguish. "You left. We could've find a way to work it out but you just left."

The pain became more and more intense. You couldn't shrug off the feeling that everything had changed, that the person in front of you was not the same person who had loved you so fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Seungcheol," you whispered, swallowing thickly. "I really am. I made a mistake. It was really stupid of me to leave."

Your hand returned to his cheek and he pressed his face towards it, shuddering under your touch. Your lip quivered as your eyes started to well up in tears again, so you thought to make an attempt to remove yourself from his desk and search for your clothes.

He pressed his body down on yours, trapping you between his frame and the desk beneath you. "Don't."

"Seungcheol–,"

"I'm not over you," he muttered, then he laughed bitterly. "As if this wasn't proof. I saw you again and I knew I was fucking done for."

"N-no, you fucked me because you can, Cheol. To prove a point to me–," you stuttered, trying to make sense of it all.

His big teary eyes drooped with disappointment, his brows knitted. "Baby, I tried to move on. For two fucking years I tried... and look where that's got me."

He made a gesture with his head, signalling to your naked bodies. You were so tightly pressed beneath the weight of the upper half of his body, his chest flatly pressed against yours that you barely had any space to breathe.

"Can you take me back after what I did? How?" you asked in a weak voice from swallowing your tears.

"I just want you," he whispered. "We can figure out the rest."

You swallowed thickly. "We're so different now. You're my boss now, Cheol. And I'm..."

He licked his chapped lips, his lower lip getting caught between his teeth as he seemed to run through his options in his mind. "I don't want you to quit. We can find a way to make it work."

Your eyes locked with his dark brown ones. "So what happens now?"

"It doesn't matter right now. All I want is us," he whispered, his hands moving to cup your face, a desperate look in his features. "Please, baby, just trust me this time. I know we can work it out. I'm ready now."

A sharp pang stabbed into your heart as you heard him practically pleading for your return. It was a sound you had never dared to wish for, something you would have only imagined in your most fervent dreams.

Tracing an invisible line along his lower lip with your fingers, Seungcheol sighed softly, his heavy eyelashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. You knew you couldn't say no to Seungcheol.

After all, you never stopped loving him.

✧ a/n: uuuggghhh i feel like a hypocrite cause i've always said that blonds aren't my type but i literally go feral for blond seventeen, oh well. if you liked reading this show it some love pls pls pls. stay tuned for part 2! taglist is open! tehe ₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎

PART TWO

[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 6

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that’s destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it’s easier said than done.

A/N: Enid loves playing matchmaker, even if she's not the best at it. Things are progressing interestingly. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 5 here

Wednesday is considering ripping her own heart out.

There's a Poinsettia in a pot in front of you. The incompetent botany teacher asked you to make it bloom, just so she could show everyone where the toxins come from and how they can be used.

You're two tables to the front, sitting beside Xavier while Wednesday has a staring contest with the back of your head.

She wants to rip out her heart and have a very serious talk with it, because it appears to be noticing your absence and making it her problem too. How tragic.

You wanted space and Wednesday gave it to you, she just wasn't anticipating that it would affect her this much.

"I can't decide if you have a crush on her or if you're planning her murder." Enid mused from beside the Addams girl, her chin propped up in her hand.

"The latter." Wednesday deadpanned.

Enid hummed, her eyes slowly moving from you to Wednesday, "you know I'd appreciate it if you didn't murder my friends though."

Wednesday kept quiet, in her hands she was picking apart a poor jasmine flower, its petals being discarded on top of her open notebook.

You'd be mad if you saw her do it.

Wednesday's eyebrows scrunched together in a frown. Why is she thinking about that?

"I haven't seen you two speaking these last couple of days," Enid tried to sound nonchalant, "did something happen?"

For a moment, Wednesday considered saying something, her old therapist did tell her it was healthy to talk about her emotions.

Yet she settled for; "nothing happened."

Enid rolled her eyes, she could see right through Wednesday's little lie because it wasn't the first nor the second time that she has caught her friend making heart eyes at you.

In fencing class, Wednesday keeps her eyes on you like a hawk stalking its prey.

If you're walking around the cafeteria with Andrew, Wednesday is crushing her soda can as if it personally offended her.

Whenever you're out working in the gardens, Wednesday is making up excuses to go check the bees outside.

Enid has never seen her best friend this taken with someone, and part of her thinks not even Wednesday has fully realized it yet. So, being the good friend she is, Enid has made up a plan to help her out.

"Wednesday," the werewolf said her friend's name in a singsong voice, scooting closer so she could lay her head on Wednesday's shoulder.

The raven-haired girl huffed, "Enid, your death wish is showing."

The empty threat was ignored with a grin, "me and the girls are going shopping for the Rave'n tomorrow, and since you're my bestie, I would really like you to tag along."

"While I appreciate your attempt at torture," Wednesday side-eyed her friend, "I'd rather dump my eyeballs in acid than spend an afternoon picking dresses for a frivolous party."

Enid picked at her colorful nails mindlessly. "Our resident flower girl is coming with us too," she said quietly, but her wolfish smirk was unmistakable.

Wednesday tensed, crushing in her hands the last bits of the jasmine flower she was still holding. Damn you, damn you, damn you.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth, "if you insist this much."

———

You're sitting on one of the benches just outside Nevermore, waiting for Enid so you can all leave for town together.

The sun's warmth isn't doing much nowadays, there's a permanent coldness to the air. You tightened your scarf around your neck, partly wishing you'd put on gloves as well before leaving.

Chatter reached your ears and you turned your head to see Enid coming to you, there was a bounce on her step and a contagious smile on her lips; Divina and Yoko walk beside her, holding hands.

"I hope you're ready for the best girl's trip ever," the werewolf exclaimed as she stopped in front of you, clasping her hands together.

"So much that I couldn't even sleep last night," you smiled back.

"Perfect," Enid's cheeks were pink from the cold, they shaped her smile adorably as she took hold of Yoko's arm, "we should hurry, the trolley is leaving, like, really soon."

Enid hurried towards the station, tugging Yoko with her and consequently Divina; their absence revealed Wednesday's presence.

You flinched when your eyes met her dark ones, your breathing getting momentarily stuck. You had not been expecting her to tag along at all.

"Uh hi," you stumbled out.

"Hello," she raised her chin in a way you're familiar with, her hands gripping the edge of her hoodie.

"I didn't know you were coming," you said awkwardly, not knowing what else you could possibly say.

You thought you saw Wednesday's posture deflate a little. She slowly blinked once, her gaze roaming over your features; "Enid has been begging me incessantly, she'd be devastated if I didn't come today."

You shifted your stance and glanced away from her, pursing your lips with a nod, "I see."

A beat passed, you could hear the wind, feel the cold of it on your bare hands. You really wished you had gloves on.

"You're not happy I'm here." Wednesday breathed. It was a statement, not a question.

You looked up at her, really looked, for the first time in forever, it feels. The black beanie she wore pushed her bangs down, she has to move the hair aside otherwise it'll cover her eyes; it was longer than it was the day you first met her. Her nose and the tip of her ears have a soft, barely there shade of pink to them, because of the cold or something else, you don't know. The outlines of her eyes and lips aren't as sharp as they used to be. It's different. She's different.

"Why do you say that?" You asked gently, because maybe gentle is what she needs right now.

"You wanted space. It's clear you don't enjoy my company anymore," Wednesday gulped, "and I'm breaking our agreement."

You shook your head softly, "it's not like I hate you, Wednesday."

Wednesday's lips parted, and she felt like a fawn in the middle of the road, paralyzed by the blinding lights of a speeding truck.

Your words cut deep. They shouldn't. But they do.

You raised an eyebrow at her, there's a smile playing on your lips but it doesn't hold much happiness; "I actually wanted space for the exact opposite reason."

Stop it. Wednesday wanted to say, words tangled in a lump in her throat. Please, stop making me feel-

"Guys, come on," Enid's voice captured both of your attentions, "we're gonna miss our ride."

—

It was the stuff of nightmares. No, worse. Not even in her worst nightmares, did Wednesday witness this.

She was drowning in a sea of satin. There was silk and velvet there too; overflowing pastel pink, baby blue, and luxurious white.

The store had endless rows of dresses to nauseate the Addams girl. The dark color of her attire stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the fancy room.

Enid hurried in front of her, clutching close to her chest the dress she had chosen, "what about this one?"

"Disgraceful, just like the other six," Wednesday grunted.

"It's perfect, Enid," you were quick to interject, "you should definitely try it on."

The werewolf glared at Wednesday and gave you a thankful smile, before skipping over to the dressing room.

Wednesday crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the cream-colored wall to her right so she could lock eyes on you. "Aren't you gonna dive into this meaningless shopping as well?" She inquired.

You could see Yoko and Divina on the other side of the store, the vampire holding two dresses for her girl as she followed her around. It made you smile. You turned to look at Wednesday, biting on the inside of your cheek; "aren't you?"

"I'm not going," Wednesday said as if it was obvious, "even if I was, I already have an outfit. One is enough."

You're not sure why you felt a little disappointed by knowing she wouldn't be there. But you nodded anyway, turning your back to Wednesday so you could browse through the rack of dresses behind you. "No," you said to answer her previous question, "I actually already have my outfit for the party too."

There was a beat of silence, you could feel Wednesday's stare boring into your back.

"Who's taking you?" She asked then even though she knows the answer, telling herself she was just making conversation.

"Andrew," was your answer, taking a single glance behind to her.

The name makes Wednesday clench her jaw, "he's dull."

"He's nice to me," you said then, raising your eyebrows at her tone.

"He'll get you ashamed at some point, you can do better," she shrugged.

"He's my friend, Wednesday." You told her with a little more bite to your tone.

"You should tell him that." Wednesday's voice would always be harder than yours.

You chuckled, mumbling an okay.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. She doesn't care who you go with anyway. "Why are you here if you're not buying anything?"

"Same reason as you."

Wednesday tensed, getting ahead of herself and giving her own meaning to your words. She took a breath and held it in her lungs.

"Enid was very insistent I joined her," you explained further without looking at her, brushing your fingertips over the floral pattern of a dress. This one was indeed dreadful.

Wednesday released the air that was trapped.

You shrugged and turned back around, carefully closing the distance between you and her. The back of your head rests against the wall, your shoulder short of brushing Wednesday's.

"Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to get out a little."

Wednesday hummed, her fingers subconsciously tapping the mark on her wrist. "Maybe we should just leave then, let them lose their time trying out these obnoxious clothes while we do something actually entertaining," She suggested, a smile threatening to show on her lips.

You look at her with a grin of your own, eyes glinting with adoration at the suggestion, at her. "That would be thrilling wouldn't it?" You indulge her fantasy.

"They wouldn't know what happened, or where to possibly start searching," Wednesday met your gaze with her own, hyper-aware of how close you were; she could feel your warmth, count the specks of color in your eyes.

"Maybe even assume the worst," you said in a breath, eyes lazy as they focused on the burgundy lines of Wednesday's lips and then back on the mischief swimming in her gaze.

To Wednesday, every minute with you was torture. Sweet, blissful torture as you dangled something in front of her. Something she saw as unattainable. She saw herself captured in a haze, unaware that she was shifting closer, closer.

"You said I can do better," you hushed, so quiet you doubt she'd listen if she wasn't this close but you were afraid to break the spell of the moment. Your lips hovered before you kept going, "who's better?"

Wednesday felt the shape of your words with each breath you took, raising goosebumps on the back of her neck.

No one is good enough. Wednesday decided.

No one, except-

"I loved it!" Came Enid's sudden animated voice, successfully breaking the bubble you had created around each other.

It was like a slap to the face when Wednesday realized the position she found herself in. She had been totally taken by you, forgetting any and all types of rational thinking.

She blinked several times, running her tongue over her bottom lip because her mouth was suddenly dry.

What just happened?

When you awkwardly cleared your throat and kept your gaze on your sneakers, Wednesday knew it had been the same for you.

"Oh," Enid looked between both of you back and forth, "did I just interrupt something?"

You groaned, feeling heat creeping up on your neck and to your cheeks.

"Nothing to interrupt," Wednesday snapped, pushing herself away from the wall and briskly walking to the kid's section of the store.

You figured she just wanted to get away. You can't blame her.

Enid was exasperated. She slung her chosen dress over her shoulder, placing both hands on her waist, "okay, I am done with you two. What is going on?"

You pouted, sliding yourself down against the wall until your butt hit the cold floor. "It's really complicated, Enid."

"Yeah, no shit," the werewolf started, "I can see that, but-" she cut herself off when realization hit her. You saw it in the way she lit up like a Christmas tree, mouth hung open with the beginnings of a smile. You cursed under your breath.

"Wait," Enid breathed, having trouble containing her excitement, "ARE YOU THE-"

"Enid!"

She crouched down to your level after the halfhearted glare you gave her. "You are, aren't you? You're Wednesday's soulmate." She squealed, her hands clutching at her dress.

You leaned your head back against the wall, closing your eyes and that was answer enough for her.

"I knew it, I knew there was something going on between you."

"Enid, no," you reached forward and took one of her hands in your own, "there's nothing going on between us and please, keep it down."

Enid shook her head as if you were speaking a foreign language, "but this is the best thing, I mean, you've found each other, you found your-"

"You know as best as I do who we're talking about here." You insisted, your chest tightening with each word, "it's a delicate situation so please, keep it down. Don't tell it to anyone else, okay?"

That seemed to bring Enid back from her high, she sighed, holding your hand between both of her own, "no, you don't get it. She likes you."

You closed your eyes, "Enid…"

"I've never seen Wednesday act like this with anyone else before, okay?" She pressed, "and I've known her longer than you," she teased, raising a brow at you.

You want to believe her, you really do. But you don't allow yourself to. Her hands are warm against your cold ones, the blonde of her hair is getting a little blurred in your sight.

"Then I hope you're right," you smiled.

She squeezed your hands and got up, pulling you with her, "come on, get up, you look like a lost child."

After locating Wednesday and saving her from a chatty five-year-old, Enid wanted everyone to stop at the Weathervane for some coffee.

It was a nice, cloudy day outside so the prospect of a hot beverage was welcomed; you felt all warm and fuzzy on the insides, both from your drink and from sitting in a booth surrounded by friends who enjoyed your company.

Of course, Enid made sure that you and Wednesday sat side by side, your shoulder brushing hers each time you raised the mug to your lips.

Wednesday kept quiet most of the time, her eyes focused on the window beside her, watching as the people walked by on Jericho's streets; sometimes, she'd lean her weight just a tad more against you, personal space being a forgotten concept.

Maybe it was because there was little room on the booth, or maybe Enid's idea of Wednesday actually liking you wasn't too farfetched.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 7 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @thenextdawn @trishatheotaku

[sweetcloverheart]

I posted 12,154 times in 2022

That's 2,054 more posts than 2021!

104 posts created (1%)

12,050 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@vulpiximisa

@twinklecupcake

@pocketramblr

@supersoftly

@avalonblue12

I tagged 8,738 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#prettiful - 1,151 posts

#i spotted a queuety - 1,098 posts

#miraculous ladybug - 756 posts

#pokemon - 491 posts

#fire emblem: three houses - 491 posts

#spy x family - 227 posts

#owl house - 224 posts

#dc comics - 204 posts

#the owl house - 204 posts

#genshin impact - 204 posts

Longest Tag: 126 characters

#more like bruce calls up clark and goes ''hey i think lex is trying to clone you again have you been to fawcett city before?''

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Clover Rants Miraculously: Nope, still hate it

(This is more me venting then anything really. Spoilers below!)

Okay, to properly explain why I greatly dislike “Lila and Chloe are more evil than Gabriel” thing, I need you all to think back to the olden internet days when you would read those fanfics where the writer clearly and obviously wrote one half of their NOTP as a raging jerk/yandere psychopath to justify their preferred OTP/Self-Insert character and fav character getting together.

Did you imagine it? Did you remember how cringey and eyeroll-inducing you found it?

That’s how I feel about the whole “These two teenage girls are more monstrous and capable of greater villainy than the established magical terrorist super villain who emotionally abuses his son”.

Because it’d be one thing if Lila and Chloe becoming a supervillain criminal girlboss duo just for the hell of it was being done as a way to expand on their characters and explore new plot territory - That I don’t mind at all and would 1100% be down with. But instead, it’s very clearly and obviously being used to help hype up Gabriel’s frankly unearned in my opinion “redemption arc” because instead of writing Gabemoth showing actual remorse for his actions and eventually turning himself in or having him have this “too late now” moment that ends in his defeat and the slow realization that he destroyed his and his son’s lives for nothing, we are instead treated to the show repeated screaming at us that the two teenage bullies (both of whom could be very easily dealt with if the adults surrounding them did their jobs and forced them to face consequences for said bullying) are clearly the greater threats here, what with their constant scheming to...*checks plot* ruin the day of a girl they don’t like while trying to steal her boyfriend via lies and one of said girl’s parent’s money, which is clearly leagues more evil than...*checks plot again* magically controlling your son through the ring that’s literally tied to his life, while abusing the sentient cosmic entities you stole (well, actually your teenaged nephew stole them for you, but I digress) as you forcibly use their powers to buff up your magically transformed croonies to help them fight the pair of magical teenagers who’s magical jewelry you’re trying to steal.

It’s so obvious they can’t be bothered to make Gabriel into the 3D villain they claim he is, so their only option is to drag down the other antagonists so they’re “more evil” and make all the terrible and awful stuff he’s done on screen seem “minimal”/less bad than it is. That’s why Chloe’s “worse than usual” and Lila’s collecting moms and alternate identities like pokemon cards - not for actual plot development and character progression, but so that the writers can prop up Gabriel as this “misguided saint” who “only did what he had to for his family” while shoving his “redemption” through the story and down everyone’s throats. Because it’s the only trick they have in their bags for making a character “good” - make one character super evil/mean so whoever they’re propping up looks better in comparison. They did with the Zoe/Chloe comparisons, they did it with Felix’s intro, they’re doing it with Nathalie and Gabriel, they’re doing it with Amelie and Emilie (Don’t think I don’t see that nonsense going on with that “The other Princess wants a magic baby because she was overcome with jealousy over her sister” line), and they’re doing it with this.

Like, mark my words, almost every other episode of Season 6 is going to contain at least one character going “Wow, Chrysalis is so evil! Hawkmoth never did something like this!” or “If only Gabriel had kept the butterfly miraculous - he would never abuse it the way Chrysalis has!”

67 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#4

Does Chloe still work as an Antagonist?

You know, I’ve come to the realization that one of the main issues with Chloe being an antagonist isn’t simply that Thomas doesn’t really use her unless it’s to have the episode follow her around with a big fat giant “Hate this character!” sign (much like he does with Lila and Felix too, I realize, but we might end up off topic so let’s move on), but the fact that once you go past season 2-3, Chloe has...basically no real role in the story anymore as an antagonist

Like, when the plot was contained to the Akuma-of-the-day formula and the slice-of-life stuff, Chloe was a spectacular “villain”, because everything was still very much small scale in terms of stakes, enough so for her to seem a big enough threat to Marinette daily life. After all, Chloe is a titular mean girl, the rich kid school yard bully who just had to flash a credit card or call in daddy dearest to make everyone miserable and leave Marinette and Adrien worrying about what person she’ll end up ticking off bad enough to turn into a Akuma next. It made you hate her, revile her, wish that she’d eventually get her comeuppance (and usually, she did, depending on how the episode ended)

And it worked, because that’s what she was built for, where she fit best.

But then the show expanded it’s stakes by bringing back Lila, who ends up having more influence and doing far more damage than Chloe usually would with her bullying (Like, Chloe for all her threats and insults, is more bark than bite. Lila actually had impact with the trouble she brought to Mari’s door). Then they expand again by introducing Felix, who ends up deepening the whole Gabriel plotline while being an active thorn in his and the heroes side (where as Chloe mostly just existed and was slowly becoming regarded as a nuisance). Then the show actually tried to give Chloe depth and a character arc (which they end up aborting because screw breaking the status quo I guess), showing the reasons for her behavior and that she could actually be decent when given the chance and right motivation. Then season 4 kicks off bringing in Chloe’s half-sister (who we only hear about just that episode) taking her place as the bee hero while Marinette deals with her new responsibilities of being the Miraculous Guardian while Felix is trying to sniff out Gabriel’s secret and - well, you get the picture.

With every raised stake and furthering of the plot, Chloe’s mean teen bullying kind of becomes small potatoes when compared to everything else going on in the show. Who really cares about her taking over a group film project or her trying to get out of playing in a class soccer match when the cast is busy trying to deal with Hawkmoth creating magical sentient doppelgangers, Master Fu getting amnesiaed, Marinette getting stressed out with all her new Guardian responsibilities, who will become today’s temp hero, the overarching mystery of Emilie Agreste and the wedding rings, and Adrien causing the apocalypse (again). Most shows at this point would have their bully character get sent “to military school” or move abroad with a distant unknown aunt, but there Chloe stands, still thinking she’s one of the big kids while the show desperately tries to keep her relevant despite her no longer having a miraculous and no real involvement in the Akumas attacking everyone (actually, now that I think about, Chloe isn’t even responsible for 2/3rds of the Akuma during season 4). We’re suppose to think of her as this powerful malicious force on the same level as Hawkmoth that’s ruining Marinette and everyone’s lives with her very presence because...well, the show says so. Did you not see the giant sign they’re holding over Chloe’s head saying “Hate this character!”? That means you have to hate her no matter what, even when there’s other things to focus on outside of hating her.

Not to mention she’s...very much irrelevant to the plot now. Sure, she still has that “crush” on Adrien/interference with the Adrinette side of the love square, but it hasn’t been a thing or plot-focused in forever, and Lila and Felix (much like with Lila’s bullying) are having and had more effect of that relationship progression than Chloe did. And as said, Zoe taking her place as the Bee hero has removed her from the temp hero plot (unless they plan on having a Chloe VS Zoe battle now that Hawkmoth’s stolen it), and her becoming friends with the rest of the cast had basically edged Chloe out of most of the slice-of-life stuff since “no one likes her anyways”, so there’s no point in involving her in activities they can invite her more “likeable” and nicer half-sibling to (and yeah, Chloe could force her way into those plots, but that’s what it’d end up being - forced). The only real connection she could have to everything still is Sabrina (Who gets barely any screentime as is! She finally becomes a temp hero too once, and is immediately replaced by Felix in the finale episode), and that “budding” relationship with Lila (that is literally last minute with no real build up. I want to say they’ll likely show them becoming “friends” in the fifth season, but knowing the show, it’s just gonna be Chloe playing the Sabrina role to Lila’s Chloe with no real self-reflection or interesting character dynamic exploration...). Hell, despite her betraying Ladybug for Hawkmoth at the end of season 3, almost no reference or callback is made to it, and everyone seems completely unaffected by Chloe brainwashing almost all of Paris considering they’re treating her like normal (in fact, if anything, they only seem just slightly more annoyed with her and her antics now - just not for the reasons stated previously)

And it’s sad. When I see Chloe pulling her usual stunts in the later seasons, I don’t feel the urge to hate and deride her like in season 1. When I see Chloe still trying to be the big bad mean girl bully in a season that had the show’s second apocalypse, sentimonsters being revealed as sentient beings with feelings (and one of the main cast potentially being one), families getting held hostage, and Hawkmoth successfully (with help) grab almost all the miraculous, I feel more bad for her than the other characters, because it’s clear that the show is just simply putting her through the motions since they don’t know what else to do with her now. It’s like watching a parent force their child into a costume that clearly doesn’t fit anymore to do a dumb little performances they liked to as a kid that they’ve clearly outgrown now.

And now we have Season five to wait on (and it’s likely going to be a long wait with all the protests going on about Zag not paying VAs Edit: Congrats to the VAs for succeeding in their protest and getting their raises), where Marinette’s going to be laser focused on getting the stolen Miraculous back, alongside the Emilie plotline still being a thing and Felix’s betrayal opening up a huge can of plot-theory worms - not gonna be much room in there for pull her “wait till my father hears about this!” shtick and leave an impression like before.

Honestly, if Thomas really hates her as much as he claims, he’d of just sent her off to New York with her mom now that they’re “Besties” (by the show’s word) or have her sent abroad for some sort of “fashion scholarship” or something. At this point, Chloe’s run her course as an antagonist and should be retired if they really have no plans of redeeming her or anything.

67 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

#3

I can’t wait for Season 6 of MLB to open with Lila burning down a children’s hospital or kicking puppies or some other wild nonsense before Thomas heads to twitter and posts “So we all agree we don’t like Lila anymore right? :)”

77 notes - Posted November 30, 2022

#2

Clover Rants Miraculously (Because no this actually bothers me)

(I’ve decided to put all my Miraculous salt/complaints under the tag #Clover Rants Miraculously from now on. I’ll go through all my old UOT tag to add the new one to any Miraculous related post)

I love how Felix can screw Marinette and all of Paris over for “Senti-rights” (Despite the fact that Marinette clearly wasn’t even aware Sentimonsters were, in fact, sentient living being, that it’s mostly Gabriel’s fault since he’s specifically making Sentis to die fighting Ladybug and co and has “killed” more than they had (but sure, give him all the Miraculous for the Peacock, dude’s totes earned it), and the one that was “too far” for him was destroying Paris), and get rewarded for it with a shiny new hand-me-down girlfriend and getting to be Marinette’s new good-aligned ally by the end of s5 if the spoilers are to be believed (and with no accountability for any of the nonsense he’s pulled since his intro), and that Gabriel will basically have all evidence of his Hawkmoth activities erased and be given a free pass by the narrative via Ladybug/Marinette keeping his secret to return to his old civilian life (despite learning nothing considering he purposely throws away the Butterfly to spite her despite how merciful she was being to his ungrateful ass)

Meanwhile, Lila and Chloe are basically labeled the most evilest beings on the planet (with the former basically taking the Hawkmoth mantle) not for the actual awful stuff they did (getting Marinette falsely expelled for Lila, near crashing a train for Chloe, and teaming up with Hawkmoth purposely for both), but because...*checks bible* Lila lies, Chloe is a brat, and they both have the audacity to get in the way of Adrienette - ‘Cause only real monsters get in the way of the perfect teen romance!

Just...fantastic. Really loving this guys!

88 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Things Adrien will never know since he’s not allowed to find out his father’s Hawkmoth

That Gabriel has purposely gone out of his way to upset Adrien’s friends via unfairly punishing him/limiting his freedom solely so he could have an Akuma to use (”Bubbler” and “Chat Blanc”)

That Gabriel once tricked him into believing he had upset his father so he could akumatize himself and keep him and Ladybug from realizing his real identity (”Collector”)

That after akumatizing Gorilla (“Gorizilla”), that he purposely put Adrien’s life in danger and had him thrown from on top a building just so he could find out if he was actually Chat Noir or not (and only changed his mind after Adrien had been thrown and it looked like he wasn’t about to transform to save himself)

Had noticed via his akuma butterflies when Adrien is upset/depressed but did nothing about it

Openly threatened his cousin (Like, feel how you want about Felix, Gabriel still threatened a child)

Has had Paris nearly flooded/burned down/deleted/eeby-deebied/brainwashed/zombie invaded several times while Adrien was outside the house with no idea if he had gotten/might get caught up in the attack (and not seeming to care)

That the few time he did arrange for Adrien to not be around when he was planning something (NY and Shanghai specials, “Risk”, etc.), it was specifically so he could hurt his friends, and usually done at Adrien’s own expense

That Gabriel almost caused WW3 by threatening the world with nukes (NY special)

That his father murdered someone(Or at least had their murder arranged via a gang hit) (Shanghai special)

That Nathalie’s health dove into the negatives specifically because she was helping him with his supervillainy (Yeah, she chose to become Mayura and everything, but this is still someone Adrien considers family here)

Everything about the Grimoire

Went out of his way to manipulate Chloe in “Heart Hunter” (Again, feel however you want, Gabe still purposely made it so Chloe would think Ladybug didn’t want her so he could get her on his side more easily)

Purposely put Lila and him together so she could “keep an eye on him” at his behest

Was the one who instigated Lila into enacting her plan in “Ladybug”, which ended up with Marinette expelled, and all because he considered her a “bad influence” on Adrien

Had twice Akumatized Adrien after he found out about him being Hawkmoth and his mother’s actual fate, just so he could get Ladybug’s miraculous (“Chat Blanc” and “Ephemeral”), which led to the world ending and everyone being dead in one of these scenarios

Has been magically manipulating him into obeying his will (If Senti!Adrien proves to be canon)

Made a deal with Felix to get all the Miraculous the latter stole ( “Strikeback”)

Deliberately chose to focus on stealing the Miraculous instead of taking the opportunity given to him to save his mother and Nathalie from their respective ailments (“Evolution”)

Purposely had him Cataclysm his arm, and near risking making his son a murderer/orphan (“Destruction”)

Kept the Kwamis he stole/kidnapped in cages and called them “slaves”

That the whole “Alliance Ring” nonsense was specifically to help mask his activities as Hawkmoth

And that he mainly just cares about his rivalry with Ladybug now.

169 notes - Posted October 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[andypantsx3]

subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

[deanstead]

One Plus One

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by anon: hiiii! can i request a jay halstead x reading imagine where the reader get's hurt on a case and is in critical condition. they've already been dating for about 2-3 years. they take her to chicago med and will or connor is the one that operates on her. she ends up pulling through. whoever operates on her accidentally spoils the news that BOTH the reader and the baby are okay. jay gets emotional, happy ending, maybe marriage proposal? please and thank you so much!!!

Word Count: 1,076

Warnings: pregnancy, mentions of blood/injury, angst, fluff

A/N: First try at pregnancy mentions in a fic, so I hope this turned out okay! Please hit me up and let me know what yall think! Hoping the tags work!

---

“Y/N!”

Jay’s voice sounded faint, as if it was coming from a long distance away.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” You struggled to focus on Jay, the sound of his voice and the image of his face swam a little in front of you.

“Y/N! Look at me, you stay with me, you hear me?”

Your face felt swollen, you weren’t sure what hurt because it hurt everywhere. Had there been a gun? Or had the suspect simply overpowered you? You didn’t know, everything felt heavy and you could barely make out Jay hovering above you.

Jay’s voice got more and more muffled, as if you were sinking deeper underwater.

“No no, baby stay with me, don’t you give up on me Y/N!”

That was the last thing you heard before the darkness pressed in around you.

---

Jay paced in the waiting room as he looked up at the clock again. Was the surgery supposed to take this long?

“Jay.” Will called as he entered the waiting room.

Jay’s head snapped up, landing on his older brother. “Will, can you check on her, please?” Jay asked, a look in his eyes that Will hadn’t seen before.

Will swallowed back a reassurance and nodded, disappearing towards the direction of the operating rooms.

Jay looked around at the waiting room which was full of their team members but only he was too anxious to sit still.

The both of you had been partners until two years ago when Voight decided that the two of you worked better with different partners given your romantic relationship. Jay hadn’t been thrilled but you had convinced him that it was okay and that it’d be better.

“Jay.” Adam put a hand on his shoulder.

“Where were you?” Jay demanded, turning to face Adam. “You were supposed to have her back, how could you let this happen?”

Everyone else looked up and Kevin stood, wondering if he should break it up.

“Jay, I…”

“You’re her partner!” Jay raised his voice a little. Everyone could tell Jay was struggling to keep it together. Considering everything, Jay was already holding back because deep down he knew that Adam would never knowingly put you in danger. And even Adam seemed to know that.

Just as the tension seemed to be climbing in the waiting room, Will and Connor opened the door.

Jay spun around, making a beeline for Connor, as Voight stepped up as well.

“We controlled the bleeder, everything looks okay, they’re both fine.” Connor reassured Jay.

Jay’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Both?” No one else had been hurt today, everyone else was sitting in the waiting room with Jay, waiting on news about you.  

Connor nodded. “Yeah, Y/N and the baby are both fine. The fetus is stable.”

The words bounced around the waiting room.

“Jay, you could have told me.” Will said, smiling.

Connor continued to study Jay. “You didn’t know?”

“You’re sure?” Jay asked now, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Connor smiled. “Congratulations.”

---

Jay was still in a state of shock.

Had you known? Why didn’t you tell him? There were a thousand questions racing through Jay’s mind but he pushed it all to the back of his mind as Connor came back in to let him know that he could go in to see you again. Jay had already been to look in on you after the surgery when you were still unconscious. Connor was now here to let Jay know that you were awake and had gone through the cognitive tests with no issues.

“Hey stranger.” Jay called, leaning on the door frame at the entrance to your recovery room.

You smiled back at him, as you lay propped up in bed. You could see it in his eyes, his worried expression still looming over him.

You stretched out your arm, beckoning him to come closer.

Jay smiled and moved forward, fitting his hand into yours and scooting as close as he could to you. He was silent for a while, just watching you, as if he was committing you to memory.

“Jay?” You probed, “I’m okay.”

“Did you know?” Jay finally opened his mouth, asking the one question that was weighing on his mind.

You frowned a little in confusion before you realised what he was really asking. You let your gaze fall. “I wasn’t sure.” You whispered. “Until now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jay asked.

You shrugged. “I had a negative and a positive. I just wasn’t sure. I was planning to come to Med to get tested but we got hit with the case this morning and I just…” You paused again, watching Jay and for the first time in a long time you weren’t able to get an accurate read on him.

“And I didn’t know if…” You paused.

“Y/N, I love you. There’s nothing in the world that would change that.”

You smiled. “I know. I just… I wasn’t sure if this was in your plans, yet. A baby changes everything Jay, like it or not. And I wasn’t sure if…”

Jay leaned forward, interrupting with you a kiss.

“Anything that has to do with you is in my plans.” Jay whispered.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Jay gently put a hand on your stomach.

“A baby, huh?” He muttered. When he looked back up, you saw a twinkle of tears in his eyes.

You smiled and put a hand up to his face. “You sure about this?”

Jay raised his hand to cover yours. “There’s no one else in the world that I would want to do this with. Ever.”

Jay suddenly straightened up. “Look, this is so not where I wanted to do this.”

Your eyebrows unconsciously scrunched together. “Do what?”

Jay gently pulled himself away from you, reaching into his pocket. Before you knew what was happening, Jay was down on one knee beside your hospital bed.

“Jay…”

“Y/N, will you marry me?” Jay’s green eyes were shining.

You stared at him.

“Baby, say something.” Jay said. You could see his green eyes growing more doubtful.

“I promise you, this has less to do with the baby than the fact I can’t think of anyone else that I would want to spend the rest of my life with.” Jay blabbered. “Do you think I carry a ring around in my pocket everyday?”

You cracked a smile.

“Of course, I’ll marry you.” You whispered.​

[raisinghellonstarbug]

Stumbled Into Laughter, Stumbled Into You - A James Acaster x Reader Story

Basic plot: The year is 2019, and life has been quite dull for you since working in a job that you hate for the past two years after graduating from university. You used to do stand up comedy at uni, but you’ve been putting off pursuing it due to lack of confidence and motivation. Your best mates decide to encourage you to try a comedy mic night for the first time ever and while there you incidentally run into an old mate of yours, comedian Rhys James. That’s when your life gets turned around as you end up diving into the world of the comedy circuit and becoming close with other famous British comedians. In the midst of it all, you end up meeting a particularly distinctive red headed fellow who might end up being the very thing that brings meaning to your life again.

*

A/N: Hello Acaster fans!

So this was an idea I have had in mind for the last few months and I finally finished the first chapter of my story!

Just so you know, the first chapter does not include James, but be patient as he will appear soon (but maybe not quite as soon as you hope). I do reckon it will be worth the wait for his appearance, or at least I hope the story is still enjoyable! It is a slow burn so if you are an inpatient person, then this story might not be for you ;)

You can read this chapter below or if you prefer, there is also the link to the chapter posted on Ao3 right here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33748507

-

Rating: M

Chapter 1 word length: 2326

Characters: James Acaster (duh), Original Female Characters(s), Original Male Character(s), Rhys James, Ed Gamble, Nish Kumar, Josh Widdicombe

Relationships: James Acaster x Reader/you, Original female character/Original Male character

Story tags: Romantic comedy, domestic fluff, slow burn, fluff and smut, British comedy, eventual relationships

Tagging: @laurabeech @rilannon @jasclearwaters @marklily @queensantiagoofthe99

Chapter 1 - Summer 2019

You were sitting at your desk at your mundane job, practically ready to blow your brains out on the usual, dull Thursday afternoon. It was really warm and stuffy inside the fifteen story office block building situated in Canary Wharf. This was a place you found yourself five days a week, doing the typical 9 to 5 hours. A usual day for a usual person.

Your job wasn’t a particularly riveting one. As an underwriter for an insurance company, some days could get especially boring. You knew how to do the job well, but it was not something you really loved. It involved all kinds of clients and claims in paperwork and it sometimes felt tedious and unfulfilling. But hey, it still paid your share of rent and bills. At least you could say you could manage in the hustle and bustle of the London lifestyle.

It was nearly hometime and you were itching to get home and relax. But before that could happen, there were those last set of insurance cover forms you had to copy to get sent to the HR department. And so you typed away on your laptop, clickety clack, clickety clack… the minutes went by like a chalk on a blackboard, scraping away at a snail’s pace.

You put your full force of concentration on the documents on the screen until it was finally done. A sense of achievement was necessary in these moments despite your lack of enthusiasm. It was in the little victories you reminded yourself. You rubbed the sweat from the July heat off your forehead.

* * *

The last 2 hours eventually passed by and it was soon the rush to get out of the door before you got held up by your colleagues. They were nice enough, but sometimes they could hold you back for half an hour chatting when you just wanted to get home, or your manager might try and get you to stay an hour overtime.

Thankfully you did get out promptly, and as you ran and dashed out of the office building saying brisk goodbyes to coworkers, you managed to make it to the tube with the train just arriving on time. But not without being moderately sweaty and hot though. Bloody stuffy platforms.

As expected it was still a busy train with plenty of 5pm finishers getting themselves situated on the half crowded carriages, but as it was only 10 past, it wasn't the worst time of day for commuting yet.

You perched yourself on one of the tube’s seats and let your shoulders drop, having held the tension in your body from sitting at a desk all day. You placed your head slightly back, balancing it on the window of the train. You looked up momentarily above you and then lifted your head back up to look at your phone and choose a song to listen to on Spotify through your wireless earphones.

The streams of sound from one of your favourite songs began to play softly in your ears and you smiled, knowing that the song gave you a little bit of wistful joy. You started mouthing the words.

Call it all for nothing, but I'd rather be nothing to you. Than be a part of something, something that I didn’t do (Best to You - Blood Orange).

The words half mean something but not necessarily anything. You began to wonder about being part of something that you’re not.

I just wish I could float away from my unexciting existence… you thought to yourself.

It sometimes occurred to you that you might have wanted something more out of life, but weren’t entirely sure what. It doesn’t make you dreadfully sad, but you know that life for you hasn’t exactly been the best it could be, and that perhaps something was missing. You wish you knew what it was.

You sighed, ignoring the feeling of sorrow wash over you momentarily and propped yourself back up in the uncomfortable seat of the train. You tried to keep yourself awake so that you wouldn’t miss your stop. The music continued through your ears.

* * *

You opened the door of the three bedroom flat that you had been residing in for the last two years with your flatmates and sighed with relief that you had finally reached home. You hurried to get your handbag off your shoulder and your shoes off, placing them on the rack next to the front door and walked through the hallway.

The minute you poked your head through to the lounge, bellowing a faint hello to whoever was around, you were suddenly greeted by one of your best friends and flatmates, Grace.

“Ahh Y/n! You’re home. Thank christ!”

She grabbed you and reached her arms around to embrace you tightly. You were perplexed by this gesture as it was so random and unusual given that Grace lived with you and saw you everyday of the week. You frowned and reluctantly placed your arms around her to return the hug.

As she then let go, she looked at you with urgency in her eyes and shrieked with excitement, “Oh Y/n guess what? It looks like I’m up for a promotion! Can you believe it?”

Now processing the reason for such an embrace, you raised your eyebrows in glee and smiled proudly, gushing back to your best mate who was obviously chuffed by the matter.

“Oh wow Grace, that's fantastic! I mean, finally. It is about bloody time!”

She smiled, “Yes I guess it is. But I mustn't get too excited. I haven’t officially got the promotion yet.”

“Ah but no. I’m not having any of that. You will get that promotion. It is a guarantee. They would be idiots to not give it to you.” Grace rolled her eyes and bit her lip. She reluctantly nodded and agreed.

The smell of food distracted you momentarily from the conversation. It was a particularly appetising smell.

Grace uttered, “Yes that smell is good isn’t it? Theo insisted on cooking us a nice meal for me as a celebration.”

You smiled knowingly, having known about how Grace and Theo had been in relationship limbo ever since you three became close friends at university. You knew they both had feelings for each other but often danced around the subject, completely oblivious to one another’s obvious attraction to the other. You reckoned they had to do something about it one day.

“Thank fuck. I wasn’t prepared to make dinner tonight. I am too tired for that.”

Grace then had her worried face on. She instantly knew, as she knew you too well, but funnily enough never picked up on Theo’s emotions despite constantly wondering about them, that something was wrong.

“Are you ok babe?” she asked with a look of pity that you scornfully resented.

You sighed, half lying, “Yes. I’m fine. Just tired is all.”

You made a beeline for the couch knowing full well that you were going to talk about it whether you liked it or not. You knew that Grace would see right through your dishonesty and insist that you told her the problem.

So you waited until Grace inevitably sat next to you and gave you that sympathy look she always gave you before coming out with the concerns that were floating around your brain.

“OK fine. I know you won’t leave me alone unless I tell you.”

“Ahh, you know me so well…”

“Yes, just as you know me. I’m just- I’m fed up. Work was slow. I don’t really feel like I’m associated with my life. I feel... disconnected, I guess.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

You shrugged and looked down at the floor and then back at Grace smiling sheepishly, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not- not fulfilled? I just don’t thoroughly enjoy my life right now.”

Grace nodded and put a hand on your leg. You twitched your face in slight discomfort. You hated it when you were given sympathy for something that seemed so miniscule. It wasn’t like you were dying.

It was times like this when you just wanted to curl up in your bed, eat a tub of ice cream and watch your favourite comedy programmes. 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown sprang to mind.

As you sat in momentary silence for a bit, Theo came waltzing through from the kitchen with his silly apron on that had a naked man’s body printed on it, and a spatula in his hand. He smiled at you.

“I thought I heard your voice. I hope meatballs for dinner are good tonight. Not mine of course,” gesturing to the apron as he said it.

You shook your head at Theo’s poor dad joke and stood up to hug him. You realised that you must be really down in the dumps to be hugging Theo. It was his turn to be confused. He looked towards Grace wide eyed.

“She’s had a particularly tough day. But mind you babe, you’ve kinda been like this for weeks now.”

You let go of Theo and turned to Grace, frowning and feeling slightly defensive. You placed a hand on your hip.

“Been like what? I’ve just been a bit fed up, that's all.”

“Yes but it’s not just a bit fed up. You said so yourself you feel disconnected. We’ve been waiting for you to say it.”

You looked to Theo and he nodded gently in agreement.

“Ok… but, nothing is really wrong exactly. My life is fine.”

“Fine, yes. But not amazing. We know it’s getting you down. And the job is the problem.”

“But I’m good at it. And it pays the bills. What else am I supposed to do?”

Grace then looked away from your eyes then, twitching her lip and looking as though she was holding something back. She then sighed and began to admit something you had not been expecting.

“OK look. We know what you can do. Theo and I have figured it out. We can manage money wise. It will be tight, but if you quit your job we should be able to help you out for a little bit.”

Your eyes grew wider than large saucepans. You were totally bewildered and your mouth slightly agape.

“What? Quit my job? Why? What work would I get instead?”

“Well, maybe you won't quit your job yet. Maybe you’re right, that's too hasty. Perhaps what I’m trying to say is-”

Theo then chimed in, “-what Grace is trying to say is…”

You smirked to yourself. How do they not realise that they’re already a couple but without the sex? They’re practically married for christ sake.

“...we reckon that you need to pursue your passion. Perhaps stop wasting your talents in an office job that you hate.”

Grace continued, “yes exactly. We have had an idea in mind. See, we want you to go to this thing… it’s no biggie but well, we’ve already booked it for you.”

Your mind was racing. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying to you. It was all too much for you to manage.

“Booked what for me? What the hell are you both going on about?”

They both looked at each other with reluctance, pondering the moment and whether to tell you the whole truth. They both shrugged and Grace was then pulling her phone out, this whole conversation beginning to appear as though they had been trying to practice it.

Suddenly Grace’s phone screen was wavering in your face. You moved your head closer to see a photo on the screen. It was a comedy club night poster. Incidentally, it was an open mic night event happening on Saturday night. You began to then put the puzzle pieces together. You folded your arms and frowned heavily.

“What the fuck have you two done now?”

Theo softly spoke, “We… booked you a slot to do that comedy open mic event thing, on Saturday night.”

“Wait. As in to perform? You can’t be serious-”

Grace tried to reassure you and grabbed your arm.

“Look, we know it might seem daunting, but we just wanted to see you happy again. It’s been two years since we graduated and you haven’t performed since then. We thought it might be good to encourage you to perform again. You were always funny to us. And people at uni thought so too. You have the stand up talent, Y/n.”

You could not process anymore. You shook your head in disbelief and placed your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes from sudden exhaustion. You then threw your hands up in exasperation. It was not possible. You could not do that again.

Fucking no way. I can’t be on stage again! It’s too scary. University pub nights are one thing but a comedy club?

You shook your head again and placed your hands on your hips. Grace tried to speak up again seeing the frustration painted across your face. In fact it was anger that your friends chose to do this without your say so.

“Y/n…”

“No. Nope. I’m not doing it. No.”

“But Y/n, we were also going to tell you that Theo is also thinking of doing the same thing! He wants to do his music again. What harm would it be for you to rejuvenate your comedy skills? Surely you can write a quick couple of gags. Nothing strenuous. You have your old material from university, right?”

You had to get out of the room. Nothing that they were saying to you could be fully accepted at that moment.

You then gave them no choice but to let you go with your head in a flurry. They both watched you leave the room, mumbling something along the lines of I’m not really hungry anymore, I’m going to bed. Soon after, you darted across the other end of the hallway, ill-tempered and almost seething, and slammed your bedroom door shut.

[raindownforme]

Crush

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader [she/her used]

It had been hours since y/n had started her stream. At the beginning of it she’d been working on the origins SMP and grinding at gathering supplies and resources while everyone else was off doing other things. A few times someone had popped onto the VC she sat in, Niki had talked while eating dinner and Ranboo had came to recount his day, but otherwise she had remained alone in the beginning.

But it had been several hours since then. Now it was 3 going on 4 in the morning. She sat curled up on her gaming chair, her eyelids just barely staying open. She was exhausted, but she was determined to stay awake until someone else started streaming. To pass the time, y/n had been interacting with chat and reading aloud donations.

“Hello?” A voice came through her headphones and she jumped, nearly falling out of her seat. “y/n?”

“Oh! Philza!” He chuckled a bit. Her voice sounded light and she began to yawn halfway through her sentence. “How nice to see you. What are you doing up?”

“Well it’s roughly noon for me and I was about to start streaming.”

“Ah. Of course.” She began to tap at some buttons, readying to move around her audience.

“Have you been awake for long?”

“Yeah. But I had a few people visit me.” As the notification of Phil going live dropped, she sent everyone over with a wave. “Niki and Ran came by.”

“Aw you sound disappointed.”

“Well I wanted somebody to come by but I guess he was too busy.”

Philza laughed again. “Yeah? And who’s somebody?”

In her stupor she giggled and winked towards a camera that wasn’t on anymore. “I can’t tell you who I have a crush on.”

The man froze, watching his chat go by a mile a minute. They kept throwing names around, even if they didn’t make sense, and he knew this wouldn’t end up any where good if it progressed. “Is it alright if we talk about this later? Why don’t you get some sleep.”

She yawned and stretched. She slowly went to get out of her chair. “Alright dad. Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you too.” The discord call made the familiar noise of someone disconnecting and y/n turned off her display. She went and slunk into her bed, nesting underneath the covers, and quickly drifted to sleep.

———

y/n woke up a few hours later. As she sat up the first thing she did was reach for her phone to see a missed call from Ranboo. She went to call back and he picked up almost immediately.

“You are so dumb.”

She groaned and wiped at the sleep in her eyes. “Can I be awake for five minutes first.”

“No actually. You’re trending on Twitter.”

She squinted, trying to recall anything. “Did I do something bad? Was it last night or....?”

“It wasn’t like. Bad. But it was last night. You told Phil on live that you have a crush on someone.”

She paused, feeling her face grow warm with embarrassment. “Did I say who it was?”

“No you didn’t.” She sighed and felt herself relax a bit. “But they’re trying to figure it out. You didn’t make it very hard.”

“Well I didn’t say a name.”

“Yeah so you let them pick from the six men your age who have been on this server. Like I said you’re dumb.”

She sat up and got out of her bed, letting Ranboo sit next to her on speaker. She went to her desk and booted up her computer. She pulled up twitch on one monitor and Twitter on another. Loading up the streaming site, she sorted through all of us Phil’s new clips to look for last night. She found it quickly and began playing it.

“Have you been awake long?”

“Yeah. But I had a few people come visit me.... Niki and Ran came by.”

“Aw you sound disappointed.”

“Well I wanted somebody to come by but I guess he was too busy.”

Philza’s laugh echoed through her monitor’s speakers. “Yeah? And who’s that somebody?”

“I can’t tell you who I have a crush on.”

The clip ended with Philza glancing wide eyed between the camera and his computer monitors. y/n sighed and looked over at her other monitor. Her twitch name was trending. She clicked on the tag and scrolled through countless tweets of clips of her and other boys from the Origins SMP. There were ones of her and Jack, her and Charlie, her and Wilbur, her and Sneeg, and even her and Tommy or Tubbo. She took the time to respond to ones of her and the younger boys, emphasizing that if anyone was going to speculate anything it wasn’t going to be with her and children.

“Ran, what do I do?”

“Ignore it? It’s not like you have an actual crush on any one right?”

She paused, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Ran..”

“Oh! Oh my god!” He started laughing and y/n could hear him fall from his chair onto the floor. He kept laughing as he got up. “Oh please tell me who it is-“

“No! I’m an adult! I don’t have crushes on boys.”

“Oh that is fake!” He kept laughing and y/n rested her head in her hands. “You know you might as well tell me who it is.”

“Yeah fucking right.”

“I’ll black mail you.”

“No you won’t!”

“I’ll show Tubbo your number and he’ll leak it.”

“To who.”

“The discord.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah. When are you getting on.”

“An hour-ish.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Alright byeeeeeee.”

Ranboo ended the call and y/n sighed. If she told Ranboo who she liked, he’d eventually tell Tubbo, who’d eventually tell Tommy, until he told someone and so on so forth. They were teenage boys. It wasn’t a very lucrative group. And Tommy seemed to record with Charlie almost every week. It seemed impossible to get by without disrupting something.

y/n went on to busy herself around her home for the next hour or so, doing some cleaning and other chores that had to be done. When she finished, she made her way to her pc to begin recording. She wasn’t planning on a live stream today, but a recording session would still do her channel good.

As she sat to boot up Mojang, she pulled up discord on her second monitor. She saw the kids already in a call; Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo.

“Hey boys.” She slipped on her headphones as she entered the call, but they were all yelling.

“DON’T YELL AT ME.”

“I’L YELL AT WHOEVER I WANT WHEN I KNOW I’M RIGHT.”

“ARE YOU TOMMY? ARE YOU RIGHT?”

“Hi y/n.” Both boys stopped yelling as Tubbo pointed out that she had arrived. “Ranboo’s live by the way.”

“Thanks Tubbo. Are you guys on origins?”

“Yep!”

“Great, I’ll be on in a sec.” As she opened the world, she spawned somewhere she didn’t remember. It was dark around her, like she was swallowed by obsidian. “Uhhh, boys? I might be stuck.”

“I told you! I told you I was right! Chat tell Ranboo he’s an idiot!” Tommy started yelling again as Ranboo tried to tell him to shut up.

“That doesn’t explain why I’m surrounded by obsidian. I don’t have a pick!”

“Well, y/n,” she looked over to her discord call to see all the boys had their cameras on now. They all sat with their hands crossed while wearing sunglasses. Ranboo had his full mask on. Meaning he probably had camera on for his stream. Tubbo cleared his throat as he kept talking. “We have some questions for you.”

“If I answer can I get out of here?”

“If you answer honestly.” Ranboo leaned forwards a bit. “You told Philza Minecraft you had a crush on someone, correct?”

“Yeah. Sure. Might I add you’re all immature?”

“Is this crush, a man? Hmm?” Tommy tipped his sunglasses downwards slightly.

“Yes. How many more questions?”

“You’re not done. Is it someone on this server?”

“Does that matter Tubbo?”

“YES.” All the boys shouted in unison.

“Jeez fine. He has played on multiple servers, this could be one of them.”

Tommy slammed his fist on his desk. “HONESTY.”

“YES. HE IS.”

Ranboo gave a fake evil chuckle. “So it’s someone we know. A man we know. A gamer we know. One of us.”

“Yeah yeah.” y/n quickly pulled up twitch on her third monitor, making sure that he wasn’t watching Ranboo’s stream.

“Now y/n. I’m muted on my stream right now. Is it Wilbur?”

“Uhh…” He was there. He was watching the stream. Whatever she answered, he’d know.

“Wilbur! It’s Wilbur!” The boys started cheering as she realized that she didn’t quite answer. But as long as Charlie didn’t know the truth.

“Yeah. Can I come out now?” She watched charlie’s name disappear from the chat. In her game, Ranboo’s character came over to set her free from the obsidian.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

“Yeah no worries. I’ll see you later boys.” She logged out of the server and scooted away from the monitors. She knew she made a bigger problem for herself.

She walked over to her bedside table, taking her phone off the charge, and went to face time Wilbur. He picked up quickly, holding the phone extremely close to his face.

“y/n!”

“Are you streaming?”

“No not at the moment.”

“Great because I fucked something up.”

“Oooooh tell me.” Wilbur propped up his phone in front of him and took a drink of something in a mug.

“So the children- did you see the clip from Phil’s stream?”

“Absolutely. Continue.”

“They went and cornered me into telling who my crush is. And they said you and I was distracted so they assumed you-“

“Is it me?”

“No fuck off. But now everyone thinks it’s you and even worse, the actual person was watching! He thinks I have a crush on you and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

Wilbur nodded. “Well who is?”

y/n pursed her lips, thinking for a moment before admitting the truth out loud for the first time. “Charlie.”

Wilbur froze, then scrambled to pick up his phone. “I have to go.”

“WILBUR NO.”

The line went dead from Wilbur’s end and y/n groaned, chucking her phone against her pillows. She rubbed at her eyes with her palms, deciding she might as well continue recording.

y/n logged back onto the Origins server, keeping herself out of the active discord calls. She could see that the three boys were still in a call, and Wilbur was talking with Philza. She rolled her shoulders back, getting into the mindset to record.

“Hey everybody!” y/n went on start the recording, talking mostly to herself about finishing construction on her house. It was quite a tall house, built of mostly stone and cobble, but she was still proud of it. The bottom two floors were reserved for storage and mining, and there was one room of entirely water for Niki. The top floor was a large spread patio frames in by dark oak fencing with a glass roof surrounded by dark oak half slabs. Her being a skeleton in the game, having a vantage point helped her snipe enemy mobs. It was also conviennent for attacking creepers to get music discs. She had quite the collection growing already.

“Okay so if I-“ y/n paused, looking over at her other monitor. In the main chat of the Origins SMP server, Wilbur had a sent a singular message.

WilburSoot: dress formally for an event in 2 hours time hosted at the Pubé

y/n took a breath, a bit nervous of what that meant, but still responded to let him know she would be there. In the meantime, she continued on her video, taking the 2 hour period to build herself a lovely garden area and an additional storage area deep underground.

“Thank you everyone! I hope to see you all soon.” She ended the recording and took a breath. There were 15 minutes until Wilbur’s event, and she supposed she had to dress nicer than her pajamas.

A moment later, she returned to her computer wearing her favorite sweater and a comfortable pair of pants. Looking over at discord, she could see most of the Origins SMP members in a discord call together, excluding only Schlatt, Technoblade, and SMajor. She took a breath, thinking for a moment, then clicked into the call.

“Hello?”

“y/n!!!” Jack’s voice screamed through her headphones.

“Sorry he’s a bit loud.”

“OI. AM NOT.”

“Come down mate.” Philza cleared his throat. “y/n. Lovely to have you.”

“Thanks Phil.”

“Before we start, no one’s live at all.”

She paused cueing up the game, her mouse hovering over the server. “Before we start what?”

No one answered. Quietly, she entered the server and made her way to the Pubé.

“Welcome to event of the century.” Ranboo’s character jumped up and down. Every one stood in the Pubé facing her.

“Alright. And what kind of event is this?”

“A ball! With food and drink provided by Philza and music provided by Tommy.” Wilbur’s character ran over to the jukebox in the corner to show her.

“That’s lovely, Will. Was I supposed to be more dressed up?”

“I think you’re perfect as is.” Charlie’s character jumped up and down. She paused, trying to swallow the giddy feeling rising in her chest.

“Let’s begin! Tommy, the music?” Wilbur turned the the teen as he placed the music discs. y/n watched everyone pair off, leaving her and Wilbur alone. Wilbur walked over to her, hitting her playfully.

“Hey Wilbur.” y/n looked over as the two went into a separate call.

“y/n!!! How are you doing? Enjoying the party?”

“Well I haven’t been here very long.” She held her hands closed over her lap. “Wilbur, I feel like there’s something going on here.”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me?”

She sighed, a smile playing at her lips. “Fine.”

“Good.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Maybe dance around a bit. I’m going to talk with Phil.”

They both left the chat, Wilbur entering a call of just him and Philza and y/n entering the main room. The music was still playing. Everyone seemed to have split off into groups, leaving her alone. She sat by herself, watching everyone mingle about. It was only her in the main call, leaving everyone else in groups, but it was nice. She turned her head to watch her second monitor, seeing Charlie move out of the call with Wilbur and Philza to the main room with herself.

“H-Hey there.” She watched Charlie’s small character bounce over to her. “How’s it hangin?”

“Oh. Uhm. Good I guess. It’s nice to see you back on the server.”

“Yeah I guess I haven’t played in a while. I mean I haven’t streamed that much either but I’ve been recording.”

“That’s nice!”

“Yeah. I mean I’ve been able to watch other streams though.”

y/n thought back Ranboo’s stream earlier in the day, knowing full well Charlie had been watching that one. “Right.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. I mean I know how you feel.”

“Oh. Oh no please tell me Wilbur didn’t say anything.” y/n rubbed at her forehead with the heel of her palms. Convincing the internet she was in love with Wilbur Soot had been a problem in its own, but Wilbur telling Charlie she had a crush on him? “Look Charlie I’m sorry I didn’t want him to tell you it’s just- god you’re so nice and funny and really cute and it’s a stupid crush I never wanted to ruin our friendship. I’m so sorry Charlie.”

The other end of the call was quiet for a moment, but then she head Charlie almost laugh. “You have a crush on me?”

The realization washed over like a tsunami. He’d been talking about the stream, Wilbur hadn’t said anything. “God no wait Charlie-“

“On me? You have a crush on me?”

“Okay now you’re just rubbing it in. I take it back.”

“You can’t take that back!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

y/n paused, a smile creeping on her face. “Are you telling me that you have a crush on me over a Minecraft server?”

“You said it first!”

She glanced over at the camera on her computer for a moment. “We could have avoided this the whole time?”

“I- yeah we could’ve.”

y/n giggled, resting her face in her hands. “Is this our first date then?

“No!” She could hear Charlie suck in a breath. “I mean, let me take you somewhere better. Just give me a few days?”

“Days? That’s speedy isn’t it?”

“Okay Maybe weeks. But I’ll take you somewhere. Anywhere. Trust me.”

“Of course.”

She could hear Charlie laugh on the other end of the call. “Until then, how much time do we have to make up for?”

She smiled, settling herself into her chair. “Charlie, more than you could ever think.”

[javier-pena]

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna​ who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It��s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

[spencerreidsmiles]

A Little Clumsy

Written by: spencerreidsmiles

Hello hello, my lovelies! I have once again been absolutely grinding at school (and now work too woohoo) so I have had like zero motivation to write but I finally finished one of my anon requests!

They requested prompts 7, 28, and 42 off the General list on this here prompt list! Those will be bolded throughout the story.  

Short summary - It’s the first day of work at the BAU for the reader but when their clumsiness gets the better of them, Spencer Reid is there to save the day. 

Trigger Warnings - blood (like the whole thing is about blood so if blood is a trigger for you, seriously do not read this one), minor injury, strong language, embarrassment

Word Count - 1386

MASTERLIST // WATTPAD VERSION

Sometimes you were clumsy. Okay, perhaps that was a bit of an understatement. You were more often than not clumsy. So when you began your first day at the BAU walking right into a wall and collapsing onto your ass, thus spilling coffee all over yourself, you weren’t surprised, to say the least. Frustrated, yes, but surprised, no. 

However, that sentiment wasn’t exactly shared by everyone, it appeared. In your dizzy haze, you felt a thud as someone knelt down next to you. 

“Is that blood?” the stranger asked. 

You touched your nose with your fingers, red decorating your fingertips. Whoever was talking to you was right, there was blood. Your white shirt, now a light shade of brown-ish beige, was sticky against your chest. Blood and coffee all over your new clothes on your first day of work? How could it go any better? 

To be honest, you weren’t really concerned about the blood right now. This whole scenario had happened enough times that this was essentially a regular occurrence for you. Instead, you were more concerned about the fact that this was the impression you were going to be making on all your colleagues. What were you supposed to do, just walk into the meeting room absolutely drenched in the last bit of your latte and blood and just act normal and introduce yourself? Yeah, because nothing screamed “qualified special agent” like a klutz banging their head into a literal wall. Surely whoever hired you was regretting their decision now. If you were them, you would. 

You had to save your pride somehow. The least you could do would be to find a bathroom and try to clean yourself up as much as possible before meeting your coworkers. 

But first, you had to deal with whoever had watched you slam your head into the wall. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” you said, sighing. 

“You are literally bleeding,” he stated again. 

You pushed your arms back, propping you up and allowing you the opportunity to take a good look at him. 

Even in your dazed state, you could tell that he was attractive. He was tall, first of all. He towered over you, his brown curls fell over his face as stared at you, clearly concerned. And his eyes. Jesus, his eyes. You could melt into them. 

No. No, stop it. You thought to yourself. This was not the time to be crushing on whoever the hell literally watched you walk into a wall. There were more important things at hand unfortunately. 

“Well thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said bitingly. The pain was beginning to hit you a bit more. You hadn’t thought you’d broken your nose...but the steady swelling was beginning to change your mind. 

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he responded with complete seriousness as he stared even more intently at your nose. 

“Sorry?”

His eyes flickered from your nose, meeting your gaze. 

“It’s Doctor. Doctor Spencer Reid.” 

Shit. You knew that name. Dr. Reid. One of your new coworkers, of course. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Doctor Obvious then. Wouldn’t want you to lose your credentials.” Dr. Reid didn’t seem to be affected at all by your little joke. You shot him a weak grin, which he did not return. Great. Everything was going great. Clearly. 

“What’s your name again?” he asked. 

“Dr. Reid, are you flirting with me?” you teased. As if anyone could think you look pretty in this mess of brown and red. 

“No! No, of course not. I just want to know so when I submit an injury report, I can have a name to put down.” An injury report? Oh hell no. You were already going to be known as the newbie who walked into a wall and maybe broke their nose, you didn’t need to be known as the newbie who walked into a wall, possibly broke their nose, AND had to have their new coworker fill out an injury report on their first day. 

“Pssh, they don’t need to know. It’s just a little blood and a little bruise. No big deal. I’m completely fine.”

You waved your hand about, swatting him off. It was nothing, just a bad nosebleed basically. A bad nosebleed with a side of a headache that was really starting to ramp up and throb incessantly. Gosh, you really just slammed right into that wall, didn’t you?

Nonetheless, you persisted. You popped up onto your feet as Dr. Reid stood up as well with a horrified look on his face.  

“You hit your head pretty hard, I’m not sure that’s the best idea-” Dr. Reid stammered. 

He was right, again. Standing up this fast was a bit too much, it appeared. Almost immediately, you completely lost all your balance. Your head spun as you fell, of course, right into Dr. Reid’s arms, effectively burying your nose right into his sweater. Apparently the day could get worse.

As you just stayed there, both of you completely frozen in place and completely unaware as to what to do next, you took a deep breath. 

“Okay, so maybe you were right,” you admitted. 

For a second that felt more like a minute at least, it was dead silent. Well, if you hadn’t made a bad impression on Dr. Reid yet, surely this was the final straw. You had calculated an about 100% chance of Dr. Reid running off to tell your boss that they had truly made the worst mistake in hiring you. The ideal first day, really. 

Slowly, Dr. Reid propped you back on your feet. You were still a bit woozy and your nose was throbbing fairly bad, so you clutched onto him for a second to settle yourself down. His arms wrapped around your back, holding you tight.  

It was only after you pulled yourself away that you realized just how much of a mess you had made out of Dr. Reid’s sweater. Right where you had buried your face was now a giant splotch of red from your nose. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologized. You tried wiping off whatever schmutz you could off his clothes with your own sleeves, but you only smeared it further and further in. God, you were just an absolute mess, weren’t you? Good grief. 

But instead of glaring at you, you saw the kindest eyes crinkling with laughter. Like the sunlight breaking through clouds, you heard Dr. Reid’s laugh ring out loud and clear. The sound itself warmed your heart God, if he was handsome before, then what was he now? Whatever he was, it was safe enough to say, you were absolutely head over-fucking-heels for your savior. 

“I’ll be honest, I was waiting for a reason to get rid of this sweater. So thank you for giving me a reason to.” He glanced down at the splotch before looking back at your worried face. “Don’t feel bad, things like this happen.”

“You’ve had someone run into a wall and bleed onto your shirt before?” you asked with a heavy emphasis on your incredulity. 

His cheeks and ears brightened a light pink shade. “Well not exactly, but we’re all a little clumsy sometimes.”

You checked your watch. Almost nine, aka almost time for you to meet the team and officially start your first day of work. Starting a new job just like this. Wow. You were so screwed. 

Either you had the world’s worst poker face or Dr. Reid was just really good at his job, but immediately after watching you check your watch, his shyness faded away and his voice softened as he spoke.  

“Hey, how about you go home and get cleaned up and I’ll tell the team you’ll be a little late.”

“Are you sure? What if they ask about…” You gestured around vaguely at his shirt. 

He shrugged. “I’ll just tell them you made a strong first impression.”

You let out a relieved laugh. “That’s one way to put it,” you said. “Thank you.”

As you began to walk to the elevator, you thought about Dr. Reid and his kindness and eventually came to the conclusion that perhaps this first day wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. That he was right, everyone was a little clumsy sometimes. And that was okay.

TAG LIST - @reiding-and-writing @twelveyearoldchildprodigy @philsreidingglasses @marshmellow-mouse  @huntynut-queerios  @sierra—king  @thnksfrbuckybarnes  @hope-hopr @rosyreid @scbcar @ultrarebelheart @headshotsandcanons @lyrasilverroseelizabethamanti @heyitskatrina @mainstreamqueen @prettyrickyreid @theresnothingformehere @donuts1324 @lookingforgalifrey @doyouheardeansing @stunudo @captainreid @little-pan-trash-can @the-one-and-onlyqueenasf @the-and-sign-anon @princesswagger17 @spoonsandthings14 @nerdyfandom20 @spencerreidsbitch @irjuejjsaa @philspinkyfinger @peter-parker-steve-bucky @biscottibitch @bucky-smiles @youngmalfunctionarts @spacedustdoll @shotarosleftpinky @jjwrites @rosyreid-blog @essayzine-blog @spencerreid9 @madsgraygubler @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence​ 

[fruitcoops]

Nosy Neighbors

Hey folks! This is a continuation of the Coops social media series, kind of like the boyfriend tag and the tiktoks. Let me know what you think and if you like these fics! Credit for Coops/ Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove, as always. Some parts inspired by the SW discord!

“Bonjour, everyone, and welcome back to the Gryffindor Lions Instagram! I’m Sirius Black and I’m here with my fiancé, Remus Lupin, to answer some questions you are sending in while we’re live.” Sirius set his phone up so both he and Remus could see it. “Alright, first question: what are our favorite colors?”

“Green,” Remus said, leaning over Sirius’ arm to see. “Specifically dark green, kinda moss tones?”

Sirius hummed. “I really should say red or gold, but I like blue a lot.”

“Don’t tell Coach,” Remus said to the camera. “Question—wow, these are coming in fast—question two: who kissed who first?”

“You did?”

“I think so. That’s right, I did, because we had the whole conversation beforehand and I just kind of went ‘fuck it’ and smooched you.”

“Smooch.”

“Shush, read another question.” Remus kissed him on the cheek as he looked back to his phone.

“Who is more romantic?”

“You,” Remus said without hesitation. “You’re so sappy.”

“That’s different than being romantic.”

“Either way, you can do it forever.” Remus scrolled through a couple more before pausing and bursting out laughing.

Sirius’ whole face lit up and he craned his neck to see. “Which one is it?”

“It’s not even a question, I just love it.” Remus took a second to collect himself. “All it says is ‘these bitches smitten’, and you know what? Yeah.”

Sirius laughed loudly, leaning against the back of the couch for a moment. “Merde, I’m using that forever. Thank you, whoever sent that in. Okay, what do we have next…who said ‘I love you’ first? Me!” He smiled broadly, looking very proud of himself. “I did.”

Remus peered down at the phone. “People think it’s weird seeing you actually answer questions for once.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. Apparently most of them didn’t know you could actually smile—that’s sad.” Remus looked back up and stuck his lower lip out. “Everyone who didn’t know that, I feel very bad for you. Sirius Black’s smile is a national treasure.”

“That’s an awfully smitten thing to say.”

“Turns out I’m a smitten bitch, did you know that?” Remus wrapped an arm around his waist and tapped the phone screen. “On the ice, both of you are pretty aggressive—aw, that’s such a nice way of putting it—and I was wondering if that ever translates into when you argue. Oooh, we’re getting personal now.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side. “I’m going to say not really? First of all, we don’t fight that much, and second of all, we both make an effort to leave any dickishness on the ice.”

“Dickishness is a highly scientific word, of course,” Remus teased. “No, in all honesty, hockey is the only place either of us get, like, aggressive aggressive.”

“Hey, this one is specifically for you,” Sirius said, leaning down to see it better. “Oh, I like this one. To Remus, how do you survive being around that accent all day? If it were me, I would spontaneously combust for sure. How do you survive, mon loup?”

Remus groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t. It’s so frustrating.”

Sirius sent the camera a smug smile. “C’est bien. Hmm, this next person wants to roast us both. Who is messier?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You just don’t want to admit it’s you.” Sirius raised his eyebrows when Remus scoffed. “You leave your socks everywhere.”

“At least I own more than one pair without holes!”

“That’s not part of the question. I win, you lose, your turn.” Sirius handed him the phone and Remus stuck his tongue out at him.

“Someone named Laila wants to know if we ever get competitive at home or if that’s another thing we leave at the rink.” Remus propped his chin on his hand. “I don’t know, baby, do we get competitive?”

Sirius struggled to hold back his grin. “I’m just going to ask the general public a question now: what do you think happens when you put two professional athletes in a house together?”

“Especially when one of them is the captain.”

“The short answer is yes, we do. I can think of three separate occasions in the last week where we competed over something completely pointless.” Sirius thought for a moment. “Wait, no, there’s four. We should move on before this spirals. D’accord, dinonuggets asked why our dog’s name is Hattie. Good question!” He whistled and Hattie wandered in a few seconds later to sit between them on the couch. “Her name is Hattie because she is our lucky third for a hat trick.”

“Woah, people really like that.” Remus poked the screen as hearts exploded across it. “She is the best girl. Babycakes, sweet girl.” Hattie rolled onto her back and put her head in his lap. Remus petted her absentmindly as he read through the comments, then swung around to face Sirius with a mischievous smile. “What’s the best and worst part about dating someone from Wisconsin?”

“The slang for both,” Sirius answered immediately. “Jeez is so cute, but I do not understand the obsession with ‘hold your horses’ at all.”

Remus shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, you have no culture. Alright, you’re up.”

“Oh!” Sirius slapped at Remus’ leg in excitement and Hattie made a grumpy noise. “Un bébé!”

“A baby?”

“This person is just starting to question their identity and wants to know what labels we use.”

Remus lit up. “Baby gay! Hello! Oh, this is awesome. To answer your question, I used to identify as bisexual but after college I started identifying as gay because I felt like it fit me better.”

“As everyone knows, I was closeted until about eight months ago, but I’ve known I’m gay since I was…oh, maybe 13? 14?” Sirius’ face turned solemn for a moment. “Please remember that your labels can change and you’re still valid. Stay proud.”

“We’re starting to run out of time here, so we’re going to do a few rapid-fire questions. First one: What’s your favorite thing about your partner?”

“Your heart,” Sirius said, turning to look at Remus with a soft expression. “You’re so kind to everyone and you have so much love to go around.”

Remus had one hand over his mouth. “That’s so sweet. I feel so bad now. Uh, my favorite thing about you is how adventurous you are, since I’m an introvert and we balance really well.”

“Why did you feel bad?” Remus didn’t answer. “Oh my god, you were thinking of something else. What was it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Next question—”

Sirius grabbed the phone out of his hand. “Oh, no, no, tell me. Was it my ass?” The mild flush that crept up the sides of Remus’ neck gave him away. “It was!”

“I do genuinely love how adventurous you are,” Remus defended. “Just read the next question before I embarrass myself even more, please.”

“You’re never living that down. What’s the best and worst part of playing on the same team?”

“I think having the same schedule and really understanding the hockey lifestyle helps us avoid a lot of disagreements that couples have, but if we have a bad game then we both come home grumpy and that’s never very fun.”

Sirius nodded. “When you were still the PT we hung out less, since you had to stick around after practice and get there early to set up. Now, we can spend more time together in the mornings and evenings which is just the best. I’d say the worst part is that people have started comparing us in the media, and that’s total bullshit.”

“Yeah.” Remus scrunched up his nose. “It doesn’t have any real impact on our relationship, but it’s irritating to see it circulating when there are so many more important things they could be focusing on.”

“Last question, make it good,” Sirius warned, leaning back so Hattie could stretch her legs further.

“Okay, from Lathan in Texas, how do you have such beautiful hair?”

Sirius seemed rather surprised and sat up straighter. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well, Lathan, I wash it every other day with shampoo and conditioner and I don’t brush it while it’s dry. Once I get out of the shower, I just kind of…” he shook his head and the ear-length curls mussed a bit. “do that until the extra water is gone and let it air dry.”

“Godspeed, Lathan,” Remus said gravely. “Looks like that’s all we have time for today.”

“Thanks for tuning in, and see you later!”

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Banana Bread (part 1)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: probably T for mature themes (implications of sexy times and violence). It will go up later ;)

Summary: You share an apartment wall with Javier Peña, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get to know him. You didn’t think your baking would be the catalyst (read: Javi is jealous that Connie gets all the extras).

Tags: Mention of blood; super vague description of wound care; alcohol; TW for Javi: you have FEELINGS bby

Word count: 2,791

A/N: I guess technically this starts at the beginning of season 1, but I don’t plan on referencing the events of the show, so imagine they’re working on things less intense than trying to catch Escobar. I found Javier really tricky to write for, so I hope this reads okay! I’m so excited about the future chapters I have outlined for this lol pls get hype.

Masterlist

---

You had only been living in your new place for about a month when you got new neighbors. You were glad for the company- the four-apartment building was fairly new, and didn’t feel very lived-in. You did your best to add some personal flair to your apartment, but it still had the effect of reminding you of your own newness to this place, your lack of any deep personal connections.

Your other neighbor didn’t exactly help with that. Javier Peña had lived here for awhile before you moved in, but that was all you knew about him; you didn’t speak much beyond your neighborly greetings and his insinuating smiles. He never hides his lingering glances, but nor does he make any other moves- you sense he’s a safe type, all bark and no bite (without consent). So you always amusedly but politely ignore the invitation implicit in your exchanges. They don’t seem to have a lot of depth anyway, as if he’s just trying for the sake of trying. Granted, he probably never has to do much more than that- you’re very aware of how attractive your neighbor is on the surface. You just prefer to feel a connection slightly deeper than surface level before going home with someone.

You learn more about him from Connie, who tells you that he works at the embassy with her husband, Steve. In “janitorial services.” You raise a bemused eyebrow at that, but respect your neighbors’ privacy and don’t ask further questions. You help Connie get a job at a hospital a few blocks away from the one you’re a nurse at and promise to help her practice Spanish.

The building feels more lively now, and you’re happy to have a confidant upstairs, especially one who’s more privy to the life of your enigmatic hall-mate. You don’t know if it’s the neighborly care you feel for your new friend or if there’s some other unconscious change, but you begin to keep an ear out for Javier. You do share an apartment wall, although you don’t glean much through it. Some standard kitchen rummaging, television noise, the occasional bedroom guest (whose enterprises you try not to listen to, but damn if the man doesn’t have a perfect voice for after-dark activities). The most noticeable thing about him is the odd hours he keeps: sometimes in tandem with Steve’s schedule and sometimes not, you can never predict when he’ll be in or out.

--

Little do you know, you’re not the only one paying attention. Javier has spent many an evening alone with only whiskey and the television for company, but now there are other things to stimulate his senses. The smell of your baking filtering through the wall, even lingering in the hallway the next morning. The sound of you singing to the radio while clattering about the kitchen. Sometimes he turns the tv down to listen and imagines there being no wall between your two homes. What would his life be like with someone to infuse that kind of sweetness and light into it?

He doesn’t mean you specifically, necessarily. If, once or twice, your face jumps to mind while he’s taking care of himself in bed, he thinks nothing of it. You’re his beautiful neighbor- it’s a fantasy begging to be played out.

But damn if he hasn’t been tempted to make it a reality. He gets to taste your baking sometimes when you leave extras with Connie, and one day she catches his brow creased in a frown, distracted halfway through a slice of walnut banana bread.

“Javi,” Connie repeats, trying to get his attention.

“Yeah.” Javier snaps out of it, looking up.

“You’ve been staring at that piece of banana bread for a full two minutes. Is it gonna do a trick?”

He decides to lean into it, see what Connie’s reaction might be. “Only if the trick is getting me out of my pants. I don’t know a man alive who could resist the shit she makes.” He scoops another forkful into his mouth to prove his point, letting the rich, nutty flavor remind him of other places. Homes. Real homes, made of people, not the solitary kind he lives in now.

She rolls her eyes at his crudeness, but agrees. “You’re right about that. I don’t know where she gets the energy to do this after hospital shifts.”

Javier hides his next thought with another forkful of bread and a noncommittal noise. Wonder if she’d have as much energy for it if she had a man to tire her out. It was automatic, a question he couldn’t help debating with himself. Surely no one who spent that much time in the kitchen could have energy to spare on…other pursuits.

Connie is regarding him shrewdly. He avoids her gaze, focusing on finishing his plate in large mouthfuls to avoid the questions he can feel brewing. But he’s not quick enough. “Has she always brought you extras too?” she asks. Too casually, idling with her fork.

“No,” Javier says dismissively, and it’s not quite a scoff. “She wasn’t here long before you showed up. We’re not as close as you two.” Understatement. Did he sound sour about the fact?

Before Connie can ask any more questions he rises from his seat. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Tell Steve what I said.” With a nod of farewell, he turns and strides out the door.

--

One night you’re awoken with a start from where you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Heart pounding, you sit up, listening intently. You’d never felt unsafe here, but you’re aware of the potential dangers. What had woken you?

You hear a swear from the hall, and your muscles relax as you recognize Javier’s low voice. There’s a beat of silence, then a scraping, clinking sound. He must have dropped his keys. But then he grunts, and concern sweeps over you. You’re a nurse- you recognize the sound of a man stifling his pain.

There are long delays before each new noise that indicates an action. The doorknob twists as he grunts again, but it’s a moment before the key turns in the lock. It seems to take an age for him to get through the door; his motions sound clumsy before he closes it. Safe in the privacy of his home, so he thinks, he lets out a longer sigh, the pain and exhaustion now obvious in the sound. But you can hear his fumbling through the wall, and you worry your lip between your teeth. It is your place to go see if he’s alright?

Finally you decide that it is. You’re his neighbor and a healthcare professional, and it is your professional opinion that he sounded in-pain enough to warrant a check-up. Plus, you heard him that way before he got inside, you reason. So it’s not as if you were just being snoopy through the wall.

Just in case, though, you grab some muffins you made earlier as a backup excuse (once again mentally thanking whoever left the cookbook in your apartment). 11:30 isn’t too late for a friendly drop-by, right?

You knock softly on his door. “Javier? It’s me.” Nervous energy taps in your fingers. You’re never even been on his side of the hallway before.

There’s a shuffling sound, and the door unlatches. A narrow gap opens, into which Javier plants himself, and you immediately zero in on where he keeps one leg wedged behind the door. He leans into the elbow propped against the doorjamb above his head, while his other hand already holds a glass of what you can smell is whiskey. He looks like he would rather be anywhere but here at this moment. “Neighbor,” he greets dryly, a neutral expression on his face.

“Uhh.” You’ve never been this close to him before, and his appearance catches you off-guard. His usually combed hair is messy, waves tangling over his forehead, and he’s sweaty, the open collar of his shirt damp and the exposed skin gleaming with moisture.

Javier raises an eyebrow expectantly, taking a sip of his drink. His glances down at the plate in your hands, and it prompts you to speak.

“Hi, Javier. Uh, sorry, I know it’s late, but I thought I’d bring you some of these-“ you lift the dish “-before they come with me to work tomorrow. They’re banana bread muffins.” Your voice falters with your confidence. Your eyes can’t help but flicker over his face and chest, taking in the smear of dust on his jaw, the redness of the knuckles wrapped around his glass. Mostly you’re trying not to look at the leg he’s definitely hiding, which you can tell he’s keeping his weight off of.

--

Javier stares at you, not buying it for a second. His lips purse for lack of a cigarette to wrap around. He shifts the weight he has on his arm- damn, his leg hurts- and wonders what could have possibly prompted you to start bringing him baked goods now of all moments. “Why aren’t you bring those to Connie’s?” Like usual.

“Um, well-“ He sees your gaze finally drop to the leg he’s kept out of view, and too late remembers who got Connie the hospital job.

“I heard you drop your keys, and it sounded like you were in pain,” you confess. “I’m a nurse, Javier. I can help if you need it.” Though apologetic, your tone is firm, face sincere as you offer him aid. Him, your grumpy neighbor who does nothing but leer at you.

Well, he isn’t that proud. Javier sighs, and opens the door further. Your eyes widen as you see the long slice in his pant leg, blood still damp around the wound beneath. “Shit, Javier, what happened? It doesn’t matter, shit, sit down.” You surge forward without waiting for permission, tucking yourself under the arm of his uninjured side and steering him toward a dining room chair. Where he’d been about to sit down down and tend to the cut himself. He supposes your apartments mirror each other, but your familiar reaction to the layout still surprises him.

“Whoa, hey, watch the whiskey,” he exclaims, flailing out the arm holding the glass, taken aback by your sudden manhandling. With one hand still occupied by the muffins, you direct him solely with an around his waist and your shoulder propped under his armpit. He couldn’t have resisted if he tried. If it weren’t for the fiery pain in his leg, your hold would have him feeling a very different kind of heat.

You give him a look that says you won’t be fooled by his blustering as you deposit him onto the chair and the plate on the table. “May I?” you ask, kneeling, hands hovering above his wound.

“Oh, now you’re asking permission?” He scoffs in disbelief but waves a hand in consent, leaning back in the seat.

You scoff right back at him. “Look, I see blood, I make the macho men sit, okay? Why didn’t you go to a hospital with this?”

Javier studies you as you carefully lift the denim to peer at the cut on his thigh. He takes a sip of whiskey to buy time (as well as dull the stinging pain). You’ve put on a robe over what looks like pajamas, but you seem too alert to have just dragged yourself from bed. And yet...was that a pillow mark on your cheek? Just there, arcing from your temple to your jaw…

“Javier?" you're looking up at him, a touch of confusion on your face.

“Did I wake you up?” he hears himself asking.

Her gaze drops again. “No,” you answer. “Well, yes, but I fell asleep on the couch, so it was a good thing.”

Ah, that explained the pillow mark.

Finally you stand. Your hands rest on your hips, heedless of your fingertips smudged red with his blood. “It doesn’t actually look too bad. I have enough supplies here to fix you up. You stay here, take off your pants if you can manage it by yourself, and I’ll be right back.” And with that you whisk away, robe swishing through his front door.

Javier remains where he is, a bit stunned by this turn of events, your sudden insertion into his life. He shakes his head. Maybe whiskey and blood loss shouldn’t go together. He tosses back the rest of his glass anyway in order to wrangle off his jeans.

By the time you return, he feels more composed, if rather uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting in just his boxers with a bloody slice across his thigh. He watches silently as you arrange various medical supplies on the table and pull up a chair across from him. You perch on the edge of it and look at him before doing anything else. “Are you gonna tell me how you got this?”

He’s not about to tell you it was a fluke accident during one of Carillo's interrogations. Somehow, while his back was turned, the guy got free and tried to escape, swinging a knife wildly as he hurled past Javier. The cut was long, ugly, but shallow. He’d live. He couldn’t say the same for the man who delivered it.

--

Javier considers his answer. “Can’t,” he says. “It’s better if you don’t know.” His gaze skitters away as he speaks.

He works for the government with a poker face like that? “Janitorial work, huh?” you say dryly. Sighing, you reach for the antiseptic. “At least tell me what made it. So I can treat it properly.” You look at him steadily.

Javier looks back for a long moment. “A knife,” he says at last.

You nod, and rip open a packet of gauze. He sucks air through his teeth as the antiseptic sears the wound clean, but otherwise doesn’t speak while you work. Which is fine. You notice he’s drained his glass, and you empathize. Frankly you wish you had a drink yourself right now.

Once you’ve cleaned the cut it’s easier to see the damage. Which is minimal, thankfully. Most of the blood was probably from him moving around when it happened. You explain what you’re doing as you seal the wound closed. Only when you’re almost finished does he speak.

“Why don’t you ever bake me anything?”

It’s so unexpected that your hands still. You stare at him in astonishment, waiting for him to elaborate.

“What I mean is…christ,” Javier mutters. The unflattering fluorescent light overhead highlights the dark circles under his eyes as he scrubs a hand over his face. “You always leave extras of stuff at Steve and Connie’s. Never here.” With me.

You resume your work on his thigh, surprised to feel a tinge of guilt. “You didn’t seem like a baked goods kind of guy,” you reply, hoping you don’t sound too defensive. It was true, after all. Though you never got a sense of threat from Javier, neither did he seem the type who would appreciate domestic gestures of friendship.

He didn’t look offended, however. I’ll try anything once,” he says, the ghost of a familiar smirk suggesting he’s feeling better. But then he leans forward, all traces of smirk vanishing. “And your lemon drizzle cake was incredible.” Javier looks at you seriously. His face is too close for your level of acquaintanceship, but you don’t move away.

Surprised, you assess him anew, wondering if you’re catching a glimpse of the man beneath all the masculine posturing. He’s nicer-looking this way, you muse. His face softer, brown eyes wide and sincere. You hide just how pleased you are at this insight (which you’re sure he has no idea he’s giving you) beyond allowing yourself a small smile.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll bring you some.”

--

Javier can’t quite find another quippy response, so he just gives a small nod, finding it hard to draw back even after you break his gaze. He tries not to fidget as you place a final strip of tape over the gauze bandage.

“There,” you declare, your work complete. “That should hold you for tonight.” You stand and gather up your supplies, giving him care instructions as you go. “Got it?” You seem much more relaxed than when you first arrived, confidence in your work squaring your shoulders. It’s…compelling, much more so than your usual reserved smiles in the hall.

“Yes ma’am.” Javier nods, not having heard a word. “…Thank you,” he adds, begrudgingly grateful.

You smile wryly at him. “Goodnight, Javier.”

You’ve nearly reached the door when he speaks again. “Javi.”

“Hm?” Pausing, you turn back to him.

He clears his throat. “You…you can call me Javi.”

Your smile is much warmer this time, brightening your eyes, and Javier feels his heart pound. “Goodnight, Javi.”

[candorarchives]

Confession

Author’s note: This is Part 1. Apparently things were getting way too long and I was having too much fun. Might post the second part when the mood strikes. “And now...we wait,” I muttered under my breath. The clothing given to me was passable, but fitted badly on my form. It was made for someone with more mass than I did. Usually, I’d like the quiet, but the lack of sound was more unsettling than anyone would have anticipated. 

The confession booth was rather dark, a small light illuminating the inside. Though there were holes for light to pass through, this wasn’t enough. It kept whoever was inside hidden from sight, yet seeing the congregant confessing in plain view. I was never raised Catholic, so its significance is unfortunately lost on me. But the psychological phenomena was not. 

Humans, in their constant search for meaning, have propped up the belief in the divine. A means to avoid being accountable—a reason to resign themselves to fate. To have a semblance of wrong and right that won’t necessarily make absolute sense. 

But who watches over the arbiters of sin? Men of the cloth, clothed in black yet none know what their souls are made of. I came here to learn their ways—to uncover the truths hidden beneath their rites and rituals. Nothing out of the ordinary yet. The worst I’ve heard is some priests talking over what was the worst thing they’ve heard out of a confession booth. 

I pity their congregants. 

Currently, there haven’t been many people going to confession. I’ve had the routine memorized already. Get the person to say the prayer of contrition, listen to them confess their sins, and provide means of making penance. It’s a bit similar to actual psychotherapy—just more of a legalistic affair. 

Footsteps grew louder as a small line started to form near the confession booth. I have been working for about two weeks now—but the feeling is something akin to a month. The patterns have become familiar, like knowing how to read notes. The steps have become piano pieces. Regular visitors were becoming more and more obvious by the day. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” A feminine voice graced my ear. One too familiar for my liking. “I’ve never confessed in my life, Father...but I aim to rectify this today.” 

I say the usual things, but there’s a lack of authenticity to it. “Speak, my child.” 

“I’ve been thinking...about someone. I don’t see them often, you see.” Her tone takes a solemn approach—but we both know she’s not used to being here. “And, Father—my heart grows fonder for them every single day. They light a fire in me that I cannot quench, and this....has led me down a dark path.” 

The fact that I couldn’t discern for certain that she was making this all up was most concerning. It was even worse that she sounded so sincere...have I lost? Has someone taken her from me already? No. That cannot be. It cannot be. “Continue,” I said whilst trying to compose myself. 

“I longed for him each day, but never tried to approach. It took so long for me to gain the initiative—but worst of all...I started to be….” The rest was unintelligible. Whoever has gained the upper hand from me...he’s gotten her wrapped under his thumb. To get her to stutter and blush at the mere mention of your name...how quaint. “Well...you get the point. It all started when Mr Wing had asked me to send a package to this man…” 

Oh no. 

The realization hit, her narrative unfolding. “He was setting up a card tower….” It was her psychological evaluation. I’m surprised that she remembers it as if it happened yesterday. But I’m getting ahead of myself. The difference between confessing to a priest and confiding in one’s therapist is that the latter has better solutions to fix the issues at hand. A priest is more often than not ready and willing to blame it on one’s spiritual failings than a psychological problem that can be overcome. 

“Though I racked my brain, there was no plausible way the cards would fall.” The goal was never to keep the tower in place. Though I did admire her tenacity for the former. That day she had already proven herself to me...and yet I could not find enough evidence to convince myself that confession was the endgame. 

She was still in the middle of the narrative. “The ensuing nights led me into quite the dreamscape, Father.” Long story short, the dream she was describing was both lucid and made me question for how long she had been harboring these feelings. It took my entire being to control myself—knowing the consequences if I lost control now. You can ask her about it later, just focus on the mission, Richter. Let’s just say it’s not helping that I’m listening to someone describing body parts that shouldn’t be out in the open. “My dear, such dirty thoughts...a more...intense purification is needed it seems.” 

“What do you mean, Father? Shan’t a fervent recitation of the Rosary not do? I could do community service, serve the parish—I don’t understand.” 

Honestly, I could not continue the conversation. Was I succumbing to the darkness yet again? Or awakening it? I could not ascertain. The detective game was one thing, getting into character was easy, but this? I was grasping at straws at this point. “The sins you’ve committed are not so easily absolved, dear.” 

The initiation ceremony flashed, almost in a blink of an eye. I remember having to watch this innocent woman give confession, the priest inside the booth looking flush in the face. But his lust emanated into the hall...and the rest was history. Something I’d wish to forget, yes, but history nonetheless. 

Her voice brought me back to the present day—more of a reminder of the grim reality that faced us. We were playing roles, I a priest about to pounce, and her the innocent damsel in distress. The fact that she was this brings about an unexplained heaviness. A part of me screams to sneak out of the booth and not bring it up, but the information is so close. It’s in my grasp, give it a day, I just have to…. 

Rosa, could you ever forgive me? 

“Father? Am I...am I damned forever?” The fear in her voice heightens. If I didn’t know it was her I’d be honestly worried. “Have I become so unclean that not even Christ can cleanse me?”

To be continued... Tagging @gloryofluv who has been screeching at me to get this posted lmao

[janghoefett]

Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 4

BOBA FETT X PRINCESS F!READER

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ NO MINORS Pairing: F/M Chapter word count: 1.9k

Warnings: f*ngering, oral (m receiving), lots o’ kissing, sneaking around… that’s it?

Okay I know I look like a clown for making a new post, but I realized I had set my Tumblr to a weird setting so nothing was showing up in the tags!!! Trying this again. I know. Hope you enjoy, and thank you to those who have already read!

SERIES MASTERLIST

—————————-

Perhaps Boba had been reckless.

Many people lean on a vice, be it drugs, alcohol… but Boba had no interest in either of those. No, for Boba it was sex. And he should have known better than to sleep with his asset.

Boba was accustomed to quick encounters; women who charged a fee, perhaps other hunters who passed in the night. It was a faceless release. He could imagine whoever, whatever he wanted — if he imagined anything at all. And though Boba Fett never forgot a face, he certainly didn’t carry any of the memories with him.

Boba Fett had no one.

But the girl who smiled at him so sweetly as she placed her life in his hands, who laid the workings of her heart bare, whose little fingers he could still feel intwined in his own… well, for her, Boba knows he is capable of doing terrifying things. And perhaps it was his instinct to get rid of those feelings the only way he knew how: by burying them inside of her.

A bounty hunter had made love to you in the darkness and returned you home as if nothing had happened. If it weren’t for the lingering feeling between your legs and the faint trace of a love bite on your breast the next morning, you would have believed it was a dream.

A week had gone by.

Boba made himself scarce and you rarely had a moment alone together after that night. There was no sign of him the next morning and no sign of where he slept either; you wondered if sleep was a luxury he ever allowed himself.

Jamie started coming by more frequently. Your time together was enjoyable and you found yourself growing closer to your old friend.

But you could hear Boba’s spurs pacing in the other room.

Tss, tss, tss, tss…

With every step you are reminded of him. You wished it was his hand on your thigh, you wished you were resting easy in his lap. You didn’t need Jamie’s drunken anecdotes, you needed Boba’s pensive mind and frank speech.

At least when this was over and he was gone forever, you’d be left with a perfect memory only the two of you would share.

———————————————

It was your engagement party. Or, some kind of party… the families insisted on fanfare to promote “good spirits” and to let Arcada know that things were on the mend. Frankly, you didn’t have the energy for it. You didn’t want to be there, you didn’t want to make small talk, you didn’t want to pretend that anything was alright.

But Boba was there. And you could be at ease knowing he was by your side.

The bounty hunter stands much like the way he did on the day you first met, ominous, completely still except for the way his head tilts to lock you in view. He nods once in acknowledgement.

“Fett,” you manage to choke out.

“Princess.”

Your heart stutters at the cold greeting, but still you both stand in painful silence as roaring chatter fills the air.

You watch Jamie schmooze his way through the crowd as an entourage of girls and scummy guys hang on his every step. Both his parents and your own are seated at a table in deep conversation. Friends, relatives, and those who pretend to be of any importance to you come to give their well wishes and congratulations.

But you weren’t the main attraction, thankfully. There was food and booze and plenty of debauchery to be had at this party for a fake marriage.

You’d take Jamie to bed like he always wanted and you’d let him fuck you to his heart’s content. And you’d enjoy it. You had danced the dance for years together, had many close calls and drunken nights— nights you thought were induced by genuine lust and passion. But you were bored and sad, and stars, you didn’t know what sex could be until he came.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Boba observes, snapping you out of a trance.

You say nothing. There’s so much you want to say, so much you wish you could confide in him.

Boba was like a fucking anesthetic. He knew how to cut you open like a surgeon, and you’d let him. You’d pour your guts out to him like the lost girl that you are and his clear mind and sharp words would put you back together again.

But tonight you just don’t have the words. Your chin wobbles and your breath comes out ragged.

“Mesh’la,” he sighs, so quietly, it’s as if the word reaches through the air and caresses your skin.

It’s a private word, one that leaves him surprisingly vulnerable to you, one that was a stark reminder from that night.

“Can we— can we get out of here?” you ask.

“As you wish.”

———————————————————

You ended up in a closet.

Boba shoots out the door’s control panel, and the moment his helmet comes off you are breathing each other in, pressing tentative kisses against each other’s lips. It’s heady and desperate but you cling to Boba as if your life depends on it. His strong arms prop you up on a table and he’s all over you, lips working eagerly against your skin, as his helmet rests at your side.

“You want me to touch you?” he rasps darkly.

“Uh huh.”

You lift your skirt up and Boba uses his hands to lift your legs up and back, grinding himself against you.

“I’m going to need you to be quiet for me, princess,” he breathes in your ear. “Think you can?”

You nod eagerly, accepting another open-mouthed kiss from the bounty hunter. His fingers rub you soothingly, moving your underwear to the side, before slipping two digits inside of your wet cunt.

Your exhale raggedly. Boba grunts involuntarily; he wasn’t being pleasured, no, but the feeling of your tightness on his fingers alone was enough to make his cock twitch.

“Has the prince ever done this to you, little one?”

“N-no…”

Boba curses under his breath, curling his thick fingers into you.  You whimper quietly. “That’s it, mesh’la. Tell me what you like.”

You reach instinctively for the bulge in his pants, barely ghosting your fingertips against the metal codpiece in silent want. Boba’s hands leave you only for a moment to free himself, using the moment to pull your panties down and off in a swift motion. His hand comes back to work with a vengeance.

Boba’s fingers provide that pure, unadulterated pleasure that can only make you feel good; it was the kind that came without the tinge of pain like the prick of his thick cock, it was like velvet was coursing through your veins as he chased your high.

Boba’s motions become more intense, more hurried. His thumb comes to your clit and you clench around his fingers, snapping your thighs closed against his hips.

“Oh shit!” you gasp.

Boba stops his motions and, slowly, places a finger against your lips. “Quiet, princess,” he chides you darkly.

Boba’s fingers continue their work, establishing a new rhythm. Your hips can’t help but move against his hand in search of your release and still your hands work at his cock. He growls quietly; it’s a strangled sound, one that you can feel in his body by the way he tenses.

“Please, Boba…” you whine.

His skin burns hot and smells of musky soap, and you press your cheek firmly against his neck, nuzzling into grind of his stubble.

“Let go, little one,” Boba grumbles. “I’ve got you.”

It’s sex. Just sex.

That’s what you tell yourself when Boba’s hand fists your hair so he can see your face as you come on his fingers.

Just sex. Nothing more.

That’s what you tell yourself when he uses his lips to stifle your broken cry of pleasure, letting you sob into his mouth.

Boba removes his fingers and strokes you softly, allowing you to come down from your high. “Did so well, mesh’la…” he whispers against your lips.

“Please fuck me,” you breathe.

“Yeah? You want that?”

“Mmhm,” you whine, bucking your hips against his.

“You’re gonna have to let me fuck you later then, sweet girl,” he smirks. “Can’t now.”

Your legs stay wrapped around his waist as Boba leans forward to kiss your mouth greedily, lewdly, grinding his hard center against yours. Your cunt flutters around nothing, weeping to be filled by something bigger than his fingers, when suddenly he breaks off from your lips.

Boba holds your jaw gently and searches your face. You’re underneath him, panting and exposed, when Boba decides to place his helmet back on. He comes to the side of the table and continues to stroke you, using one hand to rub you gently as the other pets the side of your head.

The bounty hunter was doting on you.

Boba’s dark eyes are hungry, depraved, but a sly smile finally plays across his lips. The sight below him is enough to clear his mind of everything until his thoughts are only of you. Your skin is dewy and heated, your eyes are closed and the smallest sounds of pleasure escape your lips. Boba fumbles for the toggle on the side of his helmet and turns his audio receptors up, increasing the internal volume to the maximum setting — his cock throbs at the result. He can hear every shaky breath, every whispered plea and exertion as if your lips were at his ear.

Your hand jerks his cock lazily from this new angle. It’s heavy and thick; to aid your hand, you eagerly turn your head to bring your watering mouth down on him. You lick up the shaft and nestle your lips around the tip, sucking mindlessly, when Boba suddenly pulls your head back.

“Careful, princess,” he huffs. “Or do you want to walk outside with my cum on your face?”

You laugh softly and bite your lip, your cheeks practically aflame as you blink up at the faceless bounty hunter through your lashes. “Who says I won’t swallow?” you reply.

His reaction would have been well-disguised if his cock hadn’t twitched in your hand in response.

Boba pulls you upright and angles himself between your legs that hang over the edge, pulling your waist flush against his stomach. “I’m too old for games, mesh’la,” he says gruffly, holding your chin. “When can I see you?”

“Tonight,” you pant. “My place.”

Boba nods slowly, tracing your jaw with the back of his finger. “Alright,” he agrees. “Tonight.”

Your hand comes to his side, to the place where his armor leaves him soft and exposed, and your hand runs lightly down the length of his torso. His breathing quells and you can feel the visor looking you over. His rough hands adjust your messed hair and his thumbs wipe the faint traces of sweat and tears from your face, admiring your disheveled state.

The rest of the party is a blur. You don’t dare turn around to look at Boba who trails you like your shadow, slinking behind you like a hunter stalking its prey.

It was going to be a long night.

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 3

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1583

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: And so it begins! Thanks for all the likes/reblogs/comments everyone! I see them and I appreciate them! I’ll probably be updating every Tuesday and Thursday now so there’s that. Tags are open!

TTSWL Masterlist

You feel like you’re floating in the middle of a dark pool surrounded by cold and unknown waters. It is relentless in its attempts to drag you down into nothing. Some part of you desires to just let yourself sink and try to ground yourself to whatever you find below. It would be so easy and yet a part of you knew that if you allowed yourself to reach the bottom you would be unable to float up once again. 

So you fight against the rising tide to keep your head above the water. It doesn’t take long then to be pulled out of that darkness. 

“She’s waking up.” 

“She can’t,” someone mumbles next to you. “That tranq should have kept her under for the rest of the night.” 

“It’s the power within her. Must have adapted around the sedative to wake its host up from it. The power won’t be put so easily to rest.” 

“Then do something about it!” 

“I can’t until she’s fully conscious!” 

As if on cue, your eyes flutter open. Your eyelids feel heavy and the brightness in the room doesn’t help your sudden weak state. 

“What’s-” you voice cracks and your tongue feels so foreign in your mouth. “What’s going on?”

Your sight blurs in and out but you recognize that bright red hair from anywhere. 

“Nat?” 

“Hey, Y/N,” she whispers beside you. “It’s ok. You’re ok.” 

You can’t help but feel suddenly angry at the lie that she’s so blatantly telling you at the moment. 

“Liar, liar,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “Pants on...”

A hand is quick to cover your mouth and you move to shove it off only to find your hands handcuffed to the hospital bed. 

“That would have not bode well and you know that.”  

You glare at your assailant only to find Loki staring down at you with a grin. The anger doesn’t fade away at the sight of him. It seems to enhance and he takes notice of it too. 

“Everyone out!” 

Your eyes snap away as you take in the crowd that’s in the room. Everyone is apparently there and you find this sudden urge to yell at them for staring. 

“We’re not-” Tony starts to say before Loki cuts him off. 

“She’s still quite volatile and until she gains some ounce of control, she will not stop until you are all disposed of.” 

With that warning, they all have no other choice but to leave. They all shoot you a sympathetic look and you despise it. You don’t know why you’re feeling so darkly about your friends but you couldn’t stop it. 

“I know,” Loki whispers as he looks down at you. “I know you are quite confused, but I’m going to let go of you now and I hope you can rein in your emotions and be civil with me.” 

His honesty is oddly refreshing and you find yourself relaxing under his hold. True to his word, he releases you and you watch closely as he retreats into the seat next to you.  

“I’m sure you have questions.” 

“So, so many, don’t know where to begin,” you answer. “My head is spinning and I see no end.” 

You frown at the choice of words that flowed out of your mouth so casually. 

“Why am I rhyming? Why can’t I stop? Tell me now before my head drops.” 

“I will answer your questions but I need you to remain calm,” Loki responds. “Can’t have you losing your head... literally.” 

You take a deep breath trying your best to ease your mind, but it was hard. You didn’t know what was going on and why, out of everyone you knew, Loki was the one assisting you with it. 

“You seemed surprised to find everyone here,” Loki states. “Do you not remember how you got here?” 

You shake your head feeling uneasy of not having any recent memories since the museum. 

“You found a book, one of mine, known as the Book of Veritas,” Loki explains. “Essentially, you got too close to it and it unleashed a power to you. I’m not sure exactly the extent of your abilities but I do know that you will have a knack of always knowing the truth of whoever you meet.” 

He pauses as you try to make sense of everything you’ve been told. Oddly enough, some innate part of you told you he wasn’t lying which further proved that his explanation was indeed right.  

“Now, as for your rhyming tongue,” Loki takes a deep breath and shrugs. “I can only presume that this new psychic development is one your mortal mind isn’t capable of withstanding. You are overwhelmed and your mind has reverted to a default language to ease the strain.” 

“This is not ok,” you mumble. “Am I stuck this way?” 

“No, not if I can help it,” Loki answers. “The rhyming is getting on my nerves already.” 

He frowns, narrowing his eyes at you. 

“Don’t know why I told you that. Must be another side effect of yours.” 

You open your mouth to respond but close it when you realize that whatever apologies you had would end up rhyming and sounding insincere. 

Loki doesn’t question your silence and instead props his hand up for you to take. You find yourself hesitating even though something told you he meant no harm.

“I just need to assess the power you have,” Loki explains. “It’ll be quick and harmless.” 

With that answer, you raise your hand as far as the handcuff allowed you to. Loki met you halfway and you instantly feel a warmth spreading through your body. 

“Hmm,” he hums. “That’s surprising.” 

He lets go of your hand and looks up at you. 

“You’ve grown stronger since you first came in. Not strong enough to expel your power physically so we will have to do this the hard way.” 

“Hard way?” you repeat. 

“You need to dig deep and spread some truth.”

“How is that hard?” 

“Because certain truths, the heaviest ones, we like to keep real close,” Loki explains. “You don’t remember this, but you pinpointed some of your friends' insecurities when you first came in. You were quite cruel with them.“

You frown at hearing this hoping your friends knew you hadn’t meant any of it. As if sensing where your mind had drifted to, Loki speaks up. 

“They know it wasn’t you,” he assures you. “It’s all because of the power residing in you. There is no way to extract it without killing you so the solution here is to gain control of it. Seeing as I am the expert on the book and magic itself, I’m going to train you. So first, let’s get you back to speaking normally.” 

You nod in response and take a deep breath. 

“Speak the truth. Use me as a target if you wish. I like to think I’ve got thick skin when it comes to taunting.”

You hesitate at Loki’s offer, but you find it so easy to read him. 

“Little Loki went into the Great Hall. Little Loki had a big fall. Little Loki was the laughing stock of them all. Little Loki felt so utterly small.” 

Loki chuckles at the memory you brought forth. It was simple and childish. Yes it was embarrassing to fall in front of the royal court but it was just a drop in the ocean compared to everything else. He sits back in his chair and looks at you. 

“Now I know you can do better than that,” Loki states. “Come on, dig deeper.” 

You find yourself focusing a bit harder on him and the words just slipped out of your mouth with ease. 

“Silver tongue turned to lead. Thor won her heart in your stead. Princess Elvira loved the royal prince. Loki wasn’t even offered a second glimpse.” 

That one did make him wince but Loki wasn’t utterly devastated at the memory of the Alfheim princess favoring his brother over him. You were getting close to gaining some control but your rhyming tongue still stood strong. 

“Dig deeper,” Loki repeats. 

You take a deep breath and clear your mind of everything but Loki. Envisioning his image, his voice, his overall being. 

Eyes turning red. Ivory skin turning blue. Cold, everything is cold. 

“I…” you stammer out confused. “I’ll rather not say.”

Loki pauses wondering what it is that you saw but withheld from saying. 

“Y/N.” 

“No, it’s a secret for a reason,” you shake your head. “I don’t really understand what I saw exactly but it felt so dark.” 

Loki knew better than to push you to state what you saw in him. He suspected already of the secret you might have uncovered. You had certainly dug deep if you managed to find it. 

He shrugs it off like he always does and looks at you with a small smile.

“You didn’t rhyme that time,” Loki states. “You managed to not only control what truth to find but whether or not to say it. That’s progress.” 

“Does that mean I can get these off?” you ask as you raise your cuffed wrists. 

With a snap of his fingers, the handcuffs are pried open. You stare down at your freed wrists and look up at him in surprise. Last you were told, Loki was incapable of doing magic.  

“How did you do that?” 

Loki doesn’t deem you a verbal response as he offers you a grin before getting up and leaving you on your own.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @moonlightprime @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck​

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[jordanstrophe]

Evercrest Island

(Hi again! Yes, I know it’s been all for 30 minutes since I posted the last part. But I’m bored, and really wanted to get the whump going)

CW: kidnapping, gag, blindfold, restrains, manhandling, intimate whumper, abusive coworker 

Masterlist

“Yo Eden! We got stacks of boxes with some new books out in the back lot.” Calvin called.

“That’s great.” He muttered back, trying to shove multiple books back on the shelf at once.  “Yeah it is. Go get them.”

Eden let out a sigh. It was less exhausting to just do what was asked of him, rather than try and argue with it. He walked past Calvin who had his legs propped up on the desk with a phone in hands. It was warm outside, with a nice breeze, at least he had that to enjoy.

There were multiple large boxes laid out on the side, as he grabbed each box one by one to stack it on a landing next to the back door. 

Before he could grab the last box, two hands shot out from behind him, one wrapping around his waist pinning his arms to the side, while the other hand roughly covered his mouth, muffling his cries in surprise. 

This was a prank, right? Clearly this was a trick by Calvin just to scare him, but a gag was shoved into his mouth along with a tight blindfold across his eyes. Adrenaline spiked, as he tried to push the hands holding him, but they kept dragging him further and further back. 

He wasn’t a strong man by any means, but he managed to kick his legs back, tripping whoever had a hold on him. His victory was short lived, as it only forced the person to full on tackle him from behind. He slammed onto the pavement, the breath being knocked his lungs, as he felt a sharp knee digging into his back. Two hands wrenched his fists behind his back, binding them together from his wrists all the way to his elbows.

He let out a desperate muffled cry, the hands immediately went still. They became gentle, as a soft hand comfortingly rested on his head.

“Shhh, it’s going to be alright. Bear with me.” The deep voice soothed. 

He felt like he had to stop breathing just to hear the voice through his hyperventilating. That voice... It was familiar. The peaceful moment was over just as quickly as it came, as the hands moved down to his legs, tying them together at both the ankles and knees. He tried to kick them from the strangers grasp, but they held him in place with ease. 

He tried to let out a plead, begging for his life, offering any money he had, which really wasn't much... But maybe it would spike some pity from whoever had a hold on him. 

Two hands grabbed his shoulders, bending his body back just enough for the stranger to wedge their shoulder in, hoisting them up over it at his waist. 

He quickly went limp from exhaustion as he was forced to accept this fate, at the mercy of whoever was carrying him away. He could feel his heart quickly beating in his chest, his body trembling against the shoulders of that who carried him.

He was gently laid down on a soft surface, the gentle hand returning to his cheek. “Sit tight, you’re going to be alright.” The voice soothed, before he heard a deafening *slam*

He was in a trunk, wasn’t he? His instinct was to reach for his phone that was in his back pocket. Wait.. No! Drat! He left it on the desk before he came out! How could he be so forgetful and stupid?! Of all the times to forget a phone...

 He squirmed around, trying to feel what was around him. A loud engine noise blasted, as he jumped, heart pounding even faster. It was safe to say he was indeed, in the trunk of a car. 

He twisted his body till he was on his back, slammed his feet against the roof. It was hopeless, he knew that, but he had to try something, anything. His legs quickly gave away, as they helplessly collapsed back to the ground. 

Don’t cry... Crying isn’t going to help, crying isn’t going to solve anything.

But he cried. He wept as the blindfold soaked up his tears. He cried until he slowly began drifting to sleep. It was definitely the last thing he should have ever done in that moment, but his body was so exhausted he had no control of it anymore. If anything, sleeping would give him some much needed energy to maybe be able to get out of this situation. 

*Splash!*

Eden jolted awake to the sound of... Water? The sound of loud crashing waves surrounded him as he opened his eyes, the blindfold and gag missing. He leaned up, he was laying in a soft bed covered in a thin soft blanket in a small room. He tiredly blinked around, trying to remember every detail about what happened last night. 

He let out a panicked shuttering breath when he looked down to his hands shackled together with some kind of thick shiny metal cuffs, nothing like he had ever seen before. His legs were free, thankfully, as he struggled to climb out of the bed. 

Don’t panic, just breath. 

He jumped out of his skin when the whole room jostled and rattled, the ground beneath him slightly swaying. Was that an earthquake? What was going on? Maybe he was still dreaming.

There was a heavy circular door, as he gripped the handle. He knew it was locked, but of course he had to try.

*click*

The door popped, slowly swaying open. Eden just stood there in complete disbelief. No way... No way it was unlocked. What was going on here?

He cautiously crept out, there was only a long hallway with a couple other doors, with a questionable metal staircase at the end. He tiptoed out, glancing all around as he headed towards the staircase. He climbed it to find another door just like the first one, surely this one will be locked... Surely

*click*

He sighed with disbelief, as he pressed both of his shackled hands to the door. Whatever was on the other side of this one, he had to just book it and run, it was now or never.

He slammed the door open, about to bolt out for his life, but *oof!* his foot caught on the last step in his panic, as he slammed onto the floor. His vision was jostled, as he awkwardly glanced up. He could see someone's feet not too far, just standing there, facing the to the side outlooking their surroundings. The air turned chilly, with a salty scent, the ground shifted again, as he clung to the floor to steady himself.

“There you are, good morning! You were pretty exhausted, how are you feeling?” The voice asked, the feet turning to walk towards him. He pitifully looked up, eyes going wide when he realized...

“You?!”

“Me.” The old man smiled.

Tagging @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @heathenwhump @alien-octopus  ​@whatwasmyprevioususername

o(^∀^*)o *:･ﾟ✧Thank you for reading!