#urban kid n teenagers

[iron-strangers]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Description: It's all true, Jedi can read minds. You've been trained to keep people's thoughts about you for so long. It went well until the day you caught Din's fantasy involving you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Series: Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Tags: Established Relationships, Mand’alor Din Djarin, A Sprinkle of Family Fluff, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Lactation Kink

CW: Reader has AFAB characterization, uses she/her pronouns, is able-bodied, has depicted body changes related to pregnancy and breastfeeding, and hair that can be pulled during sex. No Use of Y/N. Consent Issues: Reader peaks into Din's fantasy. NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 2.7k

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According to urban legends, jedi can read minds. That's true, well, to an extent.

Jedi can read unshielded minds. A Jedi’s mental shield helps to prevent their minds so they’re not easily read, but also to prevent them from accidentally reading a non-force sensitive’s mind. This knowledge helped you survive being chased around the galaxy during the Empire’s reign. Imps are weak-minded and you could easily get any information you needed by reading their mind.

As you grew older, some thoughts people had about you turned sexual. Some got you blushing, like the one from a spacer who fantasized about sweet-talking you into having a quickie in the back of the cantina, some others were just plain disturbing and had you slamming a mental shield as quick as you can before fleeing the parameter with your blaster clutched in your hand.

During the old Jedi-Mandalorian war era, Mando'ade have found a way to keep the jetiise out of their head. Beskar helmets are effective for as long as you can remember, but apparently, there's a loophole. Beskar can't block a jedi who's already soul-bonded to a Mandalorian. There might not be any data about this, but let's be real, there's barely any noted soul bonds between a jedi and Mandalorian throughout history.

This explains the weird sync you and Din have. People have mentioned how you complete each other, that you have almost the same opinions on things, how you two always make the same decisions, both politically and on the battlefield. Some might even suggest that you and him finish each other's sentences. It's a cliché, written in teenager’s holonovels. So you're used to laughing it off, deflecting that you probably just spent too much time together, that between leading and parenting, agreeing on the same thing is just what spouses do. The Armorer called you ‘two halves of one warrior’ at your wedding ceremony. It should’ve ring an alarm in your mind, but in your defense, you were too busy getting swooned off your feet.

It became apparent one day when you met him in a small bakery, just a few minutes away from the Keldabe Palace, when he wasn’t supposed to be done until much later in the day. You’ve been craving Keshian Spice Rolls all day and you figured it was a great day to take the kids out, enjoy the sun and a little sweet treats, then surprise your hard-working riduur with a box of pastries back in the palace. Imagine your surprise when you stepped into a bakery and saw him already queuing.

“Rid’ika!” He called, waving to you from the line. You skipped over the lines, smiling and nodding to everyone as you made your way to your riduur. Din took Grogu from you so you can lift Aranar, who’s busy charming everyone off with his toothy grin, up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, holding his offered hand. “You have to meet the Prince of Bespin in half an hour.”

“I know, but I heard they are baking Keshian Spice Rolls. So I went to buy you some.” Din shrugged, not once caring about the Prince having to wait for him to get back from spoiling his riduur. “And what about you? I thought you have a bes'kad class for the verd’ike this afternoon.”

“The class won’t start for another two hours and I really want a spice roll.”

You heard people behind you aww-ing and you buried your face into his shoulder, humming when you feel cool beskar against your blushing cheek. Din smiled behind his helmet, paying for three spice rolls to go, never once he let your hand go. You got back to the palace with twenty minutes to spare and herded the ad’ike to the Mand’alor’s office.

“Knock when you need him and don’t come in before I answer.” You rushed into the room when you spotted Kryze marching to stop you.

“You two better not be having se-”

“Young ears, Kryze! Manda, we’re just gonna eat Spice Rolls!” You held the pastry packages up for her to see, holding your laughter when you saw her scowling.

“Spice rolls better not be a code for something else, Djarin! You have a meeting in twenty minutes!”

Din closed the door on her face and you locked it with the force for good measure before dissolving into giggles. Din lifted his helmet up and immediately pressed a longing kiss to your lips. The kiss was uncoordinated since the two of you couldn’t stop grinning. The kiss, and the pastries were heavenly, Grogu and Aranar shared a piece, for your peace of mind. After all, it was you who had to wrangle two sugar-high toddlers in the training yard as you teach advanced sword techniques to a group of heavily armed teenagers who happened to be Mandalore's newly sworn warriors.

The impending knock finally came and you shared another sugary sweet kisses with your riduur before you put his helmet back on and sent him away to his duty. The door was barely closed when you were hit with realization.

Fuck, you thought. We’re soul-bonded.

**

Overall, there are worse people to be soul-bonded with. Having one with your own riduur is not a bad thing at all. Having one with your riduur without any source to soul-bond knowledge, however, is another piece of work. Putting a mental shield up against your own riduur feels wrong but you do it anyway, respecting his privacy to his own mind.

Until today.

Today, you feel a gentle nudge at your brick wall of a mental shield, laced with Din's warm force presence. You could've brushed him off and shielded yourself better, but you thought to yourself that a small peak wouldn't be bad.

You're wrong. Oh, you're so wrong because it's bad. Your hand directly flies towards your mouth and you try to stifle a moan as a yawn.

In his fantasy, Din had you bent over the meeting table and he's pounding into you. He has his hand on the small of your back, pressing you down to the table. You're completely naked against the table, pinned beneath the beskar of his armor. You can hear the filthy sound of his cock ramming into your sopping cunt. Din grabs a fistful of your hair, making you cry his name out loud, losing yourself to the stretch and the hard thrusts of Din's cock.

“Oh fuck-” you grit your teeth, clenching your fist on your thigh. You sit there, stunned, breathless, unable to stop watching.

“Can you feel how good this pussy stretches around me, rid’ika?” Din grunts, holding you so close to his hips while his fingers reach down, rubbing your swollen clit. “Such a good girl, do you wanna cum, mesh'la? Wanna soak my cock and make me give you another ik’aad?”

Maker, yes! You thought, trying your damn hardest not to whine while the version of you in his mind is whimpering and begging him to make you cum. Din leans to your ear, telling you to come. You’re shuddering in his arm, moaning his name in a punched out noise with a telltale sign of orgasm, and you snap yourself out of his imagination.

You put your strongest mental shield up and you lean to the plush seat, blinking and looking around the room as you settle yourself back to reality. Din is sitting on the head of the table, looking over his own datapad as he watches a member of his council talk about Mandalore’s quarterly budget report. If you didn’t know better, you’d think your riduur is actively listening to the report instead of daydreaming about fucking you over this very table.

You tread carefully when you're back home. You put Aranar and Grogu to sleep late, making sure they are a little bit more tired than usual so they sleep soundly later tonight. Once the kids are out like lights, you take the baby monitor with you and change into one of Din’s loose shirts.

You find him still seated on the dining table, tapping things into his datapad. You smirk to yourself, walking towards him and leaning over the dining table to take your own datapad that you could easily reach if you make an extra trip to the end of the table. Din can't stop staring, making no move to help you, instead he stands up from the chair and moves to cup the swell of your ass, just like how he imagined before.

“Careful, rid’ika, you don't know what kinda game you're playing here.”

You whine when his hand moves underneath the shirt, trailing up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He whispers praises to your ear, biting down your jaw and your neck.

“Fuck, look at you, mesh'la, you're expecting this, huh?” He lifts the shirt up, revealing nothing underneath other than your glistening cunt. “I haven't even done anything, rid'ika, and this pretty pussy's already all wet for me.”

You moan softly when his fingers find your clit, rubbing on it as you shudder in his arms. Din sinks two fingers into your wet heat and he groans when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs on your clit as he keeps pumping in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over his fingers and your inner thighs until you shake beneath him, then he pulls off of you.

“No, cyare please, I'm so close- Ah!” You cry as his fingers leave you, only to moan loudly when he kneels behind you and he slaps your soaked pussy.

“Needy girl,” he teases, slapping your clit again, ignoring your cries. He parts your folds with his tongue until his smart mouth finds your clit and he starts sucking on the sensitive nub. You grip the edge of the table tightly as you grind against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lower face. Din tuts, holding your hips in place, chuckling when he sees your hole clenches around nothing.

“You know what you get for being such a good girl, cyar’ika?” Din asks, his fingers are back on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerve in a tight circle as you buck violently against his fingers. “Good girl gets to come on my face.”

His lips are back on you, kissing, lapping, and sucking until you're a whimpering mess. You let out a high pitched whine and you come on his mouth, flooding him with your arousal as he keeps on sucking on your lips as you ride your orgasm.

Din grabs your chin towards him and he kisses you hard, his lips are glistening with the mixture of your cum and his spit and you can taste yourself on the tip of his tongue. Din pulls off of you and he turns you around, lifting you up to the edge of the table. He lays you down and he parts your legs with a steady hand on your inner thigh, keeping them apart so he can admire his hard work, your drenched cunt glistening with your sweet come. Din groans then he spits on your cunt, adding to the mess before smearing everything around with the thick head of his cock. He's painfully hard, his foreskin is pulled all the way back, revealing the flared tip, steadily leaking precum all over you. He lines himself up with your entrance and fucks all the way into you in one push. You watch as his thick cock stretches your hole, feeling yourself clinging to his girth, fluttering around him as you struggle to take his size. Both of you moan when he finally buries himself deep inside you, still holding tight to each other.

“Maker, been thinking about this sweet pussy all day.”

Oh, I know. You thought. “Yeah? Did you think about fucking me, ner riduur? Thought about how my pussy clenches around your cock? Did you think about filling me up with your cum until I'm swollen with your adi'ka?” You taunt him, circling your legs on his hips to keep him buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” Din swears, hissing while he steadily leaks precum all over your wet heat, leaning his head to yours and rutting deep against your sweet spot. “You're playing with fire, rid'ika. Can't just say things like that.”

“But I want you to,” you beg, moaning wantonly when he starts pumping in and out of you. “Want you to keep fucking me until I'm so full and swollen with your baby.”

Din growls, pounding deep into you with punishing pace. He's watching you, watching your cunt swallowing his cock, watching your face grow slack with pleasure. You slip your hands under the shirt, covering your breast and squeezing them, making your milk leak until there's a wet patch over the shirt.

“Filthy girl,” Din grunts, pawing on the piece of clothing. “Lift it up baby, let me see.”

You lift the shirt up, revealing your breasts for him, shiny from both milk and sweat. Beads of your milk trickling from your nipples, leaking steadily as he fucks into you. He slips one engorged nipple to his mouth, sucking until he can taste you on his tongue while his fingers play with the abandoned one, rubbing and squeezing, spraying him with milk.

“Everything about you is just so sweet, rid'ika, my perfect girl.” He praises. He licks your nipple clean before switching to the other side, pressing open mouthed kisses before bringing the sensitive buds to his mouth and sucking on it, drinking you until he's full while his hand loves on the other one. His cock never stops pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer with each snaps of his hips.

He folds your legs into a mating press, tucking your knees against your chest and his cock is so deep inside you. So deep he reaches your cervix, kissing your womb with his tip. You clench hard around his length, your wall seizes violently around him, milking him irresistibly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars, begging him to please, never stop. You're wailing as your whole body shakes, tipping your head back and moaning Din's name so loud he has to cover your mouth with his palm, worried the filthy noises of the snap of his balls slapping your ass, your loud moans, and the squelching sound of your wet pussy might wake the sleeping kids up.

With a shaky shudder, you come down from your high, whining as Din keeps fucking you, chasing his own orgasm. After a few brutal thrust, your riduur groans loudly, shouting punched out moans as he peaks. His cock twitches in your soaked, messy cunt, filling you with his hot cum, flooding your insides and claiming you his. He kisses your lips, muffling both your moans, only parting to plant another kiss to your temple while he pumps you full of his cum, murmuring sweet, loving praises and filthy promises to you.

“That's a good girl, rid'ika. Take it, baby, gonna get you all round and pregnant. That's what you want, right? Want to give me another? Want to be bred all over again?”

Din keeps rutting with you until you both shake from overstimulation and he gently pulls out of you. He admires your blissed, fucked out face, trailing soft kisses down your jaw and your neck, sucking his marks all over your body. You tip his jaw up and catch his lips in another kiss, laced with a content smile, before breaking away to whisper sweet I love yous to each other.

Din gathers you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and lowering you gently into your shared bed. He leaves for the fresher, fetching a damp rag to clean you up before slipping into his side of bed beside you. He pulls you close, kissing your lips lovingly and rearranges the covers, tucking you into his arms.

“You're my dream girl, you know that right?”

“I tried,” you smile contently, caressing the scruff of his jaw softly.

“You don't have to,” Din mutters, humming when you snuggle closer to him, pressing your heartbeat over his. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

You exchange more kisses, lazily making out in bed until sleep takes over, safely nestled in each other's arms.

About a few weeks later, you start to feel the tiniest flutter in the force.

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Five

Words: 6k

Preparations for Jackson's first ever prom are well underway, and even Ellie is helping out. As Jackson's only teacher it is, of course, your job to run the show and you'd be more than capable if one parent didn't keep distracting you.

Chapter warnings: Illusions to smut, slow burn, angsty memories of being a teenager, 'She' finally arrives. Minors DNI.

A/N: Ok, second act kicks off after this chapter. You'll get a glimpse of what that means now. Hope you enjoy!

Four | Series Masterlist | Six

Your dreams were changing. Used to waking with a chill, the echoes of loss and the face of your sister blurred in the grey clouds streaking across your dreamscape, you’d started to wake now with a warmth, a vein of light. You felt it on your skin like the first spring day out of a long, cold winter. You’d wake trying to grip its tail as it slipped from you.

The prom thing was your idea, and you only half regretted it. You’d had the idea when Isaiah had asked you what school for you was like, so fascinated by the before times, the kids trying hard to imagine classroom upon classroom filled with students all of the same age. You’d tried to explain that school wasn’t anything, really, that sometimes you didn’t even go because it was so boring, and they gawped at you, disbelieving. You felt a little sliver of shame at having wasted it, reminded yourself that was what you were supposed to do at age 14.

You’d mentioned prom, and there had been a ripple of interest throughout the room.

‘So, there was dancing? But it wasn’t the whole town, it was just you and your friends?’

‘Well, there were teachers and parents as chaperones, but…yeah, there were so many of us that it was just each grade. We got all dressed up, we had our picture taken, we had to choose dates.’

‘You went with a boy?’ Celina piped up from the front row, her nine-year-old face scandalised by the idea that you would willingly expose yourself to boy germs.

‘Yeah, well, some girls had boyfriends in their grade.’

‘Did you have a boyfriend?’ someone asked, the judgement almost silent, and you knew without looking that it was Ellie.

‘No, I didn’t. I had a crush on a boy, but it didn’t really…’

You remembered him, even now, an actual apocalypse not enough to erase the shame. You’d let your friends talk you into a promposal, standing in the bleachers as he ran track with an enormous sign that you’d spent far too many hours painting at your bestie’s kitchen table. It had heart-shaped glitter. You were especially proud of that detail.

You hadn’t realised that the entire track team would also see it, that you would need to specifically point him out in the crowd. Never had you imagined that he would dodge away from your finger, pretending to hide behind another boy, dodging your desire for him while his teammates laughed. It was enough to shrivel your heart into coal. You’re not sure you ever recovered.

You said none of that in your Jackson classroom. Instead, you focused on the decorations, that there was always a theme, that you heard the high school two towns over got Nelly Furtado to play live at theirs, but you weren’t convinced that was any more than an urban legend. They had no idea who Nelly Furtado was. You didn’t try to explain.

‘So can we have one?’ Mika asked, finally looking up from his comic book. You hadn’t thought he was paying attention.

‘A prom? Well, I’d have to talk to the town council.’

‘Tommy’s my uncle, I got an in,’ Ellie said, her face lighting up with the power of being connected, such nepotism so rare as the last vestiges of civilisation withered.

The kids grinned up at you, and you realised that maybe this was something they needed. Jackson already did Christmas, blew eggs, painted them with bees wax and dye from mashed beets and honey, and held a hunt on the first weekend of what the town council’s best guess was April. You could get the kids to decorate with paper flowers. It would be really cute to watch them decorate the mess hall, and there was probably some kind of educational value in it, too.

--

From his post, Joel watched Guillaume and Jonah, his new patrol partner, disappear into the treeline. He watched them, a little nugget of shame festering in the depths of his belly, but mostly – if he allowed himself to admit it – he was happy to have been moved to shifts on the wall. It meant he wasn’t back so late for Ellie, that he could be home to help with her homework or make her help him make dinner, and he didn’t feel so paranoid all the time when he could see the horizon. He didn’t mind the early starts, preferred the quiet up there, liked being able to turn and survey the town as much as the wilds outside it.

If he turned and leaned over a little, up on one foot on the top rung of the ladder, and leaned a little to the right he could make out the path heading up to the schoolhouse. When Billy asked him what he was doing, he explained he wanted to make sure his girl got to school OK. He generally, for the most part, broadly speaking, was referring to Ellie.

Tommy had been nice to enough not to give him shit for it, even after a bloody-nosed Guillaume took it upon himself to point out that Joel was a liability out there. Tommy had appeared on his doorstep the next morning, his brows crowding together, but Joel had spent most of the early morning on the wall, had imagined you lying in bed as he made sure to keep the nastiness away from you, and he was more ready than his little brother expected to hang up his boots.

‘M’getting older, Tommy, we talked about that,’ Joel reminded him, and Tommy nodded.

‘Still the best shot we got, and the best survivalist.’

‘Don’t mean I can’t advise if anyone asks it of me,’ he said. ‘S’not even that hard, just gotta keep your wits about ya.’ He thought for a long moment. ‘Maybe it’s gettin’ harder, now I think about it,’ he conceded.

‘Well, so long as you’re agreeable,’ Tommy said, shuffling awkwardly.

‘What would’ya have done if I wasn’t?’ Joel asked, a crooked grin forming on his face.

‘Would have taken you off patrol, but mighta felt a little bad about it,’ Tommy answered, earnest. Joel scoffed.

‘You’d pull rank, Town Councilman?’

‘Yes’sir, I would,’ Tommy said, no less earnest. Joel nodded at him.

‘Good,’ he affirmed, and saw the way Tommy expanded under the praise of his big brother. ‘You do what’s right for Jackson, always,’ Joel said, and Tommy agreed.

It was cold up there, though, the windchill on his face and his fingertips causing his whole body to tremor in his coat. It was Spring, but it was turning out to be a cold one, not a lot of warmth getting around the mountain. Joel shuffled his feet, trying to get the feeling back in his toes a little. He hadn’t brought his big coat, thinking the sun would be enough to keep him warm, but now that it was nearing the end of the day, the sun disappearing below the mountain ridge, he was counting every minute until he could clamber down and warm up.

He knew you’d be at his place already, working with Ellie at his kitchen table now that the heat had gone out of the day. He was going to try and make his beef stew tonight, had practically begged the kitchen staff to let him have a side of the meat. He hadn’t resorted to violence, but he would have.

He just wanted to thank you for everything you were doing for his daughter. Wanted to nourish your body the way you were nourishing her mind.

Billy called up to him from the bottom of the ladder. ‘Come on down, Joel, night shift’s here.’ Casting one last glance at the treeline, he vaulted down the ladder to rungs at a time.

--

You’d held a democratic process to determine the theme for the prom, but Ellie had dominated it anyway, either unfamiliar with, or just straight up unwilling to, compromise. As the day grew closer you gave up any pretence of tutoring her, working instead on cutting out yellow paper stars at Joel’s kitchen table.

‘Why does the moon change?’ Ellie asked, one day, and you’d paused for a second. You weren’t sure how bad FEDRA school was by the time she was in it, but that seemed fundamental.

‘Well, I mean, you know we’re a planet, right? That we’re like, a big round ball? Floating in the sky?’ Ellie levelled an impatient gaze at you, and you swallowed.

‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ she asked, and you thought very hard and very fast.

‘I think you’re brilliant and FEDRA school is terrible,’ you said, diplomatically. She softened, her cheeks pinking up a little.

‘Can’t argue with you there,’ she said, quietly.

‘I mean, how much did they teach you about planets?’

‘Sweet fuck all,’ she said, plainly, and you wanted to tell her not to swear but she was in her own house, and it felt like the horse had bolted long ago in any case. ‘But I read about it as much as I can.’

‘The moon?’

‘All space… being that high up where nothing can, no-one up there who can…it’s just so cool. Were you alive when they landed on it?’

‘Ellie, that was the 60s,’ you complained, waiting for her to do the mental maths and wondering how old she thought you were, or if all adults were just ‘old’ to her, a kind of non-descript age in which you are both responsible for everything and also mere moments from shuffling off into death.

She stared at you blankly. ‘I wasn’t born for another like, twenty years,’ you said.

She nodded. ‘Oh.’

‘A lot of people didn’t even believe we really did land on the moon,’ you said. You picked up another piece of paper, your pile of stars nearly double the size of Ellie’s. She wasn’t being careful, her general distractedness was making her slow.

‘What? But wasn’t it on TV?’

‘Yes, it was, but they said it was faked.’ Her eyes blew wide at this, and you realised she was considering it. ‘Ellie, there’s no way it was faked. There are footprints up there that’ll be there forever.’

‘Guess we’ll never know, now,’ she said, quietly, and you suddenly wondered whether the space theme was such a good idea, after all, whether you were tormenting the kids with something they would never see, never have even the smallest chance to explore.’

‘Ellie…’ you said, but she wasn’t looking at you anymore, concentrating hard on her paper star.

‘It’s ok, it’ll be fun to pretend for the night,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot of pretending, won’t be too hard.’

You wanted to ask her what she meant, who she thought was pretending, but you heard heavy footsteps on the front porch and knew Joel was home. You felt your cheeks flush, your hands picking up a little tremble that make it hard to grip your scissors.

‘Hello, ladies,’ Joel said, and when you looked up, he was grinning at you both from the doorway, his hands criss-crossed over his chest as he leant on the frame. It was a domestic enough moment that you had to fight the impulse to go over to him and welcome him properly, into your arms. Ellie barely acknowledged him, because she was 14.

‘What are we making?’ he asked, picking up one of Ellie’s ‘stars’ and genuinely requiring clarification. You winced a little at it. Perhaps it could go towards the back.

‘Prom decorations,’ Ellie said, and she still seemed a little down. You watched her, carefully, trying to determine if she’d already lit her fuse.  

‘Oh, I won’t interrupt,’ Joel said, raising his hands, feeling something in the air. ‘You stayin’ to eat, Teach?’ he asked, and he hoped his voice didn’t make him sound too eager, didn’t give him away.

‘I don’t want to be a bother,’ you said, just like you always did.

‘Oh my God!’ Ellie sighed, throwing her star down in front of her and pushing her chair back. ‘Just say yes, you always end up staying anyway.’

‘Ellie!’ Joel barked at her, and she huffed, her shoulders so high they nearly touched her ears.

‘It’s true, you guys do all this polite bullshit and for what? Just say what you want and then you can get it. It’s not so hard.’

You looked over at Joel, who was staring at his likely hormonal teenager with a perplexed look on his face. You took a second to gather yourself.

‘I would love to stay for dinner, Joel, but one of these days I want you to let me cook for you both.’

Joel paused, considering this. Eyes still on Ellie, who was still quietly fuming, he nodded his head, once. ‘I would like that, Teach,’ he said, his careful tone that of every bewildered teenage-girl-Dad the world over. ‘Ellie, I want you to go wash up before dinner, then I want you to peel the carrots.’

She stood up, stomping to the washroom. You concentrated hard on the paper in your hands, hoping it was enough to stifle your smile.

‘I want to know what the fuck that was about,’ Joel said to you, but smiling.

‘I want to remind you there’s nothing worse than being a teenage girl,’ you replied.

--

You stood, wobbling on the end of a step ladder, hanging up the stars. Tommy found some string lights and put them up around the mess hall, and Johnny and his assembly of post-apocalyptic musicians set up in the corner. You and Tommy had already pushed all the tables back against the wall to make a dance floor. As you worked, he regaled you with his favourite memories of his own prom, most of which seemed to involve trying to get up the skirt of someone called Tammy Schmidt. She’d never let him anywhere near her, and you told Tommy to his face she was right to do it.

‘You would have been Tommy and Tammy,’ you said, and he started to giggle. Actually giggle.

‘That was the appeal!’ he said, sheepish. ‘I figured it sounded like those made-up celebrity names.’

‘Brangelina,’ you said, and he grinned.

‘Tomammy,’ he replied, and you rolled your eyes.

After everything was set up you went home to get dressed, pulling out a little black number foraged from the bottom of Maria’s wardrobe. She had complained she was never going to get back into it, and you had waved her off. It made you feel silly and out of place and pretty and ridiculous, and you liked the way it swished when you walked. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d swished anywhere. It felt so normal you weren’t sure you could trust it.

When you arrived back at the mess hall the lights had been dimmed, and Johnny and his band were starting to warm up. With the lights down and the paper streamers and stars you could forget for a moment it wasn’t a normal prom, a real one. You felt a surge of pride in your belly, looked around at the tangible good.

You heard the doors to the mess hall swing open, followed by shrieks and laughter and multiple sets of rapidly advancing feet.

‘Oh my god it’s so amazing!’ Mika said, his face illuminated by the warm glow of the string lights, of the smile stretching his cheeks.

‘This is cool,’ Dina said, quietly, up the back, and you grinned. Something in you, some teenage part of you, was quietly relieved.

More kids arrived, some trailed by their parents, and you busied yourself setting up the orange juice and cola station. The kitchen had done little sandwiches and finger food and you wanted to make sure the kids ate, worried you’d send them home on empty stomachs and sugar pinging through their veins. That their parents would never forgive you, and that they would be right.

As soon as the band started up you stepped back, letting the kids swarm the plates and start to dance. You wanted to join them but you also felt a pull back to the edge of the room, kept thinking you were seeing snatches of your sister in the half-light, of you as a girl. You weren’t sure what the feeling was, some kind of melancholic nostalgia, some kind of longing for something that didn’t make sense to you. You’d never even liked prom that much, had mostly just gone because everyone else was. But it was different seeing one from the other side: from the other side of adolescences, from the other side of the end of the world. It felt precious and sad and joyful, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to turn away from it or bottle it up and store it safe under the bed.

You kept wondering if this was what your 14-year-old self ever envisioned for herself, if she could have envisioned anything so apocalyptic at all.

The doors swung open again, and you exhaled the breath you didn’t realise you were holding when Ellie strode in, almost skipping, her face titled up to the ceiling to see all her decorations hanging in the rafters. ‘Holy shit!’ you heard her exclaim, and you cringed a little, trying to avoid the eyes of the parents. You would have to speak to her about that, eventually.

You turned to pour yourself a juice, the acid tingling at the back of your teeth, before you heard heavy footsteps behind you, even over the thrum of the music and of Ellie grabbing Mika and swinging him around the dancefloor.

‘Hey, Teach,’ Joel said, his baritone rumbling out from his chest. You suppressed a shiver.

‘Joel,’ you turned to him, allowing the surprise to show on your face. ‘What are you doing here?’ You were ignoring that he was standing in black suit pants and a white shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, maybe a size too big, you couldn’t be sure. He’d done his hair, or had made an attempt at it, maybe running water through it and in the humidity of the room it had started to curl. You were alarmed at how distinctly you wanted to lean forward and sink your teeth into his neck, to lave at the skin there, to feel his pulse with your tongue.

You swallowed, the juice catching in your throat and making you splutter. Suddenly Joel was beside you, an enormous warm hand between your shoulder blades as you fought, doubled over, for breath.

‘Easy, easy,’ he was saying, and you wanted to slam your eyes shut and imagine him whispering exactly that as he slid inside you, as he rocked into you and felt your cunt quiver around his length. Jesus Christ, you were going to spontaneously combust.

‘Sorry, went down the wrong hole,’ you said, fluttering your hand in front of your face in the hope it would ward him off somewhat. As you straightened, he let his hand slide down your spine and away just as he reached the small of your back, and you felt your spine arch towards where his touch had been.

Fucks sake, you needed to get it together. You were like some horny teenager at, well, prom.

‘Tommy had something he needed to do at home, something with the baby.’

‘Is he OK? Is Maria Ok?’

‘Yeah, they’re fine, the baby just has a sniffle and I believe Maria’s exact words were “you’re not going out there to watch teenagers marinate in their hormones while I sit at home being snotted on by your crotch fruit”.’

You gaped at him. ‘Maria did not say crotch fruit.’

‘Might have put my spin on that bit,’ Joel said, grinning.

For his part, Joel was watching your eyes so that he wouldn’t look down at your dress, a little black flitty number that came up to your knees and down close enough on your chest that when you leant over trying to get your breath he had to move away to resist the urge to stare at the swell of your breasts, instead coming to stand beside you and placing his hand on your back just to try and keep himself standing. You were so fuckin’ pretty, done your hair all up nice. He wanted to swivel you around, tuck you into his chest and nibble on the nape of your neck, put his nose in your hair and inhale as he flipped that silly little skirt over your rear, letting one hand wonder over your cheeks as he slid further down, cupping and probing, into the slick between your legs.

Christ on a cracker, he needed to get it together. He was behaving like Tommy at, well, prom.

‘Place looks great,’ he said, his voice slightly strangled. You gazed up at him, taking a second to comprehend his words.

‘Thanks, Ellie did amazing work with the stars,’ you said, and you knew he knew you were lying, and you also knew he was a good enough Dad that he was going to let you get away with it.

‘She certainly has her own style,’ Joel replied, eyeing one particularly wonky cutout you had strategically placed in a dark corner.

You turned to watch the kids dance, Ellie’s hair bouncing around her face as she twisted her hips, holding Mika’s hand as she did.

‘She’s really gravitated towards him,’ you commented, and you looked over at Joel just in time to see a cloud pass over his face.

‘He probably reminds her of…’ he said, but then he trailed off, recalibrated. ‘He’s a sweet kid, so it makes sense,’ he finished.

‘Oh, speaking of sweet, Billy loves having you on the wall,’ you said, smiling at him and watching him blush.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, and you swore you could see genuine anxiety on his face.

‘Big Bad Joel Miller helping out? Billy getting to tell you what to do? He’s like a pig in shit.’

Joel could feel the heat on his cheeks and was powerless to stop it. ‘Big Bad Joel Miller,’ he echoed, feeling the words on his tongue, seeing how they tasted. ‘Not sure about that.’

‘You must know there are stories,’ you said, leaning into him a little, goading him a little, wanting to see if you could get him to crack and tell you something about himself.

‘Don’t pay any of that much mind,’ he said. ‘Don’t reckon any of ‘em are close to the truth.’

‘Well, no they can’t be,’ you agreed, quickly, feeling like the conversation was slipping from you and not really knowing why.

‘Not sure there are words for some of the shit I’ve…seen,’ he said, and he saw the shift in your face, the shock before you covered it, and he knew that he’d scared you a little, but there were things he didn’t want to talk about, shit that he’d had to do to get Ellie here, to get her to be able to forget the cost of it all. Big Bad Joel Miller. No one had any fucking clue.

He looked over at you, at the way you had sunk into yourself, and he cursed himself. You were too sweet, too warm, and he’d gone and thrown a wet rag on your fire. If you knew about him you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. He took a step back, too. You’d made him forget for a second, that he was no good to anyone. Especially not to someone like you.

You were lost in your thoughts, watching the kids again but not really seeing. It wasn’t even what Joel had said, although you felt the way he was pushing you away, and you went willingly. It was that as he spoke you realised, finally realised, what the feeling was that had been pulling at you all night.

You were fucking lonely. 14-year-old you might have been OK with the QZ stuff, with what you had to do to survive, with keeping your sister alive along as you could, with making sure her death meant something, even just until they cleared her body away. 14-year-old you might have even been OK with the teaching, although that would take some convincing. But the fact that you were alone, that you were nearing 40 and hadn’t ever really loved anyone other than your family, hadn’t ever really had anyone love you. OK, so you hadn’t married Jonathan Taylor Thomas, in the circumstances maybe for that you got a pass. But that you weren’t with anyone, that you had wanted love for yourself and never got it, that you had wanted to belong in that most specific way and you hadn’t, hadn’t ever really come home. 14-year-old you was screaming and howling and gnashing her teeth. You’d failed her, failed the both of you.

You were horrified to feel a tightness across your throat, the heat building behind your eyes. You needed to get away from all these people, needed to go and pity yourself in peace.

‘I just need some air,’ you said, barely above a whisper, pushing past Joel with your face turned away lest he see your eyes growing redder and wetter by the second.

‘Teach…’ he called after you, but you were gone, heading straight to the door, not seeing Ellie turn to follow Joel’s voice, to see you making a break for it, turning back to him with her hands in the air.

Joel felt his stomach drop, staring back at Ellie with panic written all over his face.

‘What did you do?’ she mouthed to him, and he shrugged, helpless. He’d pushed you away, had shut you down, had been rude and cruel and cold. But he had no idea how to mouth that to his teenage daughter across a dance floor. ‘GO AFTER HER’ Ellie whisper-screamed at him, and it jolted him, got his feet moving before he’d even given it another thought.

You were standing under the awning a couple of paces from the door, leaning on the railing and sucking in the chill of the air. You realised when you heard the door swing open that you’d cornered yourself, cursed yourself for getting all your years in the QZ.

‘Teach,’ he said, and you hung your head. ‘M’sorry, I didn’t mean to…’

‘Wasn’t you, wasn’t that, I just…I needed to breathe for a second.’

Joel paused, watching the way your shoulders rose and fell, sharp and insistent, as you gathered yourself.

He took a step forward towards you, saw the way you flinched and turned away, and stopped, deciding instead to sit on the steps, giving you space but not too much, distance but enough that he could reach out for you if you wanted him to.

‘I did a lot of things to get here,’ he said, after a while. The hair stood up on the back of your neck. ‘I ain’t ashamed of ‘em, I’d do ‘em all again to keep her safe, you understand?’ he asked, and you nodded, still with your back half-turned. ‘Never regretted getting her here, both of us, to safety and to family.’ You nodded again. You knew all of this, had lived all of this, but you didn’t stop him, couldn’t turn to look at him, just let him talk because you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. ‘What bothers me, Teach, is that Big Bad Joel Miller might be too old to do ‘em again.’

You felt a pull towards him, turned your body to peer at his face. He was staring down main street, avoiding looking at you, too.

‘What if I can’t keep her safe?’ he asked, almost to himself. You swallowed, moving towards him, sucked into his gravitational pull. As you sank down beside him on the step, he shuffled to make room for you, but you didn’t want distance, leaning further over so that your shoulders touched. He was so warm even in the chill of the night. You wanted him to take your hands and blow warm breath onto them, smile and put them on his chest to warm them even though the cold of your skin stung him.

‘She’s so capable, Joel,’ you said. ‘You did that. She’ll keep herself safe, soon.’

‘She’s just a kid,’ Joel said, but he wasn’t attacking, just stating a fact.

‘I wasn’t much older on outbreak day,’ you said, simply.

‘Lotsa girls her age weren’t so lucky,’ he replied, quiet.

Blood smattered all over a pink and purple tee-shirt. Curls caked in blood and mud. He swallowed.

‘I know that,’ you said, after a while. Joel watched your face. He saw that it was true, that you knew.

‘S’what was it, if it wasn’t me being so rude to ya?’ he asked, after a long silence that would have made his bones itch if he’d been sharing it with anyone else but you. You shied away a little, and he watched as you started to recede. ‘Hey,’ he said, reprising the conversation from the night at the kitchen table. ‘I want you to tell me what’s up,’ he said, and you smiled, faintly, recognising what he was doing.

‘Prom, I guess. Memories. I don’t know.’ You paused, tried to form the words. ‘It’s all about promise, isn’t it, being a kid and being in high school and doing all of these…rites of passages. There’s an assumption about how things will go. We all make ‘em, made ‘em. Guess it’s hard when they didn’t come true.’

Joel nodded. He wanted to pull you into his lap and rock you, gentle and soft in the night, feel your warm breath on his neck as you pushed your fingertips through the buttonholes of his shirt.

‘Most of the time I’m OK,’ you went on, trying to repair it, slink back under your shell, your slimy snail body suddenly exposed to the elements.

‘Everyone’s OK til they ain’t.’ Joel said. He turned to look at you, swivelled his body to yours so that your knees rested against his. His eyes were so deep and dark in the streetlights, his brows saddled as he petitioned you. ‘I don’t mind it, Teach. You can be all of it with me.’

You felt your heart gallop in your chest, heat suddenly in your belly.

‘So can you, Big Bad Joel Miller,’ you told him, smiling but earnest, wanting him to believe it was true. ‘I’ll take whatever you got,’ you said.

There was a moment, Joel knew, when he could pull back from it. That this was that moment, when he could turn away from you, could crack a joke or make some excuse to head back inside. Could get up and bolt for the gate, swing it open and face whatever demons were out in the darkness so as not to have to face his own. He knew this was the moment of no return, for him.

He looked down at your lips, painted red for prom and so soft, so plump. Your skin soft and glowing so gently in the light. How many more times was he going to have to resist you by porchlight? How many times could he?

‘Joel…’ you whispered, edging yourself closer to him, leaning in without even really thinking about it, watching him mirror you and Joel knew the moment had passed, that your little whimper of his name was branded on his chest, that he would parade it around town for you, would bare it to anyone who wanted to lay their claim.

Your hair was soft, so soft, in his palms as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours, your mouth opening to welcome him, tongue dancing across his. He groaned, from deep down in his belly, for the want of it, for the way his tummy flipped at his first taste of you.

You were pretty sure you were dead. It was the only explanation. But if this was heaven then so fucking be it, because Joel was cupping your face in his hands, and his kiss was insistent and gentle and he was guiding you through it, teasing you open as you felt the hinge of your jaw creak under the pressure of your want for him. You weren’t sure you were breathing. You weren’t sure you cared.

He was pulling you closer, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling you into him, the weird angle meaning both sets of knees were in the way. You considered vaulting over the top of him, riding him on the steps of the mess hall while a bunch of teenagers supposedly under your charge danced under paper stars, but you had the wherewithal to hold back, to pry yourself from him, to lean your forehead on his and catch your breath.

Granted, you didn’t have a lot of experience. But you’d never had a kiss that felt like that.

‘Teach,’ Joel said, so quiet and just for you, and you could hear that he was out of breath, that his chest was heaving, that he was fighting it back just as hard as you. He lifted his head and gazed at you, the look of naked desire on his face such that you wanted it to be photographed, painted, hung in a gallery and studied by future generations.

Then, alarms. And yes, you thought, that felt about right. Everything had just shifted off its axis, after all, it made sense that the universe was now screaming.

Except it sounded weirdly familiar. Kind of like the one that you pulled when there was a problem at the gate.

You turned your head down main street as you saw the flood lights come on. You were up, Joel just behind you, as you and your little swishy dress headed towards it, front doors ripping open around you, men and women pulling on jackets over their pyjamas, arming themselves for war.

‘State your business!’ you heard Billy yell from the top of the gate, his rifle trained at a hard angle just beneath him. Jesus, they were close, you realised. Nearly right up on the iron.

You couldn’t hear the reply, vaulting up the ladder without thinking, without a weapon, leaving Joel to defend the gate.

‘State your business!’ Billy called again, and you came up beside him, peeping over the edge to report back on what you could see. There were three of them, that you could see from here. You scanned the treeline, the floodlights turning the trees into fingers scratching harsh at the night sky.

‘Where they come from, Billy?’ you asked, and he gestured with his head over to the right. You picked up the binoculars and scanned.

‘Can’t see any others,’ you reported back, going to the other side and holding up three fingers to the crowd.

‘We’re just passing through,’ the man called back, ‘saw your lights and thought…we’re injured.’

‘Injured how?’ Billy called. You could hear murmuring beneath you, a plan being hatched.

‘One of us is a woman. We were ambushed. They took everything we have, nearly took her but she got away.’

You peered down over the gate, could see that a woman was indeed holding her arm in a sling, her face pale. She was wavering, like she was ready to collapse.

You heard footsteps on the ladder, felt it sway the wall as Tommy appeared beside you.

‘Whatdya reckon?’ he asked you, his eyes focussed but his breath coming in short and fast.

‘They’re telling the truth so far,’ you said, ‘best I can tell.’

You stepped out of the way, Tommy taking your place at the wall while Billy stayed fixed, his gun unwavering from the strangers.

You heard a gasp, a kind of choking shock. ‘No fucking way,’ Tommy said, and you peered over his shoulder again, trying to figure out what he could see. ‘Shauna?’ he called down, the woman’s face snapping up to him, a shaky hand covering her eyes to make him out.

‘Tommy?’ she asked, as though she was dead and found herself at the gates of heaven, surprisingly less gilded than expected. You swallowed, saw Billy’s hold on the gun waver.

‘Open the gates!’ Tommy called, before turning back to the strangers. ‘Hands up and come forward slowly, I’ll meet you there.’

‘Who is that, Tommy?’ you asked him, grabbing at him as he made to hurry past.

‘It’s Shauna,’ he said, his face pale and disbelieving. ‘Where’s Joel?’

‘Who the fuck is Shauna?’ you asked, every nerve ending screaming.

‘She’s Sarah’s mom,’ he said, before he disappeared down the ladder, calling for Joel as he went.

‘Who the fuck is Sarah?’ Billy said to you, his gun lowered but eyeballing the group all the same.

You had no idea.

Taglist (let me know if you want to be on it)

@harriedandharassed

@vickie5446

@kaseyconnour

@orcasoul

@missladym1981

@spacesoutdaydreamer

@tangled-tumbler-blog-blog

@fancyyoouu

@anoverwhelmingdin

[mykoreanlove]

from one leader to another

some skz x bts siblings x flirty fluff - @kayleefriedchicken hope u like it :)

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

You roamed the city aimlessly, desperately trying to find the perfect present for your younger brother’s birthday. 

„Fuck, fuck, fuck“, you muttered under your breath as you noticed the time. 

One hour left.

You had exactly one hour to find the right gift or else everybody at his party would judge you as the worst sister of the century. You didn’t forget about his present, in fact you put a lot of thought into it but what do you get someone that already has everything? Why was this so hard for you? 

Your inner pity monologue got interrupted as your phone rang.

„Channie“, you greeted him, hoping he wouldn’t notice your dismay.

„You sound stressed. You good?“

Damn it. His little brother senses always tingled when you were in a crappy mood.

„Promise you won’t hate me?“

His laughter filled the line.

„What’s wrong?“

„I’m going crazy because of your stupid birthday present!“, you whined in annoyance.

„Y/N, my birthday party starts in an hour and you still have no present? Damn, do you hate me?“, he chuckled amused.

„Stop making fun of me and help me instead?“

„Help you how?“

„Oh, I don’t know - maybe actually tell me what you want?“

Chan laughed again.

„I did tell you!“

You sighed in exasperation.

„The fuck you did! Every time I ask you what I can get you, you tell me shit like „I just want you to be healthy and happy. Oh, and find a boyfriend already and get married and have kids, so mom won’t pester me about it“. Not helpful, Chan!“, you mocked him.

He burst out laughing, which pissed you off even more.

„I’m sure you’ll figure it out, y/nnie. I’m going to hang up, the boys are already here. See you in an hour.“

You angrily massaged your temples, not knowing what to do. Minutes after you hung up, Chan sent you a text - a picture of him with various presents from his friends, smiling giddily into the camera.

„That little shit“, you muttered under your breath.

Just you wait - I’ll figure this out!

 You had to be strategic about it - most of the shops were about to close anyway, so which one would you go to?

The ones with clothing? You shook your head as you recalled how much clothes he already had not only at his place but also yours.

The ones with books? Nah, that boy rarely reads, you argued with yourself.

Come on, think y/n. You can do this.

„Oh“, you jumped excitedly, as you had finally figured it out.

You walked straight to the biggest fragrance shop you could find, wandering in front of the men’s aisle.

„Whoa, those are a lot“, you noticed. 

The shelves were filled with various flacons - colorful or bland, minimalistic or eccentric, cheap or ridiculously expensive.

„Fuck, how am I supposed to find the right one before the shop closes?“

As your eyes scanned the shelves you noticed two teenage girls next to you, giggling and whispering about some guy close to you.

„He is so hot, oh my god“, one of them whispered.

„I know and he smells soooo good“, the other one agreed.

You cautiously turned your head, curious about the guy they were talking about. 

„Damn“, you whispered under your breath.

He was good looking! He was tall and built like a greek god, muscular yet lean. His dark long hair suited his handsome face perfectly, adding to his chic yet urban style. You didn’t notice yourself wander closer to him, as you were too engulfed analyzing his features. You chuckled as you noticed his hair fall into his brown eyes, he clumsily pushed the strands away from his face but they fell back every time. He had a sharp gaze, observing the perfumes in front of him with precision. 

„I bet he’s hella smarted“, you mumbled silently.

Finally, you were standing right next to him. You closed your eyes, as you took him all in, his presence was mesmerizing. Shit, those girls were right. He smells amazing, you thought to yourself, lost in your mind altogether. 

The stranger turned around with wide eyes, asking you bluntly: „Did you just smell me?“

You opened your eyes abruptly, embarrassed to the core. 

„I, uh, ha, yeah, so, funny story“, you rambled shyly. 

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and faced you, a sly smile on his lips.

„I’m listening.“

You cursed yourself internally but decided to spill the truth.

„You see I am here because I need a gift. Not any gift but THE gift. And I was standing over there overlooking all these perfumes as I heard some teenagers giggle and gush about you.“

He averted his gaze to the right and looked at the two girls behind you who turned around abruptly, hiding their faces.

„Go on“, he mumbled as he looked at you again. „So, yeah, they were saying how good you smelled and since I need that perfect gift I thought I would find out for myself.“

He leaned his head to the side as he was listening to you ramble.

„And you thought smelling me, a mere stranger, was the best way to go about it?“

„In hindsight? No. But I am desperate, so cut me some slack. Please.“

He let out a deep sigh and uncrossed his arms, picking up the perfume he was wearing and handing it over to you.

„That’s the one“, he pointed out.

You observed the package, it looked hella expensive but it did smell divine. 

„Thank you“, you whispered. 

„Do you need it for your boyfriend?“

You laughed out loud, not realizing that he was serious about it.

„No. I don’t have a boyfriend. This one is for my brother.“

„Ah“, he nodded. 

Now, that the shock was gone, you noticed the stranger’s voice - deep and raspy, a melodic sound you would have loved to listen to for longer. Sadness formed in your gut as he turned around, ending this conversation now that you had what you wanted.

„Hey, wait.“

He turned around again, looking at you expectantly. Damn, why did he have to be so handsome? Okay, focus, Y/N, focus.

„I kinda feel like owning you an apology for sniffing you, so uhm, sorry…?“

„Joon“, he replied.

„Joon?“

„Yeah, actually Namjoon but you can call me Joon.“

Gosh, his name is just as pretty as he is.

„And whom does the sniffing nose belong to?“

„Y/N“, you stretched out your hand, waiting for him to shake it.

Namjoon smiled warmly as he shook your delicate hand. 

„Nice to meet you, Y/N.“

Nice to meet you, too, Joon. 

His presence made you feel warm, and comfortable. 

„So, when’s the party?“

You took a glance at your wrist, cursing yourself for arriving late.

„Started 30 minutes ago“, you confessed.

„So what, you forgot about the present?“

„No“, you exclaimed agitated.

„I just.. It’s hard to shop for him, that’s all.“

„So, you were looking for the perfect gift, is that it?“

You nodded, not entirely convinced that a perfume would be it but you were left with no options.

„What about you? Shopping for yourself?“

„Yeah, I was kinda looking for the next perfume that you would sniff on me, actually“, he mused jokingly.

Wait, what was he saying?

„Wouldn’t your girlfriend be mad about that?“

Clearly, someone like him had to be taken already. Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise - were you that oblivious?

„I don’t have one. So sniff me all you want“, he smiled sneakily.

You looked down, cheeks rosy and shy from this playful banter.

„Excuse me but we are closing the shop right now. Please buy something or leave, thank you“, the store clerk interrupted the two of you.

„Oh sure, sorry!“, you marched to the front, paying for the ridiculously expensive perfume while Namjoon was following you. You stood outside the store for a while, getting to know each other and flirting candidly. 

You learned that he was an artist, who worked with his hands a lot. He loved to read and rhyme on his own, often hanging out at public libraries and hidden bookstores. You bit your lip as you were right about him, he was a smart one.

Smart. Handsome. Funny. And into me. What were the odds?

„Do you think your brother will like the perfume?“

You shrugged your shoulders, not really sure if that was the best gift after all. You recalled his words in your mind „be happy and healthy and get a boyfriend“…

Suddenly, a new idea flooded your consciousness.

„Hey Joon?“, you asked out of the blue.

„Hm?“

„What are you doing tonight?“

„Nothing, actually. I’m free like a bird“, he cheered warmly. 

Jackpot.

„Wanna come with me? Be my date for tonight?“

[desiresiwant]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦-𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

word count: 4k~

warnings: strong language, eventual violence, a pretty much tamed 1st chapter…for now

a/n: this is the 1st chapter of my au fic based off the The Originals (what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?). If there’s a warning I skipped let me know.

MASTERLIST | NEXT ->

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲 | 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗢𝗿𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘀

𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒.

It wasn't how Deena imagined it to be the moment she stepped off the smelly bus onto the gravel sidewalk, with a packed bag hung across her shoulder and an old black suitcase covered in band stickers she used to listen to years ago.

She came a long way from Le Havre, France. Spent about seventeen hours on a plane and another two hours riding two buses to get here, stuck next to an annoying older woman spilling her lifelong secrets.

The sunny sky was touched with a gloom and many buildings looked as if they came out of the 1700s in American films with a modern touch to fit today's society. There were many interesting stores that had caught Deena's eye as she traveled down the sidewalk with no plan in mind. She enjoyed the urban touch of the city through the people and how together they were which was much different back home. Also, it was very much diverse compared to the small area she lived in.

She felt comfortable. At home.

Off the side of a group of friends passing through, Deena pulled out a picture of her beautiful mother in the arms of a man that's to be her father—Klaus Mikaelson.

Her mother was happy in this picture. They both were. In a black shirt hanging off her shoulders, ripped tights under a pair of shorts, smiling at the camera with a drink in her hand and her curly hair almost taking up half the photo. The man—her father, Klaus—sat leaned into her mother, kissing her ear with an arm thrown around her waist. He wore a basic leather jacket with dark blue jeans. Dirty blond hair, dark blue-greenish eyes, and a killer smile. The table in front of them covered in empty red cups and half-filled liquor bottles. They were both young, in college, and in love.

"I want to find him," Deena said to herself in a soft voice. "I need to find Klaus Mikaelson."

But the problem was if Deena ever found her father, she didn't know what she would tell him. She practiced what to say when meeting him, but it was all gibberish and uncompleted sentences that made no sense. She feared a lot of things about her father; him being married with kids and she would come into his perfect life and ruin the happiness he made for himself, no knowledge of his other child he had created across the globe. Or he was a dead-beat with nothing going for his life. Or he has long passed away.

But whatever truth lies in his life, she just wanted to see him. From afar, if needed. To see how he lived. And if he cared enough to know that the woman he met in this very city before she moved to France years ago, was now dead. But she selfishly wanted him to know that she existed.

...if she knew where he was. Or where to start.

The city was so big, nevertheless the state and because Deena wasn't from around—this was her second time ever in America—it was difficult for her to navigate or read the English signs she never learned. But she grew hungry and entered the nearest restaurant.

"Hey, welcome in! Take a seat anywhere," Greeted the waiter, passing by with both hands filled.

Most tables were filled as Deena searched for an empty spot.

Sensing the panicked teenager, the waiter stood before Deena after she finished serving a table. "Must be your first time here, so welcome. Just join a table with someone, anyone, but choose wisely; some people can talk more than they chew." She was picking at the older customer sitting at the counter who obviously heard what she said and sent her a squinted look with pursed lips. "That's the motto of the restaurant; To Meet A Stranger Along The Way. Eating alone doesn't mean you have to be alone. So sit anywhere and I or another waiter will be with you soon."

Deena sent the nice lady a smile. "I understand, thank you."

She pulled along her suitcase looking for a place to sit down. Most tables were occupied and many shared engaging conversations of their own that Deena didn't want to intrude, until she noticed a brunette sitting alone with a book in her hand reading quietly.

"Can I sit here?"

The girl looked up from her book and gestured towards the empty chair. "Go for it," she went back to reading.

She took off her backpack and placed it in the empty seat next to her before sitting down. The girl was young, or at least she appeared to be. Had to be around the same age, and she was very pretty.

That part Deena will keep to herself.

As if the girl felt Deena's complimenting stare, she tore away her gaze as the girl lifted her head from the book, but it was already too late since she was caught. "Have you read it?" She started. "Romeo and Juliet?"

"Who hasn't?"

"I know right? It's for some stupid class, so the teacher's forcing us to read up to five chapters and come back to a pop quiz. Which, I know I will fail."

Both girls shared a short laughter.

"I'm Deena.” She introduced. “I'm new around here."

The waiter then came to take Deena's order while also setting down a grilled turkey sandwich with extra avocado and a side of fries for the girl. She finally placed down her book, giving thanks to the waiter before digging into her food.

The mouth-watering scent made Deena's stomach grumble. I’m so damn hungry.

"Davina," while washing down her fries with lemonade. "Not new here. But I noticed the accent. Where are you from?"

"France. More specifically, Le Havre." Deena replied. "You?"

"Born and raised. Also, don't hate me but the only place I know of France is Paris, but I'm sure Le Havre is a fun place to visit and live at."

Deena shrugged showing no offense to Davina's knowledge of France. She didn’t blame the girl since she knew nothing of the US besides New York, California, Florida, and Texas. They were normally the most talked about and the most used location in films. Also, it seemed a lot always happened in those states.

"It's cool. I actually didn't know Louisiana existed until a few days ago." Deena admitted.

"But here you are!"

She gave a small smile, agreeing. "Here I am."

Some moments later, the waiter delivered Deena's food; half cut Cuban sandwich with extra pickles and a sweet tea. She dug in without question.

Davina was a cool person to chat with. Easy-going, funny, and there was something about her energy Deena felt oddly connected to. Davina also felt an odd connection to Deena but brushed it off as she stuffed her mouth full.

There was a long list prepared for the day, but realized it was quite small and she had no starting point. I came here on a whim. With little to no planning, and childish hope.

But remembered Davina was from New Orleans. There's a possibility she might've ran into her father or seen him around somewhere. Or visited a store he owned. Or attended school with one of his kids. Or visited his grave.

"So, I was wondering since you're from around if you knew this man?" Deena wiped the oils from her fingers before reaching into her front backpack's pocket. Pulling out the photo of her mother and Klaus, she held it in front of Davina to inspect.

Davina noticeably froze upon viewing the photo. She had blinked a few times to make sure the man she saw wasn't just some random person she's misjudging but a man who was famously known throughout the streets and the supernatural world.

She pulled back from the table and picked at the grilled bread. "What do you want with him?" suddenly, she got hostile with Deena despite her pure intentions.

She knew him.

Deena sighed with relief. Davina obviously knew her father, but the cold tone she used when responding made her nervous. He must be married. With kids. Or nothing but a dead-beat. Or worse. Dead.

Deena returned the photo back into her backpack pocket with a shrug. "So you know him?"

"Yea, Klaus Mikaelson. Anyone who's done him bad or crossed his path on accident knows of him and his notorious siblings—"

"He has siblings?" Deena interjected.

"—oh yeah. Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson and whoever comes back to life occasionally." She continued, slightly confusing Deena but she was happy to hear there's more than her father alive. "Terrorizing the city and the people who live within. Any person with a sense of mind would tell you to stay the hell away. You don't want anything to do with that psychotic man and his troubling siblings. His family is a curse to this city, to the communities, and they care for no one else but themselves. I'm sure the woman in that photo was killed by the hands of Klaus Mikaelson himself." She sneered.

Deena, not knowing this man nor his siblings personally, felt offended by Davina's harsh words because they were her family. And even worse, she accused her father murdering her mother. A beautiful soul who raised Deena with everything she could give her, found locked in her car with a letter admitting how unhappy she was with her life.

The smile on Deena’s face faltered to a deadpan glare as Davina bad-mouthed the family she had ties to. She noticed the change of her expression, but she thought nothing of it since she assumed she was doing good by scaring the curious French girl away from Klaus and far away from this cursed city.

Deena abruptly stood from her seat already gathering her belongings.

"W-where are you going? You haven't finished your— "

"The woman standing next to Klaus is my mother. And the man next to her, Klaus Mikaelson, is my father. And she wasn't murdered by him, she hated her life and everyone within it so she did the job herself." Deena vividly watched Davina grow with shock upon hearing Klaus was her father and was filled with sudden guilt from all she had said about her parents before. "But you are right about one thing; we are troubling. At least it keeps people away. So thanks for nothing. I'll find him my own damn self."

She wasn't sure how much the meal cost altogether and because the currency was slightly different, she left a big amount on the table which included a tip. She was out the restaurant in no time. Her head felt dizzy and she was hot all over heaving out steam, suddenly impacted by the overwhelming emotions she thought she had pushed back.

A month ago, Deena's mother passed away.

Her death made no sense. She was a cheerful woman who often hid away in her art studio painting and sketching for hours until it was time to pick Deena up from school. Students were often jealous because while other parents nagged on their child's grades and permitted curfews, Deena's mother never hovered over her shoulder about her grades and trusted Deena enough to be home within a reasonable time. And while other parents came dressed in their finest most classiest clothing for teacher conference nights or the school performances Deena was a part of, her mother came dressed straight out of a Fruits Magazine.

She was stressless, free, a kindred spirit, and an amazing mother. Sometimes Deena would forget her mother wasn't a close friend or an older sister despite having her at a young age. She was vocal about her problems and told Deena since a young age that "anger should never be placed into a bottle. Let the world hear you even if they say you scream too loud. They don't like Black girls expressing themselves in any manner if not with their heads down, so you must do it for the next little Black girl who's taking notes.".

But still, it made no sense.

The morning before she died, Deena's mother showed no signs of distress. She made banana pancakes, sent Deena off to school, and when she came home, her mother was working on a late piece for an art exhibition a friend in town invited her work to. She then left after dinner and was never seen for two days until Deena received a call from the police station. But it was questionable and she didn't understand it.

Why was she unhappy with life when she expected so much out of it? Why would she leave when she promised me the world? Why wasn’t she vocal with her depression in the same way she taught me to be vocal?

"Deena, wait!" Davina called out after placing down her half of the pay and rushed out the doors. She knew she was wrong for what she said and she felt terrible. "Look, I'm sorry! I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to offend you or bring your mother into this; I was only speaking from a personal experience which is no excuse at all. Next time, I should watch what I say. But..."

Deena kept walking. She struggled to drag her suitcase with her speed. The old wheels looked as if they were about to break off at any second, but she somehow managed to keep going.

Davina huffed annoyingly. "But I know where he is, Klaus Mikaelson," Deena halted her steps, facing the girl. "And I know where you can find him."

As Deena studied her face to find any spec of bluff hidden in her tone or written amongst her face, she saw she was telling the truth. She knew where her father currently hung around or lived, and of course, she wasn't going to question why or how she knew that kind of information.

"Where is he?" Asked Deena.

"The Abattoir. I can take you there since you might get lost. Also, you might want a travel buddy traveling in that particular area."

Deena sized the girl down. "Why? Will Klaus murder me too?"

"Again, I'm sorry about that." With her eyes narrowed, Davina apologized again. Deena still felt offended by what she said but since she genuinely felt sorry for it, about her mother at least, she decided to cut her some slack. She doesn't need an enemy on her first day in New Orleans. "Look, you're not from around and I'm sure you don't know about..."

Taking in Deena's blank stare, Davina then shook off the conversation and reached down for her suitcase. "Never mind, let's go."

Deena's hand was still on the handle, able to hold her grip from slipping it out her fingers and asked, "I don’t need your help. I can carry it myself." She tried pulling back but Davina somehow had the suitcase fully in her hands.

"It's about to break, I'm practically doing you a favor." She noticed the band stickers on her suitcase and claimed to have listened to some of them when she was thirteen.

Deena allowed her guard down and quickly followed behind Davina across the street before the main light turned green. She continued on about the particular bands she knew and who she used to stan and asked Deena about the bands she was unfamiliar with.

Somewhere during the conversation, "Thanks," it was soft but Davina caught it

She offered a soft smile. "You shouldn't thank me. I might not particularly like Klaus, but if he truly is your father, I wouldn’t live with myself by keeping you away from knowing him. At least then, hopefully, you might run away once you do."

"Is he really that bad of a man?"

Davina was quiet at her question. To her, Klaus wasn't just a bad man, he was terrible, and he almost killed her multiple times if it wasn't for Marcel having to save her. She wished she could tell Deena these things in hopes she would stay away, but no one wants to hear the bad of a man you've never met. Especially when he was your father. Family. It also wasn't her place to kill the image she might have of him.

Then she shrugged. "I will let you be the judge of that."

━━━━━━ ━━━━━━

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. It was well kept for the most part but it was obvious this house had been through hell, Deena definitely thought Klaus was a deadbeat. This wasn't a family home, but it was a pretty big property. Maybe a rich deadbeat?

Together they stood staring up at the white doors ready to be knocked upon. Davina stared at the door with fear. Every witch sense coursing through her blood told her to turn away and run.

She knew she wasn't allowed here—that witches weren't allowed here, but she came to protect Deena.

Deena wasn't aware of the supernatural world or the fact that her father was a ruthless millennium-old psychotic hybrid, and what lies within the compound was an 'army' of hungry blood-sucking vampires who were already aware of their presence. Vampires who were too scared to leave Klaus if not slaughtered after the gruesome war against Marcel's army and enemies, and whoever they could rally up if Marcel hadn't got to them first.

Nevertheless, Davina watched her new friend lift her hand to knock on the door. Sucking in a deep breath, her knuckles were seconds away from alerting the vampires before something churned in her stomach. She quickly lowered her hand and hurried away.

"I can't do this." Deena panicked.

Davina lingered a bit longer at the door before rushing after her. "Where are you going? He's right inside." She shouted, dragging along the suitcase.

"I can't do it." She breathed heavily. "I-I don't know why I came here in the first place. And I hate myself for being curious, but I don't think I can do it. I should go home with the money I have left."

There was so much roaming through Deena's brain all at once. She thought she was ready to meet with him, but she wasn't, or at least she was convincing herself that she's not. But after losing the only family she had, Deena had grown lonely and desperate for someone to care about her and love her as much as her mother did. That's why she went through her mother's things. She trashed her mother's room, the kitchen, the attic, even her own room in the process. She didn't know what she was searching for until she discovered the letter.

It was meant to be given on her 18th birthday, a couple of months early.

But now that she was here, she didn't feel as pumped as before. Maybe she should've thought a bit longer on the idea before hopping on the next plane to New Orleans? Maybe she was getting too ahead of herself? Maybe this wasn't the right thing for her to do?

Davina grabbed Deena just as she was about to cross the street and tugged on her arm so that she was facing her. "Just breathe." She attempted to calm her down.

Deena rolled her eyes. "I am breathing."

"No, you're not. You look like you're about to pass out." Despite her annoyance, Deena forced herself to calm down. Once seeing she had, Davina narrowed her gaze before speaking. "I have no words to comfort you. Hell, I can't even comfort myself, but I can tell you, that you will regret not meeting him and him not knowing you. You have a chance that many kids don't have; I don't even know whether my dad is alive or not, but you do. And you should take it."

"I feel like I'm gonna ruin his life." Deena admitted.

Davina scoffed with a dragged 'please'.

"I'm serious. How would you feel living a life of your own for however many years and suddenly a seventeen-year-old kid comes knocking at your front door claiming to be your daughter? I would close the door in her face and continue my show!"

"If I was Klaus Mikaelson, I would be pretty damn blessed to have a kid with my blood in their veins at my doorstep. You never know."

"He must be a pretty famous man the way you speak of him."

She shrugged. "You can say that. But look," She took hold of Deena's hand. "Go meet him. Let him know who you are. And if you regret it, you can take the first plane back to Le..."

"Le Havre," she completed.

"Right. Le Havre. And I will be right here supporting you."

Davina was right. At least she had a chance to get to know her father while many don't and she shouldn't let the opportunity pass by. She sucked in a deep breath and began making her way to the white doors, but just as soon as she took her first step, she was stopped by Davina's stretched arm hitting her chest. She appeared focused, waiting for something to come.

She pushed away Davina's arm from deep within her chest, but she stopped her again.

Deena rolled her eyes with a huff. "You give me some go-for-it-speech and now you don't want me to seize the moment while I'm ready?"

"Something isn't right," Davina eased out with worry.

Deena would've guessed the brunette was another spiderman from an alternate universe the way she peered around her surroundings like a guard dog. Or spidey senses, she'd call it. She didn't see nor feel what Davina was and there was no one within their proximity when glancing around to catch what she caught, so she wasn't sure what had her on edge.

"You are right," Both girls jumped at the deep voice of a brown-skinned woman who spoke with a slight thick accent. She wore a green tank-top with dark blue jeans and she had to be around thirty years old, and she was looking at Deena as she came forward. "Something isn't right."

Despite the weird look, at least Deena knew she wasn't a stranger judging by Davina's calm expression and her tensed shoulders releasing.

She removed her arm from Deena's chest with a sigh. "Zoeè? What are you doing on this side of town?"

"I could ask you the same, harvest girl?"

Davina doesn't respond.

"I sensed someone—" Her brown eyes flickered to Deena. "—special entered the city and came runnin' soon as I could. And now that the cloaking spell has worn off and the prophecy is clear, all that I need to seal the deal is standing right in front of me."

Davina stepped in front of Deena in a protective manner once putting together two and two. "I don't know what this is about but let's not do it here. You and I both aren’t safe in this area—" merely glancing back. "—and she has nothing to do with this. This is between me and you."

Deena was clearly confused. "I'm sorry but who is this?"

"Don't matter who I am. What matters is what you gone do to our kind once the Mikaelsons find out you're alive."

Whatever happened, happen so fast that Deena was unable to process absolutely nothing. After Davina screamed out, she pushed her back and lifted her hands in a wizard-like manner before she was thrown against the building wall with no effort.

Deena followed the invisible force to the woman, Zoeè who's smiling back at her and scattered away. She would have ran after Davina, but her first instinct was to get herself to safety first and take a moment to digest what the hell just happened.

"Solem," With a flick of a wrist, Deena failed to cross the road before she found darkness and the cold ground.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆

If you like what you read and wish to read more of this fic, you can read here

[etherealcheol-mp3]

White Carnations, Red Roses (and other perfumed words I hide behind) [TEASER]

Pairing: Seungcheol x reader (ft other svt members)

Genre/warnings: fluff, humor, sorta enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, flower shop owner!Y/N, landord!Seungcheol, tags will be updated later on when the actual fic is completed

Word count: TBD

Summary: You were just starting to foolishly believe that your move to a new city wasn't as bad as people had told you it would be. You had your best friend as your roommate, your new flower shop was running relatively smoothly after the grand opening, and everyone you had met so far had been nothing but kind to you. And then you met Choi Seungcheol.

A/N: i hate writing summaries oh god i promise this fic won't be as bad at the summary makes it sound...anyway !! hi ! new fic on this blog that i haven't really touched in a l o n g time. hopefully, i don't give up on this fic and get back to writing like before but these are just simply baby steps for me so we'll see how this goes. please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in reading this fic because i could use the motivation lmao. other than that, thank you for reading this and cheers to new beginnings !!

Perfumed Words (floriography) - "Once a form of clandestine communication, the language of flowers was a silent dialogue — an unspoken way to converse with friends, lovers..."

Flowers are said to represent many different things. On a basic level, they can express love, happiness, gratitude, condolences, congratulations, well wishes, and more. To those who look a little deeper, each flower has its own unique meaning and representation. It’s these more intricate meanings that make owning a flower shop so fun to Y/N. People will come in every day searching for flowers to fit a multitude of occasions and only deem the ‘prettiest’ ones worthy of their money, not at all aware that the bouquet they just purchased for an anniversary is full of flowers that represent rejection, foolishness, and ill-nature. Of course, there are the people that want to hear all about flower meanings and how to best express their desired message, but after moving to a bigger, more urban city in order to expand the once small flower shop owned in your hometown, the amount of patience customers seemed to have to hear about the symbolism of the flowers they picked had greatly lessened.

You grunted softly, dropping the large bag of potting soil on the ground. The new shop had only been open for about two weeks but there was still a desperate need for organization in the back areas, hidden from the view of customers. “That was all of them right?” Chan asks as he pants lightly, leaning his side against the wall of the storage room. Chan was one of your only part-timers and a lifelong best friend. Growing up next door to one another in a neighborhood full of teenagers and newborns almost guaranteed a solid friendship as you were the only two kids around the same age who also went to the same school. Chan had helped you learn to ride a bike and you had cried while playing hide and seek one time since it had been close to an hour and you hadn’t found him. As you got older, you stayed close and Chan was one of the biggest supporters in your life when you decided you wanted to open your own flower shop. 

You laughed breathily at the boy next to you who was now dramatically trying to check his pulse. You push his shoulder gently as you move to walk back out to the front of the store. “I bet you regret saying you would go to university in the city now, huh?” Chan snorts at that, wrapping his arms tightly around you from behind to trap you in a bone-crushing hug, rubbing the side of his face against yours for good measure. You try to escape but he only holds you tighter, earning a loud groan from you, “Why would I regret moving with my bestest friend in the world? School has nothing to do with my undying loyalty to you,” You can’t help but laugh at that, finally freeing yourself from his arms and turning to face him. “Cut the shit, Lee Chan, we both know you’re only here because I have an extra bedroom in my apartment and could give you a job.” His shit-eating grin doesn’t falter as he extends his arms out for another hug, “Exactly what I said! Undying loyalty!”

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the smile on your face. “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you show me that undying loyalty of yours by watering the plants in the greenhouse for me,” You smile sweetly while pushing a water spritzer into his chest. The way the smile on his face drops at your words makes you laugh lightly. He grumbles a bit but grabs the tools he needed and heads to the back door, raising his middle finger without turning back as you call out a sweet ‘Thank you!’. Chan was younger than you by a few years and the time for him to start university just so happened to overlay the time you decided to move the location of your shop for a much-needed expansion. You were lucky the area you settled on wasn’t too far from where you currently lived and Chan was even luckier that his dream school wasn’t far either. The small commercial strip you found with a space for rent seemed too good to be true at first. The area was popular and well developed with a large variety of stores surrounding yours. So far all the owners you had met were friendly and welcoming too. 

You were almost immediately invited to game night by the owner of the coin karaoke, Soonyoung, who was two shops down from yours, and the manager of his place, Seokmin, looked as if he would cry if you declined the offer. When you agreed and met up with them later that night you met the co-owners of the souvenir shop across the street, Jeonghan, and Joshua, and Chan hit it off with the part-timer of the record shop who everyone called Vernon. The two found out they were both attending the same university in the upcoming semester starting in just a few weeks and you felt relief that Chan wouldn’t be completely on his own. 

Everyone seemed to get along with one another and you were excited to slowly start joining the group for future get-togethers. The one person you couldn’t seem to get a clear read on was the landlord and property owner of the shops. You had met briefly twice: when you expressed interest in the vacant lot and when you signed your lease. Seungcheol was his name, and he always seemed to be in a rush whenever you met him, always leaving as quickly as possible with a tight smile and tired eyes. He was around the same age as you and the other shop owners and you assumed for a guy in charge of so many tenants he was just understandably busy. 

You were mindlessly sweeping behind the check-out counter in the front of your store when the small chime of the bell above the front door drew your attention. You called out over your shoulder without fully turning to face the person, “Hi, I’m sorry but we’re closed for the day,” resting the broom against the wall, you brushed your hands off on your green apron and turned around to give the person your full attention. “I can’t even come in to see how you’re settling in?” The question catches you off guard, as does the presence of Seungcheol lightly stroking the petal of one of the white carnations on display. He looks up at you after a bit, cocking his brow slightly with a warm smile. He looks relaxed today, not as rushed and fidgety as your prior encounters, and the tan short-sleeved shirt he’s wearing hugs his previously hidden biceps wonderfully. 

You blink once, then twice before you let out a soft, “Oh.” Seungcheol moves his hand from the delicate petals and crosses his arms over his chest while turning to face you fully. “I didn’t know you’d uh, didn’t know you would stop by…today,” You don’t know why you feel so nervous under the man's gaze but the light chuckle that leaves him makes you feel weak in the knees. He begins to walk up to the counter you’re still standing behind and you feel your eyes widen slightly. “I like to surprise my tenants every once in a while. Make sure they’re getting their money’s worth from their rent.” You nod slightly at that, looking down at the counter between the two of you to avoid his gaze. “Oh, yeah. That makes sense, I mean you-” he cuts you off with a gentle yet firm tone. “I also make sure they’re following the rules. They’re very strict here.”

Your head snaps up to meet his. His face looks serious and you can’t help but furrow your brows at his words. “Rules?’ You question quietly. He nods and his face holds the same serious expression as before. “This is a strictly business-only zone during operating hours. We can all be friends and whatever else when stores are closed but outside of that it’s rivalry and competition only.” You tilt your head in utter confusion and let out a “What?” that ends up being the loudest and most stable word you’ve spoken to him so far. The corner of his lips twitches just slightly upwards at that before he continues. “Every month rent is due, this isn’t news,” You narrow your eyes as he speaks, unsure if you’re going to like where this goes, “However, the shop with the highest sales for the month gets a benefit.” You raise an eyebrow at his vague explanation and cross your arms over your chest. “What does that have to do with rent, or being friendly with one another during business hours?”

Seungcheol sighs with a shake of his head, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans before meeting your eyes with a look of amusement. “Let’s just say the benefit is good enough that some good old-fashioned business rivalry and...sabotage, I guess you could say, is perfectly normal. If you don’t want to see your little flowers cut up or your water supply blocked then I would suggest you stick to the rules.” You let out a scoff of disbelief as he finishes. “I find it really hard to believe any of the people I’ve met so far would do anything like that, and I also find it insane that you would even allow it if it ever did.” 

Seungcheol smiles at your words, enjoying the anger he can see beginning to grow. He leans over the counter slightly to get even closer to you before he speaks lowly, “You don’t know me or anyone else here like you might think you do. I really hope you’ll be able to last long enough to do that, but from what I see, you and your little flowers won’t make it to Christmas. It’s not like your sales would help you anyway.” You glare at him and clench your jaw at his words. You’re stuck in a trance of anger and disbelief and don’t even realize he’s walked away and out the front door until you hear the light chime from the bell once again. You’re unable to move as you replay the scene again and again in your head, only being brought back by Chan dramatically exclaiming his relief at once again being in a building with air conditioning. He sees your rigid stance and feels his eyes widen at the expression on your face. 

“Y/N…are you good?” He asks hesitantly, unsure of what he missed while he was out. “I’m good,” you let out a deep breath as you meet his eyes, “I just need to go pick up a few things.” Chan looks confused as you walk past him to the back office space and grab your things, ready to leave. “What things?” He asks, following behind you and quickly ridding himself of his matching green apron as you quickly walk to the front door, flipping the open sign to display ‘Closed’. “Just some things to help me prove an asshole wrong,” You speak casually with a smile that Chan recognizes all too well. “Shaving cream or duct tape?” He asks in slight fear of the answer, letting out a sigh of disdain at the answer. “Lemons.” 

“Oh fuck.”

[moody4world]

Got my twin with me like the parent trap (pt.1)

A/N: This is the first part of the series im writing based off of the movie, parent trap!! I’ve had this idea for months now and i’m so excited to finally have the first part done. its longer than anything i’ve written and i’m very proud of it so i hope you guys enjoy it too!🤍 if you guys have any questions feel free to send them in and i will gladly answer.

A big shout out to the anon that sent me the link for the movie🫶🏾

The reader will have a british accent in the fic for the sake of the storyline but no ethnicity or physical feature is really described except for maybe curly hair but everyone can read this.

Andy is Andre’s nickname

y/ln= your last name

You never thought that you’d be having the wedding of your dreams with the love of your life at the young age of 23. You had met Urban since very young and the two of you have been inseparable since. Your wedding was huge, beautiful decorations all over the cruise ship’s ball room. Yes cruise ship. You were never one to brag but you could admit that you came from a quite rich family. Every expense of your huge beautiful wedding was courtesy of your generous parents who always supported your relationship. Everything was wonderful but as they say. Everything must come to an end. And so it did.

16 years later

The loud chatter of young boys fills the camp ground as parents drop their kids off for summer camp. Big yellow school busses full of loud teenage boys. Hayden walked towards where the baggages have all been piled. He tries to pull his out but has no luck when more baggages are dumped on top. A shorter guy with dark brown short hair approaches him and tries to help but still no luck. “First year?” He asks Hayden. “How could you tell?” “You’re dressed different than most of us.” “Oh..i always dress like this. Kinda get it from my dad.” “Its cool. i like the hat by the way“ “Thanks” As they’re talking, a chubby guy about the same height as Hayden walks over and easily pulls his own handbag out of the tall pile. Hayden decides to call him over for some help and he gets his baggage as well. “Attention campers! Hayden Wyatt, Ivan Torres and Mikey Wu, the bear cabin.” “Oh that’s me.” Hayden says. To his surprise the two boys were in the same cabin as him. They took off to their assigned cabin for the next eight weeks ready to settle in.

“Oh come on Martin don’t cry, it’s only eight weeks i’ll be back home before we know it.” “You’re right, it’s just that i’ll miss you dearly. Remember if you wan’t to come home i’m only a phone call away.” “I know Martin, don’t worry i’ll miss you guys too.” The two of them do their special handshake and give each other a goodbye hug. Andrew sighs as he watches Martin gets back into the limo. “Chauffeur, to the airport!”

“Oh come on Martin don’t cry, it’s only eight weeks i’ll be back home before we know it.” “You’re right, it’s just that i’ll miss you dearly. Remember if you wan’t to come home i’m only a phone call away.” “I know Martin, don’t worry i’ll miss you guys too.” The two of them do their special handshake and give each other a goodbye hug. Andrew sighs as he watches Martin gets back into the limo. “Chauffeur, to the airport!”

Lunch time rolls around and the cafeteria is full of loud chatters from the boys. Hayden is standing at the right side of the fruit buffet table meanwhile Andre is on the left. In between them stood mr. Marvey, the head counselor of the camp. He was putting some orange slices on his plate and he turns to Hayden offering him some. “Would you like some orange slices buddy?” to which Hayden replies “Oh no thanks Marvey i’m allergic” “Oh okay.” Marvey decides to ask the boy on his left while still looking down. “How about you, would you like some orange slices?” Andre answers “Oh no thanks Marvey i’m allergic.” “Oh i know you just told-“ Marvey looks up noticing that the boy he just spoke to was now on his left. “me over here…how did you get on this side so fast? you know what, excuse your old man, its been alot of years working at this camp” Andre gives him an awkward smile and walks away.

After lunch the boys were quickly allowed to go participate in whichever one of the activities they wished. Hayden was doing very well at fencing. He was winning round after round. “Looks like we have our remaining champion, Hayden Wyatt!!” the counselor announces. “Anybody else wanna test their luck?” he asks. Andre and his friends had just came from their intense game of tennis and he decided why not give it a go. “I’ll take a whack at it.” He says. “Okay! looks like we’ve got ourselves a challenger.” The two boys put their masks on while facing away from each other. Once their masks are on they take position and salute each other.

The counselor blows his whistle and yells “Allez!” indicating the start of the match. It’s intense and everyone watching was invested. At one point Hayden almost got Andre but he was quick enough to dodge it smoothly. The clinging of the épéés against each other was fast and constant until Andre has Hayden cornered on a small balcony of a nearby cabin with nowhere to go. Hayden takes a step back when Andre tries to touch him with the point of his épéé causing him to fall backwards into a tub of water. Andre immediately sticks his hand out offering Hayden his help. “Oh shoot, here, let me help you.” “No, let me help YOU.” Hayden grabs his hand and pulls him into the the large water tub with him.

They step out keeping their backs faced towards eachother. “Alright everyone looks like we have a new winner, Andre Y/ln!!” the counselor announces.“Come on guys, make up. It was a fair and square game.” They both sigh in annoyance and turn around. The two boys let out a synchronized gasp when they finally face each other. Hayden feels like he’s looking into a mirror and vice versa. This boy who he has never met before happens to look exactly like him. Same eyes, same nose, same lips. Different haircut and accessories. They shake hands confusingly and let go immediately. The group of campers dispersed but Andy’s friends come stand next to him hurriedly.

“Why is everyone staring?” Hayden asks. “Dont you see it?” “See what?” he says again acting clueless. “The resemblance between us!” “The resemblance? between you and me?” Andy nods “Hmm i don’t really see it, your eyes seem closer together than mine and..your ears..well i hope you can still grow into them.” “Who do you think you are?” One of Andys friends asks. “No its fine, clearly i was raised with manners and good sportsmanship unlike this guy.” Hayden steps up to Andy getting defensive and Andy puffs his chest out ready to fight back. “Woah woah woah boys break it up, come on. Hayden, Andy. I mean Andy. Hayden. I mean Andy? Oh jesus” the counselor could not tell the two apart.

Later that night, Andy’s group cabin was packed. Everyone surrounded the small table watching him beat everyone that went up against him in a game of cards. Hayden and his group walks in and decides to challenge him. “I’ll take a whack at it” he says imitating Andre.

“Loser has to jump in the lake.” Hayden proposes.

“Fine by me.” “Actually no, skinny dip in the lake.” “Also fine by me because im gonna win.” Andre says. He’s confident until he sees Haydens smirk once he put his cards down first. He had lost and now he had to skinny dip in the freezing cold lake. He’s never done something like this before. He strips and walks quickly across the deck to get to the lake. He takes a deep breath to prepare himself and takes a dive. Once he comes back up all he could see was the last few of the boys running away. And by the time he got out all that was left of his clothes were his sneakers. his underwear, his t-shirt, his pajama pants, all gone. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. “Fine. Two can play this game. Hayden wyatt.” He says while his teeth were chattering from the cold.

The next morning Hayden and his friends are walking back to their cabin after playing some football. “Bro that match was so good their keeper was ass. We scored so easy on them.” “Yeah but honestly you’re a beast at football man you gotta teach me that one trick you did.” “Sure man i’ll teach you but i’m so tired right now i’m gonna take a nap till lunch time.” Mikey stops abruptly in shock causing hayden and Ivan to stop as well. They look at him confused and he goes “I dont think thats possible man.” Hayden looks at Mikey questioningly “Why not?” He points at their cabin and Hayden is more than surprised to see all three of their beds, night tables and bags on the roof. And to top it all off a british flag flapping in the wind. All that Hayden could say was “No way”

That same night Hayden and his two friends were ready to get revenge. They took their flashlights and a bags full of the materials necessary to carry out their prank perfectly. Multiple strings connected all throughout the cabin, whipped cream painted over one of Andre’s friends with a ginger bread man design. The other friend they covered in honey and Andy himself had a bunch of honey on the floor near his bed and balloons filled with water ready to drop on him as soon as he stepped on a string near his bed.

The next morning Andy wakes up in confusion and alarmed. He sits up immediately in bed, careful not to touch anything. “What the fuck” his roommates however were not able to be as calm as him and both screamed much louder “Bro what the hell is this shit” said the one covered in sticky honey. “Who the hell did this?” asks the one covered in whipped cream. Andy tries to step out of bed carefully but because he was trying to avoid stepping in honey he stepped on the forbidden string. Three small water filled balloons drop down but he manages to dodge each one. “Ha! missed me dumbass.”

Or so he thought… less than 5 seconds later a giant water balloon comes straight down onto him. Wetting his pajamas and everything close to him. He was so frustrated and annoyed. But most importantly he was ready to get back at Hayden more than ever.

Meanwhile Andy and his roommates’ bloods were boiling. Hayden and his friends were watching through the window trying to laugh as quietly as possible as their prank played out exactly how they wanted. Right as their high-fiving each other the head counselor walks by with his giant microphone. “Goodmorning boys.” “Goodmorning Marvey” they reply in unison until realization hits them like a brick. “MARVEY?!” they say all scared. Mr. Marvey raises his microphone and announces that they will be doing a surprise inspection on all cabins.

And just for Haydens luck, the pranked cabin was up first. He runs to the door blocking it from Marvey’s view. “Marvey i don’t think you should go in there sir. One of the guys got sick and it’s reaally and i mean really disgusting in there, trust me.” he tries to say as convincing as possible. “Oh well if one of the guys are sick then i should definitely go in there and check on him Hayden.” “No you can’t. He’s really really contagious.” Andre watches amusingly through the window as Hayden is struggling to change mr Marvey’s mind. So ofcourse he decides to help Hayden out. Not.

“Actually mr Marvey we’re all perfectly fine in here. Unless Hayden Wyatt knows something we dont. Open the door and come see for yourself Marvey.” And that he does. Marvey tells Hayden to step aside and he opens the cabin door. Before he was able to set one foot in the cabin a bucket full of chocolate came pouring down straight onto him. He yells in disgust and shock. The younger counselor tries to push him out of the way but this only made it worse. He slipped into the cabin, sliding through the honey and the web of strings until the opposite end of the room and the younger counselor was quick to meet the same predicament. The counselor was trying to regain his footing but the floor was too slippery. He had the brilliant idea to hold on to a doll that was hanging on one of the strings.

This causes Hayden to scream “NO” but it was much too late. The fan starts to spin and a bunch of white feathers come flowing down. Sticking everywhere and i mean everywhere. Hayden felt extremely nervous about the consequences he would have to deal with. “I told you it was a mess in here” he says nervously as the counselors look at him. Andy looks over to the counselors angrily saying “He should know, he did it”

Mr. Marvey angrily points at the two boys “YOU and YOU pack your bags right now!”

After three hours of constant cleaning every camper was told to march along to the isolation cabins. By now everyone had heard about what happened in the cabin. During the march all you could hear were the synchronized stomps and chatters. Once they reached the cabins, Marvey once again picked up his microphone. “The rest of you, get back to your activities.” All the boys cheered and wooed and wasted no time getting back to what they were previously up to. Once the cheering calmed down Marvey turned to the two boys. “The two of you, the isolation cabin.”

The boys stood there looking at Marvey expecting him to say something else. “NOW” he says unexpectedly and both the boys and the younger counselor flinch in surprise while Andre and Hayden hurry to the cabin.

Hayden and Andre make a deal to simply stay out of each other’s way. Later that night Hayden was having a hard time falling asleep because the lights were on. Why doesn’t he just turn them off, you ask? Well Andre was journaling and there was no bedside lamp for him to use. Hayden was fed up and flipped the light switch on his side of the room, causing the cabin to go completely dark. Andre immediately flips the switch on his side turning the light back on. They go back and forth with the light until Hayden gives up, pushing his cover over his head and tries to fall asleep.

The next morning Andre was playing with his deck of cards while Hayden was sticking up posters of his favorite designers’ pieces, dogs he found cute and his favorite football players. A huge gust of wind unexpectedly rose causing a bunch of his posters and photos to fly off of the wall and onto the cabin floor. He rushes to close the window but quickly notices that he needs help. Andre runs to the window helping him and together they manage to close it.

They sit down together collecting the photos and posters off of the floor. Until a few photos caught Andres attention. The first photo had a beautiful white building with teal green ceilings, it almost looked like a castle of some sort. Andre had never seen it before. “What is this place?” He turns the picture to Hayden when he asks. “Oh thats churchill downs. Its where the annual kentucky derby takes place.” “What exactly is the kentucky derby? i’ve never been there before.” Hayden looks at Andre in shock. “I don’t know if i should be offended right now or honored that i get to explain this to you. But the derby is basically a horse race that people bet money on. And kentucky is where i grew up.” He looks over and coincidentally finds a photo of the house he grew up in. “Oh here’s a photo of the house actually. Pretty cool huh?”

Andre really does find the house pretty cool. It wasn’t bigger than his ,not that it mattered but it seemed nice and homey. The other one that caught his attention was a photo of a man with long hair photographing some type of artist during a performance with a very large crowd. “Who’s this?” “Oh thats my dad taking a photo of my uncle while he’s performing. He didn’t know i was taking his picture until after the show” Hayden says with a proud smile on his face “They’re like my best friend, we do everything together.” Hayden grabs another photo, this one was taken by his dad.

“Oh look at this one, its me eating a mcchicken but with barbecue sauce.” He was laughing at his face in the photo and Andre found it hard not to laugh as well. “Thats so weird, i do that too!” He says to Hayden. “Thats so strange, most people think it’s disgusting but i learned it from my dad and now its the only way i eat it.” Andre smiles at the fact that they have that preference in common but he cant help but feel some type of way about the topic. Hayden notices this and tries to include him a bit more. “So uh what’s your dad like? Is he one of those chill ones you can talk about everything to or is he strict and lame? I hate those type of dads.”

Andre looks at him and goes “I don’t have a dad.” He laughs a little and continues “Well obviously i had one at some point but my mom got divorced a long time ago and she never even mentions him at all. Its like he disappeared into thin air.” He shrugs as if it was any other normal conversation. “Scary how nobody stays together anymore.” Hayden says while shaking his head. Andre nods along saying “Tell me about it.” Out of curiosity Hayden decides to ask Andre for his age.

“How old are you by the way?” Andre replies “I’ll be seventeen on october eleventh” This caught Hayden by surprise causing him to choke on his own spit leading him into a coughing fit. He bumps his fist to his chest regaining his breath and replies excitingly “So do I.” to which Andre adds “Really? your birthday is on october eleventh? how weird is that?” and Hayden says “Extremely.”

A small silence reigns in the cabin for a short time before Andre asks Another question. “Hayden?” “Yeah?” “What’s your mother like?” “I haven’t met her, her and my dad split up when i was a baby or maybe even before that. But i do know for sure that she was very pretty.” “How do you know that?” “Well my dad used to have this photo of her in his drawer and he looked at it all the time until he gave it to me to keep.” A lightbulb goes on in Andre’s brain but Hayden seems as clueless as always. “Hayden do you not realize what’s going on?” “No? What’s going on?” “I mean think about it. I only have a Mother and you only have a father.” “You know you can just say mom and dad right?” “Let me finish my sentence please.” “My bad.” “As i was saying. You only have a..dad and I only have a mum.” Hayden rolls his eyes at Andre’s british pronunciation. “You’ve never seen your mum and i’ve never seen my dad.

You have one old picture of your mum and i have one old picture of my dad. But at least yours is probably a whole picture. Mine’s a pathetic ripped half of a photo.Right down the middle too-” Andre’s last sentences makes Hayden’s eyebrows go up and he rushes to his baggage and starts rummaging through it. “What are you digging in there for?” Hayden find the photo of his mom and holds it to his chest. Andre looks at him confused and asks “What is that?” “It’s the photo of my mom… mine is ripped too.” “Right down the middle?” Hayden nods. “Right down the middle.” At that very moment Andre rushes to his drawer grabbing his half of a photo and holds it to his chest like Hayden did.

They stand facing each other. Both holding their half of a picture to their chest. They each take a deep breath and decide to turn the photos towards each other at the count of three. “One” Andre says, taking a step closer towards Hayden. “Two” Hayden continues the countdown taking a step closer towards Andre. “Three” they say in unison turning the photos towards each other. Just as expected they were a perfect match. Neither of them could contain their shock yet also excitement. “Thats my dad.” Hayden says while still in shock. Meanwhile Andre is much more on the excited end of the spectrum. “That’s my mum!” Hayden felt himself tearing up from the huge wave of emotions. He wipes his eyes and points at Andre. “So if your mom is my mom. And my dad is your dad and we’re both born on october eleventh then you and i are like…brothers.” At this point he was smiling so hard he could feel his cheeks starting to hurt. “Like brothers? Hayden we’re twins!”

Andre jumps up and down in excitement, causing a small locket to fall from his pocket. He quickly picks it up holding it tight. “What are you holding?” Hayden asks him. “Its a locket. I’ve had it since i was born. It has an A on it.” “I have the exact same one except mine has an H on it.” They both laugh in disbelief. “Oh my god i’m not an only child, i’m a twin!” Hayden says. “And there’s two of me. I mean us! Its like-“ “Mind boggling.” Andre adds. “Totally!” “Completely!” “Oh my god.” “Oh my god!” They say as they pull each other in for a hug.

They spend that entire night telling each other about their parents. “So tell me, what’s mom like?” “Well she’s a wedding gown designer.” “Really?” “She’s becoming quite famous actually, a princess in Greece just bought one of her gowns.” Andre tells him. “Wow” “You know what’s interesting? Neither of our parents ever got married again. Has dad ever gotten close to marrying?” to which Hayden snorts and says “Never. He always says bitches come and go.” They both laugh a little at that. “Yeah mum has never gotten close either.” The room falls silent as the both of them get comfortable in their bed ready to sleep. That is until Hayden jumps up with a face thats says ‘i am an absolute genius’ and he goes “I have the brilliant most brilliant idea! i’m a total genius!”

He turns to look at his brother. “You want to know dad right?” to which Andre sits up and replies “ Right.” “And i’m dying to know mom. So what i’m thinking is.. don’t freak out okay?” Andre nods. “I think we should switch places!” Andres eyes widen at his brother’s crazy idea but Hayden just keeps going. “When camp is over i’ll go back to London as you and you’ll go back to Louisville as me!” “WHAT?!” “Andre we can pull it off, we’re twins aren’t we?” “Hayden, we’re totally and completely one hundred percent different.” “So? what’s the problem? You can teach me how to be you and i’ll teach you how to be me. Look I can be you already.” Hayden says pulling his long curly hair in a ponytail to make it seem shorter like Hayden’s and says in his best british accent “No it’s fine, clearly i was raised with manners and good sportsmanship unlike this guy.” Andre wouldn’t admit it but that was a quite good impression of him.

“Come on Andy, i gotta meet my ma.” Hayden begs him with a pout trying to win him over. “Okay…the problem is you know, if we switch…sooner or later they’ll have to unswitch us.” To which Hayden adds “And if they do they’ll have to meet again…face to face!” And Andre continues, “After all these years..” He says excitingly. Hayden laughs, proud of his brilliant plan. “Thank you.” He says smugly as they both lay back down in their bed. “Told you i was a total genius.”

[pies-database]

SMILER [They/it]

Name(s): Sylvester, SW7

PHALANX code: ALTN - 007 - 013

Nickname(s): Syl

Likes: Puns, dogs, lasagne, cough sweets, apples, calpol, EDM music, Drum N Bass music, brutalism, warehouse aesthetics, urban exploring, biochem, cilantro, marmalade

Dislikes triggers: Medical settings, touching their face/scars uninvited, boredom, being handled in any form.

Personality: In a completely complex situation where it is constantly trapped between being a complete Smiling Advocate and their own brain chemistry trying to reject the treatment due to inconsistencies.

They come across as very fidgety and unable to sit still and generally chaotic. They constantly are moving their hands and face and can sometimes seem like they're either not listening or just plain bored. That may not be the case, it just needs the stimulation.

They have a very strong personality, and will not be told what to do (if you are not close, at least). If they think it can do better than you, it will make that very clear, and can be downright cruel and insulting at times without realising.

When under duress is incredibly unstable and its a 60/40 about whether they'll fight or flee respectively. If they choose to fight you are not making it out with either your mind or body intact. They don't like to kill, but when under duress their body is quite literally fighting itself to the point where a splinter can make its system think its dying.

Abilities:

-Mind control, in the way that they can make people more pliable to commands by forcing their minds to release copious amounts of dopamine upon responding positively to their instructions. They can increase the amount released, but its a very fragile thing and can completely break people's mind when they're not careful. They can quite literally make it so they can't remember to breathe without it instructing them to.

-minor mind reading, moreso in the way they can just kind of sense certain emotions and glimpse some memories. The information just kind of imposes itself on Smiler and it's like they always knew it.

-increased resistance to drugs. Any and all drugs. Including medicine and alcohol.

Abnormal physical features:

-Larger top canines that constantly hang out their mouth, even in a more adapted form. They are straight and slightly hooked, good for stabbing and not leaving a clean wound [think like the blade of a fishhook.

-eyes are a bright yellow with a spiral pupil that starts at the centre of the iris and ends on the outside of the iris.

-Hair looks to be dyed yellow on top. That is not Dye.

-White freckles. Thats the point.

-Glasgow scars. Except they're not scars. Sometimes theyre scars, but only on good weeks. Most of the time theyre still open wounds.

-Pointed ears.

-claw-like fingernails. Ideal for cutting, forever stained a little red.

Backstory: PLEASE CHECK TWS/CWS IN TAGS

Its 2011, and kids have started going missing. Well, the posters don't exactly say "kids" but, they're teenagers. And homeless people, too, but people don't necessarily talk about that one at all. Not frequent enough for national outcry, but enough for a curfew to be announced. Its 2010, and Sylvester is 15, and a downright menace to anyone who knows him that's not in his little group.

Sylvester, of course, is above just going missing like that. His mum cares way too much, its embarrassing really, but there's no way someone has it out for him that much that they'd greatly upset his charity-running, gold star mum. And he seems to be proved right, when there isn't another abduction for 6 months.

The missing posters slowly get replaced for advertising to this behavioural summer camp thing, and the incidents don't go forgotten, but they get buried. He goes on with his gang, picking fights where they can, and getting reactions where they can't.

Sylvester is 16 years old when he comes home to find his mum stood ashamed to the side, with two smartly-dressed men in his living room to tell him they were taking him to a place where he could be better. Just one summer away, yes? That's all they'll need.

They let him pack a suitcase. And, Syl thinks, these 'summer camps' never do much. Colour in this sheet, tell me how you feel, now fuck off back to your cabin.

They drive for an hour or so, before they come to this small village, and they drive into the hills.

Its not a camp. Its some kind of warehouse, and it's not just kids here. There are people in white coats stood next to two middle aged women, dressed in what would seem to be every day clothes. Clothes you'd go take the bin out in. The women just stare at each other. Smiling.

"Where am I?" And they don't answer.

"We're here to make you better." Is what they say instead.

They take his suitcase, drag him to a room at the very back and very top of the facility. Its dank, It has a bed. It has a bathroom. It does not have a bath. It does not have a single surface. It does have a clock.

The next day they drag him down to a doctor's room for an hour, where a guy in a white coat performs a checkup.

The next day, they take him down to another room. They leave shortly after, completely alone. There are two vents. The room slowly gets stuffier, it gets harder to breathe. The lights flash. They can't see, he can't breathe. They get back 1 hour and 30 minutes after he left. He can't remember much of it.

The next day, they take him down to perform some tests. They tell him to do some relatively simple activities. They don't know why, but they do it almost immediately. but then the people start complaining, "No, you haven't actually organised those books have you?" They had. "Do it again." Well, now he doesn't bloody want to, thank you very much, he already did as you asked.

They get back to the room exhausted, with a faint tinge of confusion. They had been gone for 3 hours and 47 minutes.

This happens on a cycle. The calendar in the doctor's office gets crossed off every day, they are gone for 4 weeks before something happens.

A new doctor comes in. They announce their name as Doctor Kelman. He is here to help with treatment, you see, they weren't responding as hoped, so they wanted to try some old tactics, see if they worked better than new ones.

He pinned Syl down with ropes. He took the scalpel off the surgery table. He scored two lines down Syl's face.

Looking in the mirror, 6 hours 2 minutes and 30 seconds after they had left, they recognised what they were trying to do. A smile constantly stapled to their face. They poked the tear tracks staining their cheeks, felt the flush of blood from under their skin. Good.

They wrote in their own blood under the bed. They can't remember what they wrote.

They continued the cycle. The treatments were harsher, the gas turned to a syringe, their mouth forced open with some horrible metal contraption until their muscles ached. They found, after a while, it didn't care much about all that.

What really irked it, was the trials. The instructions felt like they kept getting vaguer, and they would get more and more upset whenever they'd "tidy this space" or "Make a shopping list for cake" wrong.

At the end of the day, theyd come back, and write on the wall again, always in its own blood. They can't remember what they wrote. It would always get rubbed off.

Things continued, but this could barely be described as a cycle, it would be more apt to say a spiral.

30 weeks after their first meeting with Kelman, they sat and scratched out in their wall the same message they had written in blood all previous times.

2 weeks after that, the Ministry found out. And Sylvester met The Maitron.

It can't remember what happened in that room, with Maitron. But it returned to its room 6 days later.

It scratched the message out in the wall again.

It spent 12 days with the maitron.

On the 13th, things changed once more. Before Maitron came into the room, Syl was starving. Starving, pumped full of drugs, barely aware of their own name. Maybe it wasn't theirs anymore anyway.

They started scratching at the rope, and it started snapping. And when Maitron came back in, to see all the ropes hanging loosely around its body, to see what was left of Sylvester stood tall, smiling manically, she must have realised that would be the very last thing she would see.

That warehouse was discovered a week later, after an anonymous tip. 14 bodies were discovered, some that seemingly went missing up to two years ago. Most of the bodies gored past recognition. It was deemed an animal attack due to the claw and bite marks. All of them in white lab coats.

You think that's it? No, Syl tries to run. And they run through the hills, as fast as possible. Into the forest. They hang out there a little while, finding an old abandoned pub to set up in. It went 2 weeks before being found. Smiler, at 17 years old, was first touched without bad intentions for the first time in almost a year.

Oblivion was the one to find it, actually. And when Smiler got tired of stealing markets from the markets, He was who they turned to to start a "fun new project" .

Said fun new project took 5 years to come to fruition, showing the long deceased people of the old Ministry Of Joy how mass brainwashing Should Be Done, jackasses. Smiler acting as the main brains behind the operation, trying to form a new drug that could be taken as a liquid or inhaled. And it worked really well on the neighbouring village! For less than 5 months before someone broke through enough to start a revolt, and send a letter to the government to make the Phalanx officially recognised and funded. Which. Unfortunately. Passed.

Back into the Labrotories Smiler goes!

Current residency: an abandoned pub in X-SECTOR

ASKS: OPEN

[radrobotz]

does anyone else remember urban kid n teenagers and that there was official shippy art of two of the characters but people claimed it got deleted because it was illegal to draw gay people in the creators country. was that real

[brokenbeskar]

Urban Legends

Chapter 11 of Memories Reforged (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: After your previous failed job, you and the Mandalorian have to find a way to repair your reputation with the guild A/N: Long time no see friends! Thank you all for being so patient during my *checks notes* OVER A YEAR LONG HIATUS? I posted a personal update if you want to know more, but im happy to be back and writing again! and im glad i got this out before the season 3 premier! I hope y'all enjoy!

You shoot awake, eyes wide and drenched in a cold sweat, heart racing as the lingering images of your nightmare slowly give way to the familiar cockpit around you. It’s like deja vu. The familiar low whirring sound of the engine, soft beeping from the control panel, and smearing starlight through the cockpit allowing you to relax and calm your breathing. How strange it feels to know that all of this could have been so different, yet you're still here. It feels like it’s been months, years even, despite truthfully only being a day and some change…but here you are. Back on the Mandalorian’s ship, back in hyperspace, waking up in the copilot's chair, as if you weren’t planning on never returning just days ago.

You sigh and run a hand over your face to wipe away some of the remaining sweat. As you lean back to acclimate to being awake, you glance over to your helmet resting on the dashboard. The blur of hyperspace illuminating its visor, and twinkling particularly bright along the seam of a crack through the corner of it. Each glint of passing stars an achingly familiar reminder of the cause. 

“Morning.” You mutter to it, as if he could still somehow hear you, and quiet enough that no one else could. Almost like a secret, you muse to yourself. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of the ridiculous thought and lean forward to pluck a few bounty pucks off the top of the nav comp. You shuffle through them and click one to life, reading through the information with a sigh. Nearly on cue you hear the familiar footfalls of your newest comrade, followed by the sound of the cockpit doors sliding open as the Mandalorian enters. 

“Kid still sleeping?” You ask as he makes his way through.

“Yeah. Anything good?” He returns as he settles into his seat. 

“Well, let’s see…” You shuffle through the set of pucks in your hand, holding them up as you list them off, “Missing person, another missing person, chump change for a bail jumper, and would you look at that!” you flick one to life and hold it out in your palm for him to see, “A teenage runaway with a misdemeanor from the mid rim!” 

The Mandalorian stares at it for a moment in what you can only guess is frustrated disbelief, before turning away with a sigh. 

“Karga is really fucking us over.” You toss the pucks back to where you grabbed them from and lean back into your seat. 

“We’re lucky he gave us any at all.” 

“We would have been better with nothing at all.” You retort, “They’re scattered across multiple sectors, they aren’t even worth enough to cover the fuel.” 

“Well, unless you have any other ideas, we have to bring our reputation back up somehow or we’ll never get a decent job again.” 

“That’s bantha shit!” You shout, drawing his gaze back to you, “One job shouldn’t have screwed us over that much. We turned her in! How many other hunters had her puck before us and couldn’t even get close? I know it wasn’t perfect, but we still did the job for fucks sake!” You groan in frustration before sinking into your seat defeated.

“There’s nothing we can do about it.” He reminds you, grabbing one of the pucks randomly to check the coordinates and put them into the nav comp.

You roll your eyes, bitterly crossing your arms. It’s true, there was nothing you could do other than get these jobs done as quickly as possible and hope you get some better ones soon…

Unless…

You quickly sit up straight and lean over the edge of your seat, shoving the Mandalorian’s hand out of the way and altering the ship’s route yourself.

“What are you doing?” He asks, irritated by your sudden brashness. 

“We’re going to Carajam.” you reply nearly absentmindedly, brushing him off entirely as you continue to input the exact coordinates you have memorized by this point. 

“Carajam? That’s halfway across the galaxy!” He grabs your wrist to stop you.

“You think I don’t know that?” You lock eyes with his visor, refusing to back down as you try to tug your wrist back.

“So then why would we go there?” He asks darkly and leans in slightly, probably as an attempt to intimidate you. And while you can admit he’s intimidating, he doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest.

You give him a sly quirk of a smile, “To give a little visit to an old friend of mine.”

He tilts his helm in question, so you clarify, “I get double the commission rate on guild bounties. Remember?” 

It takes him a moment to figure out what you’re talking about, to remember your initial exchange when you first agreed to work together back on Jakku and split the reward for the bomber. You see the realization hit him all at once and he only gives a small hum of acknowledgement before releasing your wrist and opting to silently reroute the ship’s course himself.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” You state smugly, before leaning back into your seat, suddenly much more comfortable with that victory hanging over you.

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

Unfortunately, Carajam being halfway across the galaxy wasn’t exactly an exaggeration on his part. So it’s not too long before you end up needing to take a pit stop along the way for fuel. Your first stop is on some smaller planet in the mid rim you never bothered to get the name of. It’s quaint, but the capital city you stopped in was well developed, a bustling city surrounded by lush green, a frequent running train passing overhead and far above the treeline to more remote areas. You definitely appreciated the balance between the latest developments while still maintaining the natural landscape. 

“Fuel’s going to take a few hours.” The Mandalorian steps beside you, interrupting your admiration, “We should try to find some work while we’re here.” He follows your line of sight and peers out at the expansive treeline and sky train above. Watching silently beside you. 

“Not sure there’s going to be much work here.” You reply, not breaking your gaze, “seems peaceful.” 

“It’s usually the peaceful ones I find the most trouble in.” He argues, and you chuckle in agreement, finally breaking your gaze and turning to him instead.

“Guess we better get to work then.” 

He turns back to you and nods, “Let’s split up, I’ll take the kid and start along the city’s perimeter.” 

“Center stage, you got it.” You give him a little salute and waste no time turning on your heel towards the heart of the city, “Comm me if you get anything good!” 

Walking through the city reminded you a lot of your time back on your home planet. You lived in a smaller “pit-stop” town, but when you were a kid your dad would take you to the capital city sometimes to get parts for the shop, or for a little day trip. It used to be the most exciting part of your boring everyday life. You remember how fascinating it was that things were so different despite being only a day’s trip away by train, and fantasizing how different things could be on different planets. 

Funny enough, here you are, years later, several parsecs from your home planet, thinking how similar things are back home. 

It’s easy to lose yourself in the buzz of city life. Reminisce about a simpler time, before the armor, before bounty hunting, before Ko’van even. A time when you simply ached to see the stars and explore the galaxy to see it for what it was. It’s that exact nostalgia that leads you into a local Caf shop. Nothing reminded you of home quite like freshly ground and roasted Caf. 

A bell rings when you make your way inside, alerting the servers bustling about to welcome you in. Everything was different, yet so familiar. From the sound of grinding beans, to the sharp whistle of steaming milk, and the delicious aroma in the air, if you closed your eyes you almost could pretend you were getting ready to get behind the bar and make some drinks yourself. It was definitely busier than your little take out window back home. Plenty of patrons filled the establishment, idly sipping their drinks and absorbing the calm atmosphere, a sight you would have been envious of had things worked out a little differently for you. 

When you approach the counter, a beautiful young local girl startles and quickly puts down the filters she was prepping, wide eyed and nervous from your presence alone. 

“Were you ready to order?” She nervously asks, putting on her best customer service smile despite her palatable fear. 

“Actually, I’m not from around here, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?” You try to come off as friendly with a slight tilt of your helmet–but with the way her complexion visibly lightens, and the audible gulp that follows…you’re pretty positive your intentions aren’t coming across. 

“Uhm…” Her voice quivers and she quickly looks around for any available coworkers to save her from the situation, but when she sees no one she turns back to you with a weary smile, “Let me…um…get my manager for you. Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll get a drink started for you while you wait!” She tries to diffuse a nonexistent conflict. 

You try to tell her it’s okay! That you don’t need a drink. you can go somewhere else! But in her haste she ignores you and you end up deciding to take the seat anyways, not wanting to be rude after you nearly made her cry already just from walking in and existing in the same space as her. You don’t even drink caf anymore.

What a mistake.

Of course she would react like that. You let yourself get carried away in your memories that you forgot the reality of the present. The reality of what you seem like to other people. Trouble. 

You’re mentally cursing yourself alone at a seat at the bar when, what you assume the manager, walks up to you with two drinks in hand. 

“Excuse me,” She grabs your attention, “I heard you had a couple questions? Mind if I sit?” You readily offer the seat next to you, and she takes it, setting one of the drinks in front of you, cupping hers gently and holding it close, “Sorry for the girl at the register. She’s new and we don’t get many visitors…quite like you.” She picks her words carefully to make friendly conversation without offending you. A practice you used to know all too well. 

“It’s not a problem, I should have known better really.” You feel the need to apologize, your own insecurity about not belonging here, eating away at you the longer you sit, “i’m visiting on business and caf shops always remind me of home so I decided to stop in.” 

“Well, welcome home!” She jokes with a warm laugh, “That’s what caf is all about isn’t it? We made you the current house special, all of our syrups are made in house so it probably won’t taste like anything you’ve had back home, but I hope you enjoy it.” She takes a sip from her own cup, before addressing the obvious, “So, you mentioned you were here on business. What can I help you with?” 

“I’m looking for work.” You state plainly. Not on purpose really, you’re just so caught off guard, out of your element. She was right, that IS what caf is all about, It really did feel like home. Every word out of her mouth you can practically taste out of your own. It’s like looking into a mirror–but more like a mirror to some alternate reality where you stayed in your small town instead of running away with a Mandalorian bounty hunter…if that makes any sense at all.

“What kind of work? With armor like that I think it’s safe to assume you aren’t going to be putting on an apron anytime soon.” Her lighthearted joke earns her a chuckle from you. If only she knew.

“No, no. I’m looking to see if you’ve heard of anything strange or unusual going on in town. Any upticks in crime? Unusual characters?” 

She takes a moment to think with a hum as she takes another sip from her cup, unfazed by what most would probably assume to be an odd question, “No strange characters other than you…but actually now that you mention it. I did hear some gossip from some customers that some kids went missing playing near the forest’s edge some days ago.” 

Bingo.

“Missing kids?” 

“Yeah, sorry I don’t know the details, like I said it’s customer gossip–but I guess some kids were hanging out by the forest edge and none of them came home. The locals are chalking it up to some–I don't know–creature I guess,” She waves the thought away, dismissing it, “I don’t buy it, but I do hope they can get found and brought home safe and sound.” 

A creature? Now this was interesting. You aren’t really sure if it’s the kind of lead you’re looking for, but it’s a lead so you’ll take it. 

“Is that the kind of work you’re looking for?” She interrupts your thoughts.

“Honestly,” You start with a chuckle, “I’m not sure, but I’m happy to investigate.” You give her a kind smile she can’t see. Honestly you surprise yourself with how comfortable you’ve gotten in her presence. You don’t even know her name. You’ve only sat down with her less than 5 minutes and yet you feel the same comfort from her that you would feel with a life long friend. 

“Well that’s great to hear, hopefully we can get those kids home safe and sound. If anyone is capable, it would be a Mandalorian for sure.” She flashes you the most charming smile and you feel your heart skip a beat in the worst way possible.

“Oh. Well, I’ll definitely do my best, but I’m no Mandalorian.” you confess.

“Oh!” She looks embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I just thought–with the armor–” 

“No, you’re right it is! It’s just—” You struggle to try and find a way to remedy the situation, you don’t want her to be embarrassed at all, there's no way she could have known. 

But how could you ever explain everything to her? Why would you? The illusion of comfort quickly fades away and all warm feelings of home quickly sour on your tongue. 

“It’s complicated…” You finally breathe out in defeat, but that seems to settle her worry. 

“Well, I wish you luck finding those kids, Mandalorian or otherwise.” She gives you one last parting smile before she stands from her seat, drink in hand, “I need to get back to work, but I’m glad I was able to help.” 

And just like that she's gone. 

You glance at the coffee cup she left in front of you. 

The bar counter seems too big, too clean, next to it. The void of the counter dwarfing it. Isolating it from reality. 

It hasn’t been long enough for it to lose its warmth, but for some reason you still expect it to be cold when you finally pick it up and leave the caf shop. 

You don’t even like caf.

You decide to fill your comrade in on your lead as you start your trek back through the city, but it startles you when his voice crackles through before you even reach the toggle.

“I’ve got a lead.” His gruff voice cuts through the static, monotone and straight to the point.

“Funny enough me too. Mine’s a bit odd though not sure if it’s for us. What’s yours?” 

“Mine too. Kids went missing in the forest, some kind of creature.” 

You pause for a minute. Guess this was your kind of job then. 

“Interesting. I got the same thing.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah. Creature and everything…Hope you like camping, tin man.” You chuckle.

“I’ll meet you at the ship.” And the comm line cuts. 

What a buzz kill.

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

When You finally make it back to the ship the Mandalorian is already rummaging inside the weapons locker preparing to gear up for the trip. The child sitting on the floor not too far off, sticking his head into an empty pouch, little fingers covered in crumbs from a previous snack. It’s gross, but in a charming kind of way. 

“What kind of creature do you think it is?” You ask, watching the child wiggle around in the pouch.

“Don’t know.” He replies plainly. Boring.

“Maybe a Nexu?” You shrug.

“Don’t think those are native here.” 

“Well, Rancor aren’t native to Naboo and we saw how that turned out.” Your smirk is obvious despite your helmet.

The Mandalorian halts his movements and slowly turns to look at you in what you can only guess to be displeasure. 

“What?” You feign innocence with a knowing tilt of your helmet. He only shakes his head in exasperation from your antics and goes back to the weapons locker, sorting through ammunition. 

“What’s that?” He asks, without turning back to you. 

“What’s what?” 

“In your hand.” 

“Oh!” You hold up your disposable cup of caf to yourself completely forgetting you still had it, “It’s caf. You can have it if you want, though it’s probably cold now…” 

You aren’t exactly sure why that statement sends a slight pang of guilt through your belly, but it does. You lower the cup and wrap both hands around it as if a phantom of the warmth could seep into your grasp despite the heat long gone from its contents.

The Mandalorian notices your shift in tone and pauses what he’s doing again, but when he turns to face you this time it’s gentler, nearly laced with concern if you didn't know any better. He leans his back against the side of the locker and tilts his helmet, as if investigating you for a moment.

“Don’t want it?”

“No. I hate caf.” The words come out too sharp, too bitter, “They wouldn’t let me leave without it though.” You add on lightheartedly, trying to correct your tone. The Mandalorian clearly doesn’t buy it, he watches you silently as you set the cold cup down on a crate and saunter over to your own supplies to rummage through your own things and pack for the trip. 

You try to ignore the feeling of his lingering stare, it’s clear he wants to press the issue further, investigate your sudden change in tune, but he won’t. You know he won’t, and he knows you know that. So instead he lets it awkwardly hang in the air, hoping you’ll open up on your own accord, but that's definitely not happening.

“How many nights do you think we’ll be out for?” But he doesn’t reply, and you can still feel the irritating presence of his visor burning into the back of yours. You let out an irritated huff and turn to glare at him over your shoulder. 

“What’s your deal?” 

He still doesn’t answer, just stares at you, and you can feel the irritation starting to bubble up in your gut. 

“What?!” You snap at him when he still doesn't answer, “I already told you that you can have it. Get a damn straw if you’re worried about your helmet.” 

He doesn’t say anything. Just sighs and decides to leave it, turning back to his own packing when you angrily turn back to finish yours.

“And choke on it.” you mutter to yourself quiet enough he can’t hear you. 

You only finish packing the bare essentials when you hear footsteps approaching the ship from the open ramp. By the time you get up to investigate, the Mandlorian has already made his way to the ramp entrance. You join him by his side and peer down as two local officers approach. 

You and the Mandalorian quickly exchange glaces before looking back at the two officers. Not good. There were a million reasons for the both of you to be arrested just for standing on this ship alone, no way this could be good. You do your best to play it cool. 

And by play it cool, you mean stand there and not say a word. 

“High suns to you!” one of the officers greets you with a short wave, “Lookin’ for two Mandalorians.” 

The both of you simply stand there. 

“Guess we found ‘em.” The first officer mutters to the second with an exchange of a small glance before the second speaks up. 

“The Major requested we escort you to his office.” 

“What for?” The Mandalorian besides you shortly replies. 

“He’s got a job proposal for you.” 

“What kind of job?” It’s your turn now to give a curt response. 

“Best you both come on down to hear it for yourself.” You and the Mandalorian turn to exchange a look once more. A sort of unspoken conversation. To run, or to cooperate?

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

“I’d like to start by humbly thanking you both for agreeing to meet with me” 

The Mandalorian and you stand out like a sore thumb in the mayor's office. It was a combination of the lack of professional, near corporate style dress, and the clear lack of wealth you two possessed in comparison to the far-too-large and extravagant office. The two of you were dwarfed in size standing in front of a desk large enough to threaten the empire, the tiniest of chess pieces positioned in the middle of a rug that looks as new as it did straight from manufacturing, and near insignificant compared to the view provided by floor to ceiling transparisteel, perfectly crafted without a single seem. 

Though, looking over to your comrade and the way the view nearly reflects in his freshly polished beskar…maybe you stuck out moreso than him. 

“What’s the job?” He dryly asks back, not bothering to return the pleasantries the mayor has offered, and the mayor visibly swallows in return. 

“There’s been an incident.” He pauses and looks between the two of you, but when the both of you only offer silent helmeted stares in return he clears his throat and continues, “Children. Children have gone missing, along the forest’s edge.” 

“We’re aware.” You respond far too fast. Your own slightly more polite way of telling him to get on with it. You don’t have all day. The more time he spends yapping about stuff you already know the longer he’s keeping you out of the field, and if there's one thing you’ve learned in your short time bounty hunting, it’s that time is everything. 

“One of them was my niece.” He spits out, nearly shaking as he tries to contain all his bottled emotions. When you and the Mandalorian offer him nothing but the same unmoving blank stare he quickly shifts his gaze away from the both of you, breathing to compose himself before he continues, “This…creature has been plaguing my city for months. I’ve sent out hunter after hunter, but they always come back empty handed.” 

“What kind of creature is it, exactly?” The mayor pauses and looks back at the Mandalorian with a glint of fear in his eyes, “I’ve only seen it once. It was dark. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was large, had sharp teeth, glowing red eyes…” He squeezes his eyes shut and shudders at the memory, “It was the most horrible thing. Something of a nightmare.” 

“Sharp teeth and glowing red eyes huh?” You can’t help the way the sarcasm oozes from your lips. This guy can’t be serious.

“Please! I know how it sounds, no one believes me!” he shoots up from his seat in desperation, “It’s true! I swear to you, I saw it with my own eyes! Everyone think I’m crazy, but now it’s got my niece and–” 

“Alright alright…” You cut him off, you almost feel bad for the guy, even if this sounds like he had a night with one too many shots of spotchka “How much are you offering? We don’t work for free.”

“I’ll give you twenty thousand credits if you bring me back my niece unharmed.” He pauses and looks between you both as if considering you, “I’ll double it if you can bring the beast to me.” 

“Double?!” you nearly choke. “Prove I’m not as crazy as everyone thinks, and yes. I’ll double it. Forty thousand credits.” The Mayor settles back down into his seat with the offer, folding his hands together in front of him, narrowing his gaze to show the both of you just how serious he was.

You and the mandalorian turn to each other at the same time, and without missing a beat you simultaneously reply,

“It’s a deal.” 

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

The mayor hadn’t given you guys much to go off of, he gave you some loose directions to where the kids were last seen, and whatever clues previous hunters had gathered before giving up, which truthfully, wasn’t a lot. 

For now you and the Mandalorian walk through the forest, the kid fast asleep in his pram floating behind you, as you look for anything you can use as a lead. Footprints, any items from the kids, signs of a struggle, at this point even a broken branch would tell you more than whatever information you got. 

“Sharp teeth and glowing red eyes,” You silently chuckle to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” The Mandalorian questions without looking at you, instead intently scanning the treeline. 

“Oh come on, be real for a second, you don’t actually believe there's some kind of big scary creature out here, do you?”

“I don’t really think it matters.” He deadpans, and you frown.

“You’re a real buzzkill, you know that?” 

He doesn’t reply. Just continues scanning his surroundings and back to the ground for tracks. 

“Oh, I see what's going on,” you frown turns into a devilish grin behind your helmet and you trot ahead a few steps to meet the Mandalorian at his side, leaning over into his line of sight, “You’re scared aren’t you?” 

He purposely ignores your presence, looking right past you past you, “Scared of what?” 

“Oh you’re terrified!” You stand fully in front of him, completely blocking him off so there's no escape from your annoyances, “Terrified, a big scary beast, with glowing red eyes is going to abduct us in the night!” 

He pauses and turns to you fully, giving you that annoyed blank-visor stare you were hoping for, then he sighs. 

“Would you focus on the mission?” 

You chuckle as you turn away and stretch your arms over your head, “I could do this mission with my eyes closed. There’s no creature. The kids are probably out here camping in the woods somewhere as a prank to make the mayor seem crazier than he already does.” 

“Then why haven’t you found them yet?” 

You quickly drop your arms and turn back to him defensively, “Because I’m stuck with your shiny ass. If it wasn’t for you I would have those kids found and turned in by nightfall.”

He scoffs.

“What?” You snap back at him. 

“I think it’s the opposite. If I wasn’t stuck babysitting you and the kid I’d have those kids found in less than that, instead you’re too busy goofing off and making our job harder than it needs to be.” 

“Fine. Let’s split up.” 

He tilts his helmet at you intrigued. 

“We’ll split the job 70/30. Whoever finds the kids the fastest gets the highest cut.”

He goes to speak but you cut him off.

“And! I’ll take the kid. That way when I win, you’ll have no excuse.” 

“Deal.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat. This means business. You had no choice but to win. 

You quickly grab the kids pram and rush off.

“Good luck, Shiny!” You give him a quick wave before fully running off. 

You were surprisingly very confident. This seemed like such an easy job to you. Find the kids, get them to confess there's no creature, and boom! The credits were yours. Not to mention that up until this point, any job leading up to this one, the Mandalorian was seriously getting in your way. You’ll admit you had gotten in his way too, but for the most part you’re confident that without him, you can get this done in no time. 

Though now that you think about it, you really have no idea what his skill level is as a hunter. On Corellia his bounty wandered into the ship by chance, you completely fumbled the mission on Coruscant. You remember him being a relatively skilled fighter back on Utrost, but it was your plan and you ended up saving his ass from getting butchered in the end anyway.

Then again…he did save you on Canto Bight when the job turned sour, and he managed to track down and save you from Eldon–

No. You shake your head. Doesn’t matter. No matter how skilled he was as a hunter you’re confident enough you can still beat him. You figure the kids will probably stick to some form of water, a river, or a lake, or some kind of landmark they could easily find their way back home with, but unknown enough to outsiders that they could evade foreign hunters. So you start there. 

It’s not too long before you stumble across a small creek. Just big enough that it won’t dry it up for a while, but small enough to seem inconspicuous. You start following it deeper into the forest when the kid starts fussing. Great. Maybe if you ignore him for a couple minutes he’ll go back to sleep. You love the kid, you can’t lie, you’ve grown pretty fond of him over your time traveling with him, but right now you were busy and couldn’t afford a distraction. 

You barely make it two steps when his meek whimpers turn into full blown wails. 

“Okay okay! Hey it’s okay! Shh!” You quickly rush over to him and scoop him out of the pram rocking him, and bouncing, anything to keep him quiet, you don’t want to alarm the kids if they’re close and lose your lead. 

But he cries harder, and wiggles, clearly not appreciative of your smothering embrace. 

“Oh kid, please be quiet.” You beg, “We can play in a bit I’ve got work to do.” 

You strain to contain him in your arms as he fights you more, writhing desperately against your embrace, until before you know it, he’s slipped out entirely and plops right onto the floor besides your feet. He sits there for a moment, wide-eyed, and you’re worried he hurt himself and you’ve only got a few short moments before he begins to let out a screeching wail. 

You quickly bend down to comfort him, but before you move an inch, the little menace quickly regains his senses and jumps up taking off in a full blown sprint. You quickly rush after him. How is it even possible something with such tiny legs can move so fast?

Why did you agree to take him again? to prove something? what a mistake you should have let the Mandalorian take him. this kid was going to cost you the job and worst of all? your pride. The Mandalorian cannot win, and worse you cannot lose his kid. 

It’s not too long before the kid trips over his own robes and does a little tumble right into the creek. You’re quick to scoop him up, but not quite quick enough. Almost immediately he starts crying. A full blown sob. Classic tantrum. 

You sigh, accepting defeat. Poor guy probably just misses his dad and ended up soaked and bruised trying to find him. You give him a reassuring couple pats as he wheezes in a deep breath between choked sobs. You take a seat down on the forest floor besides the creek, subconsciously hoping the sound of running water will help calm him. 

You rock him softly and continue to gently pat his back as he helplessly cries in your arms. Well, if any kids were hiding out around here, they’re definitely long gone. You sigh again. You can picture it now, the Mandalorian silently bragging the entire way to Carajam. Only in a way he could, not muttering a word, and completely expressionless with his helmet, but the way he would carry himself alone could tell you, a quick glance that says, “See? I told you so.” 

A tilt that would say, “I’m better than you.” 

You groan at the thought. The thought of him with your credits in his hands all because you agreed to watch his stupid kid. 

You strain to reach up and toggle the infrared on your visor. Best to keep an eye out in case anyone else is out here. You’ve learned that there's no such thing as safe in this galaxy, and in return, no harm in being too careful. At least with the infrared it will be easy to spot someone, hopefully, before they spot you. It flickers far more than usual, occasionally flicking out completely before flicking back on. Your display hasn’t really been the same since the beating it took when Eldon crash landed in Felucia. You lazily scan the environment, ignoring it the best you can, as you continue to comfort the child. It’s when you glance over to where he fell that you have to double take. 

Something on the ground catches your attention, you quickly get up, holding the child tight in your arms and move to investigate something you missed, now illuminated with the infrared. 

Tracks. 

But not from kids. In fact, you’re not quite sure what they're from. Your visor doesn’t auto ID them, and you don’t think you’ve seen anything quite like it. You look ahead a couple feet and there's more. Crystal clear tracks. They were shallow, but they were there, they didn’t seem that old either. How did you miss these earlier? You decide it doesn't matter, and decide to follow them anyway. The farther you follow them, the clearer they get. Straying away from the creek and deep into the woods. 

As the space between the trees gets thinner, you notice some scratches high up on the trunks of them, embedded deep into the wood. Higher up than you were in height, and now you’re confused. You can’t figure out what could have possibly done this, no animal you can think of is that tall, or has prints like that. 

Before you can figure it out, the sound of your name crackling through the comm makes you jump. 

“Come in! Do you copy?” The Mandalorian’s voice echos through and there's a sense of urgency in his voice that you don’t think you’ve heard from him before. 

“I copy. What’s up? Did you find something?” You try to reply over the sobbing child in your arms.  

“The kid–Is the Kid okay?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him so panicked before.

“What? Yeah–yeah! He's fine–he just tripped. Is everything okay? What’s going on?” “What are your coordinates? We need to meet back up immediately!”  ***

Previous - MASTER - Next Taglist: @mysun-n-stars , @tanzthompson , @janebby , @um-well

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Young Adult, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal

Rating: 5 out of 5

Content Warning: Homophobia, Hate crime, Religious bigotry, Bullying, Racism, Self harm

Summary:

Maeve’s strangely astute tarot readings make her the talk of the school, until a classmate draws a chilling and unfamiliar card—and then disappears.

After Maeve finds a pack of tarot cards while cleaning out a closet during her in-school suspension, she quickly becomes the most sought-after diviner at St. Bernadette’s Catholic school. But when Maeve’s ex–best friend, Lily, draws an unsettling card called The Housekeeper that Maeve has never seen before, the session devolves into a heated argument that ends with Maeve wishing aloud that Lily would disappear. When Lily isn’t at school the next Monday, Maeve learns her ex-friend has vanished without a trace.

Shunned by her classmates and struggling to preserve a fledgling romance with Lily’s gender-fluid sibling, Roe, Maeve must dig deep into her connection with the cards to search for clues the police cannot find—even if they lead to the terrifying Housekeeper herself. Set in an Irish town where the church’s tight hold has loosened and new freedoms are trying to take root, this sharply contemporary story is witty, gripping, and tinged with mysticism.

*Opinions*

In case you don’t want to read this whole review, let me give you a tl;dr version. I loved this book as an adult, but it would have been my whole personality if I had read it as a teenager. 

Still here? All Our Hidden Gifts is a YA novel that follows Maeve Chambers as she discovers a deck of tarot cards in the dusky basement of her all-girls school and finds reading them comes naturally to her. However, as her popularity rises with her readings, it sends her on a collision course with her former best friend Lily. After a disastrous reading, Lily goes missing and Maeve starts to believe that maybe there is more to her natural ability to read the card than coincidence. As she joins up with aspiring actress Fiona and Lily’s older sibling Roe to figure out what happened to Lily, they discover that much darker and more powerful forces are working in the city of Kilbeg, Ireland.

Everything about this story is such a “me” book that I am surprised that I hadn’t heard about it before randomly finding it at a bookstore. There is witchcraft, tarot cards, interpersonal relationship drama, an urban fantasy that interacts with real-world issues, and a flawed main character who is trying her best. I can’t think of anything about this book that I would gripe about, though if you are more of a plot-driven reader, this could be seen as dragging in places. As I am more of a character-driven reader I was pulled into Maeve’s story and how she interacted with those around her. At times I wanted to shake her and other times give her a hug, but that’s what it is like being a teenager. 

I was so uncool that it never occurred to me that I might be able to climb the social ladder in middle and high school. That being said, I luckily played an instrument and therefore had a built-in group of kids that I at least had something in common with and did well in terms of academics. However, with my anxiety, I could see myself being like Maeve, desperate to fit in and have friends, even if it meant hurting someone else if I had an ounce of self-confidence. Who knew that low self-esteem had some perks? There is something so relatable about Maeve and her outbursts in an attempt to deflect from her fears and insecurities. While Maeve does not always make the best decisions, we have all been in a place where we have made them before. She is one of my favorite heroines. 

While this is a YA novel, it deals with heavy topics of homophobia, the rise of the far right, and gender identity. I feel that O'Donoghue carefully crafts the story so that these topics are handled in a serious way, but without taking on a lecturing tone. I really liked that none of these issues are magically fixed by the end of the novel, in fact, it is a rather ambiguous ending, but this is also the first book in a series. I appreciate an urban fantasy, especially a low-magic one, that makes a point to show that magic isn’t going to fix everything because some people are just horrible. I think that Roe’s whole character was beautifully handled and also that Maeve’s attraction to him doesn’t change or is even questioned as his gender expression changes. 

O’Donoghue also writes Maeve and Roe’s relationship in a way that made me kick my feet at times but never shies away from all the complications of Roe being Lily’s sibling. Roe is so kind and patient with Maeve but has no problem taking her to task when she needs to be checked. While everything is new, I can see them becoming a favorite couple if they stay together throughout the series. I also really liked Maeve and Fiona’s friendship and the awkward moments but also the genuine understanding they have for one another as well. When she is so jealous of Fiona at times reminded me of cringey memories from my own teenage years. 

Overall, I just really loved this book. I wanted to keep reading and see what was going to happen. The characters are lovable and the story is compelling. I have the next two in my shopping cart for when I need a little treat and decide to buy myself books. 5 out of 5

[ocprompts]

OMG OKOKOK u dont have to answer this right away but ill tell u about sky now LOL

so here he isss

he's 15 years old and basically his story is that he thought he was a normal kid [ well. as normal as you can be when u live in the middle of the forest by yourself for the majority of ur teenage years ] but that turned out to be Very Completely Wrong !

hes actually an angel and he only discovered that when his wings [ not visible in the pics but theyre there i promise lol ] sprouted and he nearly passed out from the pain lmao. anyways hes a very specific type of angel [ that i created <3 ] called an urban angel thats made to watch over urban areas like small cities n stuff and make sure nothing goes wrong so naturally his wings resemble those of a hawk. also because it's pretty.

hes best friends w maristela [ age 13 ] and her older sibling astrifer [ age 15 ] [ also sky and astrifer are sooo in love but neither of them are aware that its mutual LOL ] and their mother perihelion has basically unofficially adopted him since his parents literally Kicked Him Out Of Their House which is why he lives in the forest

oh yeah also his parents r like major lgbtphobes and they kicked sky out because hes trans so. yeah.

anyways sorry for putting so much text HAHA i luv talking abt my ocs ^_^

he's lovely !

[nattinatalia]

Are we getting anymore Harlow sister x Urban?

Yessssssss

I’m just trying to focus on a few things that I’ve been taking forever to finish. I have a line up of fics that I have in my drafts.

1 - Urban and Y/N divorce

2 - Jack and Y/N birthday dinner

3 - Urban’s birthday : Insta edition

4- Urban x Jack Birthday lunch featuring Harlow and Wyatt kids 🫶🏻

5 - Jack’s wifey fighting anitta

6 - Teenage Mia and EZ

7 - Part 2 of The Third Harlow

Mind you, all of these are half way done, but I just get stuck in the middle so I don’t finish them 😞 but I promise to try my best.

[sleekervae]

Clamshell [0.3]

Masterlist

A/N: Hey, hi, hello. I finally finished. This got way longer than I first anticipated but I'm really happy with how it wrapped up. This will be the conlcusion to Remington and Vera's back story for now.

Warnings: violence, bank robbery, guns, vandalism, police, sex shops, adult toys, smut, Emerson being a little shit and Remington being even more of a little shit.

--

Rain cascaded down from the sky, painting the city in shimmering reflections of light. In the midst of this urban symphony, a nondescript bank stood, its façade seemingly unaffected by the storm. Seventeen-year-old Remington's breath hitched in his chest as he surveyed the scene, the weight of his desperation palpable.

The balaclava he wore clung to his damp skin, offering both concealment and a shroud of anonymity. Beside him, his heart pounded in rhythm with the rain. Moss, a burly figure with a scar tracing his cheek, loaded his gun with a practiced ease. Lilith, dark haired, striking beautiful, gripped an empty duffel bag, anticipation radiating from her every move. And then there was Victor, the Collector who exuded an air of unflinching authority, his gaze settling on Remington with an intensity that fuelled his anxiety.

"Where'd you pick this one up, Vic? A kindergarten class?" Lilith asked, venomous tone dripping as she glared up and down at Remington. He shrunk back on the spot, not daring to utter a word.

Victor however laughed heartily, clicking the safety off of his much large machine gun, "His big brother couldn't pay back his debt in time, so little brother has to pay it off for him,"

Lilith scoffed back, her almond eyes narrowing at the teenager, "Pathetic,"

"You ready for this, kid?" Victor slapped Remington hard on his back, a mixture of challenge and curiosity in his voice, "Remember what's at stake if you're not,"

Remington's palms were clammy within his gloves, his throat dry as he swallowed his apprehension. He nodded, though the action felt more like a spasm than a conscious decision. He couldn't afford to back out now, not with Sebastian and Emerson's lives hanging in the balance.

With a final glance at his companions, Remington adjusted the grip on the pistol he held, his fingers feeling strangely foreign around the cold metal. Victor gave a subtle nod, signaling the beginning of their orchestrated chaos.

The crew moved as one, entering the bank with an air of calculated purpose. The bank's interior was a stark contrast to the tempest outside – sterile, orderly, and blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within its walls. Remington followed his companions, his heart pounding as if trying to escape its confines. In one fell swoop, Victor raised his gun and fired into the ceiling, effectively garnering everybody's attention.

Lilith approached the counter, her gun held in plain view as she barked orders at the terrified bank employees and customers. Moss stood by the entrance, a sentinel ensuring no one could escape. And then it was Remington's turn to play his part.

He approached a teller, his voice betraying his nerves as he demanded access to the vault. The teller's hands shook as they typed in the code, and Remington couldn't help but notice the fear mirrored in their eyes – a reflection of his own dread.

With the vault open, Remington and Lilith swiftly collected stacks of cash, shoving them into the waiting duffel bag. The weight of the money was both a reminder of the urgency that had driven him to this point and a stark realization of the criminal act he was committing.

As the seconds stretched like hours, Remington's heart raced with an intensity that eclipsed the storm outside. He clung to his pistol, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain control. He had never fired a gun before, and the thought of violence clawed at the edges of his consciousness.

Outside, the wail of approaching sirens cut through the tension like a knife. Time had run its course, and their window of opportunity was narrowing. Lilith zipped up the duffel bag, signaling that they had what they came for.

The bank guard, a middle-aged man with eyes that held a mix of fear and determination, was huddled near the entrance, his attempt to intervene thwarted by Moss' unwavering presence.

Time seemed to slow as Remi's heart pounded in his chest. His gaze locked onto the bank guard, his fingers trembling against the trigger of the gun. He never imagined he would find himself in this situation, faced with a decision that could irrevocably alter his life.

"Stay down!" Moss's voice cut through the air, a warning aimed at both the guard and the hostages.

The bank guard's eyes flickered between Remington and Moss, torn between his duty to protect and the dangerous reality that now confronted him. Remington's own heart seemed to echo the guard's conflict, the weight of the gun in his hand feeling more substantial than ever before.

In the midst of the chaos, the guard's gaze locked onto Remington's, their eyes meeting in a moment of shared vulnerability. It was a gaze that spoke of a shared humanity, of two individuals caught in a desperate dance of circumstance.

Remington's breath caught in his throat as he felt the weight of his desperation and fear press down on him. He had never fired a gun before, had never been pushed to the brink of taking a life. But he couldn't fail, he wasn't allowed to, the spectre of his own vulnerability pushed him closer to the edge.

In that heart-stopping instant, a gunshot pierced the air, the sound like thunderclaps colliding with reality. Remington's hand had moved almost instinctively, the recoil of the gun jolting through his arm as he squeezed the trigger.

The bank guard's eyes widened in shock as the impact struck him, a vivid contrast to the pallor that overtook his face. He staggered back, collapsing to the ground, his hands clutching at the wound.

The room seemed to freeze, the echoes of the gunshot still resonating in the air. Remington's breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at the scene before him, a whirlwind of emotions engulfing him. He had crossed a line he could never uncross, forever altering the trajectory of his life. Moss and Lilith were both in the throes of shock and awe, even Victor seemed a little impressed at the shaking boy.

With one last glance around the bank, Victor issued the retreat order. The crew moved in reverse, their steps measured and their eyes locked on the exit. Remington's legs felt like lead, each step a struggle against the rising tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Amidst the cacophony of rain and sirens, the bank guard's gaze locked onto Remington's one final time, a haunting gaze that held a mix of accusation and understanding. In that fleeting connection, Remington saw the reflection of his own inner turmoil, a mirror into his soul that would forever remind him of the choices he had made.

They burst out of the bank, rain plastering their clothes to their bodies. The getaway car was waiting, engine idling. Remington's heart raced as he climbed into the vehicle, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – relief, guilt, fear, and a lingering shred of hope that this desperate act would free him from his debt.

As the car peeled away from the bank, Remington stole one last look at the scene he was leaving behind. The rain continued to fall, washing away the evidence of their presence. Yet, no amount of rain could cleanse his conscience of the choices he had made on this fateful night.

"Congratulations, kid," Victor pulled off his balaclava, a greasy smile poking at his lips as he unzipped the duffel bag. Wads of cash spilled out, one of which Victor waved in front of his face "You just saved your brother's life," and with that, he dropped the wad into his lap. Remington briefly counted through the bills, culminating in a cool thousand dollars.

The choices Remington made on that night would continue to haunt him well into his twenties, but he wasn't that scared little boy anymore. Despite the violence, the chaos he contributed to, he made a promise to himself that he would never ever harm another human being like that. If he was going to hell, he was going to make his sentence light.

But hell, damnation and guilt all filtered away on this night. The abandoned industrial building stood in solemn isolation beneath the silver embrace of the moon. Its walls, adorned with layers of graffiti, told stories of a forgotten era. Broken windows and rusty machinery whispered secrets of days long gone. It was a place lost to time, a canvas waiting for a new story.

Remington had Vera's hand gripped tightly in his own, they moved stealthily through a gap in the chain-link fence that guarded the warehouse ruins. The night air hummed with an electrifying sense of adventure.

They had been hanging out with each other for a couple of months, now. People watching on the strip, getting ice cream in the plazas, spending blistering hot evenings driving through the desert until the stars began to peak out and they would spend hours upon hours talking about everything and anything. Their lives, dreams, or whatever shows they wanted to watch on Netflix.

She had met his brothers by this point, Sebastian and Emerson. They were a little skeptical about Remington bringing this girl around at first, weren't sure they could trust her given their lifestyle. However, Vera proved herself to be a calming presence and a trusting friend, and more than anything she brought a joy to Remington the brother's hadn't seen in a long time.

She tripped over some gravel, a result of some of the beers they'd consumed earlier in the evening. Remington stopped, smiling at her embarrassed giggle as she collected herself.

“Three beers and you’re tipsy?”

“Hello? I’m tiny?” she justified herself, causing him to eye her head to toe, a smirk on his face. 

“That you are,” he conceded, feeling the need to cup her face, but holding himself back. 

Remington didn't like to show his emotions, and he didn't often care to let new people into his life. But it was clear he was developing a real attachment to Vera, an attraction that bordered past just physical. He liked her, he liked her way more than he should've allowed himself to. Once she opened up and they began to trust each other, Remington wanted to keep her. He wanted her.

Vera cast a wary glance around, "You sure we won't get caught, Remington?"

Remington grinned, his eyes glinting mischievously, "I promise you! This place is practically forgotten. Besides, that's what makes it perfect,"

When Remington had asked Vera to hang out tonight, she was expecting maybe some drive thru, maybe a movie, maybe dressing up in their best clothes and pretending to be high rollers while they gambled in the casinos. And while breaking into spooky, abandoned lots wasn't on her list for the evening, she wouldn't deny the thrum of excitement bursting in her chest. Remington reached into his bag and handed her a spray can.

He teased her, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, "After you, my lady,"

Vera, nervous yet eager, nodded in response, "What -- what should I do?"

Remington stared at the wall curiously, his mischievous smirk present as he began to spray the outline of a male appendage.

"Remington!" she scolded, smacking his arm as he laughed heartily.

With a gentle hiss, they began to fool around with the paint. The cans sprayed vibrant bursts of color, the hissing sound echoing through the cavernous space. Side by side, they worked in perfect harmony, creating some intentional designs or random scribbles and squiggles. There was no thematic or intention, they were just having fun in the privacy of a sanctuary of forgotten memories.

In the midst of their creative frenzy, a wayward spray of paint landed on Remington's cheek. Vera couldn't contain her laughter.

"That's a good look on you!" she cooed playfully.

Remington blushed, a hint of embarrassment mingling with the excitement, "Damn things always kick back..."

Vera's shaky finger reached out and gently wiped away the errant paint from his cheek. Their eyes locked for a moment, she tried not to bite her lip.

Her voice was soft, a barely audible murmur in the echoing chamber, "Like it never happened,"

They returned to their graffiti art, their hands hovering inches apart, the tension between them palpable. Each stroke of paint brought them closer, yet they hesitated to cross the invisible boundary that separated them.

Their moment, charged with unspoken emotions, was interrupted by the distant wail of sirens, growing closer by the second.

Remington's eyes widened as he turned to Vera, "That's our cue! Time to go!"

Vera whipped around, the distant flashing of lights coming closer and closer, "I thought you said this place abandoned!?"

"I exaggerated a little,"

She nodded, a sense of urgency replacing the serenity that had enveloped them moments ago. They hastily gathered their spray paint cans and stencils, leaving behind little trace. With her hand clothed in his, they sprinted towards the exit, their footsteps echoing through the cavernous building.

The approaching sirens grew louder, accompanied by the flashing blue and red lights that danced like ghosts on the walls.

As they reached the hole in the chain-link fence, the police cars screeched to a halt outside. Officers spilled out, flashlights and radios in hand.

Remington and Vera squeezed through the fence just in time, their hearts pounding with adrenaline. They dashed into the cover of the night, the cool air whipping through their hair as they hopped into Remington's car.

The chase was on, but they were determined not to be caught. Remington was a great driver, Vera admired him for that. He outmaneuvered the cops with a steady combo of the emergency break and the headlights switched clean off, laying low in the labyrinthine city.

They hunkered down in a dark alley, the engine switched off as they watched the cop car peel away in defeat, driving clean past the old beater. Laughter and excitement filled the air, Vera clutched her chest in near disbelief as Remington relaxed in his chair. If Sebastian found out what he was doing, he'd kill him without a second thought.

"I can't believe it!" she puffed as though she had just ran a marathon, adrenaline coursing through her body, "That was so stupid! And so cool!" she turned to him, "I thought they were gonna' catch up to us on that last turn!"

Remington simply laughed, "C'mon, you think I'm gonna' let you get into trouble? You clearly don't know me at all, V," he sat up and quickly checked his reflection in the rear mirror.

Vera looked to him, sheer wonder in her eyes mirroring his. The night lights reflected beautifully on his delicate features, on his cute nose and his sharp cheekbones, on his pouty, blatantly soft, deliriously pink, wildly wanted lips, on his flashy studded bracelets, on his sparkly, delicate necklace, on his small and sober rings. Vera liked him, she had come to terms with that a while ago. Her heart skipped a beat at the way her body and mind aligned in that statement. He excited her, effortlessly charming yet it was so easy to be relaxed around him. The pressure she felt within herself was a living, beating, ravenous thing, enlarging its size like a bird puffing its feathers.

"I should know better," she awed, "Professional bank robber and all, I forgot,"

"That's right," he replied, shifting the car's gear and revving the engine.

"We're gonna' be late for Caity's party," she pointed out.

"I'll grovel at the door," he said, winking slyly her way. Vera bit the inside of her lip, the adrenaline in her blood now being replaced with something a little more instinctual.

Vera had never had the opportunity to mingle much in Vegas, always a little too busy scraping by in whatever dead end job she could get. And while some of the girls at the shelter were nice, none of them were much into getting to know one another beyond names and how they ended up there.

But Remington's friends were very cool, and the host, Caity, was an absolute doll the moment Vera walked in behind him. The only people she knew there were Remington's brothers and Andrew; and Remington was coy when Sebastian had asked why they were so late. Vera felt pretty comfortable at their smaller get together, some half-empty bottles of liquor scattered across the coffee table with disposable shot and solo cups littered beyond.

At one point a game of truth or dare had broken out, silly, juvenile questions were asked and immature, embarrassing dares were completed. When Vera was put on the spot, she should have known better than to trust Emerson and his precarious questions.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Emerson practically howls with laughter, doubling over himself and nearly falling off the couch with laughter. She glowered, about to tell him off but Remington beat her to it.

“Shut up. It’s not that big of a deal,”

Emerson sat up straight, looking down at Remington as he sat next to her on the floor. He wiped the tears from his eyes, his laughter finally dying down, “Hey, I'm your brother -- you gotta' talk to me with a bit more respect,” he prods teasingly, but Remington didn't seem to be in the mood, his previous lighthearted spirit vanishing upon Emerson's insensitive comment.

Remington's tone was excitingly stern, but not rude, “Yeah, I’ll show more respect when you show more respect to Vera”

She laughed, shaking off the flurry of red in her cheeks, “Don’t worry about me, Remi. I don’t think I can take Emerson very seriously, not when I highly doubt he’d even know how to make me or any other girl cum,”

The circle of friends in Caity's apartment erupted into comical ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’.

“Ouch!” Andrew said, leaning across the floor to high-five her.

Emerson stuttered, failing at serving a good comeback, “It's okay, Emerson,” Sebastian laughed, his sympathetic tone condescending, “maybe there’s a tutorial online,”

“I know how to make a girl cum!” he snapped. Everyone just laughed, ignoring him and carrying on with the game.

“Your turn, Vera,” another girl, Larissa, reminded her. She had met her once before, she was a hair stylist who was apparently just 'good friends' with Sebastian. From the way Sebastian kept looking at her though, it was clear he didn't just have being friends on his mind.

“Uhhh,” she looked around the room, choosing Ash because she had met him before, was a bit more comfortable with him, “Truth or dare, Ash?”

“Dare,” he smirked, and she knew it was for good reason. There’s almost no chance he’d deny anything she threw at him. Which was why Vera made it as crazy as her relatively innocent mind could.

“I dare you to kiss Remington,”

Remington's eyes widened, showing his surprise and hesitancy. “Easy,” Ash replied cockily.

“With tongue, and for 10 seconds,” she added. Ash pretended he didn't mind at all, but to everyone it’s pretty clear that that was not really the case. Vera wouldn’t have been surprised if in one of his drunken nights out he’s kissed a guy before, but she'd be a little shocked if he’d kissed one of his best friends.

“Wait, wait, don’t I get a say in this?” Remington asked her, his pretty gaze nearly overwhelming her. Vera took pity on him and nearly retracted the dare, but suddenly Ash, who moved over without her and Remington noticing -- her being too lost in Remington's eyes and kind voice, and Remington… well, he must have just not heard, was in Remington's face. Ash's big hands were pulling Remington's face to his in an instant, his lips crashing drunkenly to his.

Vera couldn't deny that the scene stoked something in her gut. Ash's tongue was looking for his friend’s eagerly; most likely to make a point, and Remington even began reciprocating. Everyone, was of course, cheering, but it was just white noise as she watched the way Remington's jaw moved as he used his tongue to kiss his friend. 10 seconds ended way too soon. Ash pulled back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he winked at Vera, “Satisfied?”

Vera rolled her eyes even though it was undeniably hot for her. She watched Ash return to his seat next to a still scowling Emerson.

“I can’t believe I did that for you,” Remington whispered into her ear, making her rip her attention away from Ash and to him.

“W-what?”

He smiled, also wiping the traces of spit from the corner of his lips, which were even more pink and delicious now, “I’m saying I wouldn’t have just gone along with that unless it was you asking. You’re too cute to say no to,”

This was an escalation. Vera bit back her sheepish smirk, her mind reeling for a snappy response to hide her blush, "You almost got me arrested, it's the least you could do,"

Vera was glad Ash called her name because she didn’t know how much longer she could keep up with this staring contest.

“Truth or dare?” Ash asked mischievously.

“What? I just went!” she complained.

“So? It’s my turn and I choose you,”

“Fine,” she grumbled, “Dare, I guess,”

“I,” he laughed, only making her more scared for the ridiculous dare she knew was coming, “I dare you to kiss Remington,”

“What?” she didn’t realize she gaped aloud.

“Don’t look so offended, babe,” Ash said, leaning forward to look her dead in the eyes, “See if you can taste me on him,”

“Taste you on him?” Caity scoffed, “You’re ridiculous, Ash. I don’t know how girls fall for your shit,”

“Agreed,” Emerson mumbled less playfully. Ash, however, was not paying attention to anything except Vera -- his eyes scorching into hers, beating her at the silently proclaimed staring contest. Vera looked to Remington, who was already looking at her. He didn't say anything.

She moved so quickly it could quite possibly have been a dream, but in a second she had leaned in and placed a mere peck to a taken aback Remington. That mere peck, however, was still able to burn at her lips like a fever. Maybe she did have a fever? But she was in Nevada, of course it was hot!

Or so she told herself...

“Ha!” Ash taunted, “You’re already blushing and you only pecked him,” Vera silently cursed him, “But unfortunately, babe, that’s not going to cut it. Same rules apply. 10 seconds with tongue,” she frowned, looking to Caity, silently begging her to save her. She just shrugged, smiling a small smile, telling how excited she really felt.

Vera looked back at Remington, who is still looking at her. Instead of arguing with Ash and letting him have more fun, she ignored him and softly ask Remington, “Is it ok?”

“Of course,” he smiled reassuringly -- his confidence flooding her system with surprise and lust.

She moved in, her lips brushing against his hesitantly, but Remington's hand was soon on her neck, guiding her and pulling her against him harder, his lips capturing her organically. His tongue swiped against her. And that’s when it happened: that was when she moaned. She fucking moaned and there was no way the others didn’t hear it. She even heard Sebastian and Caity start to laugh, the rest just sniggering. Fuck.

She pulled back, her eyes wide with embarrassment and her cheeks as red as blood. Remington also seemed slightly surprised, his eyes sticking to her as they sat frozen in place. Emerson's voice broke her out of the trance, “Seems that wasn’t such a bad dare after all,"

“Shut up,” she murmured and taking a swig of alcohol, hoping the bitter taste would wash away the arousing taste of Remington.

“And?” Ash asked, quirking any eyebrow questioningly at Vera.

“And what?” she asked.

“How did I taste?”

Vera hid her burning cheeks with a sly smirk, “Remington tasted so good there wasn’t even a speck left of you,” she replied, her insult simultaneously complimenting Remington, who she noticed biting back a smile from the corner of her eyes. Ash scoffed like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. Without reason, he stood up and squished between Vera and Hayden.

Hayden grunted, “What the fuck, dude? There’s not enough space here!”

Ash answered without even looking at his annoyed friend- his eyes trained to Vera with an annoying smirk, “Then move,"

Hayden sighed in annoyance, never the less moving to sit with Caity. Ash still didn’t move up, though. His side was still flush against Vera's.

“Ok, who do you pick?” Ash asked in a slow, sultry voice. Vera was not sure if she regretted daring him to kiss Remington and the game it prompted, or if it was a great decision. By the way Larissa was smirking, she could tell she thought it’s the latter.

“I pick you. Truth or dare?” Ash smiled like this was exactly what he wanted.

“This isn’t ping pong,” Andrew complained with a harmless frown.

“You know,” Ash used his finger on her jaw to pull Vera's attention back to him, just as she was about to apologize to Andrew, “you don’t have to dare me to kiss you, I’ll just do it,”

Neither were privy to the stern scowl that graced Remington's face.

With that, Ash's lips were on hers. She quickly melted into the kiss, surprised at how damn good it felt. This was the most she had let herself be spontaneous in a long time, uncaring for consequences. He tugged her bottom lip with his teeth, determined to make her moan like she did for Remington -- except louder. His tongue snuck between her parted, panting lips, caressing the sensitive insides of her mouth. Vera doubted anyone, except the person on the other side of her, who was of course Remington, could see Ash's brave hand, which had wondered its way down to her ass.

“Okay, okay! We didn’t come for a live sex show, guys!” Sebastian interrupted, making them pull away. Ash smirked at her swollen, wet lips, pleased with the effect he had.

She adjusted herself so that she faced the middle, and not Ash in any way. That was when she caught sight of Remington's clenched jaw, “Alright, I pick Vera,” she heard Ash say.

“Of fucking course,"

“Surprise surprise,”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Can’t you two play out this sex fantasy somewhere else?”

She chuckled nervously at the various people’s comments.

“Yeah Ash, leave Vera alone. Pick someone else,” Hayden said.

Vera could see Ash was displeased, but he didn't question it, “Fine. Sebastian, truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“Mhhhm, ok… who in this room have you thought about having sex with?”

Sebastian grimaced, looking embarrassed and took a moment to answer quietly, “... Larissa,”

“Is that so, big boy?” Larissa teased sensually, and Vera was reminded of her jealousy of her confidence. Sebastian doesn’t expect such a sexy, easy reaction, and she watched in amusement as his entire neck reddens.

“In your dreams,” Emerson's voice was barely audible through his laugh and mouth full of chips.

“Anyway,” Sebastian tried to change the topic, "Emerson, truth or dare,"

"Truth," the youngest brother answered safely.

"Have you ever sent a dick pic?"

Emerson huffed, glowering at his brother, "I don't wanna' tell you this!"

"You picked truth!" Andrew reminded him.

"Fine," Emerson huffed defeatedly, "Once... a while ago,"

Remington cocked a brow, "How long ago is a while ago?"

"A while ago," Emerson repeated, "Vera,"

“... Yeah?” she asked nonchalantly, her hands bringing a bottle of straight vodka to her hot lips -- still burning and tingling from her peculiar and sensual kiss with Remington, whose presence next to her had not been unnoticed for a single millisecond.

“Truth or dare?”

“Oh come on!” she protested, “Why's it always me?”

“Because you're new, and we have to break you into the group somehow,” Caity replied coyly.

“Fucking fine, whatever. Dare,” she huffed, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible. It was difficult to choose between truth or dare. What she did know was that the last time she chose truth, she revealed to this particularly cruel and ruthless group that no one had made her cum except herself. Something she could already tell she’ll never live down. At least with a dare it only lasted a few humiliating moments. But that wasn’t the case anymore; she doubted she'd ever be able to be the same around Remington. With Ash, too. Now, instead of being the goofy, criminal friend she felt the most relaxed with, he was the goofy, criminal friend who got her wet.

Emerson tapped his fingers against his chin dramatically, as if he was in deep thought, but he’d clearly been harbouring something for a while, “I dare you to go to the sex shop on the corner,” everyone waited for him to add something more, but he was clearly one for dramatics and attention.

"... and?" Caity piped up.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and stared Vera down with sinister, teasing eyes. Someone was bitter, “Remington needs to take you, it is 2am after all and I’m not that cruel. Then… buy a dildo,”

“That’s such a weird dare,” Larissa chuckled.

“Yeah, why?” Caity added.

“Well, seeing as no one can get Vera off except herself, she may as well have the best equipment. I’m just being kind, you see,”

“What makes you think I don’t already have a dildo?” Vera shocked herself and everyone else with her words, but she enjoyed the way Emerson’s expression changed. It wasn't like she actually had one, though.

“Well, do you?” Andrew asked in genuine curiosity, his expression and tone not insulting, making her feel comfortable enough to say,

“No...”

“It’s settled then. Off you go,” Emerson said, flicking his finger in the direction of the door, leaning back cockily and crossing his legs like some CEO or something.

“What? No. I’m not going to drag Remington all the way there in the dead of night and spend money on something I don’t even need,”

“Trust me, babe, once you try it you’ll know you need it,” Ash added, unnecessarily. She turned her head to him just so he can see her rolling her eyes, which just made him laugh a stupidly cute laugh.

“How would you know that?” Remington chuckled.

“I’ve used one,” Ash said, like it was obvious, though noticing the various quirked eyebrows, he quickly remembered he left out a part that might not be so obvious, “On a girl!”

“I mean, no one would think it was weird if you used it on yourself…” Vera told him.

“Yeah, yeah but it was with a girl,” Ash repeated, “And she fucking loved it,"

“Gave her more to remember than your little pal, eh?” Hayden joked.

“Excuse you, we all know I’m not ‘small’,” Ash says, dramatically using his eyes to refer to the incident where he accidentally sent a nude to the group chat. Vera was shocked and flattered that he felt confident enough to tell her that story. No one could argue with that, so the conversation was quickly steered back to the topic at hand.

“I’m not asking, Vera. It’s a dare,”

“Emerson,” she whined with a pout, hoping it would work somehow, “It’s cold and besides, it would be closed, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, it’s more of a night time place,” Ash said, “People are ashamed to go somewhere like that in daylight, for some reason,"

Damn it.

“Fine, it’s ok. It’s whatever,” she decided, standing up with a huff. She suddenly realized Remington was meant to go with her, she felt guilty as she turned to him, “You don’t have to come… it’s cold and I’ll be okay --”

Remington stood up before she could even finish her sentence. Like he had been for a good chunk of the night, ever since the kiss… or kisses, he stayed silent, walking to the door and handing over her coat, the sleeve spattered in loose droplets of spray paint.

"We'll be back!" he called to the others.

Remington closed the door behind them, they pair walked side-by-side to the elevator Neither one of them spoke.

It was only once they were in the cold of the outside word, walking down the street under the stark glow of the street lamps that Remington spoke up, “So you really meant it? No one other than yourself has ever made you cum?”

Vera looked down at her sneakers as they moved, swallowing her nervousness and trying to lighten the mood, she replied, “I mean, I wouldn’t make something like that up purely for the entertainment of people like Emerson,”

Remington scoffed, his feelings on his brother's behavior tonight being similar to hers. Vera waited for him to say something else, but he didn't, “Is that… is that a really weird thing?” she recalled him saying it wasn’t a big deal but wondered if he just said that to stand up for her, and didn't actually feel that way.

“I… I don’t know,” is all he said. His lack of words was strange and frustrating, making Vera feel small in some way. She wondered if she should make another attempt at conversation, but before she even had a chance he added, “I think you’ve just been with the wrong guys,” she hummed to show her contemplation, “Guys who haven’t paid enough attention to what you like or how you feel,” he spoke diligently, but carefully, not wanting to make hints at her past trauma.

“S'pose you're right, makes sense kinda'” she huffed.

“Maybe Ash can be the one to change that,” his snarky comment had Vera physically stopping in her tracks. Remington took a few steps before realizing and looked back at her, confused, “Is everything okay?” his now caring tone was in complete contrast to that of his comment a mere few moments ago.

“Ash?” A frown etched its way onto her face to show how genuinely confused she was.

Remington realized what stopped her, he became more upfront, “I mean -- he really seemed to get you going with all the kissing and groping,”

He seemed jealous which, first of all, made her blush with realization and, also, confused her. Ash didn't do anything new to her, he was confident and attractive and knew what he was doing, but he did nothing compared to what even that first peck she had with Remington did. She blamed the alcohol for making her brave enough to ask, “Wait, Remington -- are you jealous?”

Remington looked to the side and up at where she presume the moon was, his tongue poking at his cheek, “Well, I’m not going to lie, it kind of sucks when you kiss someone and think you really feel something genuine and then some guy -- who gets every girl he wants -- just swoops in and steals her in a matter of minutes,”

“Remington,” Vera laughed, taking a brave step closer to him, making him look down from the sky and at her. He looked hurt that she laughed, but it was just because of how far what he felt was from the truth, “It wasn’t Ash who made me feel like there were a five alarm fire in the room,”

He raised his eyebrows, “Come again?”

She laughed again, her heart doing somersaults at both his words and his endearing expression, his dark eyes, “I’m saying it’s your kiss that ‘really got me going’,”

“It was?” He smiled blissfully, sighing and turning to continue walking, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his denim jacket. She laughed, speeding up to catch up with him.

“…so?”

“So?” he asked with mock obliviousness and a small wink. She had a sudden urge to slip her hand into his pocket, interlocking her fingers with his warm, long ones.

“Whatever,” Vera huffed playfully, noticing the purple neon sign to the shop just a few meters in front of them. Soon they were standing before the blacked out windows, with various luminous yellow figures glowing and attracting them to the shop in some strange way. A small bell rung as Remington pushed the door open. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged women, looks surprised that Vera and Remington had entered the store. She looked as though she wanted to ask if they lost, but Remington's kind and unashamed greeting put her at immediate ease.

A double-sided shelf in the center of the store had porn DVDs of all genres under the sun. Vera noticed Remington was shamelessly taking in some of the covers, “Hmmh,” she was intrigued when he picked up of the cases up, “some people have really interesting tastes,"

She stepped closer to him, their arms touching, unable to help but read aloud “Old, white gran with young, black co --"

“Experimenting?” the shopkeeper asked from behind, Remington and Vera turned around.

“Sorry?” he asked politely.

“Are you two here for something new? Experimentation?”

Vera wanted to say no, but Remington stole any words from her as his hand was suddenly holding hers, “Yes, actually,” he replied, “We’re looking for a sex toy. Any advice?”

She watched him in fascination. He was the most charming, interesting and precarious man she'd ever met. She was lost in thought as she admired his slim shoulders and gentle, boyish voice. Remington broke Vera out of it as he tugged her along with him, following the lady to the end of the store where shelves upon shelves were stacked with dildos of any shape and size. Some of them had Vera in pure shock. She looked at one of such a size she cringed to even think of using it, “People actually use these?” she asked more to herself than the lady.

“You’d be surprised,” she replied with a smile. She looked her up and down before reaching for a particular toy and handed it to her.

“It's not that big,” Vera said, catching that she actually got swept away in the moment, like she was really here with her boyfriend buying a new toy to spice up their sex life. Remington squeezed her hand as he laughed, taking in the way she was analyzing the pink dildo in her other hand.

“So cute,” He murmured, sure enough elated when a pink blush tinted her cheeks.

“You two aren’t very experienced with sex toys, are you?” The clerk's question was more of an observation.

“Well-” Remington started.

“Wait, you’ve used sex toys before?” Vera asked him. He chuckled, almost nervously.

“There was this girl…”

“Oh, okay -- you don’t need to tell me. It’s okay,”

Remington flitted his pupils to the clerk, indirectly letting Vera know that she was the only reason he wasn't telling her.

“But you plan on using it on this pretty lady, yes?” The shopkeeper asked Remington.

He smiled, “Yes, yes indeed,” Vera was reminded of the distant sticky feeling in her panties that had been there ever since Remington and Ash kissed. The thought of Remington between her legs with that pink toy had her biting her lip, and she thought Remington noticed because he gave her a knowing smile.

“And she is not so experienced. Trust me, take that one,”

“Not a problem,” Remington replied, the clerk very clearly charmed by this handsome young man, “Let’s get this one, babe,” Remington glanced down at her with a small smile. Vera shifted, did he even know what he did to her?

"-- Sure,"

On the way to the till, Remington put the DVD he still had in his hand back on the shelf, saying playfully, “Another time, right, babe?”

It was funny, Ash had also been calling Vera ‘babe’ tonight, but the effect wasn’t nearly as severe as with Remington. He made her knees wobbly with just one word. “Of course,” she add, playing back.

Remington smirked, letting go of her hand to get his wallet from his pocket, “Oh no!” she grabbed his wrist, lowering her voice, “Don’t pay, you didn’t even need to come, never mind buy me a dildo,”

Remington faked a confused look, obvious to her but probably not to the shopkeeper, “What do you even mean, babe? Of course I’ll get it for you. For us,”

Vera let him pay, for the sake of the game he seemed to be enjoying very much. That they were both enjoying. Remington took her hand to lead her out of the shop, both of them saying goodbye to the clerk. He didn't let go of her, not even when they were back on the cold street. She felt herself shaking, not because of the cold, but because of how many thrills he was giving her.

He just bought her a fucking dildo.

The bag with the toy swung on the other side of him. He cleared his throat. “So… Vera?”

“Yeah, Remington?”

“About not being with the right guys…”

She laughed, “Yes…?”

“I was just uh…” he cleared his throat again, “I was thinking… I could you know… well, I’d try my hardest…”

“To?”

“…make you cum.”

He made her stop in her tracks for the second time that night, his nervous expression was cute, “You would?” her response and interest seemed to give him more confidence.

“Yes, I’d love to make you cum!” realizing how excited he sounded, he stammered, “I mean, that would be the main aim of the game for me. You wouldn’t even need to touch me… I just want you to know it’s not impossible…”

Realizing he was definitely making a proposition of sorts, Vera stepped right up close to him, “And what if I wanted to touch you as well?”

Her chest swelled with pride as she heard his breath hitch, “That would be good, too,”

She looked at him, their hands becoming even clammier against each other’s as she waited for what would come next. He finally spoke, “I think we should find somewhere to use this…”

"Well... I don't think we can go back to Caity's,"

"Absolutely not," he stepped closer, even more so than she thought possible, "I'm not letting you keep your noises to yourself, anyhow,"

Vera cocked a brow, "So... your place?"

His smirk was telling, he had a wicked idea, "Come with me,"

The car ride into the strip was a little awkward, both of them knowing what was to come. That was until Remington placed his hand on Vera's thigh, making her heart race faster than she thought possible; she feared he may hear her.

She was curious as he pulled up to Cesar's Palace, even in the dead of night so luxurious and bespoke with its perfectly trimmed gardens and marble fixtures. Nevertheless, Vera didn't question Remington as he handed his keys to the valet and led her inside, the unremarkable plastic bag still clenched tightly in her hand.

She stayed back a little as Remington approached the front desk; a younger, but still polished clerk was helping him. It was clear from how they interacted that they knew each other before, and Vera couldn't help but have a little pit of anxiety in her gut. She wondered if Remington did this type of stuff often, if she was just a stop in a line of many one night stands from before.

"I take it you do this often?" she remarked as he came back with a keycard.

Remington simpered, "Not what you're thinking, if that's what you mean," he said, "Ben and I go way back. He owes me one," he took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Why? You jealous?"

Vera rolled her eyes, prompting a chuckle from him, "After you,"

There was no denying that they were both walking a little faster than they usually would have, her fingers curling nervously in her pockets as they waited for the elevator.

It was when they were in the elevator that Remington became so impatient that he pushed Vera up against the wall to kiss her. Suddenly, she was grateful they were given a room on the top floor. He must have been thinking about what was to come for a while because he was already hard, his member pushing against against her as he kissed her feverishly.

Remington didn’t hear the ding that indicated the opening of the elevator but Vera certainly did because she suddenly pushed him by his chest, taking his wrist with her other hand, “Room?” she asked..

“1025,” he replied. He located the door easily, looking at her expectantly as scanned the card and let them inside. In an instant, she has tossed the bag to the floor of the beautiful hotel room, he closed the door, kicked off his shoes and was ripping his coat from his body. When he saw her standing in awe of the room, he chuckled darkly.

“Coat, babe,”

Vera quickly comply, taking off the now seemingly useless material from her already hot body and she took her shoes off, kicking them to the other ones piled by the door.

"Nice pick," she murmured, picking up the bag, though still in awe of the pale gold walls, the soft carpeting beneath their feet, and the luxuriously comfortable bed that awaited them in the middle of the room; all of which was illuminated in gentle lamp lighting.

Remington approached her with a smile, suddenly bending down to pick her up bridal style. Vera giggled as he carried her to the bed, tossing her down gently. His eyes raked up and down her body shamelessly, “You’re beautiful, V,”

He didn’t wait for her response, as if it was nothing but a casual observation before he was pulling his t-shirt over his head and crawling across the bed to kiss her again. His scent was compelling and addicting, and the slight trace of alcohol and perhaps even Ash made it all the more addictive. Her hands clutched at his shoulders and neck as his tongue works against hers in a passionate battle. He was between her open legs, his erection once more throbbing against her. His hands trailed up and down her sides until finding purchase on her hips, pulling her harder against him so that he could grind into her more effectively. She moaned his name, seemingly putting a sort of strange spell on him. He sat up, hurriedly reaching for the bag, retrieving the dildo and putting it down next to her quivering thighs.

He unbuttoned her pants and she lifted herself so that he could pull them off. They landed on the floor somewhere. His fingers traced up the inside of her thighs with an attentiveness totally unfamiliar to Vera. Playing with the hem of her panties, she found her breath getting stuck in her throat as she watched him take them off her with a concentration that only made his handsome features look even better. They land somewhere along with her pants, “Baby,” he drawled, getting down on his stomach, his face right near her dripping heat, “I’m going to get you ready, okay?”

“Okay," there was a whisper of apprehension in her gaze. He leaned down to kiss her hip softly, "If there's anything you don't like, just let me know,"

She nodded again, willing herself to relax into the comfortable bed spread. He used both of his hands to open her folds gently, then using two fingers two spread her arousal. He rubbed her softly, teasing the sensitive skin hidden within her, “Remi,” she gaped, biting her lip.

He smiled up at her, “See? It’s not actually that hard to please a woman, you’ve just been with dicks,”

“Clearly,”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” how he spoke to her made promise that this would not be last time they did this. That excited Vera beyond belief; imagining Remington tangled in her sheets, holding her, loving her sweetly...

He dipped his head, his tongue coming into contact with her clit, which had her yelping. He gently flicked at it, one finger sliding into her entrance, quickly finding and curling to her g-spot. She threaded her fingers through his hair, her moans letting him know how good he was making her feel. He added another finger, the sensation eliciting a louder moan from her lips. He kept this up for a few minutes, though it felt as though it was over before it was started. He sat up and picked up the dildo. Almost expertly, he used his fingers to scoop up some of her arousal and spread it over the toy.

“May I?” he asked and she nodded. He smiled, giving her a short but hot kiss before returning to his position between her legs. He aligned the tip, pushing in slowly and considerately, “Does it feel ok?”

Vera didn't let herself tense up, shivering as the cool material slid within her hot slick, the pressure surprisingly pleasant within in, “It feels good,” she confirmed, her eyes fluttering closed.

He pushed it deeper, but still not all the way in before pulling it nearly all the way out, starting again with pushing it in, this time slightly quicker. He gradually built up a good pace, pushing it up so that he rubbed against her hot spot.

“Your moans are so pretty. So sweet,” he commented, his gaze fixated on her reactions.

The feeling of the dildo was so good, it was almost overwhelming; especially because of how much attention and care he was putting in to make her feel good. Remington's position allowed him to grind against the mattress, at least providing some friction, because fuck -- he was so turned on.

“You can take your time, baby,” his voice was thick and soothing, “As long as you need, I’m here. I want to make you cum,”

Vera could do nothing but moan in response. In fact, she didn't think she'd need much more time; Remington was unraveling her in a way she'd never felt before. Especially when he started rubbing her clit gently. 

He looked up, a blinding grin plastered to his face, confusing her slightly, “V?”

“Yes?”

“I just found a button,”

“A button?”

“Can I press it?”

She would've laugh at his cuteness if she wasn't hanging on edge. “Yes, do whatever you want,”

He pressed the button keenly, the dildo all of a sudden coming to life, vibrating within her walls, “Fuck, Remington!”

“Nice!” he exclaimed, “Does that feel good?”

“So good!” she stuttered “I’m close, Remi, I don’t -- fuck! It feels so good -- I’m gonna' cum…”

“Cum for me, baby,” he cooed, “Fuck -- cum for me,”

It took only a few more gentle twists of the vibrating dildo to have Vera yelling out Remington's name, her body going rigid as a white hot pleasure tore through her, tingling from the top of her head to the ends of her toes. He coaxed her through it, only turning it off as she came down, knowing it would hurt if he left it, and pulled it out slowly. It took her a good few minutes to settle her breathing just to be able to say anything, “Well, damn.”

Remington swiped the sticky hair from her forehead tenderly and kissed her, her lips weakly kissing him back, “Well, damn indeed. You look so pretty when you cum,”

She laughed sheepishly, faltering on sleep when she remembered, was excited by his erection, “Can I touch you?” her voice was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard in that moment, batting her lashes softly at him.

"Absolutely, babe," his fingers ran a stripe through her wet folds and she bit her lip, a moan still managing to escape, "You already want another one?" his fingers pushed at her entrance but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. He looked up at her, eyebrows cocked, and she sat up to push him back so that she could straddle him.

“I wanna' take my time,”

He smirked and groped at her butt as she kissed him, desirable, delirious, trailing down his neck, kissing over his torso. His erection felt big even through his dark jeans and its presence beneath her pussy had her dripping. She rolled her hips and his grip tightened on the flesh of her hips. Vera moved off of him, “Take your jeans off, please,” she instructed.

“Yes ma'am,” he compiled with no hesitation. The new pet name does a trick on her heartbeat and she lean over to kiss his shoulder. She heard Remington laugh a raspy laugh, “You really do like me, huh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled into his flesh as she carried on kissing up his shoulder and to his neck. Her lips finally met his and he accepted them hungrily. He pulled her leg back over him and she felt his thighs tense as she bit down on his bottom lip. She didn't think she could wait much longer…

His hand reached behind her to pull her shirt over her head and remove her bra. He took her by her lower back so that her chest was flush against his. Her nipples perked against his chest and he moved back so that he could rest against the headboard.

“I want you so bad, baby,” he said softly, mimicking her same desperation. Vera lifted herself enough to pull his member from his briefs, squeezing his head gently. She slid her fist down to his base, sliding up again and again.

"Is this good?" she asked, fascinated as his composure broke; his eyes fluttered shut and his jaw went slack

“Fuck -- you don’t realize what you do to me, V,” he begged.

She lifted herself over his tip. They were barely touching, so close, tantalizing, and she gazed at his flush expression. She could get used to this.

She sunk down around him and he held her hips tightly. She moved slowly, a whimper leaving her mouth at each new inch she took in. He nuzzled into her neck and she could feel his heavy breath, “So tight…” he choked as she reached the base of his shaft.

Vera waited a few seconds before moving, forward and up, forward and up. Her pace picked up steadily, as did the desire between them. She switched between fast and slow as her hips moved in circles. His hands controlled her speed to keep the pace as pleasurable as possible for them. He began to lift her up and down and he thrusted up to meet her.

The pleasure was so overwhelming that she practically went limp, and she relied on him to move her up and down and to push up and into her., hitting her g-spot perfectly.

She was convinced there’d be bruises on her hips for a few weeks, and the thought of such made her smile. She placed a tender kiss on his lips, using his shoulders as leverage to move her hips up again.

“Remi --” she cried, her head falling back. It just felt so goddamn good.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he growled, “God, I love it when you say my name,”

She felt her juices drip onto her thighs and she was sure they must be dripping onto him, too.

“So wet,”

He flipped them over and quickly pushed back inside of her, thrusting even harder.

“I won’t last much longer,” he admits, his voice raspy, heavy.

"Me neither," she gasped as his hand came down on her clit, fingering her in tight, fast circles. The stimulation was too much, everything around her screamed Remington, how he made her feel so good, so safe, so grateful she had lost her job that particular day.

Remington had never been so enamoured with anybody the way he had been with Vera. He wanted to keep her all to himself, protect her from the way of life she knew before, give her comfort and pleasure and so much joy. He adored her, he knew in that instant as he came inside of her, writhing against her hot body, that he couldn't have her just once. He wanted her beyond her body, she was everything to him.

His guttural moaning in her ear was sinful, driving Vera's lust further as her second orgasm took her violently. Remington continued to rub her clit, stars bursting behind her eyes, wave after wave of burning ecstasy flooded through her gut and she had to push him away as the stimulation became too much.

He collapsed on top of her, sweaty, panting, so heavy but not smothering her so much as he was cuddling into her. His fingers wound into her long dark hair, pillowy lips continued to leave soft kisses across her neck and chest.

"fuck,"

"shit,"

They laughed together, naked, sweaty, the only thing they had on were their socks... and Vera's shell necklace. She had never taken it off from the moment he'd given it to her. Remington shifted onto his side, holding her close to his chest. Vera felt strange, almost warm and fuzzy inside, something she hadn't felt in a very long time with any man. Her fingers traced the sharp cut of his jaw, sleepy eyes adoring him.

"Was that good?" he asked her quietly, not wanting to break the mood.

"Sooo good," she nodded happily, turning on her back, stretching out, "If I had known you could do that --"

"What?" he laughed, crawling over her top half, "You would've jumped me a while ago?"

"I should've known," she simpered, her sentiment echoing from hours earlier, "Bank robber, good with his hands and all,"

"Well, Emerson is a better safe cracker," he admitted, "My hands are good at other things,"

"Clearly," she blushed, her shifting thigh knocking into the dildo, "Everyone's gonna' freak if they find out,"

"I don't know if 'freak' is the right word," he admitted, "... But... I did text Sebastian that we might not be coming back,"

Vera should've been mad, in any other ordinance she should've been. Though oddly enough, she found herself smug. Not Emerson, nor Ash, nor anybody could take this away from her; nobody had ever loved on her the way Remington had.

"Good," she murmured.

Remington sat up; she expected him to get up and get dressed, but instead he turned off the lamp and pulled the duvet up, covering them both up snugly.

"We don't have to leave?" she asked curiously.

He held her flush against him, "Nope. Room is ours until check out," his fingers stroked through her hair, "Are you okay with that?"

It felt like a trick question, but Vera was more than happy to oblige as she snuggled into his chest, laying a soft kiss over his coat of arms tattoo on his pectoral.

"Absolutely,"

[howtocuddlecrows]

I think that I got into fantasy just at the right time. I think I was in 5th or 6th grade when I first got into it. It was basically after I saw a news segment on 퇴마록 and I wanted to read it but it was already like 12 or some books in and it was supposed to be for adults only so I couldn’t access it.

But then all the comic book rent places began to carry fantasy books too. And my first book was 가즈나이트

This was the beginning of I believe the 2nd generation of Korean fantasy. I mean technically it’s still considered 1st gen but it did start publishing after 퇴마록 and others got popular which were mostly written by older (40-50s) fiction writers who read like Ursula le Guin and Robert Jordan. This one particularly was written by a teenager when the first one was published, showing that younger audience and writers were craving for fictions beyond whatever we had to read in school. I mean most of fiction you could buy at a bookstore at the time was mostly translated literature like Wrath of Grape, Les Miserable or shit like that. So no wonder kids were into extravagant Dungeons & Dragons/Lord of the Rings world full of magic, swordfight, and dragons. Also I was getting tired of reading Dragon Ball and other shonen comics if I wanted something fantastical.

But yeah 가즈나이트 wasn’t the first D&D like fantasy setting book, aforementioned 퇴마록 being more of contemporary urban fantasy as in Neverwhere not “urban” like Black fiction but it was the first one I picked. I think the first really popular dragon and magic fantasy book was called 카르세아린 which was also written by a younger author about a young dragon named Kars-aerin disguising himself as a human and getting entangled in human political conflicts. There was 3rd gen fantasy book called 아린 이야기, which was basically fanfic/plagiarism of 카르세아린. I happened to read 아린 이야기 before reading 카르세아린 which was interesting (the original is way better btw).

Anyway back to 가즈나이트. It was basically a story about wandering swordman named 리오 스나이퍼 (Leo Sniper) who is unassuming but actually an expert fighter who saves people. Very much Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin. And I think at the end of first or second book it turns out he’s actually a swordman chosen by a god, called God’s Knight hence the title 가즈나이트, who defends humanity with his supernatural power granted by his god. And the story evolves much like Dragon Ball in a sense that 리오 goes around bumping into conflicts and he tries his best to help people. There is always a boss monster like villain he has to defeat to solve the conflict and the stakes get higher every time and his enemies get stronger too. So naturally he needs to continue to come up with new hidden talent to fight back stronger enemy, like Dragon Ball. A few books in, I think the author realized that he had to add more characters, like Dragon Ball Z, if 리오 were to defeat some of these villains as well as the author got better at writing in general so he actually started to do some world building. This is when he retconed this shit and started to add more gods’ knights. Like surprise there are more of them. And I think this was what kept me continuing to read the series. He first introduced 지크 스나이퍼 (Zeek Sniper) who is 리오’s real life brother. And this is also when he started doing Power Rangers color coding tham. I mean 리오’s thing was that he had long red hair (Kenshin much lol) and wore blue cape and used a long sword oh and his power was neutral (we were really into 무. It means nothingness or like a void. It could be anything or everything. if light is alpha 무 is omega cuz dark is sure as hell not omega). 지크 had short blonde hair, used a short knife he was the comic relief and rock n roll guy and his power was wind. Then there was 바이론 필브라이드 (Byron Philbride or Pfilbreit. Im sorry but we didnt understand that English sounding names all came from different countries actually). He was the big scary guy who was always angry and a god damned beast. Like being always shirtless kinda stuff but also you know a daddy. He had sickly white hair and purple skin (it got explained later) and used a falchion and his power was dark. Then there was 휀 라디언트 (Fhwen or Fin or Phen Radiant) who was also a daddy but he was the daddy. Total Tsundere man like the butler from Black Butler. I actually don’t remember what he looked like but I’m sure you can tell from the name his power was light/radiant. He showed up later in the series as the leader of the gods’ knights and sort of like the adjudicator of what the knights’ duties were and being just below the gods when it comes hierarchy of gods and gods knights. Then there were these two gays guys who always showed up together named 사바신 커텔 (Thabasin or Sabasin K’tell) and 레디 키드 (Ready Kid, i forgot this was his name…my smol bean gay boy got the shit end of the stick) who had power of earth and water respectively. 사바신 was the bear himbo of the group more himbo than 지크, much like Kronk from Emperor’s New Groove, and 레디 was the twink cute guy of the group. I was honestly super into 레디 cuz he only showed up like a few times and we don’t know much about him but he just seemed like a cool guy. All I remember is that he was drawn with short green hair and he was depicted as femboy just fun carefree guy who liked art or some shit.

(This post was not made to reveal how much I’m into twinks and femboys nor that it was so obvious I was not straight)

Then I think there’s one more guy but I honestly have no memory whatsoever of this dude so uhh whelp.

But yeah it was really fun increasing stakes power upping protagonist shonen fantasy and I really liked it when I read it. There was not that big of a fandom culture around it tho because i think it was obvious even then that it was written by a child. Like there was this another 2nd gen fantasy fiction, actually a supernatural urban fantasy fiction (vampires and werewolves) called 월야환담 채월야 and that one had dedicated fandom base like to the point when I went a comic con there were artists selling fanfics and fanarts of it which I bought a few of. I still own a fanart of one of the characters. I think it’s the werebear guy. … I just realized that I of course bought a fanart of literal “bear.” I mean his human form was just tall lanky long haired hot guy so whatever. It kinda started out as Hellsing but was more like Blade.

Anyway yeah I just like reminiscing about some of the 2nd and 3rd gen books and how much they formed my view of fantasy fiction. And also after 3rd gen there was a huge gap in fantasy/science/military/alt-history fiction genre because high speed internet became a thing and nobody went to forums anymore. So many of the fantasy fictions in Korea were written and published for free on forums going even back before world wide web days then The Internet became a thing and webtoons and social media (cyworld and stuff) took over much of people’s attentions. Then Boys over Flowers hit the jackpot and catapulted young adult books written and read by girls became the main alternate literature industry. Nobody wanted to publish fantasy books written by boys or even high fantasy by veteran authors (i mean this was objectively a good thing because we wouldn’t have had webtoons industry if we were being dragged by more fantasy shonen bs). this was also the timeline when kdramas really started to find audience not just in Korea but also in Japan. So emotional love stories was the zeitgeist and that was right around the time I moved to the US and I was able to jump right into a lot of existing English fantasy fictions like Robin Hobb, Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett, Forgotten Realms, A Song of Ice and Fire, and such. Like I didn’t have to thirst for fantasy fictions and I was able to just continue reading fantasy fictions

[tanet4ne]

urban knt ted!

ive just been dragged back into this hyperfix out of nowhere

[oskidoodle]

KnT Archive

Now, I don't know how many others have done this yet but I have archived the main series on google drive and multiples of the spin-off, Urban, OT, 3SD, C&T and a folder with some of the extra doodles and asks they made.

While these are all mostly in full, I am missing a few pages here or there or lack a sufficient quality of these particular pages. With that being said, 95% of what I know to exist is here.

Drive can be kinda buggy so if any issues occur, you have missing pages, better quality, or general information to help fill in still missing information, please let me know.

Oh!

One more thing. If Z ever wishes for me to take this down, I will do so without hesitation. These are their comics after all.