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munson-blurbs · 4 months

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Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head. (3.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ A/N: Thank you to my numerous beta readers, including but not limited to @the-unforgivenn, @lofaewrites, @lokis-army-77, and @corroded-hellfire, and to @hellfire--cult for the divider. I am forever indebted to y'all.

chapter one: room for one more

It was always the quiet nights, wasn't it? The ones where the only sounds came from cars barreling down Queens Boulevard and splashing through puddles left by an earlier rainstorm, or from the clock ticking on the wall.

The ones where your mind wandered until you’d thought yourself in circles, overanalyzing every last decision you had ever made.

The ones where you allowed your guard just down enough that the slightest oddity threw you off-balance—something or someone out of place.

It was during the quiet nights like that night where you should have expected the unexpected, because New York City never stayed still for long.

The evening’s sluggishness was normal; tourism always slowed in the springtime. The newest shows on Broadway were already months old, not to mention the warmer weather brought both an uptick in crime and pollen count. If out-of-towners were going to schlep to the East Coast, they’d prefer to see the cherry blossoms hours south in Washington, DC than to get mugged on the 1 train.

Business picked up in the winter months when people flocked from around the world to witness the Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, or Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, even though they were several bus and subway transfers away. Outsiders to the tri-state area struggled to differentiate between boroughs; it was unfortunate for them, but you counted on it to keep business alive.

The only guests who consistently frequented your family’s motel were junkies looking for a place to shoot up away from the NYPD’s watchful gaze or affair-havers who were considerate enough not to sully their marriage beds—just their vows. You were in no position to judge; their money was what kept the lights on, but it was impossible not to compare your clientele to the suits who stayed at the Marriott down the street. They wouldn‘t even allow homeless folks to sit within twenty-five feet of the building, let alone stay under their roof.

You leaned on the desk, wood grain pinching your elbows. You tapped your pencil against your textbook as you read, its margins cluttered with notes about different types of parent-child attachment styles.

Sleep prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words on the page in front of you. Focus.

Secure attachment occurs when—no, you’d already read this line. Twice.

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, gently slapping your cheeks in a futile attempt to stay awake. Taking a full course load instead of your usual part-time was your academic advisor’s ill-conceived idea, bolstered by the prospect of an earlier graduation. In your haste, you’d neglected to consider two important factors: all of your studying now had to be done during your night shifts, and graduating meant telling your parents a truth they were unready to hear.

They were so proud of the motel, regardless of its reputation. It might as well have been The Plaza from the way your dad boasted about it. The three of you shared an unspoken understanding that you worked the front desk because paying an actual employee would put them under. Maybe if finances weren’t so tight, you could have freely admitted that your future plans didn’t involve taking over the business.

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your head rested on your book, a small puddle of drool pooling atop Bowlby’s theories.

Ping ping ping ping!

Time slowly stretched out before you, your conscious brain clawing its way out of its hazy fog. It took a beat for you to recognize that the incessant noise came from someone repeatedly smacking the tiny bell that sat on the desk.

“Hey, hello?” an impatient voice called out, jolting you from your impromptu nap. You blinked away the residual sleepiness and took in the sight in front of you: a curly-haired man, likely not much older than you were, a cigarette that had been nearly smoked down to the filter tucked between his lips. He had a patched guitar case strapped to his back and clutched a black garbage bag filled with what you hoped was clothing.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, wiping the moisture from your chin. “Need a room?”

“Mhm.” You could practically hear his eye roll: no, I just stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick chat. Fancy a cup of tea and a scone?

He plopped the garbage bag on the ground; its soft landing and the way it wrinkled told you that whatever was inside was, thankfully, not a body.

You nodded and turned around to the wall of keys behind you. There was no shortage of rooms; the only occupied one was being rented by Phyllis, a sixty-year-old self-described ‘entertainer of gentleman’ who paid double her bill in exchange for your silence.

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the countertop, grinding it into the base for good measure. “How much per night?” he asked, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a wallet held together with duct tape.

“Fifteen.”

The man breathed out, his bangs fanning over his forehead. “Jesus.” He fished two twenties and a five from the billfold and placed them in front of you. “This should cover me until Friday, yeah?”

Nodding, you folded the bills and tucked them into the register kept under the desk, only accessible by key because of a series of break-ins during the late ‘70s.

The man lit another cigarette as you pulled out the ledger and a pen. “Name and date here,” you said, pointing to the ‘check in’ column. He took a drag before scrawling his name on the line: Eddie Munson, 5-4-93.

“All right, you’ll be in…” you scanned the assortment of keys dangling from their hooks. The walls were thin, and this guy seemed decent enough, so you decided to spare him the theatrical sound effects of Phyllis’s room 10 endeavors. “…room 4. Make a right down the hallway, and it’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it if you try.”

Your attempt at humor fell flat, both of you too exhausted to laugh. You strode past it, clearing your throat as if dispelling the tension. When you placed the key in his calloused palm, you couldn’t help but notice that the base of each fingertip is a half-shade paler than the rest of his skin.

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled. He tapped the cigarette above the ashtray, the gray flakes falling into a neat pile. His right bicep flexed underneath his denim jacket as he heaved the garbage bag over his shoulder, careful not to bang it against the guitar.

He scuttled out of the tiny room masquerading as a lobby, shoulders hunched from the weight of the bag and of the burdens he inevitably carried. No one shows up to a motel in the middle of the night without a story or two.

After years of greeting guests at the front desk, you liked to think you had a decent read on them. Eddie was quiet, maybe even introspective, but not necessarily shy. He was tired; no, more than that: he was worn down, like so many other people who had come through these doors.

Most importantly, Eddie didn’t seem like he'd be much trouble. He didn’t stumble in wasted and reeking of booze or fidgeting as he awaited a fix. He wasn’t shouting or poorly concealing a wandering eye or making lewd comments. He’d made pretty much no impression at all besides being a bit gruff, which was just fine with you. Your personality wasn't composed of rainbows and sunshine at this hour either.

You looked at the clock and sighed when it only read 2:17. It’s already tomorrow, you thought grimly. Just under four hours until you could walk ten feet to your room, curl up in your bed, and sleep until it was time for your afternoon class. After years of balancing school and work, you were in the last two weeks of your final semester, and then…what? You casually inform your parents that you were leaving the family business–essentially forcing them to close it–to pursue a career in social work?

That was sure to go over well.

To their knowledge, you were studying hotel management and hospitality in order to “improve the business.” That was why they’d relented when you’d asked to start taking classes, switching you over to the night shift to avoid having to hire a new employee.

What they didn’t know is that your school didn’t even offer that as a major. Nor were they aware of the acceptance letter into NYU’s Masters of Social Work program that was stashed inside your dresser drawer, hidden from sight. That was a conversation for another day when you found the strength to face their disappointment.

Chaos waited to strike until the end of your shift.

Just as you packed your book back into your bag, a familiar, skunky odor wafted past your nostrils.

Ignore it, you thought. Let it be Dad’s problem when he takes over in five minutes. But if you could smell it, so could any of the cops patrolling the boulevard. One more citation and the motel was in jeopardy of being permanently shut down, and you couldn’t take that risk.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked open the desk drawer and reached in for a pen, instead pulling out an unopened box of crayons. A twenty-four pack of Crayola—the good kind. You plucked a waxy cornflower blue from its spot and scribbled Be back soon on a Post-It note, sticking it on the front of the desk. Grabbing the pepper spray canister from its spot next to the register, just in case, you started down the hall. Marijuana wasn’t Phyllis’s drug of choice, though it might have been one of her various gentleman suitors’, but the scent was too strong to be coming all the way from room 10.

Maybe this Eddie Munson was trouble, afterall.

You knocked on his door, firmly but without aggression. It certainly wasn’t the first time you interrupted someone’s buzz, and it wouldn’t be the last. You knew better than to go in guns a-blazing; it’s easier to catch flies with sugar than vinegar.

Eddie opened it after a moment, cracking it halfway and revealing a lit joint pinched between his plush lips. One forearm was perched on the doorframe, showing off faded ink of a litter of flying bats and a dragon-esque creature. He was clad in only navy blue boxer briefs, but his lack of attire was no surprise. Many guests were shameless, not bothering to cover the holes in their Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities and showcasing faded yellow stains on the crotch. What confused you was the elastic waistband proudly proclaiming ‘Calvin Klein’ that cut off the soft hair trailing from his belly button. It seemed absurd that he would have been lugging around any designer clothes in that trash bag, but there was no other possibility.

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his curly bangs out of his face. Half-lidded brown eyes scanned your form, trying to determine whether you were a narc or trying to bum some bud off of him. His window was cracked open enough to let in fresh air, which also meant that the acrid smell could easily be let out.

“You can’t smoke that here,” you reported matter-of-factly, just as you had a million times before. When he cocked a challenging brow, you continued. “Cigarettes are fine, but no weed. The police will come after us and you.”

He looked around the room, unbothered, and absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest. A demon’s head was sketched just above a sparse patch of hair. Under different circumstances, or maybe in another life altogether, you would’ve asked him about his tattoos; if they had some philosophical meaning or were the products of spur-of-the-moment decisions. You could have blathered on about the ideas you had for your own future tattoos, if you ever worked up the nerve to actually get one.

“You mean to tell me that with all of the skeevy shit that goes on around here, the cops are gonna waste their time on a little pot?” He scoffed and took another defiant pull, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling away from you.

I guess chivalry isn’t dead, you mused, stifling an eye roll. “No, but they’re always looking for an excuse to ‘investigate,’’' you threw air-quotes around the last word, “so they can bust us for more serious things, and that is the perfect one.” You gestured to the joint only to be met with an eye roll. “Look, you can either put it out, smoke it somewhere else, or you can leave. Full refund, but you can’t stay here.”

His stare locked onto your steely eyes and clenched jaw, only breaking when you’d straightened your posture to stand your ground. “Whatever,” he huffed, but he snuffed it out. A glimmer of a smile danced on his lips, disappearing nearly as quickly as it arrived. Despite its fleeting nature, it managed to thaw you enough so that your arms weren’t held quite so tight to your body, your expression less rigid. “Just trying to relax and get some sleep, like you were while you were supposed to be ‘working.’” It’s his turn to supply the air-quotes, both in mockery and as a gotcha. A teasing lilt elevated his voice, smoothing out the edge he’d greeted you with earlier.

“I wasn’t sleeping, just…resting my eyes,” you volleyed back, your smirk betraying any semblance of the tough façade you’d worn.

Eddie crossed his arms and walked over to the garbage bag of clothes. He rummaged through it for a moment before procuring a pair of gray sweatpants, stepping into them hurriedly as though he just remembered his minimal attire.

“Maybe if you chose more interesting reading material, you wouldn’t be sl—resting your eyes on the job,” he amended, gesturing to the textbook in your canvas tote bag. “Ever heard of Stephen King?”

“I live in a motel, not under a rock.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You live here?”

Shit. That wasn’t information you regularly divulged. Sure, this guy seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Prime example: wearing designer underwear while using a trash bag in lieu of a suitcase.

It was too late to double back, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. The sole of your sneaker dug into the old carpet.

Eddie looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted and eyes wide like there was a follow-up question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he could ask it, your gaze landed on the clock radio: six AM on the dot.

“I need to go,” you said hurriedly. Shame at your sudden shyness burned a hole in your belly. Eddie Munson was a guest; for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. “Good luck falling asleep,” you added with a weak smile.

The easy banter that had been building between you dissipated in an instant, taking his good mood with it. His goodbye was a sardonic salute, the mattress springs creaking wearily as soon as you closed the door behind you.

Sure enough, your dad was in the tiny lobby, assessing some peeling wallpaper. “Gotta fix that,” he mumbled to himself, thumbnail picking at it aimlessly. He turned around when he heard the door open and smiled when he saw you.

“Sorry, I was helping out a guest,” you rushed to explain, hoping he wasn't too anxious to find the desk left unattended.

The wrinkles in your dad’s forehead became more pronounced. “Is everything alright?” The phrase ‘helping out a guest’ could range from unclogging a toilet to calling the police for a domestic dispute.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, flashing an exaggerated thumbs-up. “No law enforcement necessary. Didn’t even need to use the pepper spray.” You waved the canister in your palm before placing it back.

He beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your scalp. “It’s times like this where I just know I’ll be leaving this place in good hands.”

You swallowed the bile that crept up your throat and feigned a smile when he pulled you in for a tight hug. The mingled scents of Irish Spring soap and drugstore aftershave tickled your nose, and tears stung along your lash line.

If only you knew, you thought, giving him one last squeeze before you headed to your room. Disappointed wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

Your parents would never say the word aloud; they’d look at each other and heave identical weighted sighs. Their lifelong goal of a long-standing family business would vanish in the blink of an eye. Dad would pretend there was a chance that they could afford a new hire, even going so far as to fumble through the years of financial statements before inevitably throwing in the towel; Mom would force a pained smile and hoarsely encourage you to follow your dreams, even at the expense of theirs.

You shook the thought away as you trudged towards your room, sneakered feet like sandbags below you. Dwelling on this scenario had you teetering on the brink of insanity, so you’d willed yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Like the motel’s newest guest and his smile. The way it softened the hard lines on his face, offering you a glimpse of how he wore happiness. Something about it made you want to see him happy again.

You can’t even figure out how to make yourself happy, you thought, peeling back the starchy sheets and finally crawling into bed, much less a stranger. For all you knew, he was just relaxed because his high was starting to kick in, and not from some warming presence you’d supplied.

The sun cracked pink through the sky, visible through the paper-thin curtains hanging on the window. You had become accustomed to this backwards routine, able to fall asleep while daylight broke. It took a few extra moments this time; you were anticipating marijuana-tinged fumes to float through the vents when Eddie ignored your instructions.

It was that flicker of a smile that had you almost certain he would spark up once you’d left. The smile of someone who so naturally flouted authority that he no longer bragged about it. Yet time ticked by without a hint of evidence that he was smoking again.

Which begged the question: if the smile didn’t signify defiance, what did it mean?

Eddie Munson is definitely trouble, you surmised just before you drifted off, but nothing you can’t handle.

taglist:

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polarisjisung · 4 months

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HOW DREAMIES ASK YOU TO BE THEIR VALENTINE

pairings: nct dream x fem! reader

genre: fluff (established relationship in all except haechan's)

wc: 4k (it was meant to be shorter...)

warnings: one swear word (literally one I promise), mentions of shitty work environments but nothing in detail, not proof read, reader is implied to be shorter than jisung, use of pet names

notes: HAPPY V DAY 🥰🥰

MARK - candle light dinner at home

Mark's job is his passion and his best form of expression has always been through music— most special occasions, like the day he'd asked you to become official or your birthday, Mark would write and compose a song especially for you— this time Mark wants to switch it up. He felt like it was almost too predictable for him to plug a pair of headphones in your ears and serenade you, he didn't want that. Mark believes in making each and every moment together special, and asking you to be his valentine deserved a little extra attention.

It's a known fact that Mark isn't to be trusted in the kitchen, it just isn't his forte, which is why you're usually the one cooking and he'd do the dishes.

Tonight he decides you deserve something special, it's a couple weeks before the 14th, and since the new years he's been taking some extra special training from jaemin on cooking up some of your favourite dishes. At first things started out palatable at best, but now, even jaemin could argue that they were delicious— that was the thing about Mark, nothing could beat his dedication and man was he dedicated to expressing his love for you.

You finish work late tonight and you're already planning on what take out to order once you get home, like you usually would, admittedly you don't actually like take out all that much, which is why Mark is all the more eager to see your reaction to his efforts.

The second he receives the text that you're on the way home, Mark is running across the kitchen and setting up the table, a romantic setting with a home cooked candle light dinner, something you were sure to like. Hes grinning from ear to ear as you step through the door, enveloping you in a bone crushing hug the second he lays his eyes on you.

"there's my pretty girl"

"here I am" you smile, kissing his cheek, mark can't shake the feeling that you seem a little down.

You seem tired, Mark assumes it was a hard day at work, and suddenly he feels the need to make sure everything is extra perfect.

There's some rose petals scattered along your dining table, pretty pink cocktails with a little edible glitter sprinkled along the top laid on each end of the table next to a beautifully plated serving of your favourite foods. Of course there's a small hand written note placed by your plate, a love letter with Mark's best fancy hand writing, lettering the words will you be my valentine across the envelope.

Mark waits for you patiently by the stairs, you were usually pretty fast at getting unready but Mark felt as though he was waiting for hours— though he didn't mind all that much waiting for you.

"It smells really good babe, I'm starved" you say when you see him leant against the bannister of your stairs

"let's not keep you waiting then hmm?" he smiles wide as ever, grabbing your hand and escorting you the table, it's not unusual for Mark to pull out your chair as you sit down, but you can't help but gawk at the spread in front of you, tears welling in your eyes

"you made all of this mark?"

he nods, proud of himself, though he's a little hesitant seeing the watering of your eyes

"you don't like it?" he wishes he didn't ask the question, watching you burst into tears at the confirmation

"I love it of course i do," you wipe the tears, feeling mark let his arms hang around your waist from behind you, "I just, today was hard and this, means so much to me"

Mark smiles, he realises you haven't noticed the pink and red envelope by your side, and he knows that you're feeling guilty about the tears— as much as he believes in talking through your emotions, Mark realises that's just not what you want right now and so he quietly presses a kiss to your cheek, wiping his thumb past where the tears had rolled down, and places the envelope between your fingers.

Had you not stopped yourself, you think you'd cry again.

"I love you" you whisper, voice cracking as you do, "of course I'll be your valentine" and that night, you swear you fell in love with Mark lee all over again.

RENJUN - going above and beyond

Renjun regularly buys you flowers, and each time there's an absolutely unbeatable look on your face, whether it's an intricate bouquet or a simpler bunch of tulips, he swears the smile on your face gives him reason to live, every single time. You're his muse, his biggest inspiration and to him a DIY valentines proposal only seemed right.

Thanks to your chronically online tendencies, you'd been fawning over those glitter rose bouquets to him all week, unintentionally for the most part, but considering the bouquet he'd last given you was slowly withering away in the vase you kept them in, renjun found himself scrolling through multiple tutorials, and ultimately, covered in glitter from head to toe the following week.

For anything concerning you, renjun likes to go above and beyond, he was a simple man for the most part but for you, simplicity just wasn't a feasible option in his mind.

He spends the whole month planning the perfect valentines proposal, and just to make sure that the seed of insecurity can't sprout itself in your mind, Renjun makes sure to ask you to be his valentine a month in advance.

It's a weekly date night like usual except its all the more extravagant. Renjun had made a reservation at a fancy riverside restaurant and chosen out the most perfect outfits for the both of you, it was no doubt he had a good eye, undeniably you also happen to look drop dead gorgeous in the simplest of clothes.

He knows he can't push you against the wall and smash his lips against yours, given the oppurtunity he absolutely would but considering the setting, he opts for expressing his thoughts to you instead

"you look perfect" there's a soft blush that creeps up on your face as the waitress guides the two of you to your table— you don't fail to take notice of how empty the restaurant seems

"renjun? you booked out the whole restaurant?" he nods, a sheepish smile lining his lips, he knew you didn't always like that he spent so much on you, but to renjun it was worth it, and this time you don't dispute it with anything more than an eye roll. He made you feel nothing short of a princess.

Renjun pops the question with full confidence, his hands tugging tugging at your fingers from across the table— the bouquet he'd made for you sitting across from you in a vase that looked oh so similar to your favourite, now shattered one

"Be my valentine?"

You'd been dating for years, of course you'd say yes, but it made your heart flutter every time, knowing he had made the effort to ask

"forever and always jun, you're stuck with me"

He'd have it no other way.

JENO - sweet and simple

Jeno loves you more than words can describe and really he doesn't think he can put it into words even if he tried. He already does so much for you on a day to day that even he struggled to find ways to go above and beyond when it comes to birthdays or valentines. He asks you about 3 weeks in advance, not too early but not too late, the perfect timing. It's a simple moment but it's special, jeno makes it special.

You'd been living together for a while, and jeno figured the perfect way to surprise you would be after a night out with your girls, since you refused to be home any later than midnight, saying you needed your beauty sleep. He wishes he'd gotten a balloon pump given the amount of pink red and white heart shaped latex balloons he'd blown up in the past two hours, but he knows your reaction will be worth it.

You knock against the front door, slightly tipsy, but nothing too major, eyes scanning over jeno who for some reason still seems to be in his dress shirt and trousers from work. He couldn't tell you he got to work straight away after getting home, wanting everything to be perfect meant he had no time to waste.

"there's my handsome boyfriend" you swing your arms over his neck and jeno let's a nervous chuckle escape, you barely notice the tension in his laugh as he helps you inside.

"did you have fun doll?" you nod against his chest, and jeno's eyes crinkle into a small smile

he's already taking your shoes off, knowing that kicking your heels off after getting home was an absolute must for you, you don't pay any mind to his actions, he always did this. Instead you're pressing a quick kiss to his cheek

"thank you" you'd say, or at least try to before jeno has you in his arms carrying you up the stairs to your bedroom, bridal style— now this, this was certainly new

"jeno put me down" your giggles resound through the house but jeno doesn't let up, smiling down at you in his arms

"I've got legs nono and they work just fine" he shrugs at your words

"yeah and your boyfriend has arms that work just fine too, don't have these arms for anyone but you doll"

safe to say you're a blushing mess until jeno finally places you down outside your shared bedroom door, letting you open the door yourself

A gasp escapes your lips at the sight of the large bouquet of flowers sitting on the bedside table, one practically the size of your head, maybe even bigger, filled with red roses, and a card alongside. There's a million balloons bumping against your feet and a small banner with jeno's handwriting reading "will you my valentine?" resting on your queen sized bed— jeno notices how your smile reaches your eyes

"so doll, be my valentine?"

"only since you asked so nicely" you say, and jenos lifting you up again, pressing a kiss to your lips

"think you just made me the happiest man alive"

HAECHAN - a heartfelt confession

You'd always been his sunflower, when things were tough you were there to help him through it all, his beacon of happiness and all things good in life. But haechan had never quite explicitly let you in on those feelings of his, you were supposed to be just best friends, recently that didn't seem enough for haechan.

He'd always had confidence, and despite the little slither of insecurity that lingers in the pit of his stomach at the possibility of rejection, he makes every effort to make the moment perfect, for you.

It was often your hangouts would take on a more date like form, this time however haechan had made the conscious effort of making this as close to a date as possible. He'd practically begged you to wear that beautiful baby blue sundress he bought for you for your birthday, and claimed the rest of it would be a surprise— placing a blindfold over your eyes.

It's only 5am, far too early in your opinion, to even be awake on a Saturday, something you groaned about just a little as you were warily following the pull of haechans hand.

"Hyuck are you kidnapping me?" you asked, only hearing haechan's laughter echo in your ear a little while after, you take it as a no and continue walking, the texture of the ground beneath you becoming softer and almost slightly wet, you can't help but let your curiosity grow.

"I could be in bed right now hyuck, pretty please can you tell me what we're doing?"

had it not been for the blindfold, you'd see the way his eyes roll and his nervous smile grew into an amused one

"you could be in bed any day sunshine, trust me this is a once in a life time thing" he hoped, in reality haechan had been convincing himself that rejection just wasn't an option, there was no way you didn't feel whatever spark this was between the two of you the same way he did.

Your scream cuts his thoughts out, and yet again, he smiles at the sight of you, hair flowing slightly in the breeze, your lip stuck between your teeth

"hyuck there's something on my leg— are you sure you're not kidnapping me? It's okay if you are just let me know so I can put up a fi—"

you don't expect to find yourself in a sunflower field, when haechan finally removes your blindfold.

There was no way the lee haechan would confess to you, quite frankly the love of his life, without serenading you. So there he is perched up on a chair that he'd set up before picking you up, strumming away at a guitar as he sings your favourite song.

"Sunshine will you be my valentine?"

You freeze when you see him stood in front of you, that angelic face of his only inches from yours— you nod.

"You know I love you right" this time, despite all the times he had posed the same question, you realise that the I love you means a lot more than usual

JAEMIN- spur of the moment (sort of)

Jaemin is the best boyfriend you could ask for and more, something he wants to continue to live up to, but considering he's set the standard so high, jaemin struggles sometimes.

He realises that not everything needs to be hugely extravagant and that as long as you liked it, jaemin did too.

That doesn't stop him from scrolling through Pinterest and tiktok for ideas, all of which he's already done in the last few years or thinks just aren't good enough. He settles on going to the store to grab some valentines essentials before making his mind up. That's where the teddy bear catches his eye, a practically 6 foot tall Teddy bare reading the words will you be my valentine in red cursive that had his heart beating out of his chest, it was just so cute, jaemin and to buy it.

The idea finally dawns upon him when he's finding a way to fit everything into the back of his car, those stubborn helium balloons trying to fly out, forcing him to hold them down with the two chocolate boxes he'd bought, with the fluffy brown Teddy bear at the centre. A little adjustment here and there, and if jaemin did say so himself, it looked beautiful, some finishing touches and it'd be perfect.

Everyday, jaemin picks you up from work, despite the fact that you have your own car, jaemin makes it a point to both drop you off and pick you up from work with perfect timing, you don't know how he does it really. But jaemin always manages to bring you your favourite coffee and pastry when you're feeling down, or always has painkillers in hand for the days you work longer hours, knowing you'll feel a headache coming on the second you walk through the doors of your office building. He picks you up with a smile every day, and, as always, exactly what you need.

Tonight after a failed business idea proposal and a heck of a lot of judgemental glares from the specific work colleagues of yours who didn't seem to like you, with no actual reason, you don't know how jaemin's going to manage it lift your mood, all you know is that he will.

"hi pretty" he flashes you a sweet smile, as he steps out of the car to take your bags from you

"hi jaem" you smile at him, he recognises its nowhere near as full and bright as usual and you're thankful he doesn't push on the topic

"I'll just put these on the backseat, do you think you can just grab a bottle of water from the back?" you nod at his request, reaching out to lift the trunk

Jaemin somehow manages to prove himself every time, it was like he bad a 6th sense, solely for you.

The soft glow of the fake candles jaemin had bought to set the scene lights up your face as he turns to sneak a look at your reaction. You swear you've never seen the back of his car so packed, full of your favourite things, makeup essentials, snacks, flowers and the most adorable fluffy brown bear. You barely take into account half of it, mind blurred with the sheer admiration you had for jaemin.

Like always he made your heart flutter, being his valentine only made your heart swell further.

"what's wrong?" he notices the way your eyes brim with tears, holding your cheeks between his palms, you don't waste a second to pull him close, placing your head against his chest.

"nothing, everything's perfect"

"so?" he raises his brow at the teddy bear before looking back at you

"of course I'll be your valentine nana"

CHENLE - kind of cheesy but crazy cute

Extravagant and over the top may as well be his middle name, chenle was a firm believer in go big or go home. When it came to you it seemed all the lavishes were multiplied ten fold.

Chenle asks you at his pool party just at the end of January. Who even has a pool party in January? well chenle does, he claimed it was to celebrate the longest month of the year finally passing, really it was just an excuse to get everyone together again.

And chenle loves to show you off, but he appreciates those one on one intimate moments with you especially. He knows not to ask when the party is in full swing, though he does steal you away for a few kisses. It's only when the party dies down and its just the two of you left behind that he drags you to the other end of his garden, to show you something.

"What is it you want to show me lele?" you ask, not noticing the candles spread across the area in front of you, chenle had placed them all there in an attempt to set the scene just a little.

There's still some music playing in the background, now a softer slower song echoing through the area, chenle let's his hand slip into yours

"may I have this dance m'lady?"

it was rare chenle was every this chessily cute, a red flush spreading across your features as you smile, nodding

You swear when your eyes lock that you've never been luckier, dancing in your damp swimsuit cover up with him as the soft breeze blows by you, his own eyes gazing down into yours so gentle.

"would you be my valentine?"

Chenle assumes the kiss you press against his lips means yes

JISUNG - late night picnic by the riverside

Now jisung wouldn't class himself a romantic, he was far from it. He was kind and caring and a total sweetheart but he wouldn't quite say romantic. This plan of his however, has him thinking otherwise.

You had always mentioned thinking stargazing was one of the cutest date activities, especially for a couple like the two of you who took so much interest in astronomy. Jisung sees it as the perfect way to ask you to be his valentine.

You're at the park, the same one you liked to take late night strolls on, sit on the bench and eat those snacks you bought from the convenience store just across the street at. It's pretty large and despite your frequent visits, jisung realises you barely make any use of the riverside that runs along the far end of the park— usually since the two of you get too tired to walk even half the expanses of the park.

It had taken jisung a good week and a fair few discussions with his friends,and even one with his mum, to figure out the best way to execute his plan, so that everything would be perfect. He'd packed a little basket of your favourite snacks and a blanket to place on the grass, and knowing you well enough, jisung had thrown an extra jacket over his outfit. You were bound to get cold.

"Jisung, how come you have a basket?" you ask, your fingers intertwined as you make your way down the gravel pathway, stars reflecting in your eyes as you stare up at him, fuck the sky, the only stars jisung cared about were the ones that shone so brightly at him, and only at him, in those perfect glossy eyes of yours. And if that's what stargazing was, jisung could do it all night long. The rest of his life in fact.

"Jisung?" He barely realises that he hasn't answered your question and when he does, still slightly dazed from your sweet stare he only shakes his head a little.

You don't question it further, jisung could be a little caught up in his thoughts (mostly you), a lot of the time, but you didn't mind

Only one small sigh and jisung takes it as a cue to throw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the other end of the park, he couldn't let you walk if you were tired now could he?

It's only a few weeks into the new year so the weather is still a little chilly, and jisung notices the way your hands grow cold in his, a knowing smile biting at his lips

"feeling cold?" you shake your head but jisung's shrugging off the jacket resting over his torso already and placing it over yours instead, the musky scent of his cologne only adding to the warmth you feel as you stare up at the sky above. You don't realise his eyes on you, that unwavering stare composed of nothing more than love. He doesn't mind, taking a soft breath to compose himself before popping the question.

For some reason jisung can't bring himself to do it. He finds himself far too immersed in the moment. As much as he'd always wanted to go stargazing, especially with you, jisung can't hope but keep his eyes on you, so mesmerised by the sites in front of you as you try and identify the constellations.

"That's the constellation of love isn't it sung? cass– um, cass something"

cute jisung thinks, as he follows your finger upwards, smiling to himself

"hmm not quite angel, but if I show you you have to promise me something?" you turn your head back slightly to look up at him, resting in his lap with his hands resting either side of your waist

"anything"

"be my valentine?" he asks you with that gummy smile and bright eyes, before letting his hands wrap around yours, guiding your index slightly up and to the right,

"cassiopeia, that's the one"

really and truly, he's internally freaking out at the lack of response on your side, but when you smile up at him with that toothy grin, he feels the warmth rising in his chest.

"hey valentine, do you think I could get a kiss?" jisung swears his smile couldn't grow any wider.

482 notes · View notes

perlelune · 4 months

Text

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | v. {END}

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: DUB-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A deep breath flows from your lungs as you examine your reflection in the cracked, stained mirror. It’s been in your family for years and you never had the heart to rid yourself of it, despite the object’s sorry state. Like everything in the small house, it harbors a plethora of fond memories.

You arrange a few unruly strands of your hair. Though you immediately feel silly for doing so.

It’s not like he cares what you look like. It never bothered him before. He always seeks you out, even when you are worn and sweaty after working a long day at the factory.

As you tiptoe across the room, your gaze settles on Tilly’s tiny form. Soft breaths lift her chest up and down. She is fast asleep, thankfully. Words are amiss to explain where you’re sneaking off to tonight, who you’re planning on meeting up with…or perhaps there are words for that, some you are too terrified to even fathom. Two young people secretly wandering the streets of District 8 at night to find each other and…

Your cheeks flare with warmth.

This isn’t what Coriolanus is to you. He is your tormentor. That is all. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be shaking like a leaf in the dark, your stomach threatening to drop to your feet.

One of the moth-eaten, dusty floorboards squeaks below your feet as you reach the exit door and nudge it open.

“Are we going somewhere?”

Startled by your cousin’s drowsy voice, you turn around so fast that your head spins. She blinks at you curiously as she sits up in her bed. A heavy sigh peals from your lips. Smiling from ear to ear, you approach her.

You hunker down in front of her.

“I am. You’re not, sweetie.”

“Where?”

Your stomach coils. Still, your smile remains intact.

“Just gotta run an errand quickly,” you lie while cupping her cheek. “We’re running out of your medicine. We have to make sure you stay healthy past the winter.”

She yawns and glances at the twinkling stars through the window.

“But it’s so late.”

Excuses dwindle in your head. You retreat to the authoritative older sibling tone you sometimes use to get your cousin to do her chores.

“I’ll be back before you know it. Just go back to sleep, okay?”

You tuck Tilly back into bed. Arranging the blanket over her gingerly, you drop a soft kiss on her forehead.

Your cousin nods and curls herself beneath her blanket. Relief swells within you. She is too little to hear about the purpose of your nightly trip. In fact, you plan on her never knowing a thing about it. With luck, all of it will end tonight. You’ll bow to the peacekeeper’s demands. One last time. Then you’ll bury the awful memory in the furthest, deepest recesses of your mind and never look back.

It’s what you hope will happen.

Cool winds skate across your skin when you step outside. The moon trails your quiet, anxious trek through the alleys of District 8, its silver beams lighting the cobblestoned path. Every time your feet hit the ground, the nervousness in the pit of your stomach grows. Perhaps you should have stayed home, risked his wrath. You are so painfully unready for whatever the peacekeeper has in store for you. Your wild, palpitating heart seems as if it’ll burst out of your chest any second now.

Suddenly, your tremulous walk is halted.

Familiar fingers snake around your wrist. You’re pulled into a dark corner and shoved against a wall. A stunned gasp hops from your throat.

Coriolanus smirks at your reaction.

“No need to be scared, birdie. It’s just me,” he whispers, balancing his arm above your head in a way that makes you feel caged.

“Coriolanus.”

He seizes your chin, cobalt eyes drinking you in. His voice is almost soft.

“You really thought I’d let you walk on your own at night? It’s not safe.”

He parts from the wall. His hand wraps around yours. He tugs you along and you have no choice but to follow.

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll recognize it.”

Indeed, you do. To your utter despair. After strolling through a vertiginous amount of dank alleyways and narrow stairs, you and the peacekeeper end up in front of a place that bears a daunting familiarity.

As the neon lights of the brothel fill your sight, your apprehension skyrockets.

Snippets of memories of what occurred the last time you were here lurk inside your mind. Your insides clutch.

Coriolanus sighs. His thumb sweeps across your palm, almost tenderly.

“It won’t be like last time. I promise. You can trust me.”

The same beautiful woman welcomes the two of you. Once again, there’s a flirting lilt to her tone, one the peacekeeper ignores. Coriolanus asks about a room. His questions about it fade amidst the uproarious drumming of your heart inside your ears. You’re a jittery wreck behind him, your gaze bouncing from wall to wall.

His deep voice yanks your attention back to him.

“Birdie?”

“Y-Yes?”

The corner of his lips quirks upward.

“Come with me.”

You nod. Is it too late to make a run for it? Though you’d rather not find out how much worse this could get, how mean Coriolanus could turn. He didn’t even hesitate to have you on your knees before, simply to make a point. He’s in good spirits now, nicer than he’s ever been to you, even humming a light tune to himself. Maybe you should aim to keep it that way. Tread the path of least resistance, as much as you loathe yourself for surrendering to him so easily.

You enter the room. Your heart leaps when you hear him lock the door behind you. The inside is nicely decorated. Candles around the canopy bed at the center of the room provide a soft, intimate light.

Red and white rose petals are scattered over the silk sheets.

Your heart skips a beat when his breath ghosts over your neck.

“It’s pretty, right?” His hands settle over your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I had it decorated specially for us.”

He shifts you so you’re facing him. Fingers sneak below your chin, tilting it upward. Your stomach flutters as you get lost in his blue eyes. They burn into you like coals in the swaying candlelight.

“Has anyone ever done something this nice for you?”

You remain silent for a while, fiddling with the scarf around your neck, the one he gave you.

“N-No,” you eke out after an eternity.

He starts pulling on your scarf. When it hits the floor, exposing your neck to his gaze, you already feel incredibly vulnerable. You tremble as Coriolanus begins to circle around you. As he does that, more articles of clothing join your scarf on the floor, turning into a growing heap at your feet.

First he unbuttons your shirt. When it’s loose on your frame, he pulls on it lightly until it slides off you. Next he unlaces your skirt. Coriolanus is slow, digits dragging over your quivering flesh as he peels every layer of fabric off you. Eventually, you are bare before him. Goosebumps peek under your skin as he spends a torturous minute simply appraising you. Lust swells his pupils, nearly drowning the blue in his eyes.

“Have you ever done this before?”

You shake your head. He seizes your jaw, angling your face upward.

“No miners? No factory worker? No one before me?”

Heat rushes to your face. Still, you shake your head again, faintly wishing you could sink inside the earth and disappear.

Satisfaction illuminates his features.

“So I’m your first.” He caresses your arm. You will yourself still, despite the itch to run away searing through you like a hot knife. His voice lowers to a husky whisper. “I wish you’d see I’m not your enemy, birdie.”

He then shocks you. Layer by layer, Coriolanus starts to shed every part of his peacekeeper uniform. Every piece of clothing falls into a heap on the floor that melds with yours.

When he peels off his boxers, your throat dries. He’s thick and long, just as you remember. Apprehension settles within you. His eyes lock with yours. “Do I look like your enemy right now?” he mumbles. Your pulse picks up as he approaches you. Your gaze drifts everywhere and nowhere, your breath caged in your lungs.

“I don’t know.”

“Do I scare you?”

“Yes.”

His mouth slants crookedly.

“But not in the way you wished, right?”

You gawk at him, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed.

The courage to answer never finds its way into your heart. Coriolanus’ lips however find their way onto yours. At first, the kiss is soft and firm. Cradling your face, he sweeps his mouth over yours without haste. Meticulously slow. As if he wishes to commit your taste to memory.

He nudges you backwards onto the bed. When your back collides with the mattress, his mouth turns more ravenous. His tongue explores the roof of your mouth while his hands wander lower, kneading at your curves. Your head spins. You keen against his tongue as a sick twinge of something you won’t name flickers in your core.

When his mouth parts from yours, you’re both equally breathless, his warm breath mingling with yours. You find yourself almost longing for the heady feeling. Almost. The blond smiles down at your dazed expression.

He traces your jaw with his thumb.

“You can scream as much as you like, you know? No one will come to your rescue.”

“I won’t scream,” you say, defiance igniting your gaze.

“Oh but you will,” he replies with confidence. His mouth ghosts over your earshell. “You’re all mine tonight, pretty bird.” His mouth tugs upwards. “And I plan on making you beg for it before the morning comes.”

As if to emphasize his point, he slithers down your body. The entire time, he corrals your gaze, his blue eyes shimmering in the darkness. He wedges himself between your thighs, meeting only meek resistance as he pushes them apart.

Coriolanus appraises your slick folds. He drags a finger alongside your slit, mirth lighting up his face.

“Already so wet for me, birdie,” he says.

Your face heats. You could try to contradict him but the evidence is right there between your legs. Impossible to escape or deny. You are sinfully, embarrassingly wet in front of the peacekeeper.

“I-”

Brazenness melts off your tongue when he presses his lips to your core. He feasts on your weeping folds, his unyielding fingers keeping you placid and open. His tongue teases your tender nub, drawing torturous patterns. Your muscles tighten. The air in your lungs rushes in and out faster as Coriolanus’ tragically skilled tongue sends zings of shameful pleasure through your spine.

Meticulous and slow, he takes his time to taste you. Every second he spends unraveling you is the most sensual torture.

Your trembling fingers claw at the sheets, your eyes rolling back. You glance down. A peculiar tingle dances through your belly when you catch sight of the blond’s head bobbing between your thighs. Despite your center aching for release, you fight the urge to buck your hips into his mouth and seek more of the delectable contact. He sucks your swollen clit between his lips, pushing his tongue between your folds. You gulp down a sharp scream. Waves of pleasures sweep through your frame. Your lids flutter as your stomach tightens. A painful tension settles in your limbs, heat gathering in your core.

For a long time, you try to stay quiet. You bite yourself hard enough to draw blood as you muffle every whimper and moan struggling to break past the confines of your lips.

Coriolanus makes his way up your body, his index and middle finger replacing his tongue. Quick exhales burst from your chest as you peer at him through your hazy vision.

“I want to hear you, birdie,” he rasps, his fingers catching on your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open. He sinks a finger inside you. Your chest lifts, brushing against his. When the digit hooks between your slick walls, grazing against your sensitive spot, you unleash a loud squeal.

The blond smiles.

“There. So much better.”

He sneaks another finger inside your core, stretching you even more. Unused to the feeling, you whine and grip a fistful of the sheets. He pumps inside you, finding a steady rhythm that has you twitching beneath him. The broken moans spilling from your tongue mingle with the wet sounds your cunt makes as he explores you with his fingers.

Embarrassment is slowly nudged aside by the storm of delectable sensations growing inside you.

The heel of his hand keeps grazing against your swollen button, eliciting spikes of pleasure through your flesh.

His forehead rests against yours, his feathery lashes falling to half-mast as he whispers,

“Come for me, birdie.”

Your breathing accelerates, his words propelling you closer to your peak. You clench around his fingers. Your legs tense. Warm tingles swirl across your flesh as your back arches.

A lightning bolt of pleasure passes through you, quick and intense. For a few seconds, not a thought occupies your mind. You are nothing but a million nerve endings on fire.

Your boneless frame crashes over the sheets.

“Good girl,” he praises, his smile expanding. His fingers pull out of you and he brings them to his lips. You watch, sickly fascinated as he dips them into his mouth, reveling in your taste. He hums in appreciation. Your face warms. He then places those same digits over your own lips, forcing you to taste yourself. He bends over you, peppering sluggish kisses in the crook of your neck. His hand splays over your heaving chest, his thumb rubbing your nipples until they pebble under his touch. His lips trail lower on your body.

He pauses, looming over you. Hands on each side of you, Coriolanus lines his tip with your entrance. Your eyes widen in surprise. You squirm and try to scoot away, panic rushing through you.

He yanks you back on the bed with ease, his body pinning yours onto the mattress. When you reach for his face, hoping to land a blow, he snatches your wrists and slams them above your head.

He scoffs, “So feisty, even to the bitter end.”

Your breath falters when his thick tip stretches you open. Even that single inch of him feels like too much. Rapid breaths burst from your fluttering chest.

Tears quiver beneath your lashes.

“It hurts…”

He pushes until he’s halfway inside you. Pain shoots through you as you sob.

The tears spill. He releases one of your wrists to fondle your cheek.

“Shh, it’s okay, pretty bird. I’ve got you.”

He shoves inside you until he grazes your hilt. Your lips part in a quiet scream, your vision flickering. For a while, Coriolanus remains still, giving you time to accommodate his thick girth. He starts moving, his thrusts slow and deep. The longer he fucks you, the more the pain morphs into something else. Something not entirely unpleasant, albeit a little terrifying. The aching stretch becomes tantalizing, your wet walls clinging to his length every time it drags against your soft spots. Little whimpers leave your throat as you cling to his bicep.

Coriolanus’ hand wraps around your jaw.

“Focus on me and only me,” he instructs.

Your eyes dive into his. Flames dance in his cobalt orbs. He smiles, his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip.

“Such an obedient girl.”

“How does it feel now?” he grunts. You note the sweat glistening over his bare muscles, dotting at his brow. His exhales are more strained now, matching yours.

You keen at a sharp snap of his pelvis into yours. He picks up the pace, bending one of your thighs against your chest to thrust as far as his cock will go. Your toes curl, blissful shivers creeping their way up your spine.

“Awful,” you wheeze out.

He snickers. “You’re a horrible liar, birdie.”

You sense him nearing the cusp of his pleasure. His cock twitches between your walls and you plead, panicked, “Corio…Coriolanus…not inside, please.”

A crooked grin spreads on his lips.

“But wouldn’t it be wonderful, if I left you something to remember me by.”

You shudder, shaking your head. “No…”

He slips his fingers between your joined bodies, drawing a long moan from you when he starts rubbing your pulsing clit. He plays with your tender bud until you cry out. You come apart around him, slick walls hugging him snugly as he shoots his thick seed inside you.

Dread settles in your bones, piercing through the haze of delight. You tremble as the stickiness trickles alongside your walls.

He lets out a throaty sigh, trapping you underneath him so you can’t move.

“Yes,” he breathes out, burying his head in the crook of your neck. Your mouth opens in shock as another tear traces a blazing path down your cheek. He scatters bruising kisses along the column of your neck. His cruel words sear into your flesh. “That way you can never forget you were mine before anyone else, birdie.”

You awake with a start, bruised and sore, in the massive bed. Your glance darts around, confusing filling you as you tuck the blanket against your frame. Your shoulders sag. You note faint sunlight pouring through the crimson curtains. All the candles from last night have been blown out.

It’s the next day. You are alone. You shiver at the sight of the rumpled sheets, glimpses from the night before seeping through your mind. Coriolanus kept true to his word and made you sing for him the entire night. He was relentless and didn’t stop until you passed out from pleasure. In fact, you were so exhausted, you can’t pinpoint the moment he left. You simply recall him cooing soft praises in your ear as he had his way with you for the last time.

For a moment, you held some fear that he would never leave, since he was so hellbent on making you come around him as many times in a row as he could.

What terrifies you most however, is that last night wasn’t terrible. Not entirely. Or not in the way you pictured at least. Heat creeps up in your cheeks at the thought.

You clamber off the bed, wincing at the aching stiffness of your limbs. You collect your clothes and begin to dress. You’re eager to leave the room. It stinks of sex and shameful mistakes.

As you climb down the stairs, the madam greets you with a wiggle of her fingers. You bristle, shame glowing inside your chest.

She bends over the wooden handrail, her cleavage threatening to spill out of her dress.

“He said you were free to stay in the room to rest for the entire day if you wished. Paid in full before he left.”

“I don’t want to stay.”

You hasten your pace to reach the exit faster.

She stops you in your tracks, a mischievous grin dancing on her lips.

“So the pretty boy didn’t tire you out then?” She tilts her head and pouts. “Pity. I imagined him to be a more…zealous lover.”

Your cheeks flame as you rush out of the brothel. You can’t get back home fast enough.

You need a shower expeditiously. Never before have you longed for the freezing cold spray to hit your skin so badly.

You return home to at least a month’s worth of supplies and medicine in several bags.

There’s even candy for your cousin, the same he brought her last time. Your cousin’s overjoyed, of course, but you remind her not to overindulge.

Nothing else accompanies them. No letter. No card. You should feel happy at that, you surmise. Finally, you are free to live life on your own terms, return to your routine.

Part of you is a little stunned by it however, and perhaps expect the peacekeeper to not be truly gone. For days, you keep wondering if he’ll materialize from a dark corner or surprise you as you stroll down a dank alleyway.

None of that occurs. Still, it takes weeks for your blood not to chill anymore at the sight of a peacekeeper. After a month of tranquil, humdrum days, you’re forced to admit it. Coriolanus has granted you the peace he promised.

Your chest is a little lighter as you head to the factory everyday. You even start smiling again, which Yara and Tilly keep teasing you about.

But you can’t help it. No more feeling scared or confused. No more eyes trailing your every move. You’re relieved, happy. Life in district 8 may sometimes be uncertain but, at least, you hold your destiny in your hands once more.

Blessed freedom. Finally.

So you let yourself relax. Over time, the terror gripping your gut melts away. The tightness in your chest eases.

Your mind is so at ease that you don’t notice the shadow creeping behind you on your way out of the factory. It’s too late when you do.

A black cloth is shoved over your head as you turn a street corner. You’re hauled off your feet and dragged into a dim alley. Your heart races, panic flooding you as you’re tossed into the back of a vehicle.

The engine roars to life. Every question you ask is ignored, your kidnappers frustratingly silent. You wonder if you’ll die or be sold off to traffickers. You’ve heard of district girls disappearing sometimes, the kind no one will miss or ask too many questions about.

They often end up in sordid places. You’ve heard the stories. Some could end up in the mines, in shady brothels or even wind up as an Avox maid with their tongues cut off. Chills swirl over your skin.

Is it to be your fate? Being carted off to some hellish place and worked to death?

The car stops. Your pulse soars. Quick breaths pour from your mouth as you’re roughly carried to some other place. You struggle, trying to kick your assailant. You land a blind strike and hear a curse. You make a run for it, your blood singing wildly.

It’s pathetic the swiftness with which you’re caught, as if your attempt meant nothing.

You’re shoved into a box. As the slamming of a hammer surrounds you, sealing your fate, you begin to sob. You used to think you were just born in the wrong place, unlucky, like so many others. Now you’re starting to believe you are cursed.

Shivers wrack your frame as the box is lifted. Your stomach lurches. The entire trip is a nightmare. Dread grips you tight as questions crowd your mind about who’s taking you and why. After a while, you realize you’re on a train. Your terror swells.

You’re being moved out of District 8. You haven’t left your district since birth. For better or worse, this was your home.

After an awful, rambunctious journey, the box is finally opened. You hear grunting above you as the lid of the box is pried open.

The bag over your head is removed and you take in a lungful of clean air. Strong arms hoist you out of the box. You clumsily stumble to your feet.

You whirl.

An audible breath skips off your tongue as you take in who stands before you. He looks so different. No more peacekeeper uniform. No more buzzcut.

“Coriolanus?” you gasp.

He smiles. “Hi, birdie.” A wave of snow engulfs your veins.

He sweeps a hand over his silver curls, sounding almost bashful.

“Do you like it? I’m trying to grow it out again.”

Ignoring him, you peer at your surroundings. The white room has a vaulted glass ceiling that allows sunlight in. The pearly marble tiles are pristine. Other than that, you only find one opening. A small door on the other side. You scuttle across the room to reach it.

The door knob shakes but doesn’t give. Still, you insist, your desperation growing. Your heart sinks as you glance down at the tiny keyhole in the door.

Coriolanus’ deep voice approaches from behind you.

“This is a locked cell, pretty bird,” he explains. “And I’m the only one with the key. Dr. Gaul uses it for her more…feral experiments. But she’s granted me permission to use it for an experiment of my own.”

You whip around. “Dr. Gaul?”

You feign interest, hoping to distract him, having noted the tiny golden key dangling from his neck. Coriolanus catches you looking at it and smirks. “My mentor. Don’t worry. I’ll walk you through everything. I’m sure you’ll fit right in over time.”

He inches closer and you stagger backwards.

“W-Why am I here?”

Instead of being offended by your attempts to shy away from him, the blond seems mildly amused, studying you as he paces around the room.

“I couldn’t let my sweet bird wither away in a filthy district, of course. I belong in the Capitol, and you belong to me.”

You gape at him. While you knew him to be some entitled rich kid from the Capitol, you never imagined he’d take it this far. Steal you away like you’re some shiny object that struck his fancy at the marketplace. Not a person with a life and desires of their own.

“You’re insane,” you hiss.

His mouth twitches, marking the first hint of displeasure at your reaction.

“We’ll have to work on that coarse mouth of yours. It will not stand here.” His tone grows chillier. “Here in the Capitol, we have discipline, order.”

“Let me go,” you shout, lunging yourself at him. You attempt to tackle him and grab the key from his neck. Unleashing a sigh of annoyance, Coriolanus seizes your wrist and twists it with hardly any effort. The sickening sound of bones snapping lands in your ears. He throws you on the floor, kicking your side for good measure. You keel over the tiles, cradling your throbbing wrist against your chest.

Coriolanus shakes his head as he considers your curling frame on the floor.

“Look what you’re making me do, sweet bird. As I’ve said, your uncouth District wench ways will not stand here. You’re going to behave…” He hunkers down before whispering, “Unless you never want to see your cousin again.”

Your head snaps up, tears filling your eyes.

“She needs me. Coriolanus, please-”

“She will be cared for. There’s a very nice orphanage south of the Capitol, one for all the children who lost their homes in the war.” He beams at you. “She’s being transported there as we speak.”

“Oh my god…”

“You want to see her again? It’s all up to you, birdie.” A slow, wicked smirk blooms on his lips. “...Or perhaps she would fare well as the District 8 tribute for the 11th Hunger Games. She may be a little young…but at least she’d increase viewership.”

“You can’t do that,” you protest, your lip quaking as tears skip over your cheeks.

A dark chuckle leaves him.

“I can and I will. You see, birdie, the world isn’t fair.” He cocks his head. “No one cares about innocent children dying. Hell, I was kicked, beaten and starved so many times during the war, I lost count. No one cared.” His blue eyes turn icier as they meet yours. “The world…it’s an arena. You’re either a predator, or you’re prey.” He lifts his hand to cup your cheek. A gesture that’d be almost tender if the words spilling from his mouth weren’t so cruel. “It’s best to just embrace your role.”

He caresses your tear-stained cheek.

“So will you be my sweet, obedient girl?”

As you sink in his empty blue gaze, a sense of defeat cloaks your frame. You come to realize, you were never meant to come out unscathed from meeting Coriolanus Snow, never meant to win. The fire in his eyes is the kind that burns all standing in its path.

There is no getting away. If you survived him, you’d be lucky.

Your chin trembles as you reply meekly, “Y-Yes, Coriolanus.”

His lips brush over yours before he gets to his feet, satisfaction glowing on his handsome features.

“Wonderful. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone, birdie.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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The Farmer's Daughter 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finally manage to quell your sobs. A slight trickle stains your cheeks and falls onto Walter’s shirt. You sniffle and reach to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. As you do, your fingers brush against his chest.

You hear his heartbeat, steady as you’re anything but. He’s warm and soft and sturdy. You feel a sudden rush of guilt for spilling all this out on him. You slowly sit up, pulling away as Walter gently, almost reluctantly, slackens his embrace.

“I’m sorry, I–” you raise your head but find your words smothered.

You don’t realise what’s going on at first. Walter’s hand cradles your face as his lips press to yours, tilting your chin up as his thumb slides under it. You hum in surprise, eyes round as the scent of his sweat invades your nose.

You put your hand flat to his chest and push. You bring your other up and shove until he lets you go. His arm falls away and you turn, shifting and sliding off the step. You stand, dizzy and confused, clutching your splitting head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammers as he rises too.

You run past him up the steps, legs wobbling, skull pulsing from the hangover of your grief. You push the door inwards and clamour inside. You don’t stop. You barrel upstairs and down to your door, swinging inside with a careless snap of wood on wood.

You lean on the door and slowly slide down, knees bent to your chest as you hang your head forward and shield it with your arms. You hear shuffling and a set of hinges groan. Footsteps pad quietly outside your door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom calls through.

“Yes,” you force out evenly, the effort further thumping in your temples.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” she says, her voice silty with sleep, “you in the mood for coffee?”

“No thank you,” you eke out.

You wait until she’s gone before you can breathe again. It can’t be real. That can’t have happened. You really didn’t believe it when your mother said it. Walter? Why would he ever think of you like that? And now? Of all times?

Your father is sick, your mother is in shambles, and life is already so complicated. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy, he’s nice and helpful and all of that. It’s just that you’re already scared and lost. It would only make things so much more complicated.

🌾

You stay in your room for the rest of the night. When your mother comes to check on you, you tell her you have cramps. Your period isn’t due anytime soon but PMS can be a bitch. Just as much as life can.

She leaves a plate on your nightstand regardless and you thank her. You’re not very hungry and only pick at it before giving up on the meal. You wallow in your restless discomfort. Your head pounds until you’re nearly delirious.

You fall into a sleep less than refreshing. Your headache follows you into the void and its shadow greets you with the daylight. You wake and roll over, unready for the day but knowing you must face it. You wash and dress and head down to pretend everything is okay. Again.

You start on breakfast as your mom has yet to appear. You don’t mind, it keeps you busy. You count out the eggs and strips of bacon, a few sausages too. You stack a plate with bread ready to toast and yawn over the percolator as you put it on to boil.

You hear tires and an engine. You go rigid, frozen as you stand at the counter. What do you do? Go get your mother? Help her with dad? Or Timothy? He can keep Walter distracted.

Too late. There’s footsteps on the porch then a tap on the frame of the screen door. You panic and clear your throat. Nothing happened. Nothing’s changed.

“Come on in,” you call and pull out a skillet to heat up.

The front door opens and your ears tweak as you listen to his movement. Deliberate and drawn out, as if he’s also avoiding you. You keep your back to the door as you work at the stove, adding a touch of oil to the pan.

He enters, his shadow flickering over the wall, and you sense him. Is he watching you? You refuse to look back and check in fear of being caught. You grab the sausage and the bacon and lay them out on an oven sheet.

“Good morning,” Walter says.

“Good morning,” you return in a small squeak.

He’s silent. Neither of you know what to say. Each time you try to think of something, the friction of your lips remind you of the feel of his. You hadn’t been thinking in the moment but you remember how soft but determined he was.

Why would he do that? After you were just bawling on his shoulder? Seeing you like that, a mess, vulnerable, half-broken? Your stomach knots as you keep your hands moving and eyes averted.

“How are you?” He asks in a strained timbre.

“Fine,” you answer sharply, taking a breath to ease your tone, “you?”

“Tired,” he says, “you need any help?”

He steps forward and you shy away. You stop yourself from going any further and shake your head, “I got it.”

“Right, I…” he begins.

“Alright, Patty,” your mom’s voice wafts from upstairs, “that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“Oh, I gotta–”

You turn with the spatula and nearly run into Walter as he also moves towards the door. You stop as you face each other, wavering as you stare. His jaw squares and his cheek twitches, his eyes sparkling.

“You’re cooking. I’ll help.”

“Really, you do too much–”

“I know,” he agrees staunchly and turns away, “too damn much.”

He strides out and you stand there. What does he mean? Too much of what? Well, you can’t ask from him. He has helped more than he should, but is that what he means? Or does he mean… that?

He wouldn’t just walk away because of that, would he?

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshal x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #the farmer's daughter #night hunter

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nicromancytarot · 16 days

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MOODBOARD GAME

writing such a basic title makes me sob. Look at the fancy silver aesthetic though, wow!

STATUS: CLOSED and unready for business

Hello and welcome to my new game, I’m copying everyone since my genius and original idea last time fell face first and died!

So this is the moodboard game, in which I give you a moodboard on whatever question you wish for me to answer.

RULES

- No anonymous asks

- Send an ask with your name/initials and a question (and the exchange section if you’re taking part in that)

- Be nice or I’ll cry

- Can include 18+ don’t lie about your age or I’ll cry (specify you’re 18+ in your ask or I won’t do it)

- Feedback or I’ll cry (there’s a reoccurring pattern here)

- No death, health, pregnancy questions (I will actually sob)

- 1 question per person

- Reblog this post and follow me

EXCHANGE

- If you do tarot or have a fabulous intuition, feel free to give me a moodboard or a reading on some cool fun facts about my future spouse, make it funny (the more detailed you make it, the more detailed I make yours)

- Submit the exchange along with your question in the same ask!!

EXTRAS

2/10 of you have yet to give me the feedback for the bloodied bandaid game, you will not be included in this game.

I am a busy little bee, no idea how many readings I will get done per day.

I will continue uploading fun little pick a cards for you all to enjoy if you don’t have chance to get in on this game, or don’t want to.

If you do not follow the rules, you will not be considered a participant.

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot witch #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot game

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facioleeknow · 2 months

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Time for love ° Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin. the immortal Adonis, falls for a human.

WC: 2094 Genre: Greek mythology AU, angst, smut

TW: make up artist reader, model hyunjin, smut, masturbation, thigh riding, handjob, mention of cum, borderline asshole hyunjin, greek gods and goddesses, mention of blood, angry hyunjin and angry deities

AN: thank you from th ebottom of my heart to th elovely @leeknowsallyoursecrets , for giving me her opinion about this.

My Kofi if you want to support me <3.

Hyunjin was old. Hyunjin was really really old. Eternal youth they called it. When one thinks about youth, they imagine freshness and fun; a colorful, colorful phase when you get to try new things and explore the world. Hyunjin’s life was anything but; he had seen every corner of this earth and tried every experience that was humanly possible. His life was flat and gray, there was nothing more to do and he was bored.

He remembered his first life. His name was Adonis and he was considered the most beautiful man in the whole world; he was so beautiful that goddesses soon appeared on his doorstep and asked to share his bed. That’s how his story became myth, or what people thought it was.

He had lived many lives from then, he had taken many names and done many things, he lived a tranquil life and minded his business; had sometimes taken a couple of lovers but nothing that had stuck to him.

His life and pattern of change had come crumbling apart when one day the gods decided to come out in the open and introduce themselves to humans. With time everything was uncovered and the protagonists of every myth became their own kind of celebrities. He had never been more famous in his life, but he also had never been more lonely. He was beautiful and that was a fact, and with the fame came the modeling offers. He modeled for the most famous maisons of fashion of the world and people loved him. No they didn’t love him, they loved his body, they loved his face, they loved his fake smile and fake confidence.

His days were always the same, he would wake up at an insane hour, get on set, get ready, shoot, get unready, check social media and then go to bed, just to do it all the following day. Day after day the cycle had never been broken, for years on end. Until it had.

When he walked inside the photo studio, he could sense something had shifted in the air. He hated changes. A heavy hand smoothed back his unruly hair, his eyes closed almost on instinct after he sat down in his makeup chair. He had requested a special chair, made of one of the softest furs he had ever touched, where he could sleep and relax.

Something warm and small suddenly touched his shoulder, hesitantly. He hissed and his eyes shot open, his staff knew better than to interfere with his pattern.

His breath hitched in his throat when he opened his eyes. This wasn’t his usual make-up artist.

“Sorry to disturb you Mr. Hwang, I am Y/N L/N, your new makeup artist,” your voice was sweet, way too sweet to be human, but he knew all deities by heart. Perhaps some kind of creature.

“What happened to Ha-na?” his eyes bore holes into your skull, his gaze held a fiery passion you had never seen in your life. Is this how an immortal looks?, you thought.

“She’s on maternity leave, sir,” you had never felt that nervous in your life.

The conversation died off after that but his eyes were fixed on you. There was something about you that Hyunjin couldn't quite pinpoint, his inside felt like they were lit on fire. His head told him that if he looked away from you, something bad would've happened. He had to have you, one way or another, he didn't even care if you were human or not.

Since that day Hyunjin had always waited anxiously for your arrival every morning. You would always greet him with a tight lipped smile while you closed into fists your obvious shaky hands. He liked to think your hands were shaking and your heart was beating out of your chest because of him.

At night Hyunjin would lie awake and think about you, your hair, your lips, your hands, your eyes, but most of the time he would think about what laid under your clothes, how your curves would look and how they would feel in his big and soft hands.

He had to have you, he didn't care if you were human or not.

The second time Hyunjin spoke to you, it was weeks after your first encounter.

“What are you?” his eyes bored into yours like the first time you met.

“What do you mean sir?”

His presence felt almost overbearing, it looked like he was towering over you, it felt like he was everywhere, you couldn't run from him. But in reality he was still sitting in front of you.

“Don't play coy. What kind of creature are you?”

“Creature? I'm human, sir,” your eyes wide as saucers at his assumption. You? A supernatural creature?

“Are you lying to me?” His tone was stern and demanding.

“No, sir, I would never.”

He didn't reply.

He was scary. Immortals were scary and dangerous for humans more than anyone else. You should've been fearful of him but a familiar throb between your legs kept growing and growing and you couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Hyunjin could feel your arousal, he could read it on your face. After centuries he could read human emotions quite well.

“Everybody out!” His tone left no space for arguments. The staff and photographers scurried out of the room with their hearts in their throats.

“Come sit.” The immortal patted his spread legs, his big hand encased your wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“You don't want to?” he sounded cocky now, a new emotion he let you see.

“I didn't say that,” you stuttered.

“Then be a good girl and straddle my thigh.”

His hands never left your body, not even when you complied and positioned yourself how he asked. He was in control, he was the one guiding your movement.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt him ground you on his strong thigh.

“Please sir, touch me,” the shame fueled your pleasure like never before.

“No can do, get yourself off like this or don't at all.”

That was the best orgasm of your life.

After he touched you, Hyunjin couldn't get enough of you. He thought your voice was sweet at first, but your moans were even sweeter, your skin tasted like nectar and your pussy like ambrosia. He was addicted.

Sleep came easier to him now but not even in your dreams he could escape you. Your voice, your sweet whines, your skin, your scent, they all clouded his brain even in his slumber. He'd wake up hard as a rock every night and leaking. He would fuck his fist roughly, just how he liked it, he would use all of his toys and cum again and again until his seed had permanently stained his satin black sheets. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He had to feel you clench around him, he had to feel you rake your nails down his back, he had to push your legs to your chest and see fat tears roll down your cheeks.

So he would get up and drive to your house where he would fuck you until you both passed out. It became some sort of routine, one that he followed religiously. But the more he saw the bigger a foreign and strange feeling grew inside him. It started at the pit of his stomach and then spread through his chest like a warm blanket enveloping him in a tight hug. It was comforting and that unsettled him.

He was confused and ignorant, he hated that. But he knew that it didn't come from him, somebody was attacking him. That's how Hyunjin found himself in front of the goddess of love, Aphrodite, herself.

“What have you done to me?” he yelled. He knew yelling at a deity was not a smart move but the anger was consuming him, mixing with that strange feeling and making his blood hot.

“You cursed me, didn't you? You cursed me because I don't want to share a bed with you anymore, you selfish woman.” The moment those words came out of HYunjin’s mouth he regretted them. The room started shaking along with the anger of the goddess, everybody knew not to anger Aphrodite. he was foolish, he thought he could get away with it because he used to be her favorite lover. The goddess grew in stature, the light bulbs in the room exploded, leaving the only light her angry eyes.

“You foolish human, how dare you speak to me like this,” this was not Aphrodite the goddess of love, this was the goddess of fiery passion and victory, “ I did not curse you. You do not hold significance in my eyes anymore, you are a mere human. Humans all fall in love, it’s their destiny.”

The walls of the pristine white room they were in started to crack under the gravity of the goddess full immortal form. Hyunjin knew that the fact he was not dead meant that Aphrodite let him live as a sign of charity and because of the time they shared their bed. But she did not give second chances, she never had so he quickly kneeled and when he felt the presence of the immortal get gradually less overbearing he got up and walked backwards until back hit the door as a sign of respect and then left.

The drive home was pure madness, flashes of rage traveled through his body like lightning before leaving like nothing had happened. Hera was punishing him for angering her daughter, nothing was less expected from the goddess of family. When he stumbled into his house, with shaky hands he grabbed his ceremonial cup and offered his bloods to the gods to appease them and as a thanks for sparing his life.

The following day Hyunjin avoided looking at you in the eyes, he had never looked away from you, not even once. You were so used to having his fiery gaze on you that now your whole body felt cold as ice.

‘Maybe he’s tired,’ you thought while you worked. Tired or not, you felt him miles away from you even if you were touching his skin with your very own hands. Something had shifted between you.

The next day felt like a deja vù, Hyunjin still had his eyes closed and he still refused to talk to you. You felt wronged and cold. The following days followed the same pattern, it felt like a terrible nightmare. His nightly visits had also stopped and so did his texts.

Anger and frustration were eating away at you. Work had started to get tougher and Hyunjin’s attitude was making your mental health drop. The last straw was the pouring rain, you were stranded at work, with no umbrella, when all you wanted to do was go home, eat ice cream and sleep.

Fat teardrops started dropping down your cheeks, why was this all happening to you? Why couldn’t you live in peace? Why was Hwang Hyunjin doing this to you?

“Are you crying?” That voice. Hwang Hyunjin.

“That’s none of your business, Hyunjin,” you furiously wiped at your cheeks.

“It is,” his hand cupped your cheek and you had no strength to fight it, “ it is because you are the only woman i’ve ever loved in my long life.” Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Say that again.”

“You, “ he paused, “ are the only wo-”

You didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence, your lips attached to his and you richest deflated with relief. Kissing him felt familiar and natural. The recognizable desire that always lit within you when you were with him started spreading through you like wildfire. Your hands quickly traveled to his pants and unbuttoned his pants without thinking, you had done that countless times. His dick was already hard and leaking, waiting for you. Your soft hand wrapped around his velvety skin and tugged and moved just how you knew he liked, how you knew drove him mad. Your lips found his neck and nipped and sucked at his pulse point, his weak spot.

“Oh, baby, I’m not going to last, I think I’m cumming.”

A quick swipe of your thumb against his slip made him spill all over your hand, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes tightly shut.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, lover, but first let me return the favor.”

A hand on his chest stopped him.

“Take me on a date first.”

“Whatever you want, lover.”

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1for5 · 2 months

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yes im changing

paige bueckers x reader

(paige x uconn psychology student!reader)

synopsis: with y/n being in a new environment, still facing rejection, how can she bounce back?

masterlist

chap 4

y/n pov:

okay scratch that. i would have to do all athletes. okay new research:

a comparative research on the academic resilience of students and students part of the basketball team in the university of connecticut.

much better. i can have more focus on the people in my research. and plus, the basketball teams are the most known in uconn, which could make them have different perspectives. but first.. i would have to ask their coach first. i may ask aubrey if she can bring me to their coach, his name is coach geno..?

after their training (and an hour of peyton giggling), i went up to aubrey and told her about my research.

“yeah! i could definitely ask coach geno, he’s in the other room though to get his stuff, but he’ll come back soon” aubrey replied with enthusiasm. “thats great! thanks aubrey. i would also have to ask the men’s basketball coach, but ill check tomorrow since its already late” i mentioned. aubrey and i got to talk a little bit more, aubrey asking me why i was even in their training the first place.

i said that peyton’s crush is in the team, which made aubrey laugh. when we both looked behind to peyton, we see her talking to azzi. smooth ass..

coach geno finally got out of the other room, and aubrey introduced me to him.

“oh coach! this is y/n, and she has a small favor to ask” aubrey says. “hello coach geno! i am a freshman taking psychology, and i wanted to ask if i could have your team to be part of my research” i smiled.

“what’s it about?”

“their resistancy in regards to their school work sir”

“will it hinder their skills?”

“no sir”

“how long will this take?”

“maximum of a month i believe, but it still depends”

“as long as the team says yes and it wont be a distraction, then im all for it. goodluck y/n, and welcome to uconn!” coach geno replied with a small smile. “thank you sir! it means a lot” i smiled back.

i went back to peyton, who was talking to azzi, and introduced me to her. azzi then introduced me to the other players— to nika, kk, paige, and caroline. i guess i still needed a formal greeting even with the event that happened yesterday.

i then proceeded to ask the whole team about my research idea, and they were all willing to help me. just needed to contact the men’s basketball team now.

after small talks, we all headed back to our dorms. i feel better with the team already, they’re all quite playful, just have to ignore that one blonde, paige. we haven’t talked a word to each other, and i won’t mind if we don’t talk at all.

when we arrived to the dorms area, we all bid our goodbyes to some of the members and the others headed to the same dorm building as me. turns out that everyone that has the same dorm as me lives on the same floor as me.. this will be fun. my “floormates” are nika, ashlynn, ice, kk, and paige. azzi along with caroline and the others were at another dorm building.

we all bid our goodnights, and aubrey and i went inside our dorm. we both were too tired, and got unready and head to our beds quick.

“goodnight y/n!”

“goodnight aubs”

the next week

the last days were great. men’s basketball team is on board with my research, and my introduction and rrl is surprisingly done.

today, i will start to interview the women’s basketball team, and i am thinking of doing observations with them as well— like having group study sessions and know their behavior and thoughts.

its now 2pm, two hours before the team’s training, which gives me enough time to interview some people. i text aubrey saying that im near their court, and was asking who i can interview first.

aubrey: paige is free

goddamn it.

oh well, let’s just get this over with. i open the court’s entrance, the team seeing me and greeting me.

“so, who can go first?” i ask the team, i really didn’t want paige, she will just give me negative energy for the rest of the day. she is always so.. negative towards me.

“i dont think we can.. coach wants us to do 25 laps as penalty! but since paige wasn’t there when the team was goofing around.. she’s free” azzi explained. “what did you guys even do that made coach geno be in fumes?” i asked.

“teased coach about paige dating on of his children.. they’re our age though” aubrey steps in. “oh id send you guys to 25 laps as well” i joked. “whatever!” azzi says.

i told paige to come with me the the bleachers, still being nonchalant.

“so where do we begin..” i hummed. i could feel that paige felt awkward

“name?” i started.

“paige bueckers”

“year?”

“im a junior”

she’s 2 years older than me.

“current gpa?”

“3.9”

not bad.

“workloard in school?”

“atleast 5 worksheets and 2 tests per week”

“can you finish them on time?”

“depends”

“what’s your hardest subject?”

“chemistry”

“favorite subject?”

“anatomy”

“okay that’s all for now. we still have more interviews in the future, and a possible group study session with the others. thank you!” i tell paige.

“thanks” paige coldly replies.

after an interview with aubrey, azzi, and the others, i wrapped it up, just in time for them to do their own preps before training. i was looking for a water dispenser as i was thirsty. i passed by the locker room and heard a voice.

“what is she even doing here? can’t she do her studies somewhere else? we don’t need her bro” the voice stated, which i think was pertaining to me.

“paige, just be kind. its a freshman’s research, you know how tough some professors are with the freshmans, they would have to give their best” another voice replied back.

“whatever, let’s just get to practice” paige scoffs. i rolled by eyes and realized that it was my signal to go, i didn’t want them to see me. i quickly got my water and got out of the court, thanking coach geno and the other members who were just sitting on the bleachers.

as i walk, i start to feel discouraged. i just want to do what’s best for me, and a person who doesn’t know me just talks bad about what im doing. i guess i just have to suck it up, i have no time for negativity anyways. just focus on being able to transfer to stanford.

uconn, your star is not-so shining to me.

- zo’s notes: hello, i hope everyone is enjoying reading my fic :)

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader

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buck-up-buck · 29 days

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Canon Events that have happened over the three episodes that have me going INSANE (like, these actually happened and are not Fanon.)

Buck asked Tommy for a tour of Harbour, not because he wanted to consider learning to fly, or leave the 118, but soley because he wanted to hang out with Tommy.

Buck used Christopher for information on Tommy.

Buck pretended to suddenly be into Basketball so that he could go to the game, just because he knew Eddie and Tommy would be there.

MADDIE MOCKED BUCK ABOUT OPENLY HAVING A CRUSH ON EDDIE.

Buck body slammed Eddie while playing Basketball (honestly, I still cannot get over the fact that he YEETED THIS BOII).

Tommy got Buck's address from Eddie and chose to come around to apologise to Buck even though, TECHNICALLY, Buck was the one acting like a spoilt brat all episode.

BUCK WAS KISSED BY A MAN. SPECIFICALLY, BUCK WAS KISSED BY TOMMY. And then proceeded to be swept off his feet by this man and was left starstruck in his apartment, after Tommy openly communicated that he had to go to work and wasn't just kissing and bailing.

"I'm an Ally."... Need I say no more.

Buck acted like a totally fucking idiot on his first date with Tommy, and proceeded to have Tommy cut the date short because of how unready he seemed. WHICH BY THE WAY, TOMMY AGAIN COMMUNICATED SO BEAUTIFULLY WITH BUCK AND PROCEEDED TO STILL CALL THIS MAN ADORABLE. HE CALLED HIM ADORABLE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Buck accidently outed himself to Maddie because he was doing a ramble ramble about his lil buck'ed up date.

Buck told Eddie he was on a date with Tommy, and Eddie proceeded to be the bestie of besties to Buck and told him, they all loved him anyways. HE USED THE WORDS. Bucks face in that scene will forever make my lil gay heart WEEP.

Buck told Eddie he couldn't stop thinking about the hot pilot that kissed him. CRYING.

Buck proceeded to grow the fuck up and apologised to Tommy, face to face, out in a public space, knowing full well that Tommy could have dropped his ass there and then, but still wanted to show him how sorry he was, and that he was, in fact, ready.

BUCK INVITED TOMMY TO BE HIS DATE TO THE MADNEY WEDDING DESPITE ONLY technically GOING ON TWO DATES. AND THEN TOMMY. SAID. YES. HE SAID YES. YES.

Buck also then invited Tommy to Chim's bachelor party, HELD HIS ARMS OPEN ACROSS THE ROOM READY FOR A HUG, told Tommy off for his outfit, showing off true Clipboard Buck form, AND THEN TOUCHED HIS PECK.

Eddie, the bestie of besties, got all sappya and jokey when he saw Tommy and Buck together.

Buck got all pouty when Tommy had to go to work, BUT TOLD HIM TO BE SAFE. HE SAID BE SAFE DAMNIT.

Buck got all goofy and smiley when he saw that Tommy had arrived at the hospital, MEANING, that he was most likely texting Tommy all day updating him on everything that was going on, even if Tommy couldn't respond while attending to the fire.

BUCK. CALLED. TOMMY. A. BEAST. HE SAID THIS CANONICALLY. ARE YOU JOKING. HE FULLY ATTACKED MY MAN, WHILE HE WAS COVERED IN SOOT AND SHIT, SNOGGED HIS FACE OFF IN A HOSPITAL WAITING ROOM, AND CALLED HIM A BEAST. I AM DECEASED.

Buck, the idiot that he is, proceeded to out himself, to his entire family, by coming back into the room, most likely 15 to 20 minutes after leaving, covered in soot because he had been uncontrollably making out with his hot pilot boyfriend.

Eddie, the bestie of besties, GOT SO FUCKING SMUG WHEN HE SAW BUCK AND TOMMY WALK BACK IN THAT ROOM. HE PULLED THE SAME FACE I PULL WHEN MY FRIENDS HAVE COME BACK FROM MAKING OUT WITH PEOPLE AND I AM HERE FOR IT. EDDIE YOU BESTIE SLAY SLAY SLAY.

Hen, the queen that she is, has most likely spoken to Karen about her suspicons of Buck's sexuality, and procceed to say ABOUT DAMN TIME. SHE KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME. HER GAYDAR IS ON FIRE. I LOVE HER.

Again, all of these events happened IN ACTUAL EPISODES, not in a fanfiction. I am FERAL over this. Bi!Buck is the best thing to ever happen to me.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and if you don't ship BuckTommy, leave.

#911 abc #911 spoilers #this is me talking about all the cannon events that have me currently going insane #none of these were from a fanficiton #all of these things actually happened in episodes #like this is all real life #isnt that CRAZY #i am so feral over this are you kidding #still not over that kiss from last night i cannot lie #buck called tommy a beast are you JOKING me right now #bi buck saved me #I am so hyped about this #listen i love buddie #i do #but #BUT #eddie as the bestie of besties is my favourite thing and i love how supportive he is of buck right now #as someone who is queer and did not have a single supportive friend when i first came out #this representation is everything to me #this is healing my childhood trauma #so how about we let tommy and buck be for a bit huh #and leave eddie to deal with his catholic guilt before he even considers having a gay awakening #thank you for coming to my ted talk #only good vibes in this house #any negativity will face my wrath #all the love for my firefighters #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #henrietta wilson

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rainyenbie · 1 month

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Okay. So, the full moon is tomorrow, and of course we don't know when the episode is coming out, but I want to just state how ready and unready I am for it to come out.

Listen. I love hazbin and all, but helluva is my home. It's been my hyperfixation for a concerning amount of time, so I'm used to the waiting, but it's THIS specific episode that's driving me insane.

So, we all (probably) know that it's gonna be about stolitz. And, like, regardless of how it ends, I'm gonna be in tears, and I'm not gonna shut up about it to my friends for months (or at least until a new episode comes out).

If it ends happy, or at least hopeful, and they get together, I'm gonna be crying tears of joy and relief. But if it ends tragically (which it most likely will, you know vivzie) I'm going to be full-on sobbing. And I will be whenever I remember the contents of the episode.

So in short, I'm not ready for my favorite gays to be in emotional turmoil. Stolitz nation, we got to get our sad cereal ready and hold each other's hands because we're not making it out of this episode without tears.

#stolitz #helluva boss #full moon episode #blitzø #stolas #I need s #i need sleep

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peoplesgraves · 2 years

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Reset

Yandere Reaper X Reader

Your eyes open and you’re somewhere unfamiliar. As far as the eye can see is gray sand and an equally gray sky. The sand crunches underneath your feet and a cool breeze blows from the sky. Someone is holding your hand. His is skeletal and almost engulfed by the baggy black robes he wears but for some reason it doesn’t scare you.

“Where am I?” You look up at the much talller man and he looks oddly familiar.

“The barrens.” He starts right back down at her. His sunken gaze immediately softening at her confused face. “It’s where souls who have forgotten who they are go.”

You look out into the distance and manage to see people aimlessly wandering. Paying no attention to eachother or to the reaper. “Is this where I’m going?”

The reaper shakes his head and tightens his grip on your hand. “No. Never.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Even when you forget I’ll remember for you.” A bright light engulfs you and suddenly you’re in a field of wild flowers.

“Wow. Is this where people who remember go?”

The reaper nods “there are a lot of afterlife’s like this one. For now this ones empty so it’s just for us.” He leans down to pick a flower. He ends up with a pink one that smells like raspberries. He tucks it behind your ear and legs his fingers ghost over you for just a second longer then needed. “Beautiful.”

The two of you stay in that afterlife for a while. You weave him a flower crown and he blushes when you call him beautiful. Soon though things start to darken again.

“Who are you?”

The reaper sighs sadly. This was so much worse then asking where you were. “I’m a reaper.”

“Hmm. Are you my reaper?”

He smiles sadly and grabs your hand. “If you want me to be.”

“Just one more question” you grasp his hand tighter as if gearing yourself up.

The reaper was similarly unready. This was his least favorite question of all. He would rather be stabbed 1000 times then see this look in your eyes.

“Who am I?” Your eyes turn glassy and fear invades at the realization that you have no idea who you are.

Instead of answering the reaper takes you to another afterlife. The travel causes your memory to reset and the reaper is spared from your questions for a while.

You sit on the beach and all of a sudden a large mostly human figure is next to you.

You give the man a friendly grin. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’ve been hurting someone I love and I’m more sure how to fix it.” The reaper grabs a handful of sand and lets it fall through his fingers. He unable to look you in the eye, afraid your memory will suddenly return.

You frown softly. “Maybe it would help to tell me about it”

“Humans aren’t made to be traveling like reapers. I’ve been selfish and kept them with me despite knowing how negatively it’s affecting them. Now they’re memory is too far gone for me to send their soul to their afterlife” The reaper looks down guiltily and sighs “what should I do?”

“I think the best you can do is just to be there for them now.” You shrugs “if I was forgetting everything then I’d want someone there for me.”

The reaper smiles softly. “You’re right. I won’t leave them. Thank you” he kisses the top of your hand and can feel butterflies at the blush that coats your face. It was just like the first time again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere reaper #yandere Grimm reaper #yandere monster #yandere beast #yandere fantasy #yandere mythical creature

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heeheesang · 2 months

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ʂƚɾαɳɠҽɾ ∂αɳɠҽɾ ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

four -> yn's past. (my apologies for the long chapter🥹)

“yn! that’s literally so funny what—“ byul, elle and i were cut off from laughing as we accidentally bumped into o ur seniors. “oh, sorry.” elle apologised as the three of us bowed as an apology for bumping into them. i looked up to see the three people i least expected to see, jay, ni-ki and jungwon.

“oh, please don’t worry about it.” jay reassured us as elle’s smile widened, meeting eyes with the older male as we bowed again. “aren’t you three auditioning for the new hybe survival show..? if i’m not wrong, you’re kim wonbyul.. kim elle..? and you’re yoon yn.” jay asked when the air became thicker.

“ah yes… we’re happy to meet you..?” i said, trying to form words since we were still new to bumping into idols and all. “was that a question or were you actually forming a sentence?” riki chuckled as i rolled my eyes playfully, “let her off riks, she’s new to this. well, we have to get going but it was nice meeting you.” jungwon said as he stared directly into my eyes.

what? does he wanna kiss me or something what’s with the attitude change?

i scoffed softly as i made an excuse, “sorry i have to attend to this.” i said rolling my eyes as i looked directly at jungwon. maybe i shouldn’t have done that, maybe i should’ve. that’s nothing compared to what he did to me in high school. he should’ve learnt his lesson by now, right?

“yoon yn. YOON YN!” elle yelled back for me as tears dropped down my cheeks, turnimg around as i faced her. “what.. elle. what is it? i’m sorry for acting up but.. i’m sorry go on with the dance practice without me, i’ll just see you next episode.” i said as i smiled through my tears, elle was about to open her mouth again but i just went up to her and hugged her, “i’m fine don’t worry about me.”

i walked past the walkways and got to a dark spot where i always went to if i needed to release my thoughts into space. i was wearing a grey tank with a beanie and some sweatpants as the cold wind brushed my hair, fuck i should’ve brought a jacket. i sighed and took out a stick, lighting it up as i inhaled a puff and let the smoke disperse in the air.

did i deserve that in high school? maybe it was a wake up call… but still, jungwon didn’t start a ‘call yn a slut’ chain, some stupid juniors did. maybe he isn’t all bad, am i thinking too much? jeonghan would hate me if i ever forgave jungwon this quick. jungwon didn’t really hurt me, just mentally and emotionally. again, it’s my fault for pushing him to be in a relationship with me… i knew he was emotionally unready or unstable a few weeks into our relationship so why didn’t he say anything?

“you know… sometimes it’s good to let your members know where you go. and it’s best to let your brother know where you went,” a familiar voice struck in my head as i snapped out of my thoughts, taking another puff of the tobacco flavoured stick as he sighs, “look yn… what i did back then—“

“please. no.” i cut him off as he pointed to the seat next to mine, i nodded and made a big space between us as i took yet another puff. “your friends and your brother are worried. they started coming after me because you talked about me..?” jungwon admitted as he sighed deeply and i nodded, “sorry about them.”

up til now, i hadn’t spared him a single glance. “yn, can we talk?” jungwon asked as he faced me, “we are talking.” i said, before he took my stick and threw it on the floor and used his foot to stop the fire from burning, turning me slowly to face him.

“please?” he said in a soft voice that i almost melted at, i nodded my head.

“i was stupid to say that you cheated, you obviously didn’t and i was at fault. i wasn’t very responsible as a boyfriend and i was seen with multiple girls and i said i had no time for our dates. i’ll be honest, i was jealous of seeing you spend more time with wonwoo than me.. so i made my schedule packed with tutees… i realised how stupid i was to think that i was in the right to tell everyone you chested and those juniors… called you names… because of me.” he took a deep breath to continue but i out my finger to his lips and shook my head with a deep sigh.

“look jungwon. i’m leaving that in the past, i’m happy, i’m glad you realised what you did wrong. i’ve tried everyway to avoid you but i guess the world just isn’t on my side. if we’re going to be label mates then, hello i’m yoon yn. what’s your name?” i said as i offered my hand, “yang jungwon, nice to meet you yn.”

“nice to meet you too asshat.”

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taglist! @rosas-in-the-garden @ilikekpop-c @aloloveswonie @jwonistic @drunkhee @h4918ymc @huieee @xiaoderrrr @ilovejungwonandhaechan @yourssincerely-mimi @n1k1mura @nnana2

hhs’ notes! double update!! omg the amount of support on this smau is insane like actually insane i love you all so much especially my readers from my last smau🥹🫶🏻 jungwon and yn making progress..! how do we feel? honetsly so much mixed feelings right now but like… better chapters to come that will cure our curiousity😭 as always, thank you for reading and enjoying this chapter, i’ll see you on the next chapter! i love you all so much mwah mwah mwah🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

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