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edenesth · 5 months

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The Way to His Heart [11]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Trigger Warnings: gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 10 | Fic Masterlist | Part 12

Hearing the cessation of all the screams, one of the royal guards gathered the courage to enter the chamber and check on Seonghwa, "Sir, are you done?"

Upon entering, he had yet to witness the state in which the former minister was left. The general stood before his victim, actively wiping all the blood off his hands with a towel prepared beforehand, "It's done. Has my assistant arrived to pick me up?"

"Yes, sir. Assistant Choi is waiting with your carriage by the entrance. If I remember correctly, he mentioned Lady Park helped prepare dinner today." A smile instantly graced your husband's face at the mere mention of you.

"Thank you, soldier. Bring in the rest and clean up the mess," He instructed, finally stepping away from the seat in the middle of the room, revealing the sight of your father slumped in the chair, both of his arms missing, blood gushing out from his shoulders, "Get him to a physician before banishing him. No need to treat him extensively; heal him just enough to keep him alive."

Freezing, the guard nodded quickly, "Y-yes, sir! We will not let you down!" His round eyes fixated on the two mutilated limbs on the ground in the middle of the puddle of crimson liquid.

The general was truly not someone to be underestimated, that was evident to the royal guards who filed in later on to clean up the bloody mess. They now understood why Seonghwa was so feared among those who had worked with him or witnessed his cold-blooded nature firsthand.

However, rather than instilling pure terror, your husband garnered more respect from them. He had gone to great lengths just to avenge his beloved wife. This demonstrated that the man still possessed a heart after all and that his affection for Lady Park was undeniable. He has proven that he could love just as fiercely as he hated.

Not a single member of the palace staff harboured even a hint of pity for the former Minister of Military Affairs as they dealt with his mangled body according to instructions. Any citizen with access to news was aware of all the cruel acts the old man had committed against his own daughter and first wife. It was safe to say that witnessing him in this state brought ample satisfaction not only to the general but to others as well.

"Sir, there's a bit of blood here."

The assistant extended his handkerchief, ensuring his master was free from any signs of bloodshed as they returned home. The last thing they all needed was for you to catch on to any of the events that occurred today; you should only focus on happiness and never spare another thought for your so-called family from now onwards.

"Thank you, Jongho," The general responded, taking the piece of fabric to remove the small bloodstain on his neck, "Keep me posted on where they banished that clown afterwards. It would be nice to check in on him once in a while, for entertainment purposes."

"Yes, sir."

Upon entering the estate, he was surprised not to find you waiting for him by the entrance, as was your usual routine when he returned from work. Only the head maid and a few servants stood there, ready to greet him, "Welcome home, master. We hope you had a good day at work." They said with a deep bow.

Seonghwa frowned, "Where's the mistress?" The elderly woman replied, "Mistress is currently at the main hall having a chat with Royal Secretary Choi while they were awaiting your return."

That immediately had the general rushing towards the hall. He didn't like the thought of you alone with... yet another handsome man. He had finally grown accustomed to having Yunho around the estate whenever he was at work, only because the two of you rarely interacted; he knew that thanks to daily reports from Eunsook. Now, jealousy was flooding his veins again.

What if you found San more attractive?

"Yes, I fully understand your concern. My sister faces similar issues," The royal secretary's voice carried from outside the hall, and then your softer response followed, "Thank you so much for your help, San. It means a lot to me."

They're already on a first-name basis?

"Help? With what?" He queried, abruptly pulling you and the secretary from your conversation. Both of you looked up at him, and you blinked and stammered nervously, quickly rising from your seat, "Oh, Seonghwa! You're home! It's nothing, we were just having a casual conversation while waiting for you."

Sensing your unease, San chuckled and concurred, "Yes, it was nothing important. It's good that you're back; I've come to deliver the minutes of today's assembly to you, as per His Majesty's orders."

"Please don't let me interrupt; I'll be waiting for you at the dining hall," You remarked to your husband, offering a nod of gratitude to the secretary, "It was nice talking to you, Royal Secretary Choi," The man respectfully bowed his head, "And you, Lady Park."

The general watched the interaction between you two with unmistakable envy, causing San to suppress a snicker into his fist, "Without further ado, general, let's proceed so that you can join your wife for dinner as soon as possible," Seonghwa nodded, feigning nonchalance, "Of course."

As the secretary continued to share the main details discussed during the assembly, he noticed the general's slight distraction. Wrapping up the debrief, he decided to ease your husband's thoughts by divulging the nature of your earlier conversation.

"Listen, before you came back, Lady Park and I were just talking about her concerns regarding being a better wife. Given that my elder sister, who is married, shares similar worries, I was merely offering some insights that might be helpful. So, don't stress over it too much, okay? I assure you, you're the only one on her mind."

Learning that you were only seeking to improve yourself for him, Seonghwa's heart melted immediately. Regret washed over him for entertaining the notion that you might find his colleague more appealing, and a slight embarrassment crept in, "I, uhh... it's not like I was worried about that or anything... but thank you, San. If that's all for today, Jongho will escort you out."

The secretary held back his knowing smile as they bid each other farewell before the general made his way to the dining hall. His heart pounded with excitement at the thought of being with you again.

Dinner went by as usual, though this time, you were brimming with enthusiasm as you shared how you spent the day learning to prepare his favourite dishes from the kitchen staff. You even mentioned the surprising discovery that you might have developed a love for cooking. He ate more than usual, savouring the fact that the meal was made just for him, and found it difficult to take his eyes off of you throughout the night.

He had once considered happiness to be a frivolous notion, something only fools wished for. He never anticipated being the one to experience it. Now that he had, your husband was determined not to lose this newfound feeling.

With your family matters now resolved, the only thing remaining was to give you the grand wedding you truly deserved. From then on, the plan was to enjoy a lifetime of this happiness together. Watching you munching away with joy, he couldn't resist reaching over to affectionately wipe the corner of your lips. At that moment, he realised that this was all he needed.

After the meal, he walked you back to the House of Lotus, hand in hand as usual. Upon reaching the entrance, you smiled up at him, "Have a good night, Seonghwa."

However, before you could turn and leave, he swiftly cupped your face, "Wait, before you go..." Your heart quickened as he leaned in, whispering, "Just one kiss, my love."

Almost instinctively, your eyes fluttered closed as soon as his lips met yours in a tender kiss. The warmth spread through your insides as he wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss by angling his head.

Feeling the sensation of his lips pressing against yours, again and again, you finally understood why couples enjoyed kissing. It was hard to put into words, but being so close to him felt pleasant, and your husband had a unique way of making you feel beautiful with his touches, even when you doubted it yourself. There was an almost addictive quality to it, making you feel like the luckiest woman in the world to be desired by the great General Park.

Perhaps I've found it... my happiness.

After breaking the kiss for a breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at you lovingly. In silence, the two of you remained in each other's arms, basking in the moment, reluctant to part.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut short as your assigned group of servants approached, "Oh, pardon us for the intrusion, master and mistress! We came to assist in preparing the mistress for bed. May we proceed, master? Or, if you wish to stay with the mistress, we could also make arrangements for both of you for the night in the House of Lotus."

His heart raced as he witnessed the faint blush on your cheeks in response to the maid's suggestion. Chuckling, he gently shook his head and placed a kiss on your forehead, "No, the mistress needs her rest. Perhaps another time. Go on ahead then; she will join you soon."

"Yes, master, as you wish."

The servants entered your quarters to prepare your bath while you exchanged your goodnight. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he couldn't resist leaning in for a final, lingering kiss on your soft lips, "Goodnight, my love. I'll see you tomorrow."

As you made your way to your room, he felt a swell of affection watching you turn for one last wave before disappearing inside. He missed you already, and as much as he would have loved to hold you close all night, he knew that waiting until your proper wedding night to share the same bed was the right decision. For now, this was more than enough. After all, he had the rest of his life to spend with you.

"Thank goodness the ointment has been remarkably effective. I don't think you need to harbour any insecurities about your appearance anymore. Lady Park, you look beautiful." said Physician Jung as he arrived to assess the condition of your skin. Having you apply the medicine he prepared for some time, he recognised that his work here would soon be done.

Eunsook couldn't contain the grin on her face at the slight pink dusting your cheeks from the doctor's compliment, suddenly relieved that her master was not around. Lord knows how unamused he would have been to hear any of that or see your reaction.

"Yes, thank you, Yunho. She's always been ravishing with or without your ointment. I think your job here is done; it's my turn to enhance this beauty. Head over to the general's study for your pay if that's all," The doctor couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the dressmaker's dramatic entrance, "It's nice to see you too, Hongjoong."

With a dismissive wave, he shrugged off the sarcastic greeting from his tall friend, saying, "I'll catch up with you soon; I have work to do." Left with no other choice, Yunho offered one final bow to you before leaving your room with a maid escorting him out.

Closing the distance between you, the dressmaker swiftly retrieved the new hanbok he had made specifically for the special occasion today, declaring, "Now, who is ready to outshine all the princesses in the palace? It's you, Lady Park!"

"Outshine the princesses? I d-don't think that's a good idea—"

He interrupted you before you could finish your protest, "Nonsense! I promised General Park to make you the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon." With a small giggle, you sighed in defeat and allowed him to work his magic with the assistance of the head maid as they coordinated your appearance for your visit to the palace.

Today marked the day you and Seonghwa were meeting the King and Queen to discuss the details of your wedding ceremony in-depth, as well as allowing the royal couple to finally meet you after having heard so much about you. Even without having seen you, they already adored you from the stories your husband had shared. Not to mention, their hearts ached, especially after learning about your nightmarish childhood.

Seated at the vanity table, you gazed at your reflection in amazement as Eunsook worked on your hair and makeup, with Hongjoong providing expert advice and guidance. Just as the elderly woman was about to conceal the remaining faint scars on your face as she had always done, the dressmaker intervened, "No, wait. Leave the one on her forehead as it is; I have an idea."

With his extensive knowledge of fashion and beauty, he had always been intrigued by the Chinese makeup style, which incorporated temporary tattoos. Specifically, he was drawn to the idea of a small flower design painted onto women's foreheads.

Rather than covering your marks, he opted to transform them into an accessory that would improve your overall looks. With this distinctive look, you were bound to capture attention from all directions, not that your beauty didn't already achieve that. Now, you would stand out wherever you went, even within the palace grounds where princesses and royal concubines were always impeccably dressed.

Waiting by the entrance, Seonghwa turned when he recognised the sound of your dainty footsteps approaching. He didn't miss his assistant's awestruck expression, taking in your appearance from behind him, "Finally, Hongjoong's taken way too long..."

As you stepped into full view, his words trailed off, and his gaze fixed on you with a mix of astonishment and sheer admiration. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to express what he felt. You had always been beautiful in his eyes, but his friend had truly outdone himself this time.

The most significant difference that caught the general's attention was the little red flower on your forehead, right between your eyes. That delicate design elegantly covered one of the scars you bore from your past. It was a stroke of genius from the dressmaker, turning a mark of pain into a unique and striking accessory that enhanced your natural beauty.

Your husband approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. Finally finding his voice, he whispered, "You look breathtaking, my love," before gently reaching up to trace the edge of the flower on your forehead, his touch soft and filled with so much love, "Hongjoong, you've done wonders."

The dressmaker grinned proudly and nodded in agreement, "I know, I always do."

Throughout the journey to the palace, the general found it hard to divert his gaze from you, just as you were captivated by the passing scenery outside. The roads to the palace differed from the usual routes leading to town, explaining your intrigue. As he admired your beautiful face, an unexpected desire surged within him to take you back home and shield you from others' eyes. A sudden uncertainty about wanting anyone else to see you overcame him. A selfish impulse urged him to keep you all to himself.

Before he could entertain the impulsive idea of turning the carriage around, Jongho had already announced their arrival. This time, Eunsook didn't bother to stand by and assist you down, instead waiting expectantly as the general smoothly helped you in one swift movement, determined to keep you close.

Having been here more than enough, Seonghwa knew this place might appear beautiful on the inside but could be very dangerous at the same time. People here might seem nice but rarely could be trusted, particularly the women. Well aware of this, he hesitated to let you wander off alone, despite your status as his wife. You were easily recognisable as Lady Park from a distance, anyone would have to be insane to dare mess with you.

Even so, he had no intention of leaving your side for even a moment. Palace servants passing by bowed deeply at both of you, and you did your best to maintain the poise of a noblewoman as practised with the head maid. The last thing you wanted was to make your husband look bad in here.

As you both approached the hall for the meeting with His and Her Majesty, the royal secretary rushed out to intercept the two of you. Almost as if your husband had jinxed it, San exclaimed, "There you are, General Park! We have a bit of a situation right now. Your immediate presence is required at an emergency meeting."

"But my wife—"

Finally realising you were present, the secretary bowed, "Oh, right, Lady Park! We're all aware you're here to discuss your wedding arrangements, but this really cannot wait. Even His Majesty is currently in this meeting expecting you. Would it be alright if we have your wife waiting by the cherry blossom garden? We'll have the servants prepare her some refreshments."

As much as Seonghwa detested the sudden change of plans, he acknowledged that he was left with no choice upon sensing the urgency in San's demeanour. With a nod of defeat, he agreed, "Okay, fine. Eunsook, please stay by the mistress' side at all times."

She nodded with a bow, "Of course, master."

Turning to you with a regretful frown etched on his brows, he said, "I'm sorry for having to leave you alone, my love. I'll come back to you as quickly as I can, I promise."

You shook your head with an understanding smile, "Don't worry about me, Seonghwa. I'll be fine. Your work is more important. Now hurry and go. Don't make His Majesty wait." Sighing lightly, he pecked you on the head before rushing off with the royal secretary.

"Lady Park, please come with us. We will guide you to the cherry blossom garden."

A team of palace maids appeared before you, showing you as much respect as they would towards royalty. Your status and reputation were well-known nationwide; you were favoured not only by your husband but also by the King and Queen themselves. No one would dare to disrespect you for fear of dire consequences.

Their dedication was evident in the top-tier hospitality as they led you to the enchanting garden, unlike anything you had ever seen. After thanking them politely, they prepared a seat for you in one of the pavilions within the vast garden, serving a tray of tea and some sophisticated-looking snacks.

Boredom eventually set in, and you glanced at one of the palace maids standing ready by the pavilion for any orders you might have for her, "Excuse me, would it be okay for me to take a walk around the garden?"

"Oh, certainly, Lady Park! Feel free to explore the garden as you please. Would you like any of us to accompany you?" Smiling and glancing at Eunsook, you declined, "No, thank you. We'll manage on our own. We won't be gone too long; you have my word."

"Thank you, Lady Park. Your assurance is appreciated; we'll await your return here." They bowed deeply as you and the head maid began your leisurely stroll.

As you wandered through the picturesque garden, marvelling at the vibrant colours of the flowers, you inadvertently caught the eye of a stranger who happened to be nearby. Your beauty, accentuated by the mark on your forehead, captivated the attention of this mysterious figure. What intrigued him even more was the unmistakable childlike innocence reflected in your eyes.

From a distance, he observed you with awe. The way you carried yourself, the genuine delight on your face as you admired the flowers and scenery—it all conveyed a sense of authenticity. Unlike anyone he had encountered, you seemed untouched by pretentiousness or spoiled airs.

Driven by an unexplainable urge to get closer, the stranger slowly made his way towards you, navigating through the enchanting garden. His curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't resist the desire to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention.

Unaware of the approaching figure as you immersed yourself in the beauty of the flowers, a clearing of the throat behind you signalled his presence. Eunsook, recognising the newcomer, widened her eyes and began to bow, but he gestured for her to remain silent with a finger against his lips and a subtle shake of his head.

Interrupting the tranquillity, the unexpected deep voice spoke, "It's beautiful, isn't it? Do you know what cherry blossoms symbolise?"

Startled, you turned to find a handsome man dressed elegantly, smiling down at you. After a moment of surprise, you nodded, "I do. I've read that they symbolise purity and beauty."

The man acknowledged, "That's right, much like you, my lady."

Concern flickered in the head maid's eyes, realising that the stranger might be unaware of your identity and possibly attempting to make a romantic gesture. Before matters could escalate, she decided to intervene, "Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang."

« Preview of Part 12 »

Seonghwa's eyes widened as they approached the War and Strategy Department building, where soldiers were marching about hastily, "Wait a minute, don't tell me—"

The royal secretary had no time to explain as he pulled the general into the meeting room where all military officials were seated and awaiting anxiously. The King, positioned in the middle of the room, sighed deeply upon noticing your husband's arrival.

"You're here, General Park. Is your wife also in the palace?" His Majesty asked, rubbing his head to alleviate an oncoming headache.

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and inquired, "Yes, she is. She's waiting by the cherry blossom garden as we speak. Now, tell me. What is it? What has happened?"

With regret in his eyes, the King grimaced, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Just wanted to make it clear that Ruhon is a fictional country. I've thought about it and decided it's probably best not to use real places for fear of offending anyone.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/6): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @kamabokogonpachro @wh0re4yunho

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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wttcsms · 9 months

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we play our fantasies out in real life ways ; shouto todoroki.

pairing shouto todoroki x f!reader word count 2.7k synopsis knocking up his sugar baby seems (and feels) like a dream come true for the future ceo and youngest son of japan’s richest conglomerate family. content contains sugar daddy!shouto, yandere themes, car sex, creampie, breeding kink, quirkless au, ceo!shouto, tiny daddy kink author’s notes this is a repost of an old fic but pls tell me we are still horny 4 shouto. also ignore the Tesla promo, i was feeling silly when i wrote this </3

He can have anything he wants, you know.

And of course you know this. Of course you do. It’s hard to ignore this fact whenever he’s the exact reason your closet is overflowing with more dresses than you know what to do with; why your dresser can barely stay shut due to the amount of lacy lingerie you’ve had to shove in them; why you’re a third year college student driving to campus with a brand new Mercedes that technically isn’t even supposed to be out on the market ‘til next month.

He can have anything he wants, and because you’re his, by extension, you have the power to make all your material wishes come true, too. All you have to do is ask him.

All you have to do is look up at him and give him those puppy dog eyes of yours and say, “please, daddy, can I cum?” and he’ll let you. You know he will, because stoic Shouto Todoroki, the future CEO and prized son of the Todoroki clan that happens to be one of the most famous conglomerate families in all of Japan, just can’t seem to say no to you. He signs off multi-billion yen deals as easily as one blinks and running multiple companies is just something he’s been born to do. It’s no easy feat to give commands to such a powerful man.

And yet, one look and a tiny whimper is all it takes to turn him into putty in your hands.

It’s always an out of body experience when you’re with Shouto. Being with him is like constantly being the main character of a movie. He rents out entire restaurants so the two of you can dine away from prying eyes. He sends you good morning and good night texts every single day. (One time you joked about him forcing his assistant to do it because there’s no way a busy man like him would ever have time to do something so insignificant; he didn’t like that you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the concept of you being someone very important to him.) Shouto is incredibly good to you, incredibly good for you.

He’s incredibly good with a lot of things. Taking care of you, for one. Taking care of all his businesses, for another. And right now, he’s taking real good care of your cunt when he’s got three of his fingers knuckles deep in you.

The windows to his sleek, outrageously priced car are tinted so dark, even you struggle to see through the windshield. You always tell him it’s dangerous, but he reminds you that there are always reasons for the things he does. You wonder if getting tinted windows so he could fuck his college student sugar baby with some semblance of privacy is the reason.

And then all thinking on your end comes to a stop when he nips at the skin of your neck, biting down softly and getting you to let out a tiny whimper. It doesn’t hurt. You don’t think Shouto is even capable of hurting you; not because you’re some unbreakable being, but because you don’t think the calloused hands that have caressed every centimeter of your body is capable of harming you.

The two of you are currently parked in the lot right outside the building where his main office is located. In about ten minutes, the parking lot will be flooded with employees who have just clocked out and are getting ready to speed home. In about ten minutes, anyone could accidentally (or purposely) become a little voyeur to the activities going down in the future CEO’s luxury car.

Your back is pressed against his chest. More often than not, you find yourself naked while he’s practically still dressed, and it’s the same thing that’s happening right now. The buttons on his shirt are digging into your back, but you can’t find it in you to complain. Instead, you focus on gripping the wrist of the hand that’s in between your thighs. The sleeves of his button down shirt are rolled up, and if you take your tiny fingers just a bit higher, you can feel the veins running down his arm.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” The baritone of his voice is smooth, calm, collected — in control. Because you can make any request in the world, and Shouto will fulfill it for you, but that does not mean that you are the one who makes the final decisions. At the end of the day, everything you have, everything that is given to you, is because of him, because of the decisions he makes for you.

His eagerness to gift you the world thinly veils the true depth of your submission to him. A subconscious part of you is well aware of the power imbalance in this relationship, but if all has been well these past two years, then surely it’ll only be smooth sailing from here?

You lean back, leaning into his warmth, breathing deeply to inhale the scent of his spicy cologne that costs more than your textbooks (that he bought for you).

“D-daddy.” You moan out, trying to coax him deeper in your tight little cunt, as if his fingers aren’t already as deep as they can go, spreading out your hole to prep you for what he knows you truly crave.

“You’ve got to speak up, love. I can’t give you anything if you don’t tell me what to give you.” His breath is warm against your ear, and it’s so hot in the car. So, so hot. You wonder if it’s just you feeling the heat, though. Shouto seems as collected as ever, not the least bit uncomfortable at all.

“Mmm — w-want you.” You wriggle a bit in his lap, but his free hand grips your side and squeezes you with a firm, nonverbal command to stop moving. You do, immediately. Because that’s what you always do: follow his command.

“I know you do.” He coos, finally moving his fingers. It’s agonizingly slow, too slow. The car is silent save for your little pants and the obscene wet sounds that come as a result of his fingers thrusting in your wet cunt.

“Faster, daddy.” You whine out, looking up at him. The sun is setting, and despite the tint of the windows, the orange glow from the sun still shines against his smooth skin, casting his face into something that’s half sunset/half shadow. It’s a good look; a sharp contrast that matches his hair. Seeing your blatant admiration of him only spurs him to give in and go faster. He had planned on drawing this out for as long as he possibly could. He had originally wanted to coax you into as many orgasms ‘til you were nothing but a fucked out little mess, too worn out to pay attention or even care when he finishes your little session with you plugged up with his cum.

The lives of children born into the Todoroki family are more cursed than it is blessed, and Shouto had, a very long time ago, made a vow that he would never continue the bloodline. He would have no children, which would be easy because he planned on never having a lover.

And then he met you, started providing for you, realized how much he enjoyed providing, and realized even more that the only way to strengthen this transactional relationship is by forcing your hand. He likes to think that you would stay with him willingly, but there are some chances that he’s just not willing to take; there are some extremes that he’s all too entirely happy to go far to, though.

Your sweet moans mix in well with the lewd sounds of your pussy getting thoroughly fingerfucked. His fingers are so much longer than yours, can reach spots inside of you that you can’t quite reach yourself. He’s efficient with anything and everything he does, and you’re not surprised when he doesn’t slow his pace. The consistent strokes of his fingers, your lowered inhibitions when around Shouto, and the look on his face (equal parts concentration and adoration) all help in making you cum all over his hand.

“Good girl.” Shouto whispers, removing his fingers and holding his hand up. The sunlight beaming through makes his digits glisten even more, and you’re enraptured as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips to suck your essence off of them. Piercing heterochromatic eyes never leave yours as he sucks on them, and you have to turn away from embarrassment. How can he keep such a straight face when literally licking your cum off his fingers?

“Don’t turn away from me.” His hand — still wet — grips your chin and forces you to look at him again. “I don’t like it when you shy away from me.”

You nod meekly, and Shouto sighs.

“You shouldn’t be shy around me. I don’t like making you feel uncomfortable, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod again, a subtle, barely there move. He’s not impressed.

“Answer me properly.” There’s a hard edge to his tone, and you sit up a little straighter. Shouto would never lay a hand on you with the intent to physically harm you, but he’s not above roughing you up during sex. You’ve heard him get this way before, and the imprint of his fingertips and the purple hickeys littering your poor body took three days to fade properly.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You say with a pout, trying to conjure up any sort of leniency he can spare. Judging by his facial expression and the wavering look in his eyes, he’s already softening up. You just have to make it up to him now to have his complete forgiveness.

Maneuvering in the limited space the driver’s seat gives is no easy task, but you manage to shift positions to where you’re straddling his lap, finally facing him properly. He’s leaned back, watching you with a hungry glint in his eyes that makes you feel like the most wanted girl in all of Japan. A surge of heat flows through your body, from the tips of your ears to your cheeks and all the way down to between your thighs. If you were in a different position, you could clench them together, try to rub your thighs in an attempt to ease the need for friction.

Your fingers make quick work of his belt and his zipper, pulling down on both the waistband of his slacks and his briefs to finally free his cock. He’s already hard, and you admire the way your hand can’t even wrap fully around him. The tip is flushed red, pearly beads of precum already present.

This is the part where you look up at him, almost as if you’re unsure about what to do. You don’t know what it does to him, to see you sitting on his lap with his cock looking outrageously large in your tiny hands. He can see your pretty pussy practically dripping all over his slacks. Now’s not the time for you to be playing the role of an innocent, unsure little girl, but then it hits him: you’re asking him for permission. He almost lets out a bark of laughter.

“You’ve already taken it upon yourself to tear into my pants and make a grab for my cock. Surely you don’t expect me to beg to fuck your little hole now, do you?” He has a cold smile on his face as he brings you closer to him. “I thought this was my apology. Don’t tell me you’re going to make me do all the work?”

“O-of course not!” You look startled at the suggestion, eyes going big and round. He looks at you expectantly, as if telling you to do something.

It always burns when you first take him. It doesn’t matter how many times he makes you cums, doesn’t matter how long he spends stretching you out on his fingers. By now, your pussy should have memorized the feel of his dick, should have been moulded to fit him and only him. And while there’s a tiny flash of pain and discomfort for you (which Shouto hates), it’s hard not to be in love with the feel of just how tight you are.

The stinging pain is brief, though, and is easily replaced by one of satisfaction from being stuffed by the prettiest, fattest cock you’ve ever taken in your life.

You moan, rocking your hips back and forth. Maybe this was originally supposed to be an apology to him, but it feels more like you’re using him as your own personal toy, and Shouto really couldn’t care less. After all, if it brings you pleasure, it brings him pleasure.

“Are you enjoying yourself, baby? What would happen if I never met you, hmm? Are you willing to spread those pretty legs of yours for any man?” He says the last sentence with a tone sharper than usual. You shake your head as you continue to rut against him, chasing after your own high because you might not be a simpleminded slut for anyone, but you are nothing more than a cockslut when it comes to Shouto.

“Ah — fuck, fuck, fuck!” You moan out, falling against his chest, burying your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. “D-daddy, fuck!”

He holds you close to him as you cum, not even minding the mess you’ve made of his work pants. “Daddy’s got you.” He coos, his hand finding the back of your neck and squeezing you there, gently. “You must be tired now…”

You’re still too fucked out to really comprehend what’s exactly going on ‘til it’s happening, but even with your slow reaction times, you still manage to let out a slutty moan as you feel Shouto thrusting up into you. It must be uncomfortable, you think. This position doesn’t make it exactly easy for him to chase after his own pleasure, but then you remember that Shouto Todoroki doesn’t back down or break down when it comes to challenges.

He perseveres.

You’re like a rag doll, like a personal little fucktoy, made for him to use (and maybe even break) as he pleases. Every thrust is sharp and intense, and his teeth are clenched as he continues to use you, enjoying the warmth of your tight walls and admiring the ring of white that coats and clings to his dick every time he pulls out.

It doesn’t take him much longer to finally finish; he grabs you by your hips, raising you slightly before abruptly pushing you down on his cock, making sure that he’s nestled as deeply in you as he can be when he finally cums. He’s breathing a bit harder as he comes down, and then he’s grabbing you by your hair, making you stare at him.

His cheeks are flushed, there’s some slight sweat building up on his forehead, his shirt is wrinkled. He’s never looked better. You’ve never felt better.

Or, more accurately, never felt fuller.

“Shouto, did you c…” You can’t even finish the sentence. Did you cum inside? Not like you have to; you know the answer. Some of it is dripping out of you.

All he does is give you that small smile, the one that he rarely lets anyone see, and starts up the car.

If he doesn’t want to talk now, there’s no way you can get him to answer properly. You try to remove yourself from his lap and make your ungraceful, disgusting journey to the passenger seat, but Shouto places a firm hand on your waist, forcing you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Shouto, you can’t possibly drive while I’m sitting here on your lap.”

“I bought a Tesla for a reason.”

Right. Because everything Shouto does has a reason for it.

You think about this on the drive back to his penthouse, a little bit of fear building up in your lower belly. Shouto does everything for a reason, and what’s the reason for any man cumming inside?

#shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #one shot #yandere #smut #shouto todoroki smut #drabble #imagine

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manifesto-of-a-femcel · 11 months

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Beautiful Movies All Girls Should Watch

A list of movies that touch on coming of age, romance and complex female emotions.

May (2002): A socially awkward veterinary assistant with a lazy eye and obsession with perfection descends into depravity after developing a crush on a boy with perfect hands.

Audition (1999): A widower takes an offer to screen girls at a special audition, arranged for him by a friend to find him a new wife. The one he fancies is not who she appears to be after all.

Helter Skelter (2012): Top star Lilico undergoes multiple cosmetic surgeries to her entire body. As her surgeries show side effect, Lilico makes the lives of those around her miserable as she tries to deal with her career and her personal problems.

Ginger Snaps (2000): Two death-obsessed sisters, outcasts in their suburban neighborhood, must deal with the tragic consequences when one of them is bitten by a deadly werewolf.

The Craft (1996): A newcomer to a Catholic prep high school falls in with a trio of outcast teenage girls who practice witchcraft, and they all soon conjure up various spells and curses against those who anger them.

Malèna (2000): Amidst the war climate, a teenage boy discovering himself becomes love-stricken by Malèna, a sensual woman living in a small, narrow-minded Italian town.

Perfect Blue (1997): A retired pop singer turned actress’ sense of reality is shaken when she is stalked by an obsessed fan and seemingly a ghost of her past.

Rosemary’s Baby (1968): A young couple trying for a baby moves into an aging, ornate apartment building on Central Park West, where they find themselves surrounded by peculiar neighbors.

The Virgin Suicides (1999): A group of male friends become obsessed with five mysterious sisters who are sheltered by their strict, religious parents in suburban Detroit in the mid 1970s.

Sucker Punch (2011): A young girl institutionalized by her abusive stepfather retreats to an alternative reality as a coping strategy and envisions a plan to help her escape.

Piggy (2022): An overweight teen is bullied by a clique of cool girls poolside while holidaying in her village. The long walk home will change the rest of her life.

The Love Witch (2016): A modern-day witch uses spells and magic to get men to fall in love with her, with deadly consequences.

Pearl (2022): In 1918, a young woman on the brink of madness pursues stardom in a desperate attempt to escape the drudgery, isolation and lovelessness of life on her parents' farm.

Girl, Interrupted (1999): Based on writer Susanna Kaysen's account of her 18-month stay at a mental hospital in the late 1960s.

Black Swan (2010): Nina is a talented but unstable ballerina on the verge of stardom. Pushed to the breaking point by her artistic director and a seductive rival, Nina's grip on reality slips, plunging her into a waking nightmare.

Gone Girl (2014): With his wife's disappearance having become the focus of an intense media circus, a man sees the spotlight turned on him when it's suspected that he may not be innocent.

Jennifer’s Body (2009): A newly-possessed high-school cheerleader turns into a succubus who specializes in killing her male classmates. Can her best friend put an end to the horror?

Bones And All (2022): Coming of age romance about two cannibals

In the Mood for Love (2000): Two neighbors form a strong bond after both suspect extramarital activities of their spouses. However, they agree to keep their bond platonic so as not to commit similar wrongs.

Brokeback Mountain (2005): Ennis and Jack are two shepherds who develop a sexual and emotional relationship. Their relationship becomes complicated when both of them get married to their respective girlfriends.

Call Me By Your Name (2017): In 1980s Italy, romance blossoms between a seventeen-year-old student and the older man hired as his father's research assistant.

Maurice (1986): Two English school chums find themselves falling in love at Cambridge. To regain his place in society, Clive gives up Maurice and marries. While staying with Clive and his wife, Maurice discovers romance in the arms of the gamekeeper Alec.

Y Tu Mamá También (2001): In Mexico, two teenage boys and an attractive older woman embark on a road trip and learn a thing or two about life, friendship, sex, and each other.

Caroline (2009): An adventurous 11-year-old girl finds another world that is a strangely idealized version of her frustrating home, but it has sinister secrets.

Corpse Bride (2005): When a shy groom practices his wedding vows in the inadvertent presence of a deceased young woman, she rises from the grave assuming he has married her.

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dyaz-stories · 6 months

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in a world of boys, he's a gentleman || Park Chan-Young x f!Reader

summary: Yeong-Su breaks a window at the stadium, and Chan-Young takes the blame for it, resulting in severe consequences. Fortunately, you're here to pick up the pieces afterwards.

word count: 3.1k

warnings & tags: spoilers for season 2 of sweet home, violence, injuries, soldiers being assholes, coarse language, making out, the pronoun "she" is used in reference to the reader

A/N: couldn't find gifs for chan-young so I made this one, but I'm by no means a gif maker, so, yeah. Also, I don't know anything about baseball, so please pretend this makes sense if you know better. I'm not sure which team Chan-Young was supposed to be on, so I picked the Doosan Bears because Sweet Home takes place in Seoul. Finally, it's my first time writing for him, so I hope you'll enjoy my take on this character!

It’s another day at the stadium, which means it’s another day of boredom.

Oh, there are things to do around here, sure. If you don’t mind being ordered around by soldiers who stand behind you with a scowl on their face and remind you that the only reason you’re even there is because of their good will, you’ll find a job to do. Cleaning a corner of the stadium, probably, in hopes that someone will be able to live there — as if there were enough mattresses — or doing the inventory, again, while looking the other way when rations mysteriously go missing and everyone knows who’s doing the taking.

Thing is, you’ve never been one to grovel. In fact, back in the Before days, you were the one giving the orders. Youngest assistant coach for the Doosan bears, the Seoul baseball team, you were in line to become the youngest coach in the history of the country. And, yeah, you weren’t completely in charge, but you were trusted. You had responsibilities. People knew to take you seriously.

You’ve had ideas for how to run this place more efficiently, to avoid making the civilians feel like they’re second-rate citizens, but it’s been made clear to you that you weren’t welcome to make suggestions. So you haven’t bothered, lately, but you also won’t play in that stupid game, where people get to change the rules without telling you.

It means that you do a lot of aimless walking around in the stadium. Chief Ji implicitly lets you roam around, a testament to the fact that you knew each other well back in the days, when you used to bring her coffee before big games, but you mostly try to make yourself useful in the way soldiers haven’t bothered accounting for.

A lot of that means keeping an eye on kids that are left to themselves otherwise. Their parents are busy, and it’s not like there’s much to do for them, here, so you try to keep them entertained. Unfortunately, you’re no teacher, meaning that it’s a lot of physical activities, wherever you find enough place. Other days, people who are teachers take over for you. That is the case today, meaning you’d have the day ‘off’, if it weren’t for Yeong-Su not showing up for class.

You don’t personally think he should have to attend class. You know how mean the other kids can be to him, and though the teachers don’t do much in the name of keeping the peace, you don’t let that fly when you’re in charge. Which is probably why the kid never misses your classes, a small pride that you keep well tucked in your heart.

Still, the teachers insist that you make sure he’s okay, so you agree to go try and find him. He knows the stadium well, meaning it will be no easy task.

You end up finding him throwing a ball against a wall. It looks like he’s practicing his aim, you think when you notice that he’s drawn a square on it. You’re about to approach him, maybe give him a few pointers, when a particularly hard throw has the ball bouncing too high and it crashes through a window, finishing outside of the stadium.

You freeze. Monsters don’t approach the stadium much — it’s been months since there’s been a case of that happening.

But the mere thought of there being something open here still has your heart pounding with fear. It’s only a few seconds before you compose yourself, but that’s long enough for someone to come running. You rush towards Yeong-Su, prepared to fiercely defend him if you need to.

It’s Chan-Young, and you relax, even if your heart is now pounding for a whole other reason.

“What happened here?” he asks.

He may have been running with his whole equipment, but he shows no sign of being out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-Su mumbles. He’s hard to handle, especially these days, but he clearly respects Chan-Young a lot. “I didn’t mean to— I was just practicing and—"

Oh gosh, you realize, kid was practicing pitching, and it’s not lost on you that that’s the position Chan-Young mainly played as.

“…and now I’ve lost my ball,” Yeong-Su sniffs.

He’s trying to hold back tears, and it tears a little piece of your heart away. You know that Yeong-Su had found a ball autographed by Chan-Young, know that it’s one of his most prized possessions. It’s no surprise that Yeong-Su can’t stand the thought of losing anything more than what he already has.

Chan-Young glances at you, still standing a few steps behind Yeong-Su.

“He didn’t mean to,” you say. “I’ll help you fix the window.” Eun-Yu probably won’t mind giving you a hand, too.

Chan-Young nods, and you watch as he puts a knee to the floor, so he’s at eye-level with Yeong-Su. If he was any other soldier, you’d be more cautious, but you know him. Worked with him, when he was on your team, lost him when he enlisted, and now you’re in this strange limbo, where he doesn’t seem to know how to interact with you, even though there is this obvious familiarity between the two of you, every time you do speak.

“You need to be more careful,” he tells Yeong-Su, putting on his Serious voice. “If a monster heard that and came in, it could be very dangerous for everyone. And if you’re in front of the window when it happens, it would attack you first. So don’t let that happen again, okay?”

Then he gives Yeong-Su a small, comforting smile.

“If you want to practice again, come ask me next time, okay?” He glances up at you, and there’s such softness in his eyes when he does. “Or ask the coach. She knows her stuff.”

You’d never become coach, not officially, but his use of the word makes your heart swell.

“Okay,” Yeong-Su mumbles, staring down at his feet.

For a moment, it looks like everything will resolve itself just like that, and you’re already putting a hand on Yeong-Su’s shoulders to pull him away with you, when you hear the familiar stomping of military boots coming towards you.

Chan-Young’s expression changes immediately.

“Go,” he orders.

“But…”

He spins around to grab your shoulders, lowering himself to look straight into your eyes.

“Go,” he repeats. “Please.”

There’s such urgency in his voice that you can’t deny him, even if you’re not sure what is going on exactly. You grab Yeong-Su’s hand and pull him with you until you’re both behind a corner, just in time. You keep an eye on the scene, confused. The soldiers behave like assholes, you know that, but surely—

“What happened here?” the Sergeant bellows in Chan-Young’s face. “You’re lucky it was us, who were standing outside the window, and not something else! You better have an explanation, soldier.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chan-Young says, shoulders straight, from what you can see. “I was just practicing and—”

Before you can wonder why he’d lie, the punch catches him in the stomach, and he doubles over in pain. You catch yourself before you can gasp out loud, and instinctively cover Yeong-Su’s mouth, which is probably a smart move, because he starts thrashing to run towards Chan-Young. You don’t blame him, but you also absolutely cannot let him do that, not right now.

“Yeong-Su,” you whisper, mimicking Chan-Young’s attitude with you just a minute ago. “You need to go back to Ms. Cha. Okay?”

“But they’re…”

You wince, because they’re still berating Chan-Young, and one of them has just given him a hard kick to the ribs. All the more reason for you to intervene.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise, but I can’t do that if you’re here. So go back to her, and I’ll come see you when everything is okay again, alright?”

He sniffs, rubs his eyes to hide the tears, then turns around and runs. At least he’s got a good survival instinct, you think, even if it hurts to remember where it comes from. The second you’re sure he’s not coming back, it’s your turn to run, but towards the soldiers this time, with a confidence that you now worry is wholly unwarranted.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s enough?” you interject, maneuvering so you can get between them and Chan-Young.

There’s a scoff and they roll their eyes. One of them puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes, but you barely take a step back. You’re used to men trying to intimidate you.

“I thought we’d made it clear that your opinions weren’t welcome,” Seo-Jin snaps at you, getting too close to your face for comfort — like that would make you budge.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you beat up someone because he broke a fucking window, when if you’d gotten to work, that hole would be closed by now,” you reply on the same tone.

He opens his mouth to yell at you once more, a vein bulging on his forehead, when Chan-Young comes to stand in front of you. He’s barely just gotten on his feet, has one hand pressed against his rib cage, and still, he’s already coming to stop you from taking any risk. You want to scream at him and hug him all at the same time.

“Please, sir, she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Neither does he!

“That’s enough, Seo-Jin,” sergeant Kim finally intervenes, and the man immediately takes a step back. “Don’t let it happen again,” he tells Chan-Young. “And fix the hole,” he tells you, as an afterthought, before leaving and taking his team with him.

Your blood is boiling. He might try to be the voice of reason now, but you saw him doing nothing while his men got blood on their hands so he wouldn’t have to.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because next to you, Chan-Young has slowly let himself slide to the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask, panicked, while he grimaces and leans against the wall.

“I’m fine,” he says, an obvious lie. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You took responsibility for something you had nothing to do with, but I’m the one who shouldn’t have said anything?”

He sighs, shakes his head.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says. He looks at you with warm eyes, and you feel your breath catching in your throat.

There’s something about Chan-Young, there always has been. You always have to remind yourself that he’s nice to everyone, because he’s such a kind person. Even that didn’t stop you from falling for him — and it’s the second time that it happens, damn him.

“I’ll go get medical supplies,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here.”

“There’s no need to—”

“Please, do you want to die from an infection after surviving all these monsters? Stay. Here.”

You ignore any further protests as you rush to get the supplies.

It doesn’t take you long. Chief Ji provides you with what you need without questions, and apologizes for not being able to give you painkillers — they’re reserved for emergencies, she explains. You know the other supplies are, too, but you understand her reasoning, and just thank her with a quick nod and a promise to help out for the next few shifts outside the stadium, if she needs it.

When you come back, Chan-Young’s moved to sit on one of the boxes that are always laying around in here, and you grab another one to sit across from him.

“Open your jacket,” you say as you take the disinfectant.

“I— I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with an eyeroll, because the guys on the team weren’t exactly shy about taking their shirt off in front of you and he should remember that.

He clears his throat and glances away, and you notice his ears turning red.

“Um, right. Yeah. Just a second.”

Under the jacket, he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, and he lifts it up so you can see for yourself.

And it’s not looking good. The area is red and swollen already, and you worry it will be worse soon. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do about that, so you disinfect the scratches caused by the boots, and gesture for him to put it back down. You’d normally advise to put something cold on it, to calm the swelling, but that’s not really an option here, not when the little electricity you have is mostly used to keep the lights on.

“Try not to move around too much, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he says with a brief laugh. It’s a silly recommendation, and you both know it, but you still felt the need to say something.

“Now give me your hand, I’ll see what I can do.”

He does, and you carefully turn it to check the palm. You’re not sure if he hurt himself when he fell earlier, or if it’s just that there’s constantly manual work to be done and it’s hard not to injure your hand. Either way, you start cleaning it and disinfecting it as well.

“Do you think they would have been as hard on a kid?” you ask.

“No!” he protests immediately, maybe a tad too strongly. “They’re humans. I’m sure they wouldn’t have—” He interrupts himself, and you suspect that he knows they still could have hit him, a thought that makes your stomach turn. “But… Yeong-Su’s had a hard enough life as it is. People here are not… kind to him.”

“I’m not blaming you, especially after that,” you sigh, “I just— You do realize that it’s not your responsibility, right? I’d have helped the kid, and it could have ended better than…”

You gesture vaguely at him, and he closes his eyes for a second. He closes his fingers over yours where you’re holding his hand, rubs his thumb over your skin, which sends a wave of heat through your body. It only lasts a moment, though, before he catches himself and lets go.

“I’m— I was in charge, when his sister— I was supposed to be helping them. And I failed him.”

“What?” Ms. Cha told you that story, in hushed whispers, to explain why Yeong-Su was such a complicated child these days. It had been clear that there was nothing Chan-Young could have done. “You can’t blame yourself for someone turning into a monster and going on a rampage.”

“It happened on my watch,” he insists. “If I’d been more careful— If I hadn’t left the bus—”

You stop yourself to look at him straight in the eye. He’s close, but you don’t feel uncomfortable, not with him.

“That could have happened to anyone. You couldn’t have planned for it.” He exhales, long and slow.

“Thank you for saying that,” he says, but you can tell that your words haven’t sunk in. It breaks your heart, and yet you have no idea what more you can say. After all, you weren’t there. It makes sense that he wouldn’t believe you.

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in the line of danger to—” to what, anyway? Expiate his sins? What does he have to prove? Does he have a death wish or something? “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger when you don’t have to.”

“Better me than Yeong-Su,” he insists. “He’s just a kid, and he has his mom — well, Ms. Cha. And he has you.” You set the disinfectant back down, hands almost trembling as you realize where he’s going with this. “Better me than him,” he just concludes sadly.

“Park Chan-Young,” you say, “you don’t seriously think that, right?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he replies.

“He has a family here. I— don’t really have anyone—”

You’re not sure what goes through your head when you put your hand on his cheek and kiss him. If you had to rationalize it — which you’re not really in any position to do when it happens — you’d say that you just wanted to prove him how wrong he was. Truth is, though, that you also couldn’t bear the idea that you were letting him believe that when it was so entirely untrue.

His lips are warm against yours, and you think you feel him leaning into you, but you pull away too soon to know.

“There,” you say as you gather your things. “Now you know you do have someone, so don’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily, alright?”

Then you’re on your feet, hell-bent on fleeing the scene.

Of course, Chan-Young catches up with you in an instant. He grabs your wrist, and pulls you back against him. His eyes are wide as he searches yours.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

“Mean what?” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re… not sure where he is going with this.

“It wasn’t pity, right? You— I have you?”

The words almost send a shiver down your spine.

“Of course you do. I don’t exactly go around kissing people—”

Next thing you know, his hands are cupping your face and his mouth is on yours. He kisses you feverishly, like he desperately needs you to prove your words to him. You kiss back without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his neck. It isn’t long before your back hits the wall and you let out a brief groan.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling away from you to check on you. “Are you—”

You don’t let him finish, pulling him back down against you. His hands move down to your waist, one of them slipping under your t-shirt to feel your bare skin. He’s kissing you slower now, more sensual, and he abandons your mouth to kiss down your jaw, then your neck, before he comes back to your lips.

“I shouldn’t—” he mumbles against you. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Everyone’s doing it,” you reply, but it doesn’t surprise you when he tears himself away from you. He’s a sight to behold, flushed and out of breath — and is it odd that you enjoy seeing him panting from kissing you when you know he can run for hours without struggling? He’s always been one to stick to the rules closely. It says a lot that he broke one right now, but you won’t push him any further, not until he’s ready.

You take a step back towards him, take his hand in yours, and press your lips to his cheek for one last, soft kiss.

“Don’t forget now,” you say. “You have me. Don’t risk your life without thinking.”

He doesn’t kiss you again, but he leans in to press his forehead against yours, squeezing your hand in his.

“I have you,” he repeats, as if to convince himself. “I have you.”

I hope you liked it! as always, if you did, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought! feedback is really motivating and is what keep us authors going, so leaving a comment or sending an ask or anything really helps to keep me writing!

more writing for sweet home

#sweet home #sweet home x reader #sweet home netflix #sweet home season #park chan young #chan young #chan young x reader #park chan young x reader #sweet home imagines #park jinyoung #my writing

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myosotisa · 6 months

Text

Chasm - e.m.

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

‖ summary: You're a researcher working at one of the fault lines throughout Hawkins, studying the closed and dormant gates to an alternate dimension. While you're alone on site, one of the gates wakes up again.

‖ tags: horror. i cannot stress this enough. this is unsettling and creepy and angsty with slight sexual tension. in line with the content in the show. post season 4, canon compliant. emetophobia warning. dubcon kissing. forced consumption (writing it made me gag just warning you. but im also kind of a baby so). no y/n, she/her pronouns used. flayed!eddie infects you. open ended ending. also steve is there sometimes. there's a ton of background lore that is only vaguely explained lol

‖ word count: 8.3k ‖ read on AO3 ‖ the song ‖

None of the rifts have shown any activity in over a year. Months and months of dead readings and no signals. Just waiting.

So what's a girl supposed to do when your EMF meter spikes alone on site? Sit around and wait for a crew to suit up and march their way over to the fault you were at? No fucking way. No chance.

You report in about the sudden spike in gamma radiation and tell them you're going to find the source. The project lead tells you to stay put and wait for assistance, as expected.

Your radiation gear was already halfway on. Oops, sorry boss, didn't hear you.

Handheld voltage meter in one hand, audio recorder in the other, and a pocket full of glow sticks, you push out past the plastic tarps and into the humid night air of Indiana summer.

The readings bring you west, toward the condemned trailer park and the "start" of your fault line. You crack a glow stick and drop it every few feet, marking your path. When the reading jumps up, you make a '+' sign with two at the spot before continuing forward. It was hard to say without exact measurements, but it seemed to be increasing at equal intervals. Like frozen waves on the surface of water.

"I'm approaching the Forest Hills sign," you say into the receiver, your own voice the only sound in the night air. "Current readings are…" You bring the meter up, using the light hanging from your neck to read the display. "Approaching 70 mv/m of high frequency radiation, roughly 31016 Hz. The next… 'Layer', for lack of a better term, will most likely breach Safe EMF levels, not considering the potential protection of the suit."

Lowering the meter again when it gives a beep of warning, you tuck it under your arm and crack another glow stick, leaving a '+' at the boundary to the trailer park. "I'll probably need treatment when I get back to base – as long as I grab a reading from the source and get out quickly, there won't be lasting damage. You hear that, Dr. Pierce?" You say through an over-confident huff, readjusting your arms to keep moving forward. "I'm well aware of the risks and take responsibility for my own actions."

The park itself looks like a bad dream at night – trailers abandoned hastily with doors still hung open and belongings scattered along the ground. Between the sudden fault opening and the bureau rushing in, the existing residents had been given very little time and grace to move into temporary housing across town. And it looked every bit like an entire community of people had just up and disappeared.

The suit you were in didn’t exactly help coordination, so you moved slowly and carefully over and around discarded objects along the dirt. Clothing, kitchen utensils, a quilt, a stack of newspapers, a child's toy. All left untouched for over a year.

Clearing the corner of one of the empty trailers, you catch sight of something strange.

“The fault itself has looked normal up to this point, no activity. But I can see the source now. It’s… It appears to be glowing red, fading in and out in a constant cycle.” Approaching even slower than before, you watch intently as the glow grows and then retreats again. Like waves on the shore.

The meter gives another shrill alarm – making you jump nearly out of your skin as you swat at it with the recorder. “Jesus Christ!” It quiets with a sinking pitch in your hand.

Before checking the reading, you quickly make another ‘+’ with glow sticks, digging them into the dirt a bit in an attempt to keep them from moving. Still down on one knee, you bring the meter up to your flashlight again.

“The meter is now reading 110 mv/m, same frequency. I’m roughly… 12 feet out from the source now. There’s a, uh, humming sound. Not sure if the recording is picking it up. And feeling pressure on my eardrums,” you explain into the device, eyes locked on the glow ahead. “I’ll continue to approach – see if I can get a closer reading. If it jumps above 150, I’ll fall back.”

Pushing to your feet again with a huff, you readjust your full load and press forward slowly. The closer you get to the source, you can see that the fault rapidly grows in size. The space between the edges looks large enough to fit a car as it rounds out at the end – a red pond in the ground.

“I can see the source clearer now. The glow is coming from within – there’s a…" You take a few steps closer, squinting to get a better look. "It appears to be an opaque membrane covering the space between. The glow is coming from behind it. Still cycling at an even rate, no change.”

The meter in your hand gives its shrillest warning yet, scaring you badly enough that it goes flying out of your hand; it hits the ground and flips closer to the edge. “Shit, fuck!”

You shuffle forward and drop down onto your shaky knees, grabbing for the meter as it continues to let out that grating alarm into the night air. Smacking it once more, the sound cuts off abruptly, giving you a chance to breathe.

Bringing it up to your flashlight, your eyes go wide as you lift the recorder again with your other trembling hand. “I’m nearly at the edge now, only a foot or so away – EMF reading 187 mv/m. Rapid increase from the last point.”

Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, your head snapping toward it.

“There’s… What the fuck?" You pause, tempted to rub your eyes to make sure you're really seeing what you're seeing.

"There’s movement below the membrane. It… It’s just a shadow, I can’t tell what it is, but the movement is rapid and the… The humming is getting louder.” Your heart is pounding now, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin beneath the suit.

“Going to retreat back to base,” you say, mostly attempting to reassure yourself as you slowly back away from the edge. “Final reading was 189 mv/m at 31016 Hz.”

There’s a crackle of static right before a thumb presses the pause button roughly, silencing the recorder in the center of the table.

“Is that all?” General Richard Highland asks, sounding impatient as he leans back in his conference chair. “That doesn’t tell us anything about what happened to her.”

“No, sir, there’s more.” Private Steve Harrington insists, inclining his head toward the dirty recorder he had delivered. He’s standing by the edge of the table at attention, hands clasped in front of him. “The recording keeps going.”

Dr. Pierce leans forward from his seat, giving the General a stiff look as he presses the play button again.

There’s a few more moments of static before the woman’s voice fades back in, layered beneath the hum of attempted interference.

“I’m definitely gonna need that rad treatment, Dr. Pierce. My badge is that warning color, even beneath the suit,” she continues with a shaky laugh, the sound of plastic shuffling behind it. “Hopefully I don’t lose my hair or something, but that’s… What?”

The table of scientists and military personnel sits in tense silence as her voice cuts out again. Half of them are on the edge of their seats, the others showing off a measured calm or disinterest. The general looks particularly annoyed and impatient, while Dr. Pierce looks almost like he wants to throw up.

“There’s… Something’s happening – I don’t–”

An abrasive crackle echoes out into the room, loud enough to send nearly everyone into a wince, before the recording cuts back in with the sound of screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?! SHIT – I’ve gotta get–" A burst of interference sounds, followed by a metallic grating, like a ship groaning beneath the weight of the ocean.

Her panicked voice comes through, sounding further away than before. "FUCK! It – It’s got my ankle. Let go, you fucking piece of –! SHI–”

The recording cuts out to a buzzing hum.

No one moves for a few moments. Not until Private Harrington steps up to silence the recorder. “We found this recording, a lab issue EMF meter, and a broken flashlight at the edge of the fault." He explains, producing the other two items from the pack resting at his feet. "It was dormant when we got there – solid again.”

“So it just…” One of the other scientists starts, looking at Dr. Pierce uneasily.

“Dragged her through and went back to sleep.” Dr. Pierce confirms solemnly, his gaze locked on the dirty recorder.

“It’s never done this before?” A 2nd scientist, new to the project, asks. The others shake their heads. “So what do we do?”

All eyes turn to Dr. Pierce, who looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“We wait for it to wake up again.”

Wake up.

Come on, little lamb.

Wake up now.

Looks so peaceful.

But you’ve got to wake up.

…

WAKE UP.

There’s something wet on your face.

Feeling is slowly returning to your body, your eyes closed and too heavy to open. But there’s something dripping on your cheek – droplets running down toward your mouth. Sticking to your dry lips for a moment or two before falling off. You’re on the ground on your stomach, your cheek squished against something that feels like mud.

Your brain has yet to kick on fully as it tries to regain consciousness through a pounding ache, resonating with the throb of your left leg. It feels like you’re still wearing the rad suit, but the head piece is gone and it might be ripped in places – mud seeping in to touch your skin.

It’s almost like you’re sinking.

Eyelids fluttering open and you’re faced with a desaturated swamp. Like someone came through and sucked half the color out of it.

Lifting one arm is difficult, suctioned into the mud you’re laying in. Once you’ve freed it enough, you’re able to push off the sticky, wet sludge beneath you enough to roll over onto your back.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?”

You sit up with a start, your abdomen screaming in protest as your brain swims. Blinking through the blur in your eyes, you struggle to see anything at all in the dark – only momentarily granted sight by the flashes of red lightning overhead.

“Who’s there?” You call out into the dark, an attempt to sound brave, but your voice trembles as your eyes rapidly flit back and forth.

“Over here.”

The lightning flashes once more as you whip your head toward the voice – showing the silhouette of a man standing a few feet away. From what little you see, he’s tall and slender, head tilted to the side like he’s curious. There’s no chance you can see his face or anything else about him.

Until he’s in your face, crouched down right beside you – crossing the space and appearing in the span of a blink. It gives you a start, attempting to back up but getting caught up in the mud still suctioned to your lower half.

Your fear seems to bring a small smile to his face, plump lips tilting up at the corner. He looks so familiar… Long curly hair draped wetly over his shoulders, the sparse bangs across his forehead, and the soft turn of his nose. Curiosity gets the better of you as you lean in again slightly, squinting your eyes a bit more in the dark to see him better.

“I know you…” You insist softly, causing his eyebrows to raise slightly in surprise. “How do I know you?”

“No clue, because I’ve never met you in my life.” He replies, lips parting in a grin. “And I’m good with faces – ‘specially pretty ones.”

His response catches you off guard as your brain continues reeling and struggling to intake information, which is normally your forte. There’s a million questions on the tip of your tongue and you have no idea where to start.

“You’ll probably need to lose the suit if you want to get out of that shit,” he continues when you don’t respond, motioning to your stationary legs with a wave of his hand. And he’s probably right, with the way the mud beneath you is stuck tight to the shiny plastic. Your best hope is to try to use the suit as a stepping off point to get to stable ground.

“Where should I step once I pull out?” You ask, hoping he’ll understand your goal.

A blink and he’s gone again – another flash of red light placing his silhouette off to your left. “Think you can make it to here?” He responds, voice raised slightly and sounding like he’s teasing you or challenging you. It makes your competitive side flare up on instinct – a frustrated huff leaving your nose as you plan your escape.

Opening the front of the suit, you slip both arms out and let the upper half fall flat behind you. Pulling out both of your legs next, your butt sinks deeper into the ground, nearly sending you off balance as you quickly shift your weight forward onto your knees, using the suit as a stepping stone. It starts to sink, mud coming up over the edge and inching toward your knees, so you have to move fast.

Pushing to your feet makes it sink faster, wet sludge touching the side of your ankle just as you push off in a jump toward where the man was standing.

You land on the ankle that had been grasped by the tentacle, not realizing the throbbing meant it’d been twisted. It makes you cry out in pain and fall forward, directly into the man’s chest.

“Woah there!” He says in surprise, grasping onto your elbows to keep you sort of upright. Between the aching pain and the tears pressing at your eyes, you just barely manage to notice how cold and clammy he is – especially where his hands grip your bare biceps.

Rocketing back, you press your weight onto your good leg and put some distance between the two of you again, your dirty arms crossing over your tank top and smearing it with mud. “Sorry, my, uh, ankle…” You offer awkwardly, still not even sure who you’re talking to.

“Don’t worry about it, angel. You good?”

He actually sounds like he cares. Like he’s concerned for you. Who is he?

“I’ll be fine,” you insist stubbornly, swallowing down the lump of tears in your throat. Free from your precarious situation, at least partially, you struggle to figure out what to address first. “How are you doing that? Like… Teleporting? Or are you just moving really fast?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “What–,” he disappears in a blink and then you feel a burst of air on the back of your neck, making your hair stand on end, “this?”

You lurch forward before turning around to level him a glare. “Yes, that – don’t do that.”

His hands tuck into the front pockets of the leather jacket he’s wearing as he shrugs, looking quite pleased with himself. “Sorry, angel, didn’t mean to spook you.”

Then silence falls, both of you eyeing each other – you suspiciously and him curiously. The extended pause makes you think you aren’t going to be told how anytime soon.

A breeze kicks up, rustling the branches of the trees in the surrounding swampland and sending a shiver down your spine. Suit lost, you’re down to a tank top, jeans, and a pair of no slip shoes (which were required for people working in the field for some reason). You were dressed for the humid interior of the field site tent in summer and it appears that you have landed yourself in a place where that is not enough.

Taking advantage of the silence, you try to remember everything you can about your studies into the ‘gates’ from when they were open. Very little was known beside second hand accounts and old data – some of which may not even be accurate anymore given the nature of the fault lines. If there was anywhere to start, it would be trying to find the gate you’d been dragged through.

With any luck, you could go right back to your dimension.

But that didn’t account for him. The pale, wet, unsettling-yet-somehow-charming guy that was still staring right at you.

“How long have you been here? Do you know?” You question cautiously, not wanting to upset him in any way.

“That depends, what year is it?”

Your heart drops into your stomach, completely at odds with the continued grin on his face. It looks almost manic now – like every time he sets you off balance brings him great joy. Deciding you’d actually rather not know how long he’s been in here, you move on.

“Have you been alone this whole time? Or are there other people here?”

His grin spreads, like he’s in on a joke you’re not aware of. “I haven’t been alone, no.”

This piques your curiosity again, adjusting your weight on your good leg. “Do you have a community here? How many of you are there?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” He suggests, taking a step or two away from you, his hands still tucked into his pockets.

The idea is tempting, if only to learn more about what is going on here, but there’s something nagging at the back of your mind. Something you should be remembering. Something you’re missing. Plus, for all you know, this man does not have your best interests at heart.

“I should probably try to find the gate that brought me here,” you say, slightly regretfully. “See if I can cross back over.”

“Oh, right,” he responds, tapping his forehead with his palm like it should’ve been obvious. “Yeah, I can show you the way.”

This surprises you again, slight concern causing you to stand up straighter. “You can?”

“Sure thing, the closest one isn’t far,” he motions behind him with a tilt of his chin, taking another step back. “Come on.”

So you follow the strange man into the dark, limping after him on your twisted ankle. The mud starts to dry on your skin, hair, and clothing – crusting over and hardening in places. You pick at pieces as you walk, letting the chunks and flakes fall to the ground behind you. From what little you can see, there are vines everywhere along the ground, weaving between tree trunks and layering over each other in place. The man seems to step over them – and you can’t tell if it’s on purpose or a coincidence – but you make a habit of not touching the vines just in case.

It’s unsettlingly quiet here. Every once in a while you’ll hear what sounds like an animal – a howl, a chittering, the thump of feet on the earth. But they are few and far between, leaving mostly just the rush of wind through the trees and a sort of muffled silence, pressure on your ears.

Your paranoia kicks up as the quiet continues, suspiciously eyeing the back of your escort as he leads you forward. For all you knew, he wasn’t leading you anywhere near the gate. You have no reason to trust him beyond the fact that he helped you get out of the sludge you woke up in. He was in this dimension after all, clearly familiar with it. That had to be a red flag if anything, given what little you actually knew about it.

So much was classified beyond your reach – the bureau was very specific with what you were allowed to read and know and what you weren’t. Given the dormant nature of the fault lines, it hadn’t been necessary for you to learn too much about the dimension on the other side. Most of what you studied and knew was about the gates themselves.

Even with the bureau being as paranoid and obsessive as it was – a lowly field researcher getting dragged to the other side and needing to survive hadn’t seemed to be on their radar.

The pessimistic part of you not-so-helpfully supplies that was probably just because they weren't very interested in your survival at all. They’d probably prefer it if you died here. If anything, your exposure to the other side made you more of a liability.

Maybe one they could experiment on, if you got lucky and survived.

This train of thinking isn’t helping anything. You could worry about what your life would become if you made it out.

Walking up to the lifeless and solid gate turns that into a very tentative if.

“Looks like the door’s shut tight,” Eddie offers vaguely, rocking back and forth on his heels as you circle the hole in the ground, like seeing a new angle will change something about it.

The opening looks largely the same as the other side, in the center of the abandoned trailer park with the forest surrounding. Your arms are covered in goosebumps as the breeze hits harder in the open field, no longer buffered by trees on all sides. On the bright side, it is slightly better lit here and you can see your companion a bit clearer now.

“Do you know how these things work? Like how and why it opens and shuts?” You ask desperately, looking at him from the other side of the crevice.

The corner of his mouth tilts up minutely, his shoulders shrugging. “Yes and no.”

The scowl returns to your face, frustration mounting as another shiver of cold racks your body. “Are you intentionally being unhelpful? Or are you just an idiot?”

His lips part in a surprised ‘o’, his eyebrows raising like he’s impressed. “That hurts, angel. I’m no idiot, and I think I’ve been plenty helpful. After all… I could’ve just left you to drown out there. Or maybe led you into a trap. Or left you for the dogs.” He taunts, returning to a toothy grin. The question of if he has your well being in mind gets more and more clear with a resounding no.

A fearful jolt runs down your spine as you stare him down, trying not to let your fear show. Grappling tightly to your anger, you taunt back, “Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you?”

A blink and he’s gone.

Your entire body goes on alert, tensing for attack as your heart starts to pound against your ribs. Eyes searching the immediate area in front of you come up empty. He’s either behind you or far enough you can’t see him in the low light. You never got an answer as to whether he’s moving quickly or teleporting or exactly how far he can get in the time you blinked.

He’s either long gone or… Trying to surprise you.

As soon as you have the thought, the hair on the back of your neck stands up – like some kind of unconscious sense of danger.

You turn in a quick 180 and he’s right there. Only a foot away from you with a sadistic sort of smile on his face. Your breath catches in your chest as it feels like a fist grabs tightly to your heart, suddenly much more terrified of the man in front of you.

That appears to be the way he prefers it.

“I think we can help each other.”

You blink at him, muscles pulled taut and ready to bolt as you try to figure out what the fuck he’s doing and what the fuck he wants. “What?” You question, your voice coming out a bit breathy and scared.

“I said, I think we can help each other,” he repeats calmly. “You help me, and I can help you get back home.”

“Why– What– H–how could I possibly help you?” You sputter, trying not to sound as terrified and confused as you feel.

His grin turns cheeky again, slightly less unsettling than it was a moment ago. “It won’t take much, angel, scout’s honor.” He says as he lays a hand over his chest. “You help me, then you’re free to crawl right back over to the other side and continue your life.”

Disbelief and uncertainty nags at you as you fidget in your spot, wanting desperately to put some more distance between the two of you but nervous to offend him. “So you can open the gate? You just want something in return?”

He shakes his head emphatically, appearing to be genuine in his denial. “I can’t but I know who can. They opened it before you were brought over.”

“And they would open it again? Just because you asked?” You question suspiciously, studying his facial expression for a sign that he’s pulling your leg again.

“Let’s just say that me and them have similar goals and leave it at that.”

There are 100 more questions on the tip of your tongue, but with the potential of getting back to your own dimension on the table, you’re reluctant to press too hard. He seems to recognize the battle you’re fighting with yourself as he laughs to himself. “You know what they say about curiosity, angel.”

An annoyed exhale punches out of your nose. “And I assume in this case that I’m the cat.”

“Bingo!” He says happily, tapping the end of his nose with his index finger. “So what do you say?”

There is so much you want to say. So many questions you want to ask. So much more info you need. But beggars can’t be choosers, you suppose.

“What would I need to do?”

His smile goes sharp again. “So glad you asked. I’d just need a kiss.”

A beat of silence. Then your expression drops in disbelief and disappointment. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Dead serious,” he insists, laying his hand on his chest again as he regards you intently. “And it’s gotta be real – gotta kiss me like you mean it. None of those little pecks you give on the cheek.”

A strange swirl of intrigue and revulsion mixes together in your gut as you continue waiting for the punchline. The ‘just kidding, your face was priceless’. But it doesn’t come.

“Is this some kind of sick joke? Been so lonely out here that you have to twist the arm of a desperate girl just to get some–”

“Hey.” He interrupts, his tone intense and cold. It shuts you up immediately, though you can’t say why. “Don’t be mean, angel. This isn’t just me trying to take advantage of you. It has a real purpose.”

The dubious look you give him makes him crack another small smile. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I’m telling you the truth.”

“And am I allowed to know what this purpose is?”

He shakes his head again, displacing the curls draped over his shoulders that still appear to have not dried at all. “I’ll tell you when it’s done, how about that?” He offers, using your curiosity against you to try to sweeten the deal.

Really, it’s a no brainer. Sure, he’s a strange person that lives in an alternate dimension that has some strange abilities. Sure, you know next to nothing about him despite that itch in the back of your head telling you that you know him somehow. And sure, this could be a huge mistake. But having to kiss this admittedly-attractive dude just to get out of this nightmare dimension and get back home? The choice is simple.

Which only makes you more certain there’s a catch you aren’t seeing.

“Fine. If you swear I’ll be able to go home, then I’ll do it.”

His expression brightens excitedly, a sort of childlike joy appearing on his face. It’s different from any of the expressions you’ve seen on him so far – like genuine surprise. “You will?”

“Yeah, sure.” You reply, trying to brush it off as nothing. “Not like I have a lot of other options here.”

His excitement fades slightly, though he still looks pleased with the outcome. “Glad you made the right decision.”

An unsettling silence falls as the two of you study each other once more, now much closer than the last time. Fear and anticipation builds steadily as you find yourself glancing down at his lips – realizing you’re about to know what they feel like on your own.

“Do we, uh,” you pause to clear your throat as you awkwardly break the silence. “Do we do it now? Or… What?”

He takes a step closer, entering your personal space. His voice is lower, stickier, and richer when he responds. “Do you wanna do it now, angel?”

You suddenly feel like a fly stuck in a honey trap – eyes widening as you struggle between wanting to further close the distance and to run away from him. “Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose?” Though you meant it to be nonchalant, it comes out as a nervous question.

The uncertainty in your voice only seems to make the man crack another amused smile. “I suppose so,” he replies softly, gently teasing you as he gets even just a little bit closer. You can feel your heart pounding in your neck, constantly flipping back and forth between fear, interest, nerves, and embarrassment. Looking at you through slightly lowered eyelids, he leans in toward you. Close enough you can feel the exhale of his breath on your face.

“Kiss me like you mean it, angel.” He reminds you quietly, the tip of his nose nudging against yours as your eyelids flutter closed instinctively. “Don’t forget.”

Then his lips are pressing to yours. You make a small noise of surprise, both in that you weren’t sure if he was actually going to do it and because he’s so cold. But his lips are plush and soft as he places your lower lip between his own. As promised, you kiss him back, trying not to think about how strange it feels that he’s cold and the situation you’re in – focusing on the gentle pressure of him as he steps even closer and brings his hand up to cradle your jaw.

It’s gentle and sweet as you find yourself starting to forget the reality of it all. Your hands find the edges of his leather jacket, tugging him closer as he hums happily. His other hand finds your waist – cold through the thin fabric of your tank top.

Teeth nip lightly at your lower lip and you make another small noise of surprise, a flash of heat through your chest at the pleasant feeling. It distracts you further – not even questioning the adventurous flick of his tongue against your mouth. You part your lips on instinct; his hand flexing happily against your jaw as he tests the waters to run his tongue along yours.

You return the gesture, encouraging the touch as you breathe heavily through your nose. You’re running low on air and will need to part to breathe soon. You’re surprised to find that you aren’t really sure that you want to stop to do so.

He seems to recognize the impending need too; his lips pressing against yours more insistently, like he’s getting what he can before it ends. His tongue ventures past your lips one more time, pressing further than he had before. Is… Is his tongue longer than normal?

In the same moment that he pulls away from you, the hand on your jaw claps over your mouth to keep it shut. And there’s something in your mouth.

There’s something moving in your mouth.

You make a high pitched noise of panic as your eyes double in size, looking at him in terror while he holds you tightly to his front and keeps his hand firmly over your mouth. “Ah, ah, angel. You gotta swallow it.” He coos, his palm clammy and cold against your slick lips.

You shake your head as well as you can with his grip, making noises of protest as you struggle to keep the smooth, wiggling object from sliding down your throat. Your hands grab at his wrist and forearm, trying to pull him off, but his grip is too strong. Begging him with your eyes, sharp and stuttered breaths coming out of your nose as you hyperventilate, he just gives you a sad smile. “It’s not that bad, I promise. Just gotta swallow and it’ll be over – don’t make me plug your nose.”

Painful tears poke out of your eyes and start to descend down your cheeks, nails digging into his skin to try and get him off. It seems not to affect him at all, his other hand giving your waist a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay. This is it – you won’t have to do anything else. Come on, angel. You can do it. Just swallow for me.”

His words of encouragement make your head spin in confusion, panic mounting as the outcome seems inevitable. More tears pour down your cheeks as you choke on a sob, inadvertently allowing the object to slide down your throat.

“There we go,” he sighs in relief, grip on your face loosening, “Good girl.”

Somehow he knew that you’d swallowed it because he releases you right as you start to cough roughly, stumbling away from him and bending forward. You can still feel the strange coating from the creature on your tongue and down your esophagus – thick and wrong as you cough and gag.

Get it out, get it out, get it out, GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!!

“What was– How do I– I’ve gotta–” You stammer, stumbling over your words as you tremble wildly and gag, your body responding to your panic by wanting to reject the new contents of your stomach.

He appears right beside you again, gripping both of your wrists with his hands as he forces you upright. “Don’t throw it up.” His voice is a command, his expression intense. “If you throw it up, I’ll have to force feed you another one. And trust me, it’s way less fun the 2nd time.”

Tears continue to pour from your eyes as you rapidly shake your head. “What was– What is– Why are you doing this? What was that thing?”

“Calm down, angel, please calm down,” he begs, starting to look distressed himself. “It’s gonna be okay, I swear, it’s gonna be fine. You’re a part of something bigger now. It’s all going to be okay.”

You try to pull out of his grip on your wrists, alternating between yanking back and rushing forward to push him away. “What the fuck does that mean?! What have you done to me?!” You shout through your tears, white hot panic spreading through your body. “It’s not too late – I can still, I can still throw it up, I can…”

He drags you in, wrapping you up in a tight bear hug with your arms trapped between the two of you. He shushes you, standing steady against your weakening struggling against him. “Shhh, shh, it’s alright, angel. It’s okay. You’re gonna get to go home, okay? We’re gonna get to go home.”

“Sir, we’ve got activity.”

Dr. Pierce pushes out of his desk chair fast enough to make his head spin – lack of sleep and too much coffee weakening him beyond measure. He’s barely left the main building since you went missing.

Since you were dragged through.

There have been constant patrols of the fault line you disappeared into, hoping for any sign of it waking up again. It was on his order and against the wishes of General Highland. She’s a level 1 researcher. She knew the risks. It’s not worth the cost.

But you didn’t know the risks, not really. Pierce knows he didn’t do enough to prepare you, to warn you. He didn’t do enough to protect you.

This is his fault.

He’s not the only one buzzing with anticipation as he exits his darkened office; several other scientists and field agents are reacting to the news of activity with a rush. Not everyone will be allowed to go to the site, as it would be a madhouse, but several live cameras and other surveillance equipment have been set up in the area. At least a quarter of the bureau across the country will be intently watching whatever happens next.

Pierce says nothing as he makes his way for the garage and the people he passes know better than to approach him now. He can still feel their eyes – judgemental, curious, concerned. He’s felt their eyes for days.

There are several SUVs already prepared by the time he arrives, most already full of people who were approved to be on site in the case of reactivation. He recognizes the soldier standing by waiting for him as Private Steve Harrington, the same man who brought in the recorder originally. He’s one of the few people at the bureau with prior knowledge of the other dimension despite his low rank.

“Sir,” he greets with a respectful head dip, opening the backdoor of the SUV for Pierce as he approaches. Pierce returns the gesture before climbing into the backseat, sliding across the bench to the opposite side. Steve gets in after him, his bulky gear forcing him to sit far forward on the bucket seat as he slams the door closed behind him.

It only takes another minute or so before the caravan lurches and begins to move, following after the identical black SUV in front of it.

The walkie-talkie on Steve’s shoulder kicks to life quietly, a short and concise signal coming through that Pierce doesn’t understand. The exhausted scientist looks over curiously as Steve murmurs an, “Affirmative,” into the device before clicking it off.

“Any news from the fault?”

Steve glances over, surprised to be addressed, before he turns back to look out the front windshield. “Nothing yet, sir.”

Pierce keeps an eye on the soldier as they travel – watching with intrigue as the man continuously searches the vehicle’s surroundings, like he’s expecting an attack.

“You seem on edge, Steve.” He straightens in response, looking even more uncomfortable at being referred to by his first name. “Is it because the gate is active?”

A muscle in his jaw rolling with tension, Steve keeps his gaze firmly forward as he responds. “It doesn’t supply a good feeling, that’s for sure.”

“And yet you still volunteered for the theoretical strike team to go through?” Pierce wonders aloud, phrasing it like a question.

There’s a tense moment of silence before the private answers. “At least I already know what to expect on the other side.”

The two don’t interact again for the reminder of the drive.

The SUVs all pull into the vacant field beside the field tent in a line, the leader of the patrol team coming out to meet the first vehicle. Pierce watches General Highland step out of it and start to converse with the uniformed woman. By the time he makes it way over, he seems to be catching the tail end of the conversation.

“We have each unit spread out in even intervals along the fault; so far there has been no change since it first activated.”

“And they all have their protective equipment on, I presume?” Dr. Pierce cuts in, surprising the patrol leader and earning an annoyed look from General Highland.

“Yes sir,” she responds with a head nod. “I was just telling the general that they’re all outfitted with gear to protect them from the worst of the radiation, but it would still do good to regularly swap out the unit in the center, where the worst of it is.”

Pierce agrees with a stiff nod, not waiting to hear the general disagree before he turns to look back. As he expected, Private Harrington trailed him over, waiting a respectful distance away as to not eavesdrop. “Harrington.”

Steve turns at the call, jogging over to Pierce. “Sir.”

“Suit up. You’re coming with me to the source.”

“Yes sir.”

The pair of them push into the field tent, currently staffed with 15 more people than usual. There are researchers and scientists bent over displays and documenting readings, soldiers standing by with weapons, field agents watching over the researchers shoulders. Pierce walks past all of them, parting the way as he does, and starts to strip off his lab coat while pulling a radiation suit off the rack. Steve follows suit, removing a majority of his gear to reequip on top of the plastic suit.

The buzz of excited chatter is nearly grating on Pierce’s ears as he goes through the annoying process of putting on the PPE. But he misses it when it suddenly cuts off, directly after one of the researchers announces, “We’ve got a spike in activity!”

Pierce looks over at Steve, who is still clipping things to his belt again. “We’ve gotta move.”

“Yes sir,” Steve repeats once more, gathering the bare necessities in his arms to try to equip as they move. The pair of them push out the other side of the tent and set into a jog towards what used to be Forest Hills Trailer Park.

They pass a few pairs of outfitted people as they move – soldiers patrolling and scientists maintaining the monitoring equipment placed along the fault. None of them interact as the pair jogs past, heading for the end of the fault line. They can see a small group ahead – presumably gathered closer to where the spike in activity happened.

“Make some room!” Steve barks out as they approach, the gathered group moving further away from the fault line in response. Some look back to see who is coming while others keep their eyes locked on the glowing source beyond.

“Keep at least 10 feet back from the fault at all times,” Pierce orders the group as they pass. “Stay in pairs, don’t go off on your own. We have very little idea what we’re dealing with here, but we have reason to believe there are things that will try to drag you through the gate. If something comes out, fall back and call out. Don’t let your partner get grabbed.”

There is some murmuring in response, but no one openly disregards the order, starting to pair off as a few people move further back along the fault line. Pierce approaches a pair hunched over a meter near the source, keeping his eyes on the glowing red below. “What are we looking at?”

“It’s fluctuating slightly; was 116 mv/m at 31016 Hz at peak.” The researcher responds, keeping a close eye on the EMF before them. “Nothing close to the reported 189 mv/m. We might not be looking at full activation. Or maybe it’s building up, it’s hard to say.”

“Wait,” Steve cuts in, holding a hand out for the researcher to pause. “Do you hear that?”

They all fall silent, listening closely.

Then Pierce hears it – the hum from the recording. The one you were talking about hearing.

The scientist gives him a nod of agreement before looking back to the researcher. “Any sign of movement from the other side?”

“Not that we can tell from here,” the field agent answers for them. “We’ve been following the guidelines to stay back so it’s hard to catch anything from here.”

“Radio? Portable EMF?” Dr. Pierce asks, and the field agent presents both. He takes them and then looks back at Steve. “We’re moving up.”

Even behind the protection of the face shield, Pierce can see the tension in his expression. Regardless, the private still answers with a confident, “Yes sir.”

Keeping the meter within eyesight, the two push ahead, closer to the large opening at the source. Pierce watches it tick up with each step closer, crossing the 150 mark as they get within 5 feet of the edge. Looking out across the opening, the glowing membrane pulses and hums with energy, louder and louder as they approach.

There’s very little movement on the other side, but every once in a while Pierce catches a glimpse of a dark shadow moving beyond.

“Never gets any less unsettling to look at,” Steve murmurs beside him, shifting his weight between his feet as he keeps his eyes locked on the unbroken membrane.

“Dr. Pierce, we’ve got another spike!” The researcher calls from behind, voice sounding a bit concerned. “We’re edging 170 now.”

The humming increases steadily along with a slight vibration in the ground beneath their feet. Steve steps up beside Pierce, a hand out like he’s ready to drag him back from the edge, as Pierce stares into the membrane intensely.

Come on. Come on. Come back through. Just be alive. Come on. Please be alive.

A more defined shadow moves along the edge closest to the trailer and doesn’t pull back. “We’ve got movement!” Steve calls back, alerting the nearby units as Pierce’s hand flies out to hush him. They both watch with a certain level of horrified fascination as the shadow grows defined enough to make that section of the membrane appear black before it begins to tear.

A bare hand extends out of the membrane, blindly grasping for the nearby edge. Steve twitches forward, like he wants to go and help them, but Pierce holds him back wordlessly, leaving them both standing perfectly still as another hand appears and grabs onto the edge.

The person uses the grip on the edge to pull themselves through – a woman in a filthy tank top and jeans struggling to pull herself onto the flat ground. As soon as she is through, she quickly turns around on her knees and reaches back through the membrane.

You’re… You’re actually alive.

Several soldiers approach slowly with their rifles out, aiming at you as you take hold of someone else’s hand and start to pull them through. A pale man with long, messy hair appears from the other side, holding on tightly to you as you help him reorient to the change in perspective. “No way…” Steve whispers, standing frozen as he watches them start to sit up and look around.

“Dr. Pierce!” You call happily once you spot him, waving at him like you’re excited to see him. There’s a huge smile on your face, a stark contrast to your utterly disheveled appearance. “I made it! I’m back!”

The soldiers continue to keep their weapons trained on the newcomers, watching for some sign of aggression. You slowly get to your feet, offering your hand to your companion and helping him up too. Steve takes a few mindless steps towards them, Dr. Pierce no longer stopping him. “Eddie?” He calls uncertainly, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “Eddie, is that you?”

The man’s head perks up, looking in Steve’s direction. “Harrington?” He replies, sounding just as uncertain and confused. “Is that you in there?”

“Eddie, as in Eddie Munson?” Dr. Pierce asks Steve, still unmoving as he stares at you, seemingly unharmed.

“Yeah…” Steve breathes out, still looking stunned. “And he doesn’t look like he’s aged a day.”

You and Eddie start to walk over when a soldier barks at you to stay back, both of you nervously putting your hands up as you look between the armed soldiers, Steve, and Pierce.

“It’s me, Dr. Pierce. It’s really me.” You insist, looking at him pleadingly. “And this is Eddie, he helped me find my way back. He saved me.” You add, motioning to the man beside you. The two of you are close together; you stand slightly in front of Eddie, like you’re protecting him. Eddie just offers a sheepish smile and a shrug, like it was no big deal.

“Sir? What do we do?” One of the soldiers asks, glancing in Dr. Pierce’s direction.

The two of you look exhausted, dirty, hungry, but… Harmless. No worse for wear despite the time spent on the other side.

“Bring them in.” Pierce orders. “No excessive force. They’ve been through a lot.”

The soldiers nod, lowering their weapons and urging you both to come forward. You look particularly relieved, while Eddie appears mostly unphased by all of it.

“Thank god, I need a shower so badly.” You announce with a happy laugh, walking toward them as you shake your head and make a disgusted face. “No one smell me, I’m begging you.”

If anyone finds your behavior unsettling or strange, they don’t say so. Everyone mostly looks relieved it didn’t turn into some kind of fight. While there is something off about how you’re acting, Dr. Pierce can’t find it in himself to feel anything besides relief at your return.

Steve stands motionless and tense as Eddie approaches, looking every bit like he’s seen a ghost. There is no excitement, no relief, no… Trust. Like this is all a bad dream and he just wants to wake up.

Just before you and Eddie pass the two of them, you flash another excited smile. “And not a moment too soon – I’m so thirsty.” You look over at Eddie, who nods in agreement, before you continue walking toward the field tent in the distance, flanked on either side by armed soldiers.

Eddie stops by Steve, giving him a tilted smile. “Hey Harrington, didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same to you,” Steve replies, his tone apprehensive and flat. If Eddie catches on, he doesn’t show it, just continuing to show that same smile – like he knows something you don’t.

“What can I say?” He offers with a shrug and a wink before he continues to trail after you and toward the growing crowd beyond. “It’s good to be back.”

thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it!!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson oneshot #flayed!eddie munson #kas!eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #posting a oneshot that barely explains an entire fic universe you've never told anyone about :)#myos ideas #myo4munson

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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“You need to.”

“Need is a strong word, soldier; I need water, food, and sleep.” He states and points at the bunny costume you’re holding. “Now, this, I don’t need to do.”

“Come on, Lt., do it for the kids!” You beg.

He looks out the window at the funfair outside. Christmas, Easter, and Halloween festivities are held yearly at the local park, and the military base is expected to contribute somehow. Things like cooking and baking for example, or helping with the construction of the rides, and assisting with the general operations, were a few of the tasks you had to undertake. Apart from the famous egg hunt, the community has organized a variety of other activities this year, including egg and spoon races, potato sack races, and pony rides.

“Why don’t you put it on then if you care so much about the kids?”

“I’m on face-painting duty.”

“Why can’t I do the face-painting?” He asks, pointing at his black-painted, camouflaged eyes.

“We talked about this, Lt.,” you say and extend the costume to him, “you were the chosen one.”

The phrase ‘the chosen one’ was an exaggerated one but, in some ways, accurate. A few days before such events, the base held a raffle to determine who would perform as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. This year’s ‘lucky’ winner happened to be Ghost. You never did that for Halloween though, since there wasn’t an official ‘mascot’ apart from the pumpkins, and according to the Captain, “you were all monsters anyway.”

“I bet Soap planned all this,” he snaps, pointing to the fair outside, “I bet he rigged the raffle and wrote my name on every single ticket: Riley, Riley, Riley, Ri-”

He stops upon hearing your long sigh. “Soap would never do something like that,” you shake your head.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, peering out the window again. “Where is he anyway?”

“He’s helping the kids at the shooting gallery,” you admit and quickly regret it.

“I’d be great at teaching kids how to aim!” he yells, raising both hands, “why does he get to do that?”

“You’d be the star of the show, Ghost!” you encourage him as you wiggle the suit. “The Easter Bunny!”

“I don’t want to be a star, soldier,” he snaps, shooing the costume away, “plus, I hate dressing up.”

“Um, Lt., sir?”

“Hm?”

“You’re wearing a mask with a skull on.” You murmur, raising your brows.

“That’s for a different reason, and you know it.” He stiffens and narrows his eyes at you.

You must come up with a solution quickly. There’s no way to persuade an grown ass man, especially a frightening one like Ghost, to dress up in a fluffy costume and cosplay as an imaginary character if he doesn’t want to.

“You can’t go outside with that cover of yours, especially on Easter,” you explain. “Now, this, on the other hand, comes with a full mask on...” You say and lift the bunny costume by the shoulders.

He groans and rolls his eyes. That’s his way of contemplating the idea.

You shrug and look at the costume. “I’d consider it a deal, to be honest.”

He looks at the costume, then back at you, takes the costume from your hands without saying a word, and goes to the toilet to get changed.

A short while later, he returns, this time in the form of a 6.5-foot-tall, fluffy, white bunny with pink ears. His hands—or rather, his paws—are hidden in the costume’s pockets, and he diverts his masked face away from you.

You swallow your laughter and nod vigorously in response.

“So, what do I do now?” he asks defensively.

“Just act like the Easter Bunny.”

His ears and whiskers wiggle as he turns to face you. “How does the Easter Bunny act, soldier?”

That’s an excellent question. See, the Easter Bunny is cheerful and quite energetic. Ghost, on the other hand... well, let’s just say he’s doing a pretty good job on Halloween at the House of Horrors.

“J-just wave at the kids, Lt.,” you shrug and hand him a basket full of Cadbury creme eggs, “and blow the occasional kiss.”

“Like this?” he asks naively and pats the mask’s buck teeth with his paw.

“Yes sir,” you reply, looking down at the floor to hide your smile, “exactly like this.”

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astrojulia · 1 year

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Tarot Cards as Professions

Navigation: Masterlist✦Ask Rules✦Feedback Tips

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Major Arcanas:

The Fool: Work with abroad, connections with imports, language teacher, multinationals, entrepreneur, intern, college student, art major.

The Magician: Entrepreneur, job that needs skill with the hands (acupuncture, hairdresser, artisan), actor, salesperson, influencer.

The High Priestess: Education, especially children, nutrition, psychology, cook, housewife, food engineering, toy factory, fortuneteller, spiritual advisor, librarian.

The Empress: Management, business administration, foreign trade, secretariat, translation, decoration, stay-at-home mom, model, cook, farmer.

The Emperor: Business administration, work related to areas of technological innovation, the military or sportsmen, CEO, tycoon.

The Hierophant: Philanthropic areas, ONGs, religious work, social work, diplomacy, and a degree, journalism, writer, editor, priest, spiritual guru, politician.

The Lovers: Sales area in any sector, tourism, theater, advertising, the arts in general, porn star, stripper, masseuse.

The Chariot: Activities related to transport, cars, the latest technology, chauffeur, mechanic, athlete.

Strength: Aesthetics, physical education and various body therapies, medicine, zoologist.

The Hermit: Teacher, writer, doctor, antique dealer, restorer, librarian, gardener.

Wheel of Fortune: Financial market, exchange offices, casinos, lottery houses, stock exchanges, and areas related to public relations, hospitality, game show host.

Justice: Public jobs, won through competitions, politics, police, with government positions, in the diplomatic area, law, insurance company worker.

The Hanged Man: Nurse, auditor, inspector, porter, secretariat, general assistants, yoga instructor, prison guard, philanthropist.

Death: Doctor, farmer, geologist, business administrator, gardener, accountant, assassin, death row executioner, surgeon.

Temperance: Working with liquids in general or with what is transported in liquid form such as alcoholic beverages, medicines, juices. chemist, chef, food critic, regional or even international traffic.

The Devil: Does not limit the individual to a professional wing, so he can also go to extremes for the desire he has, such as landlord, drug lord, sex trafficker.

The Tower: Social assistance, humanitarian aid, medicine, firefighter, police officer, construction worker.

The Star: Music, painting, sculpture, poetry, cinema, makeup artist, dressmaker, beautician, agent, promoter, sound artist, astronomer, harpist, dealer, meteorologist.

The Moon: Oceanographers, sailors, fishermen, owners of bars and restaurants or nightclubs, artists in general, medium, hypnotist, psychiatrist.

The Sun: Motivational speaker, entertainer, comedian, social relationships, work with the public, artist in general, member of society.

Judgment: Work done at home, connection with the law, lawyer, judge, work with disabled or people excluded from society, social assistance, board member, executive producer, director.

The World: Pharmacist, massage therapist, scientist, teacher, community leader, religious leader or priest, fashion designer, makeup artist, interior decorator.

Wands:

Creative industries such as advertising, marketing, and graphic design.

Entrepreneurship and starting your own business.

Athletics, sports coaching, or physical training.

Outdoor jobs like park ranger or tour guide.

Event planning or organizing.

Firefighters or rescue workers.

Ace of Wands: Entrepreneur, startup founder, motivational speaker, fitness coach, personal trainer.

Two of Wands: Business strategist, project manager, travel agent, international consultant, import/export specialist.

Three of Wands: Sales representative, marketing manager, e-commerce entrepreneur, market researcher, international trade coordinator.

Four of Wands: Event planner, wedding coordinator, party organizer, festival manager, hospitality industry professional.

Five of Wands: Conflict resolution specialist, mediator, lawyer, debate coach, competitive sports coach.

Six of Wands: Public relations manager, spokesperson, social media influencer, motivational speaker, winning athlete.

Seven of Wands: Defense attorney, human rights activist, political campaigner, advocate, civil liberties lawyer.

Eight of Wands: Courier, delivery driver, airline pilot, travel blogger, expedition guide.

Nine of Wands: Security guard, bodyguard, soldier, endurance athlete, self-defense instructor.

Ten of Wands: Overworked entrepreneur, project manager, event organizer, professional organizer, heavy equipment operator.

Page of Wands: Assistant in a creative field, aspiring artist, intern in a startup, social media coordinator, apprentice.

Knight of Wands: Travel journalist, adventure tour guide, professional athlete, race car driver, stunt performer.

Queen of Wands: CEO, business owner, charismatic leader, life coach, influential speaker.

King of Wands: Executive manager, entrepreneur, leadership coach, consultant, director of a creative agency.

Cups:

Counseling, therapy, or social work.

Hospitality industry, including restaurant management and bartending.

Wedding planner or event coordinator.

Artistic fields like poetry, writing, or acting.

Healing professions such as nursing or holistic therapy.

Psychologist or counselor specializing in emotions and relationships.

Ace of Cups: Therapist, counselor, social worker, holistic healer, emotional support specialist.

Two of Cups: Marriage counselor, matchmaker, relationship coach, wedding planner, love psychic.

Three of Cups: Event organizer, party planner, celebratory event coordinator, community organizer.

Four of Cups: Meditation teacher, mindfulness coach, spiritual counselor, psychologist, therapist.

Five of Cups: Grief counselor, trauma therapist, hospice worker, emotional healing practitioner, bereavement support.

Six of Cups: Child psychologist, teacher, daycare worker, children's book author, pediatric nurse.

Seven of Cups: Creative writer, fantasy novelist, imaginative artist, dream analyst, visionary.

Eight of Cups: Travel blogger, adventure seeker, spiritual pilgrim, explorer, wanderlust photographer.

Nine of Cups: Life coach, happiness consultant, gratitude coach, self-help author, wellness retreat organizer.

Ten of Cups: Family therapist, marriage and family counselor, foster care advocate, wedding planner, family mediator.

Page of Cups: Creative writer, artist in training, intuitive healer, aspiring therapist, dream interpreter.

Knight of Cups: Actor, romantic poet, musician, art therapist, love and relationship coach.

Queen of Cups: Psychic reader, intuitive healer, counselor, compassionate caregiver, therapist.

King of Cups: Therapist, counselor, intuitive mentor, emotional intelligence trainer, psychologist.

Swords:

Legal professions like lawyers, judges, or law enforcement officers.

Journalists, reporters, or investigators.

IT specialists, computer programmers, or hackers.

Teachers or professors specializing in critical thinking or philosophy.

Military or defense-related careers.

Strategic planners or analysts.

Ace of Swords: Lawyer, judge, legal consultant, investigative journalist, strategic planner.

Two of Swords: Mediator, conflict resolution specialist, negotiator, diplomat, relationship counselor.

Three of Swords: Divorce lawyer, grief counselor, trauma therapist, emotional healer, heart surgeon.

Four of Swords: Rest and relaxation specialist, meditation teacher, spiritual retreat organizer, yoga instructor.

Five of Swords: Military strategist, competitive sports coach, lawyer specializing in litigation, debate coach.

Six of Swords: Travel agent, relocation consultant, therapist specializing in transitions, boat captain.

Seven of Swords: Private investigator, spy, intelligence analyst, cybersecurity expert, undercover agent.

Eight of Swords: Social justice lawyer, human rights advocate, disability rights activist, therapist specializing in limiting beliefs.

Nine of Swords: Insomnia specialist, anxiety therapist, nightmare counselor, sleep coach, mental health counselor.

Ten of Swords: Surgeon, coroner, forensic scientist, mortician, grief counselor.

Page of Swords: Researcher, journalist, fact-checker, apprentice in a legal field, investigative reporter.

Knight of Swords: Military officer, police officer, attorney, competitive fencer, conflict resolution specialist.

Queen of Swords: Judge, lawyer, critic, journalist, literary agent.

King of Swords: Judge, attorney, CEO, strategist, military general.

Pentacles:

Financial advisors or investment bankers.

Real estate agents or property developers.

Agriculture, farming, or gardening.

Architects, builders, or construction workers.

Conservationists or environmentalists.

Accountants or bookkeepers.

Ace of Pentacles: Financial advisor, investment banker, wealth manager, entrepreneur, luxury goods retailer.

Two of Pentacles: Financial analyst, accountant, bookkeeper, event planner, stock trader.

Three of Pentacles: Architect, contractor, project manager, teamwork facilitator, craftsman.

Four of Pentacles: Wealth manager, investor, financial planner, asset protection specialist, treasurer.

Five of Pentacles: Social worker, philanthropist, charity organizer, financial counselor, volunteer.

Six of Pentacles: Philanthropist, humanitarian worker, non-profit manager, social worker, charitable fundraiser.

Seven of Pentacles: Gardener, farmer, agricultural consultant, sustainability expert, botanist.

Eight of Pentacles: Craftsperson, artisan, apprentice, skilled tradesperson, technical trainer.

Nine of Pentacles: Luxury brand manager, independent business owner, successful entrepreneur, vineyard owner, art collector.

Ten of Pentacles: Real estate developer, property investor, family business owner, generational wealth manager, financial advisor.

Page of Pentacles: Intern, student, apprentice in a practical field, aspiring entrepreneur, entry-level employee.

Knight of Pentacles: Accountant, financial planner, farmer, skilled tradesperson, meticulous worker.

Queen of Pentacles: CEO, business owner, property developer, hospitality industry entrepreneur, financial advisor.

King of Pentacles: CEO, business mogul, successful investor, high-level executive, financial consultant.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

#tarot #tarot tips #tarot meanings #divination #cards #witch #witchcraft #witchblr #astroblr #career #astrojulia #all about tarot #tarot witch #major arcana #minor arcana #tarot and career

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babymetaldoll · 11 months

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"Little Miss Reid, entrepreneur" (Spencer Reid x fem!reader x their daughter)

Summary: Spencer and reader help their little daughter with her very first lemonade stand, and the whole BAU family gets together. Requested: Nope Warnings: This might be too fluffy: Reader discretion is advised. Category: Hardcore fluff . A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, I hope you enjoy it! Promp: Character helps their child with their first entrepreneurial venture... a lemonade stand. They weren't expecting half the damn FBI to show up. Masterlist

Summer vacation was an interesting time at the Reid’s house. With both Spencer and (Y/N) having only two weeks off from work, they had to plan in advance and schedule all their activities, to make sure they had enough time to do everything their kids wanted to do with them during the break. Raven was already five years old, and Vicent was already two, and both Spencer and (Y/N) really wanted to make it up to them for always being away, solving cases with the BAU.

That’s why that year, their “Summer fun plans” included a trip to the grand canyon, visiting lots of museums, going to a water park or two, and most importantly: helping Raven with her first lemonade stand.

The little girl was obsessed with the idea of running her own business ever since she had visited her cousin Henry, and he had a little lemonade stand outside his house. Uncle Will had explained to her that that was Henry’s way to earn some money to get a new bike, and that was enough to plant a seed in the little girl’s brain.

- “Dad, remember when you said I couldn’t get a pony ‘cos they are too expensive?”- Raven asked her father later that night, after reading a bedtime story together.

- “Yes, they are too expensive and we don’t have enough room to keep a pony here. Why do you ask?”

- “‘Cos… you know how Henry wants a new bike and he has a lemonade stand to save money and get it?”- suddenly Spencer knew exactly where his daughter was going with that question.

- “Yes, I know.”

- “I was thinking…”- Raven made a pause and looked at her father, who was trying not to laugh.- “I know I can’t get a pony, but what if I have a lemonade stand and save a lot of money and you take me to Barnes and Noble and I get to buy all the books I can afford?”

Spencer never saw that plot twist coming. Of course, there was no way he could say “no” to his kid. Raven was very smart and she knew her dad would be thrilled with that idea. So, after a long logistic debate with his wife, and a talk with Nono Rossi, Spencer and (Y/N) scheduled a day. That Saturday, Raven was having her first lemonade stand in David’s front yard. They decided to do it there ‘cos it was a more family neighborhood than their street. You don’t usually see kids with lemonade stands in front of an apartment building, do you?

While (Y/N) went grocery shopping with their kids and got everything they needed to make lemonade, Spencer asked for professional assistance from a Lemonade Stand professional: Matt Simmons.

- “So, did you ever sell lemonade as a kid?”- Matt asked Spencer as they set all the materials and tools in Rossi’s backyard.

- “No, never. I really wasn’t into outdoor activities, as you might imagine.”- Spencer replied and Matt chuckled. - “But once one of my neighbors set one, and my father forced me to go and buy a cup.”

- “Why did he force you?”- Matt questioned, confused.

- “He wanted me to have friends my age. When I was seven, my best friend was the librarian.”- Spencer explained and looked around - “So, where do we start?”

- “Did you get spray paint?”

- “Yes, all of Raven’s favorite colors.”- Spencer grabbed a few cans and tossed one to his friend. Rossi walked over and left a cooler filled with cold beers.

- “I’ll leave this here, and in case you need me, I will pretend I can’t hear you while I spend my morning reading in my studio with the AC on.”

- “Thank you for letting us do this here, Rossi.”- Spencer smiled at him as he shook one of the spray paint cans.

- “Anything for mi principessa.”- David replied and waved as he walked back into the house.- “Good luck, kids!”

Spencer had been right: Matt Simmons was a lemon stand pro. In two hours they had a green and lavender stand made with four wooden crates. One rod on each side of the stand helped hold a banner (Y/N) had made the night before that read “Raven’s Lemonade” and on the front, Spencer hung another banner that read: “Lemonade: ¢50”

- “All set!”- Matt smiled proudly and tapped on Spencer’s back a few times. - “How do you feel?”

- “Excited, pleased with our work… nervous?”

- “Why are you nervous? Your kid is going to be thrilled!”

- “I know, but… what if no one shows up? She would be broken-hearted…”- Spencer sighed at the thought of his baby pouting, and Matt shook his head right away.

- “There is no way that could ever happen here. Not under this heat and not in Rossi's neighborhood. Elderly people are very supportive.”

- “Hey!”- Rossi argued, overhearing Matt’s comment on his way out. - “Who is elderly?”

- “Your neighbors!- Simmons explained right away, trying not to laugh.

Raven Reid yelled and jumped with excitement when she saw her lemonade stand. She ran around Rossi’s backyard, nearly hyperventilating. She hadn’t been so excited since Santa brought her the telescope she wanted.

- “It’s so pretty, daddy!!”- the little girl jumped into Spencer's arms and he caught her with a bear hug.

- “I’m glad you like it, birdie.”- he replied and kissed her chubby cheek. - “Did you and your mom get lots of lemons?”

- “Yes, and some lemon bars too, in case someone is hungry.”- the little girl explained.

- “Good idea, boo. Did you thank Nono Rossi for letting us set the stand in his front yard?”- the little girl shook her head and Spencer quickly set her down.- “Go tell him thank you.”- and off the girl went, running and yelling “Nono!” on her way into the house. Spencer stared at her as he stood in the middle of the backyard, putting all the tools Derek had given him a few years earlier back into the toolbox. His heart felt full of love knowing he could give his kids the childhood he never had.

- “Hey there, Bob the builder.”- (Y/N) walked out to the backyard and smiled at her husband. - “This looks amazing.”

- “Thank you.”- Spencer whispered and felt her lips on his immediately.

- “Raven is ecstatic, she wants to start making lemonade right now.” - and just in time, they heard the little girl’s voice calling for her mommy.

- “You heard the boss.”- Spencer whispered and kissed his wife one more time. Meanwhile, I’m gonna move this outside to the front yard.”

- “Great, Pen said she was gonna come and help around four, so we should be ready on time.”

When (Y/N) said Penelope Garcia was going to help, she pictured her friend slicing lemons and making lemonade along with her in Rossi’s kitchen. She never imagined her friend was going to… well… be Penelope Garcia, and take things over the top, as usual.

First, Garcia didn’t slice a lemon, she might as well have chopped the entire tree: she got to Rossi’s with homemade lemon cupcakes, lemon cake, lemon tart, and lemon cookies (lemon shaped, of course, and covered in yellow frosting). She had so many trays with goods, Luke was forced to help her. He picked her up and gave her a hand carrying everything over to Rossi’s.

- “Oh… my… good.”- (Y/N) whispered as she stared at the number of treats her friend had baked, piling on Rossi’s kitchen island.

- “I know, I might have gone a little over the top, but once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.”- Garcia apologized and smiled guilty at her friend, who only had one worry in her mind.

- “Ok, now I’m scared. How are we going to sell all this?”- (Y/N) asked, but Garcia dismissed her fears and shook her head immediately.

- “Don’t worry about that! I’m sure Raven is going to do great. We’ll charge a dollar for everything, so she won’t get confused with math.”

- “She is Spencer’s daughter”- (Y/N) chuckled as she spoke- “Math is not the problem. But Pen, I’m just scared no one is going to show up and she’ll feel discouraged. I don’t want my baby thinking she failed.”

- “Nonsense! It’s a lemonade stand, everybody loves a lemonade stand!”- Garcia replied and grabbed a fresh lemon- “Now, let’s make more lemonade!”

Raven ran out of Rossi’s front door carrying a stack of paper cups and a bag of paper straws. Right behind her, her mom carried a big glass dispenser filled with fresh lemonade. Raven’s little stand was ready and open to the public. A glass jar on the top of the counter was ready to be filled with the profit of the dar. Spencer stared at his daughter and took a few pictures with his phone. Garcia and Luke carried some of the sweets to start the sale, and Rossi opened his wallet.

- “Are you my first customer, nono?”- Raven asked, making her mom and dad chuckle.

- “I am, mi principessa. Can I have a cup of lemonade and a cookie, please?”- Rossi placed a dollar and 50 cents in the jar, and Raven’s eyes shone with joy as she poured her first order.

- “I’m gonna need a lemonade too.”- Luke said as he paid and waited for the girl to give him a cup as well.

- “Enjoy, uncle Luke.”- the little girl said and turned to her little brother Vincent, who was playing on a blanket on the grass their mother had set for him. - “Vinnie? Do you want some lemonade? For you, it’s on the house.”- the little girl grabbed her brother’s sippy cup and filled it with lemonade, as her parents filmed the entire moment on their phones.

JJ and Will showed up a few minutes later with Henry and Michael to support Raven’s little business. The kids played on the street with their skateboards, as Raven sat behind her stand, waiting for her customers.

A few of Rossi’s neighbors walked toward the lemonade stand, and Raven was shining. Her parents sat with little Vincent on his blanket and watched from a safe distance as their daughter took care of her paying customers. Meanwhile, Luke and García walked to the backyard with Rossi, Will, and JJ to enjoy the pool.

- “Fresh lemonade, get some lemonade”- Raven said to everyone who walked down the sideway and passed her stand. Everybody stopped and bought something for the little girl, she looked adorable while selling her products. But at a certain point during the afternoon, no one was coming. And Raven looked at her money jar feeling discouraged.

- “Mama… what if no one else comes?”- the little girl walked toward her parents and sat on (Y/N)’s lap. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek a few times, making the girl chuckle.

- “Come on, it’s still early. It’s been what? just one hour? I promise by the end of the afternoon you are gonna be sold out of all the things you have in your stand.”- (Y/N) smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek one more time before she stood up and walked back to her stand to wait for her customers. Spencer waited until Raven was far from them and turned to his wife. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t need saying. The two of them shared the same fear.

But after just a few more minutes, something weird happened. Anderson parked his car in front of Rossi’s and waved at the Reid’s as he walked to Raven’s stand and ordered a lemonade and a slice of lemon pie for him and his boyfriend. And less than a minute later, Andi Swan’s car parked down the street, and she showed up with her husband to get a lemonade and a lemon cupcake. Not only that, but Matt Simmons, his wife, and all his kids showed up, excused themselves for being late, and ordered lemonade and lemon cookies for the entire family. Raven was on fire, and her parents were… confused to say the least.

Where were all those people coming from? The cars kept parking: Ashley Seaver showed up with her kid and husband and got lemonade and lemon cake for her family. She hugged (Y/N) and Spencer and introduced them to her family, while more FBI agents kept showing up.

Alex Blake parked and nearly ran to the Reids as her husband followed close behind. Kate Callahan showed up as well, with her kids and husband, and soon after, Tara Lewis came along. Raven got to ask her mom for help to serve all the customers, and soon Pen and Luke showed up with more sweets and to refill the lemonade jar. Somehow, what had started like a simple lemonade stand ended up being an FBI get-together family party.

(Y/N) turned to Spencer and the two of them stared at the scene in shock. Pen and Luke walked to them and Garcia smiled and waved at everybody.

- “What did you do?”- (Y/N) asked her friend and she simply giggled.

- “I might have sent a few emails to everybody at the Bureau and some former agents telling them your little Birdie had a little entrepreneur of her own, and encouraged them all to come.”- Garcia explained and smiled innocently.

- “Everybody is here! We only need Elle and Hotch and we’d have the biggest BAU reunion ever!”- (Y/N) looked around in disbelief and chuckled.

- “You are forgetting me, little mama.”- (Y/N) froze and turned around slowly. That voice. She could never forget that voice. Derek Morgan stood in front of her, holding Savannah's hand and a stroller with their little boy: Hank Spencer Morgan.

- “Derek!!”- (Y/N) jumped and ran to hug him, as he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

- “Mrs. Reid! I missed you so much!”

- “I missed you too!”- (Y/N) said and turned to Savannah, who opened her arms and wrapped her in a hug.- “And you are gorgeous!!”

Spencer stared at their reunion with the biggest smile on his face, holding Vincent in his arms.

- “Is that my little nephew? You haven’t sent pictures of him this week! He looks so much bigger! What are you feeding him?”- Morgan joked and looked at Spencer. - “You look like you could use a nap, boy wonder.”

- “Two kids are more work than chasing serial killers”- the young doctor replied and chuckled as Morgan hugged him, tapping his back a couple of times.- “I missed you.”

- “Me too, brother.”- Morgan replied and smiled at his friend- “But I’m sorry to say I’m not here for you, I’m here for my little princess. Where is she?”- Derek walked to the stand, waving at their former colleagues on his way until he reached Raven and held her in his arms.

- “Uncle Derek! You are here!!”- the little girl yelled and wide opened her eyes - “You have to help me with my stand!”

- “That’s what I am here for! Lemme see what your old man did here…”- Spencer stood behind his friend and waited for him to inspect the construction.

- “I’m proud, you used the right nail for the wood.”- Morgan said, nodding.

- “Of course I did.”- Reid replied, almost insulted

- “Who helped you?”- Derek asked, and before Spencer could deny getting any help, his daughter explained.

- “Uncle Matt said he had plenty of experience with lemonade stands, so he helped daddy.”

- “Simmons?”- Derek chuckled and turned to Reid.- “You two did a great job.”

- “Thanks.”- Spencer smiled and turned to Raven. - “So, what is your uncle Morgan going to have, birdie?”

- “For you, lemonade on the house, uncle Derek.”- the little girl said and handed him a paper cup. - “But if you want to eat anything, you are gonna have to pay, ‘cos auntie Penelope said we had to split the profits.”- Morgan tried not to laugh, but failed, as Raven stared at him, waiting for a reply.

- “If that’s the case, I’m gonna have one of everything, thank you very much.”- and the little girl’s face lit with excitement as soon as she heard those words.

The afternoon ended, the FBI agent returned to their cars, and the BAU family moved from Rossi’s front yard to the back. David, Derek, and Luke prepared a barbecue, the kids played in the backyard, and (Y/N) and Spencer put away the lemonade stand. Nothing was left, not even a cookie. The sale had been a complete success.

- “How much did she make?”- Mrs. Reid asked her husband, who held the money jar and shook his head.

- “Over three hundred.”

- “Wow… she is gonna go crazy with the books.”- and as (Y/N) said those words and finished cleaning the last jar that was left in the sink, Spencer stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

- “Thank you.”- he whispered in her ear and sighed.

- “What for?”

- “For giving me everything I ever dreamed of.”- (Y/N) turned around and stared at her husband for a few seconds. She then leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

- “Eeewww!”- Raven said as she saw her parents kissing as soon as she walked into the kitchen. - “Uncle Derek is right, you are always kissing.”

- “Hey! Come here-” (Y/N) commanded with a smile and the little girl giggled as she walked to her parents.- “It’s a good thing your parents are always kissing, and we are also always kissing your chubby cheeks!”- and as soon as she delivered that line, both Spencer and (Y/N) started kissing Raven’s cheeks.

Summer was soon going to end, but those happy memories were definitely going to last forever.

#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Spencer reid x reader #DIWK #dad!Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x BAU!Reader #Criminal Minds fanfic #Spencer reid fanfic #Matthew Gray Gubler #MGG #mentioningmargins #babymetaldoll writes

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edenesth · 4 months

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The Way to His Heart [Poll]

Hello, dearest readers of this series!

Don't worry, I'm working on Part 16 as we speak! Just for the funsies, let us do an exciting little activity while you all wait for the new part (hopefully, it'll be out in a day or two) HEEHEE

In other words, I'm just trying to hype myself up as I write the next part🤡 y'all pls humour this poor author😔🫶🏻

Tag list (1/2): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @kamabokogonpachro @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @wolfgurl2600-blog

#edenesth #the way to this heart #random polls

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leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesworld · 2 months

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CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Two – A Rare Find}

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

Words: 9.1k!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERING SCENES, MENTIONS OF ABUSE, ABHORRENT BEHAVIOR AND THINK AND DEGRADATION DON'T READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE OR SENSITIVE.

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MATERIALIST

~Valentino Mansion~

3rd Person's POV

Heaven had been on a relentless mission for the past two months, ever since she acquired crucial information about the illegal Hybrid traffickers.

The weight of the situation had consumed her days and nights, driving her to work tirelessly towards finding a way to intervene and put an end to the inhumane activities happening around her.

The journey she embarked on was far from easy.

Countless phone calls, sleepless nights filled with haunting nightmares, and the frantic attempts to reach out to Black Eagle, the elusive figure in the underworld of trafficking, were all part of the arduous path she had chosen to take.

In her pursuit for justice, Heaven had enlisted the support of her trusted brothers, her dedicated assistant Jae, the employees at her uncles' Facility, and some carefully selected government officials.

Each individual brought their own expertise and resources to the table, forming a team dedicated to combating the illegal trade and bringing justice to the victims.

Navigating the intricate network of contacts and informants required to reach Black Eagle proved to be a challenging task.

The man operated in the shadows, shielded by layers of security and intermediaries that made direct communication nearly impossible.

However, Heaven's determination and strategic planning eventually paid off, as she received a rare and coveted invitation from Black Eagle himself.

The opportunity to meet with the notorious figure was a significant breakthrough in her mission.

It signaled a potential opening for dialogue, negotiation, and perhaps even collaboration in their shared goal to dismantle the trafficking operation and rescue those affected by it.

The man known as Black Eagle was beyond astonished when he found out that The Heaven Valentino had personally requested an invitation from him.

Given her unparalleled status and influence, it was a gesture that took him by surprise - after all, she was renowned as the epitome of sophistication and exclusivity.

Heavens' stance towards hybrids, however, remained a mystery.

Despite her reputation as an individual who rarely associated with such beings.

It was a tantalizing prospect to see how she would interact with those outside her usual sphere.

In the realm of power, wealth, and social standing, Heaven Valentino reigned supreme.

She was a symbol of opulence and authority that surpassed even the loftiest expectations. Her mere presence commanded attention and respect, setting her apart as a figure of unparalleled prestige.

For Black Eagle, the opportunity to personally deliver the invitation and provide Heaven with VVIP treatment was not just a formal gesture - it was a strategic move.

In his ambition to forge a partnership with her, he saw this as a critical step towards building a connection that could potentially elevate his own standing in the business world.

The allure of being associated with Heaven Valentino as a business partner was irresistible.

Her capabilities and resources were a force to be reckoned with, capable of opening doors that seemed impenetrable to others. The prospect of aligning oneself with her vision and ventures held the promise of unprecedented success and prosperity.

In the grand tapestry of the social elite, Heaven Valentino stood as a colossal figure, wielding a level of authority and influence that surpassed imagination.

Her ability to shape industries, economies, and even societal norms was a testament to her unparalleled power and vision.

Today felt like the day they had been preparing for all their life.

Heaven's heart raced with a mix of nerves and determination as she steadied herself for the mission ahead.

Every fiber of her being was focused on the task at hand, blocking out any distractions or doubts that threatened to creep in.

She knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy. Choi Woobin's words had only added to the gravity of the situation, hinting at the unimaginable horrors that awaited them.

Despite the foreboding stories, Heaven's resolve remained unwavering. She was determined to stay strong, to face whatever darkness awaited without faltering.

As she mentally ran through her preparations, she couldn't help but acknowledge the weight of the burden on her shoulders.

The thought of what lay ahead was enough to chill her to the core, but she refused to let fear paralyze her.

This was a test of not just her skills, but her inner strength and resilience. She steeled herself, ready to confront the nightmares that awaited, knowing that only by staying focused and composed could she hope to succeed.

The mission loomed before her like a mountain to be conquered. Heaven knew it would push her to her limits, testing her in ways she had never imagined.

But she also knew that this was what she had trained for, what she had prepared for. Every challenge she had faced, every obstacle she had overcome had led her to this moment. And she was not about to back down now.

As Heaven adjusted her hair in the mirror, she felt a surge of anticipation for the plan that was about to unfold. Her assistant Jae was her trusted right-hand man, ensuring that everything was in place for the pivotal moment that was approaching.

With determination in her voice, she spoke to Jae over the phone, emphasizing the importance of secrecy and precision.

The mere mention of Black Eagle and his men made her blood run cold. They were formidable opponents, and any misstep could have dire consequences.

"Understood" He said before the called ended.

Heaven nodded to herself in the mirror, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

She was not just a force to be reckoned with, she was a master strategist, orchestrating moves on a chessboard where every decision could tip the scales of power.

With a final glance at her reflection, she steeled herself for the upcoming confrontation, knowing that her fate and that of many others rested on the success of their plan.

'I promise to set you all free'

~Three Hours Later~

As the car pulled up to the opulent resort, a sense of wariness crept over her.

Despite the outward beauty of the location, she couldn't shake the knowledge of the dark deeds that had taken place within its lavish walls.

The sheer contrast between the lush greenery and the sinister secrets hidden within sent a shiver of disgust down her spine.

As the sleek black vehicle eased past the entrance gates, the scene that unfolded before Heaven was one straight out of a high society magazine spread.

Rows of impeccably maintained luxurious cars, each belonging to famous elites, lined the grand driveway.

The air was thick with an aura of opulence, exuding from the designer-clad guests mingling around.

Eying the spectacle before her, Heaven couldn't help but feel a wave of disdain wash over her. The ostentatious display of extravagance seemed less about genuine enjoyment and more about a ruthless competition to assert dominance and flaunt one's wealth and status.

The whole affair reeked of artificiality and pretentiousness, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

As the car pulled to a stop, the animated conversations and tinkling laughter of the guests outside abruptly hushed, their curious gazes now fixated on the newcomer.

Heaven, embodying an air of poised elegance, emerged from the vehicle with measured grace, commanding the attention of every onlooker present.

The reaction that greeted her was nothing short of astonishment. Faces once animated and expressions jovial now bore expressions of disbelief and incredulity.

The previously bustling space fell into a stunned silence, punctuated only by the whispers and murmurs that rippled through the crowd.

It was as if a rare, captivating apparition had graced their midst, leaving them spellbound in her wake.

Heaven had meticulously orchestrated her surprise appearance at the auction, ensuring no one knew about her involvement.

This careful planning was pivotal in setting the stage for her grand entrance. The element of surprise was not meant as a mere spectacle for show, but rather a strategic move to assert authority and convey a clear message to all present.

Her motives ran deep, far beyond seeking attention or adulation.

Heaven's ultimate goal was to protect and advocate for hybrids, utilizing this bold move as a means to establish a lasting impression on those involved in the despicable games.

By taking a stand against the mistreatment of hybrids and holding perpetrators accountable, she aimed to solidify a legacy that would resonate far beyond the confines of the auction event.

In essence, Heaven saw this defiant act as a crucial step in safeguarding the rights and dignity of all hybrids, paving the way for a future where they would be respected and valued.

Through her actions, Heaven was not just making a name for herself but also building a legacy of courage, resilience, and unwavering determination for all hybrids to draw strength from.

This act of defiance was a symbolic declaration, not just for herself, but for the entire hybrid community, signifying a turning point in their fight for equality and justice.

As Heaven stood amidst the stunned crowd, her presence radiated a sense of purpose and resolve that left an indelible mark on all who bore witness to her fearless stand.

She exuded elegance and sophistication as she approached the entrance of the luxurious resort.

The aesthetic allure of her ensemble was captivating - a striking midnight black V-cut sleeveless dress that cascaded down to the floor with a daring slit that revealed a glimpse of her toned thigh.

This exclusive creation was adorned with glimmering diamonds, adding a touch of opulence to her attire.

Every detail of the ensemble was meticulously curated, as it was a one-of-a-kind piece exclusively designed for Heaven by her talented mother, Rachel Valentino.

The ensemble was perfectly complemented by her midnight black five-inch heels, which not only added height but also accentuated her long, slender legs, creating an illusion of elongation.

The matching diamond necklace and earrings added a touch of glamour and sophistication, enhancing the overall allure of her look.

Heaven's makeup was a work of art, striking the perfect balance between sleek and natural. The subtle yet alluring makeup accentuated her features, giving her a fierce and powerful aura.

Her hair was elegantly styled in a tight, neat bun, with a few loose strands framing her flawlessly symmetrical face, adding a soft and romantic touch to her look.

As Heaven glided towards the entrance of the resort, all eyes turned towards her, captivated by her poise and undeniable presence. The combination of her exquisite attire, radiant beauty, and confident demeanor made her an embodiment of grace and sophistication.

It was evident that every detail of her appearance had been carefully curated to exude an air of refinement and elegance, setting her apart as a true fashion icon.

"Its a pleasure to have you Ms. Valentino, my name is Min-Soo and I'll be your caretaker for the duration of your stay here. If you would please follow me" one of the hotel stuff introduced as he gestured for Heaven to follow him.

Heaven followed Min-Soo silently as he led her through the opulent halls of the building towards her temporary bay on the third floor.

The VVIP section was adorned with extravagant decor, setting the perfect luxurious ambiance for distinguished guests like her.

As they reached her suite, Heaven observed the lavish furnishings and elegant touches that adorned the space. She nodded in acknowledgment as Min-Soo informed her that her luggage had already been placed in the room, signaling that he would be readily available at her beck and call through the buzzer on her key.

Heaven couldn't help but notice the slight air of formality in Min-Soo's demeanor, which seemed to be a result of years of perfecting his role as a caretaker for esteemed guests like herself.

As Min-Soo excused himself with another respectful bow, Heaven took a moment to settle into her surroundings.

The short hallway led her to what seemed to be the main entrance, and without hesitation, she pushed the door open.

The room was spacious and elegantly decorated, a stark contrast to the chaos she had experienced earlier.

Feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her, Heaven decided to take a much-needed shower.

The warm water cascading down her body felt like a soothing balm, washing away the fatigue and stress of the day. As the steam filled the room, she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, feeling the tension leave her muscles.

After her refreshing shower, Heaven crawled into the plush bed, feeling the softness of the sheets against her skin. The comfort of the bed was inviting, and she couldn't resist the call of sleep. With a weary sigh, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.

As she slept, her mind drifted to the challenges that lay ahead. Tonight would bring new obstacles and uncertainties, and Heaven couldn't help but feel a sense of anxiety creeping in.

"I hope I don't lose it," she thought to herself, her mind muddled with a mix of determination and fear.

But for now, she allowed herself to succumb to the darkness of sleep, seeking refuge in its temporary embrace

~Two Hours Later~

Heaven's POV

As I stood at the threshold of my suite, already dressed in my finest attire, I could feel a surge of energy coursing through my veins. The anticipation for the upcoming auction pulsed through me, fueling my disdain. Glancing at the clock, I noted that I had a mere ten minutes before the event officially commenced.

Pacing the room, I double-checked my appearance, ensuring that every detail was immaculate.

My attire exuded sophistication and power, a reflection of the image I sought to portray at the auction. Despite my eagerness to leave this forsaking place, I remained poised, waiting for the opportune moment to make my entrance.

Finally, I decided it was time to depart the confines of my suite and face the impending ordeal. With a resigned sigh, I steeled myself for the upcoming interactions and the inevitable theatrics that would unfold at the auction.

Summoning Min-Soo with a press of the intercom button, I was slightly taken aback by the speed of his arrival. His promptness hinted at a level of dedication that I found somewhat surprising.

As he guided me towards the ground floor where the auction was held, I couldn't help but wonder if he had indeed hurried to meet me, his pace almost unnaturally brisk.

The distant echoes of boisterous cheers and chatter grew louder as we neared the event space.

The cacophony of voices and the frenzied excitement of the attendees grated on my senses, evoking a sense of disdain within me. Despite my internal repulsion, I maintained a mask of detachment, concealing my true feelings behind a facade of indifference.

Upon entering the grand hall after Min-Soo opened the massive wooden double door, I was immediately taken aback by the sight that greeted me.

The space was bustling with a diverse crowd of people mingling and engaging in various activities. However, what truly caught my attention and sent a shock through my system were the naked hybrids scattered throughout the room.

These hybrids, distinct from their human counterparts, were adorned with collars, some of which appeared to be electrical in nature.

It was evident that they were serving the guests in various capacities, from offering drinks to acting as inanimate objects for the guests' convenience, such as tables, footrests, chairs, and even — disturbingly — as items of a more intimate nature.

As I processed the surreal and dehumanizing scene before me, a wave of revulsion and disbelief washed over me.

It was unsettling to witness how these hybrids were treated as mere commodities, stripped of their autonomy and reduced to objects of utility or even pleasure for the guests' amusement.

The callousness and disregard for their dignity left a bitter taste in my mouth, prompting me to question the depths of depravity to which some were willing to sink in the pursuit of luxury and status.

Shaking off the initial shock and discomfort that clouded my thoughts, I focused on navigating my way through the crowd towards the front of the hall, where the other VVIPs were expected to be seated.

Despite the unsettling spectacle around me, I maintained a composed exterior, masking my inner turmoil to blend in with the opulent surroundings and the oblivious guests who seemed unfazed by the disturbing display of exploitation and objectification.

As I approached the designated area for the VVIPs, my mind raced with a flurry of conflicting emotions — from outrage and indignation at the deplorable treatment of the hybrids to a sense of helplessness in the face of such blatant disregard for basic decency and empathy.

However, in this lavish and surreal setting where decadence and debauchery seemed to reign supreme, I knew that I had to tread carefully and play along with the facade of sophistication and privilege that enveloped the event.

Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I prepared to engage with the other VVIPs, all the while grappling with the unsettling reality of the scene unfolding before me.

In a world where the boundaries between humanity and exploitation seemed blurred beyond recognition, I found myself teetering on the edge of a moral precipice, forced to navigate a precarious balance between complicity and conscience in a place where the veneer of luxury masked a darker truth lurking beneath the surface.

As I observed the busy crowd engrossed in their conversations, my attention was suddenly captured by the presence of a male Hybrid with dark grey fuzzy ears.

His submissive posture piqued my interest, evoking a sense of compassion within me.

The sight of him in such a vulnerable state stirred a desire within me to offer solace and reassurance. The urge to embrace him and promise a life free of sorrow tugged at my heartstrings.

However, I composed myself, aware of the delicate balance of the situation.

"Master, what would you like me to do?" He's question, submissive and repetitive.

When the Hybrid addressed me as "master," I couldn't help but be taken aback.

It seemed like a preconceived notion ingrained within him, highlighting the complexities of his existence.

My desire to treat him with dignity and respect clashed with the power dynamic implied by the title of "master."

In a bid to maintain composure and avoid any unintended consequences, I gently dismissed his offer of service.

"I don't need anything, you may leave" my response, though calm and collected, reflected the inner turmoil brought about by the encounter.

As I navigated this unexpected interaction, I grappled with the moral implications of the power dynamics at play.

The concept of freedom and agency weighed heavily on my mind, prompting me to tread carefully in my dealings with the Hybrid.

Ultimately, my decision to politely decline his offer stemmed from a desire to uphold my values of compassion and autonomy.

The nuances of such interactions serve as a powerful reminder of the intricacies of the human experience and the ethical considerations that inform our actions.

The dramatic reaction from the Hybrid in front of me left me feeling a mix of shock, confusion, and sadness all at once.

"Please master, I can make you feel good" he said a little desperate.

His sudden offer to "make me feel good" in an attempt to appease me was both startling and heartbreaking. It made me wonder just how much these creatures had been pushed to such desperate measures, to the point of willingly offering themselves in such a vulnerable way.

"I-I'm sorry master, I should not have overstepped. How would y-you like to punish me? You can do physical, mental or both" His voice wobbled in fear.

As I observed the fear and submission in the Hybrid's eyes, I couldn't help but feel a wave of empathy wash over me.

The pain I felt for him was like a physical ache in my chest, a reminder of the cruel circumstances that had likely led him to this point. His willingness to accept any form of punishment, whether mental, physical, or both, struck a deep chord within me.

The concept of punishing him for simply staring at me was absurd and unjust.

The idea that he felt the need to preemptively offer himself up for punishment spoke volumes about the toxic power dynamic at play in our interactions.

It was a stark reminder of the imbalance of power and the inherent cruelty of the system that had allowed such behavior to become normalized.

I couldn't bring myself to entertain the notion of punishing him for a perceived transgression that was, in reality, nothing more than a natural human reaction.

It was clear to me that this cycle of fear, submission, and punishment needed to be broken, for both our sakes. My heart went out to the Hybrid in front of me, and I made a silent vow to do whatever I could to protect him and others like him from further harm.

As I looked into his eyes, still wide with fear and uncertainty, I made a silent promise to myself to be a beacon of kindness and compassion in a world that seemed determined to stamp out any shred of humanity.

It was time to challenge the status quo, to stand up against injustice, and to fight for a future where beings like him could exist free from fear and oppression.

"I'll let you off the hook for now, defy me again and I won't hesitate to punish you" the words left a bitter taste in my mouth as I saw the fear heightening in his eyes.

Just great.

Fortunately, he took the signal and left me alone allowing me to take a breath.

Just then a man clad in a dark purple suit appeared on stage.

"Good evening fine ladies and gentlemen, my name is Lee Chan and I'll be your host for the five days of your stay"

I couldn't help but notice the air of sophistication and mystery that surrounded him. His aura exuded confidence and command, making it clear that he was no ordinary host.

The slight creases around his eyes hinted at a life full of experiences and secrets yet to be revealed.

His voice carried a sense of authority as he addressed the audience, his words flowing smoothly and effortlessly. The way he held himself spoke of someone well-versed in the art of public speaking, capable of captivating the attention of everyone in the room with just a few carefully chosen words.

"So, for those of you who were not here last time, this event will be slightly different from the usual one." He announced and a tingle of excitement ran through the crowd.

People leaned forward in their seats, eager to find out what surprises he had in store for them. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a mixture of curiosity and thrill hanging in the air.

"We promised you something different last year and alas the wait is finally over"

I couldn't help but wonder what he was referring to.

Was it something extraordinary, something beyond their wildest dreams?

The crowd seemed to think so, judging by their enthusiastic response. Claps and cheers filled the room, creating a symphony of excitement that reverberated off the walls.

Lost in my thoughts, I realized that I was completely clueless about what was going to happen next.

The unknown was unnerving, like standing on the edge of a cliff with no idea what lay beyond.

As Lee Chan continued to speak, I tried to decipher the subtle nuances in his words, searching for hints about the surprise that awaited us.

The scene raised eyebrows among the audience as several workers appeared on stage, each pushing what seemed to be large cages covered with curtains.

"As we unveil these exhibits, ladies and gentlemen, you are about to witness the rarest and most exotic hybrids in the world," the host declared with a hint of anticipation in his voice.

The crowd's excitement was palpable, with some individuals audibly expressing their eagerness, making me subtly scowl in their direction.

Sick fucks.

Such displays left me contemplating the state of our world. Have we truly reached a point where exploiting such unique creatures for entertainment has become commonplace?

It was disheartening to witness the lack of empathy and ethics prevalent in those driven solely by greed and power, oblivious to the suffering they inflict upon these defenseless beings.

This blatant disregard for the well-being of these hybrids spoke volumes about the values and morals that seemed to be diminishing in a society consumed by material gain.

The hosts and participants seemed to be detached from any sense of compassion or consideration for the creatures they showcased, treating them as mere commodities for profit.

The comparison to how even our domesticated animal companions are treated with kindness and respect highlighted the stark contrast in the attitudes towards different beings sharing our planet.

It served as a stark reminder of the importance of empathy and ethical behavior in our interactions with all living beings, urging us to reflect on the consequences of our actions and the impact they have on the world around us.

"So here, ladies and gentlemen, we have the exotic breeds you've all been waiting for," he announced, his tone both enticing and authoritative. The murmurs of excitement and whispers of desire filled the room, creating a palpable sense of fervor.

Sitting amongst the crowd, a deep sense of discomfort settled in my stomach as I observed the reactions of those around me. The air was thick with anticipation, but my own emotions swirled with a different kind of intensity.

The moment of revelation arrived as the curtains were dramatically pulled back, revealing the first group of creatures within the cages.

"Behold, a rare breed of hybrids, ladies and gentlemen, here we have peacock hybrids," the announcer declared with a sardonic smile playing on his lips, as the audience erupted in admiration.

The peacock hybrids stood before the enraptured crowd, their exotic beauty a sight to behold. However, any semblance of awe was shattered by the harrowing realization of the creatures' condition.

The scene was both enchanting and unsettling, captivating my attention with the breathtaking beauty of the peacock hybrids while simultaneously leaving me disturbed by the emptiness in their eyes.

The worker's revelation of the three unique specimens had initially filled me with wonder and awe at their exquisite appearance.

Each hybrid displayed a mesmerizing blend of blue and green feathers in striking patterns that adorned their bodies in distinct ways.

The first peacock hybrid stood regally with feathers cascading down the back of their neck, creating a dramatic contrast against their hairline.

The second one sported a majestic array of feathers woven intricately into their hair, adding an ethereal quality to their overall look.

Lastly, the third hybrid showcased a symphony of colors with feathers adorning their back, reminiscent of a majestic cape unfurled behind them.

As I gazed upon these magnificent creatures, I couldn't help but notice the profound sadness etched into their expressions. Despite their physical beauty, their eyes betrayed a haunting emptiness, devoid of any spark of life or vitality.

It was as if they had resigned themselves to a fate of captivity and confinement, succumbing to a sense of hopelessness that weighed heavily upon them.

Their once vibrant plumage appeared dull and lifeless, their expressions vacant and devoid of their natural grace.

A wave of sorrow washed over me as I gazed upon these majestic beings, stripped of their dignity and reduced to mere spectacle for the entertainment of others.

The juxtaposition of their innate beauty and their current state tugged at my heartstrings, evoking a deep sense of empathy and sadness.

In that moment, a profound sense of revulsion washed over me, as the stark reality of humanity's capacity for exploitation and cruelty was laid bare.

The blatant disregard for the well-being of these innocent creatures for the sake of personal gain struck a chord deep within my soul, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

As the crowd marveled at the spectacle before them, I couldn't help but feel a sense of moral outrage at the depravity of it all.

In that moment of clarity, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of shame at being part of a species capable of such heinous acts.

The cries of the peacock hybrids, though silent, echoed loudly in my ears, a haunting reminder of the cruelty that pervaded the world.

As Lee Chan introduced the next group, a sense of awe washed over the audience.

"Our next group is even more majestic, here we have a group of black lions," he declared, prompting gasps of amazement from the spectators, myself included.

Black lions, a rare sight in their natural form, were even more elusive in a hybrid state. The creatures before us were a striking blend of power and grace, their jet-black fur gleaming under the bright lights of the room.

These hybrids possessed a unique allure, their features a captivating mixture of familiar and otherworldly.

With round black ears and long, spear-like tails, they exuded an air of mystery and majesty that left the audience spellbound.

Despite their impressive presence, the black lion hybrids seemed to maintain an enigmatic composure, their expressions unreadable as they stood together in the center of their enclosure.

While their beauty was undeniable, there was a sense of untamed wildness about them, a reminder of the primal forces that lurked within these magnificent creatures.

The black lion hybrids stood as living symbols of power and strength, their presence a reminder of the untamed forces that still existed in the world.

Lee Chan's voice filled the room once more, commanding attention as he introduced the third group to the eager audience.

"Moving on to our final group," he announced, his words tinged with a sense of anticipation.

"This group is a true testament to diversity. They have formed a unique pack, but what truly sets them apart is the fact that each member belongs to a different predator species. These individuals are some of the most formidable predators you will ever come across."

As he spoke, a spark of excitement flashed in his eyes, and a subtle aura of raw desire seemed to envelop the room, fueling the palpable anticipation of the spectators.

The curtain concealing the last cage was swiftly drawn back, revealing a sight that left everyone in the room spellbound. Gasps of awe and wonder rippled through the crowd at the sight of the hybrid creatures before them.

The formidable presence of the black lions had already pushed the boundaries of what the audience had expected to see, but the creatures now on display surpassed even that.

Each hybrid was a mesmerizing blend of strength, grace, and ferocity, embodying the essence of their individual predator species in a harmonious yet awe-inspiring fusion.

I was captivated by their presence, drawn in by their allure and mesmerizing appearance. My gaze lingered on each of them, unable to look away until one of them met my eyes, creating a moment of connection that sent a shiver down my spine.

The feeling that washed over me was a mix of fear and excitement, leaving me uncertain of how to interpret the intensity of the encounter.

He had a striking appearance, with silver-grey eyes that seemed to hold a depth of emotion and wisdom. His long silver hair looked soft and inviting, adding to the mystique of his overall look.

His features were a blend of softness and strength, with pink plum pouty lips, chubby cheeks, and a jawline that exuded a sense of divine beauty.

Despite my keen observation, I couldn't spot any obvious signs of him being a hybrid, a realization that added to the enigmatic aura surrounding him.

The thought that he could pass for a human, albeit an exceptionally attractive one, sparked curiosity within me about the nature of his origins and the kind of hybrid he might be.

The onlookers engaging in betting and exchanging comments about the hybrids stirred a mix of emotions within me, from a sense of curiosity to a hint of discomfort that manifested a sick feeling in my stomach.

As Lee Chan opened the bidding for the exotic hybrids, the room buzzed with anticipation. The attendees, clearly eager to take home a unique companion, were ready to showcase their wealth in the bidding war that was about to ensue.

Lee Chan's warning about the hefty price and potential dangers of owning an exotic hybrid, especially predators, did little to deter the crowd. Enthusiasts of these rare creatures were undeterred by the risks involved, eager to experience the thrill of owning such a unique pet.

"First up for bidding are the peacock hybrids. $30 million for each exotic bird hybrid."

The room fell silent as the host announced the starting price. Excitement filled the air as attendees raised their number pads, signaling their bids and competing against one another to secure their desired hybrid.

"I see $60 million...$80 million...$80 million sold! $800 million to buy them all forever??" A hush fell over the crowd as they hesitated to commit to such an exorbitant amount.

Despite the initial reluctance to meet the steep asking price, the bidding war eventually came to a close as the host declared the peacock hybrids sold at $80 million each for a three-month ownership period.

The successful bidder's triumph was evident as the host's announcement reverberated through the room, signaling the conclusion of the intense bidding process.

As the auction continued, with more exotic hybrids up for grabs, the attendees remained on the edge of their seats, eager to participate in the next round of bidding and potentially secure their own unique companion.

With each bid placed, the tension in the room mounted, showcasing the attendees' determination to acquire these rare and coveted creatures, no matter the cost.

Despite the extravagant prices and inherent risks associated with owning exotic hybrids, the allure of these magnificent creatures proved irresistible to those in attendance.

As the auction unfolded, it became increasingly clear that for these select individuals, the opportunity to bring home an exotic hybrid was worth every penny, regardless of the challenges that lay ahead.

"Finally, the moment you have all been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen. The pack hybrids!" Lee Chan announced.

As the pack hybrids were revealed, the room erupted in excitement and anticipation. People had been eagerly awaiting this moment, and the tension in the air was palpable.

These rare creatures were highly sought after, and it was no surprise that they came with a hefty price tag.

The auctioneer wasted no time in getting down to business, stating the prices for these exquisite beings.

"$100 million each to take them home for three months,$5 billion to buy them forever." A hush fell over the crowd as the numbers were announced.

The figures caused an uproar among the attendees, who began shouting out bids and offers in a frenzy of excitement.

Amidst the chaos, one voice rang out above the rest. It was smug and high-pitched, a voice I knew all to well.

"$5 billion to buy them all," the voice declared, the words dripping with arrogance.

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the source of the bid. A wave of shock and disbelief washed over the crowd, as this unexpected offer seemed to defy all reason.

Park Ji-Soo.

Her father, Mr. Park one of my business investors, is honestly one of the nicest guys you'll ever meet. I mean, the man would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

But when it comes to Ji-Soo, he just can't say no. She's got him wrapped around her little finger, that's for sure. It's like she knows exactly how to manipulate him into giving her whatever she wants. And let me tell you, she's not afraid to use those tactics.

I've seen her throw tantrums that would put a toddler to shame. It's kind of impressive, in a twisted way. But at the end of the day, she's still daddy's little girl, and he'll do anything to keep her happy. It's quite the dynamic they have going on.

The tension was palpable as silence fell upon the crowd. I couldn't stand by and watch as those innocent hybrids faced a grim fate in the clutches of such a despicable character like Ji-Soo.

The very thought of her twisted intentions made my blood boil. It was clear that she viewed these creatures as nothing more than objects to satisfy her dark desires.

Determined to prevent this travesty, I knew I had to act.

I watched as the auctioneer processed the bid, his expression a mix of surprise and calculation.

The room was tense with anticipation, the air thick with the weight of the moment. It seemed as though the entire fate of the pack hybrids hung in the balance, their futures uncertain.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as I watched the drama unfold. The stakes were high, and the outcome of this bidding war would have far-reaching consequences.

In that moment, I knew that I was about to be drawn into a world of intrigue and suspense unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

"Anyone bold enough to beat Ms. Park? No one? Okay sol-"

"$50 billion dollars" I announced coolly, my expression passive.

Shocking everyone present, but to me, no price was too high to protect these precious beings from exploitation and cruelty.

"S-s-sold to Ms. Valentino" He closed of the bidding equally stunned.

As the auctioneer announced my winning bid, I felt a mix of relief and sadness. The onlookers' reactions of disbelief only fueled my conviction that these hybrids deserved more than to be mere objects of desire. They were living beings, deserving of respect and protection.

As I stood up from my seat in the dimly lit hall, a heavy cloak of mental exhaustion settled over me.

The weight of the night's traumatic events clung to me like a second skin, weighing me down with every step I took towards the exit. The eyes of the onlookers bore into my back like fiery beams, their incredulous stares adding to the heaviness I already carried.

Halfway to my suite, a piercing, high-pitched voice sliced through the thick air, calling my name with a grating insistence that grated on my frayed nerves.

"Heaven," she practically screeched, the sound reverberating off the walls.

Resignation washed over me as I paused, steeling myself for yet another unwelcome interaction. With a weary sigh, I turned around to face her, forcing a smile onto my face despite the exhaustion that clung to me like a shroud.

"Yes?" I replied, my voice tinged with forced politeness.

"Uhm, hey, I wanted to talk to you about something," she began, her tone falsely sweet and grating on my frayed nerves.

I could feel the exhaustion seeping deeper into my bones as I braced myself for what I knew would be a tiresome conversation.

The weight of the day's events pressed down on me, every word uttered by her feeling like another burden to bear.

"Whatever it is, it better be quick. I'm tired and eager to rest," I interjected, my patience wearing thin as I anticipated the inevitable direction this conversation would take.

The desire to escape to the solace of my suite grew stronger with each passing moment, the need for respite from the day's trials becoming an almost physical ache.

Ji-Soo's facade of politeness had vanished, revealing a more aggressive side to her character.

"Alright then. Those hybrids are mine, you can't just swoop in and take them away!"

She seemed determined to claim ownership over the hybrids, despite the fact that there was no evidence to support her claim.

In response to her bold accusations, I remained firm and resolute, unwilling to entertain her baseless demands.

"I bought them fair and square. Go find someone else to bother" I flicked my hand in dismissal.

"I'll pay you any amount for the hybrids" she said, sounding crazed.

It was clear that she believed money could solve all problems, regardless of the legitimacy of her claim.

The mere suggestion that I would be swayed by financial compensation was both insulting and absurd, highlighting her lack of understanding of the situation.

"Do you honestly think you could pay me more than I had offered. Please, with that pesky amount you offered do you really think it can be compared to the amount I bid on?" I asked her, almost laughing in her face.

"Heaven Valentino. Give me those hybrids if you don't want problems" she threatened.

It became apparent that the Ji-Soo had either mustered the balls to confront me or was simply oblivious to the reality of the situation.

Despite her boldness, it was clear that the girl was misguided in her belief that she could simply take what she wanted.

The hybrids were not hers to claim, and I was not about to relinquish them without a fight.

"I'm sorry, did you just threaten me? Are you sure you want to go down that road?" My voice was low and filled with malice and the utter insulation that came out of her mouth.

"I can give you more money, an amount I can guarantee you can last you a lifetime even in the after life. You of all people should know exactly what I'm capable of, and should know your place. I'm not one of your little followers that you can just coerce into doing your bidding. I can make you disappear off the face of this earth with just a snap of my finger. Tsk." I felt waves of anger roll off as I told her off.

Realization seemed to kick as her daring expression faltered.

I held more power and influence than she seemed to grasp, and I wasn't afraid to assert that authority if necessary.

Reminding her of the vast resources at my disposal, I emphasized the stark contrast between our respective positions.

In closing, I left Ji-Soo with a stark reminder of the vast divide between us, both in terms of resources and resolve.

I refused to be swayed by her attempts at intimidation, standing firm in my conviction and prepared to safeguard my interests against any who sought to challenge them.

"Go home, stop wasting daddy's money and be a good daughter for once and do something practical with your life"

with that I turned away from her and left her standing there slightly terrified and annoyed.

Bitch.

As I swiftly approached my room, a myriad of emotions rushed through me - confusion, fear, and a hint of curiosity. The sight that greeted me was nothing short of surreal and unnerving. Seven striking hybrids, their submissive poses causing a mix of shock and discomfort to ripple through me.

Their nakedness and vulnerability heightened the intensity of the moment, making it all the more challenging to navigate. A part of me wanted to offer them some form of comfort or assistance, while another part grappled with the ethical implications of such a gesture.

The intricate dance of politeness and propriety played out in my mind as I struggled to find the right course of action. Should I acknowledge them with a greeting, or prioritize their need for clothing and modesty? The internal debate rendered me momentarily paralyzed, my expression a reflection of the internal turmoil brewing within me.

Despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't ignore the undeniable physical allure of the hybrids. Their sculpted bodies and striking features stirred a mix of admiration and guilt within me, a reminder of the need to maintain professionalism and respect in the face of such temptation.

Drawing a shaky breath, I braced myself for the unnerving task ahead. The weight of the unspoken tension in the room pressed down on me as I steeled myself to take the next step.

A voice laced with uncertainty, I mustered the courage to address the hybrids, hoping to navigate this challenging encounter with grace and composure.

"Uh, hello?"

As I awaited their response, my mind raced with questions and uncertainties. Each passing moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, heightening the tension in the room.

Despite my internal turmoil, I had to maintain a facade of composure, hoping to mask the torrent of emotions swirling inside me.

With a steady voice, I mustered the courage to break the silence that hung between us.

"My name is Heaven Valentino," I introduced myself, the words flowing out with a sense of resolve that I didn't know I possessed.

"Would you please tell me your names?" I asked softly.

As I stood there, waiting for their reply, a whirlwind of emotions churned within me. The tension is thick in the air. Panic settled in as I searched their expressions for a clue.

The tiger's voice broke through my thoughts, stuttering with hesitation.

"You can call us whatever you want, master," He said, his voice low and submissive.

"It would be better to call you by your names" I said again, and I could see them visibly shaking.

"A-are you sure m-master?" The tiger spoke again, what seemed like fear laced his tone.

Taking a deep breath, I responded to the tiger's question with conviction. I need to show them that I mean no harm, that my only intention is to connect with them on a basic level.

"I promise I won't do anything to you, I just want to know what your names are, that's all," I said, a hint of vulnerability in my voice.

The hybrids exchanged glances, their posture relaxing slightly.

I waited with bated breath, hoping my words had struck a chord with them.

The tiger spoke again, "My name is Taehyung, I'm a white tiger, Yoongi, the white jaguar, Hoseok, the snow leopard, Jungkook, the black panther, Seokjin, the white lion, Namjoon, the black alpha wolf, and lastly Jimin…"

Huh?

As Taehyung trailed off, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

Why did he stop? Is there something I'm missing here?

"Why did you stop?" I asked, trying to understand what was happening.

Taehyung seemed to be really scared, I could see fear in his eyes and his body was trembling slightly. It was like he was having a panic attack. I had to do something to help him calm down.

"Hey, calm down, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," I said softly, trying to reassure him.

I slowly moved closer to him and gently placed a comforting hand on his head. He flinched violently at first, making the others tense up, ready to defend.

I kept stroking his head gently, trying to soothe him. Gradually, his breathing started to slow down and his body relaxed. He even moved closer to me. His hair was surprisingly soft.

As I watched the adorable reaction of the large kitty to ear scratches, I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

He seemed to be in pure bliss as he indulged in the pets, reveling in the sensation of being pampered.

My heart swelled with affection for the Hybrid, marveling at how something so simple could bring such joy.

When I attempted to pull my hand away, he quickly grabbed my wrist, silently pleading for more attention.

Unable to resist the cute gesture, I obliged and resumed the ear scratches, making sure to adjust the pressure to his liking.

The satisfaction on his face was evident as he reached a state of pure contentment, lost in the moment of pure bliss.

"Don't worry, I promise to give you pets later, okay sweetie?" He nodded with a slight pout and I silently cooed at the sight.

"Okay. You ended on Jimin. I know he's an albino cobra, but why did you stop?" I questioned, genuinely befuddled by the situation.

During the event when the hybrids were been introduced, staff members handed out information brochures on what breed the hybrids were and how we were supposed to go about their animal side if adopted.

It didn't really surprise me when I had come across Jimin's profile his anomalous unworldly beauty evident to his animal counterpart.

Just then, a timid and delicate voice spoke up.

"You're not scared?" it quivered, almost barely audible against the backdrop of silence.

It was Jimin, the Cobra hybrid, talking.

I couldn't help but notice the unexpected softness in his voice. It wasn't deep and intimidating, nor was it squeaky and annoying.

It had this charming quality to it, like a lullaby that could soothe you into a peaceful slumber.

In that instant, as I looked into his eyes that seemed to hold a world of innocence within them, he appeared almost heavenly, pure and untouched by the chaos of the world. How could anyone want to harm such a gentle spirit?

"Scared of what?" I responded, genuinely puzzled by his question.

"Huh, you're not afraid of me? I-I'm a s-snake, you know? Most people tend to freak out around me," he stammered, his words barely audible had I not been standing so close to him.

"Sweetie, of course not," I reassured him with a warm smile, causing him to look at me in utter surprise, as the others trailed behind him, observing the unexpected exchange of kindness in a normally hostile environment.

In that moment, as I gazed upon their stunned faces, I couldn't help but wonder – was it the fearless determination in my words that took them aback, or was it the genuine care and protectiveness that shone through? I needed them to understand, to realize their worth and stand tall in their own right.

So, I laid it out for them plain and simple. Promising to shield them from harm, to never let anyone mistreat them while I was around. They had to hold their heads high, never giving in to disrespect. Mutual respect was key, showing strength and solidarity against any who sought to undermine them.

I urged them to speak up, to assert their voices and claim their autonomy. Their lives, their choices – no one had the right to strip them of that, not even me. They deserved better, I knew it with every fiber of my being. And I vowed to do everything in my power to make sure they received it.

I gazed at the group before me, my expression grave yet full of determination. The air was filled with tension, anticipation hanging heavy over the room.

It was crucial for me to make myself clear on the rules moving forward. My voice resonated through the space, each word enunciated with precision, ensuring no room for misinterpretation.

"And also, under no circumstances should you refer to me or any other person as master. You will address them and me with our names, understood?" My tone was firm, a command not to be challenged.

It was a direct challenge to the oppressive societal norms that had long plagued them all.

I want them to understand that they were no longer bound by the chains of conditioning or the absurd rules that certain humans had imposed upon them.

I want to ensure that they never fall prey to the manipulative clutches of another human again.

They deserve to move freely, to act on their own accord without having to seek permission or validation. In this moment, I made it clear that their lives belonged to them, and no one had the right to strip away their autonomy, certainly not on my watch.

If there was one thing I, Heaven Valentino, stood for, it was freedom.

3rd Person's POV

The name itself carried weight, symbolizing a rebellion against the conventional power dynamics that sought to oppress them.

By rejecting the title of 'master,' Heaven was empowering them to embrace their individuality and stand tall as equals, united in their collective struggle for liberation.

The room fell silent as Heaven's words lingered in the air, a palpable shift in the atmosphere signaling a new chapter for them all.

It was a risky move, challenging the status quo, but Heaven knew it was necessary for their survival.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hey hey, it's the author extraordinaire popping in!

I poured my heart and soul into crafting this story, aiming to strike a balance between clarity and a dash of mystery to keep you hooked.

We're just scratching the surface here, with a rollercoaster of thrilling events awaiting the boys and Heavens. Brace yourself for a whirlwind of changes, with peaks of joy and valleys of despair.

Your feedback is like gold to me, so don't hold back!

I hope this chapter gave you a cozy little reading nook to escape to, dear readers! Your unending support keeps the energy in my fingers to write this😉. Cheers to more adventures together!

Yours in creativity,

Your most adored author-nim.

TAGLIST OPEN!

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blue-jisungs · 3 months

Text

SO I DANCED

author's note. im sooo proud of this one like?? both the banner and the fic huhuhuhuh idk man

word count. 1597

summary. you and your fiancé have rather... unusual ideas how to sped your dates. and making money during it.

warnings. petnames, cursing, stealing (money and a car), mention of chan carrying a gun and shooting but it’s not mentioned whether he killed someone, general illegal actions lmao, mention of blades but they’re not used!! ++ it seems chaotic but i kinda wanted to reflect the mv ++ black haired mullet chan with a lip piercing (you know EXACTLY which one) bc it deserves a warning itself ^_^

if someone asked you what activities you and your fiancé do during dates, your answer would be: “normal, couple stuff”.

for example going to the movies, cafe hopping, walks in the park, shopping…

and that wouldn’t be a lie.

what you do on your nighttime dates, however, you wouldn’t dare describing to a stranger nor even a friend.

maybe after all you and chan aren’t a normal couple.

“you ready? because i swear to god if you suddenly remind yourself that you left water running at home… and you actually didn’t… i’ll choke you with my own hands” chan grinned teasingly but you didn't feel threatened at all.

“it was just a one time thing, dumbass. i’m ready” you nodded and turned your head, resting it against the headrest. “let’s go?”

chan leaned over and pecked your lips, the cold piercing in his bottom lip grazing over yours.

you two left the car and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance roared, like a hungry predator hiding in the bushes. dark clouds took over the evening sky, a wide palette of greys and navies spreading above your head. cold air is hugging your body while a gentle gust runs through your hair.

“in and out, quickly. i really wanna know how that hospital playlist episode ended” chan murmured and threw you a black mask. you caught it mid-air and hid in your pocket, alongside a switchblade.

there was no way of putting it softly, only very straightforwardly: you and your financé did robberies. what started as a joke when you were out drinking turned into… well, this.

chan patted his holster and then did a dramatic bow, letting you go first.

it was a small bank in the suburbs and your fiancé got their blueprints beforehand (he said something soonyoung helped him get them and you decided to trust him), therefore you already knew how to get to the vault. and the plan was quite simple – and usually made up the day before.

for example, today, you’re just going to pretend to be a unsatisfied couple who is going to nag to see if their money is safe. chan had a huge talent to persuade people into doing what he wants… paired with his dangerous aura (mostly thanks to the lip piercing and dark makeup), it could only lead to success.

walking in, your boyfriend joined your side and intertwined your hands together. giving it a gentle squeeze, he lead you to one of the assistants available. the other three must have been in a break – or so the silver “be right back!” signs in their counters suggested.

“hello there, how can i help you?” the young man behind the glass greeted you in a monotonous voice. the air inside the building was chilly, a pleasant hum of air conditioning (and something that sounded like elevator music) playing in the background.

“we wanted to see if our deposit is safe. we heard various rumours about this place and we won’t leave until we see our money in a secure place” chan said sternly, causing you to nod. well, straight to the point.

the worker sobered up and looked at you. chan let out a grunt and pulled you closer.

“let’s just go get the manager right away, sweetie” you cooed at the boy, making your fiancé’s lips turn upwards into a derisory smirk.

“i… uh… okay!” the worker nodded and off he went. chan leaned in to place a soft kiss on your jaw, the cold mental grazing against your skin.

“so far so good” he hummed, his cologne filling your senses.

the worker arrived and chan didn’t care – he pecked your jaw once again before slowly leaning away.

“are you the manager?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. the man nodded, looking you in the eye coldly. to be fair, it was late. you’d wanna go home too.

“let me get this straight… you want to see your money?” the worker asked, letting out a deep sigh. now it was your turn to nod “and may i know your name?”

“we put the deposit on my name. pi cheolin” chan answered unbothered, putting an arm around you. you had to hold your breath in – no matter how many times he’s gonna use the fake name, it’s still going to make you snicker.

“ah, yes” the man nodded, checking something in his papers. then he glanced at his watch “whatever. how much did you put?”

“twenty million won” chan grinned proudly. the manager checked the time again.

“fine. i can only let one person in, though” he said and looked between you two. chan nodded.

“i’ll go. it won’t take too long, right? go start the engine, sugarbear” he hummed and stood up. you watched him follow the manager and quickly after they disappeared behind a door, you decided to go back to the car. if chan told you to start the car, it could only mean one thing.

you put on some radio, nervously shifting in the driver’s seat. usually, you were the passenger princess and you’d prefer it stayed that way… but hey, maybe it won’t be that bad?

suddenly, the bank door burst open and you saw chan running with a black bag.

let the race begin.

he yanked the door hantle and almost jumped into the seat, causing you to immediately hit the road. chan let out a yelp of surprise, closing the door. good thing he was fast with it, otherwise you might would have lost a mirror.

“it’s not our car either way…” he let out a dramatic sigh, wording out lost what you were thinking. he put the bag between his legs and turned around in his seat. you just changed the gear to the next one, ignoring the speed limits “go into the city, we’ll be able to lose them”

“do you think they’ll call backup?” you mumbled, glancing in the mirror. chan scoffed, shaking his head.

“by the time the backup arrives, we’ll be drinking wine on our couch. put the pedal to the metal, sweetcakes” your fiancé sent you a toothy grin.

you glanced at the gear box, then at the growing red arrow on the speedometer.

you were on the highway, it was quite empty. deciding to mess with chan, you purposely took your foot off the clutch a bit too fast after putting the highest gear. this caused the car to jerk forward and chan – who was without seatbelts – bonked his forehead against the headrest. he looked through his arm at you.

“yah” he scoffed in amusement and returned to observing your tail. they seemed to not catch up, which was great “the exit is soon, don’t worry”

“it better be because my heart is about to jump out of my body” you gritted your teeth and your knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel.

chan suddenly opened the window and the wolf-alike howl of the wind hit your ears, your hair flowing in every direction. then, he took out his gun and leaned out of the window.

“chan–!” you yelped and were met with a gunshot ripping the air. he quickly leaned back, his back hitting the seat with his chest rising up and down irregularly.

“the exit!” he suddenly grunted and pulled the steering wheel – not enough to take a sharp turn but to lead you towards it.

“sorry, i was just shocked by my fiancé using A GUN?” you grunted and felt - somehow - relieved finally entering the grounds you know.

“i aimed for a tire… and it worked, i assume” chan breathed heavily, running his fingers through his black hair “we’re fine, y/n. let’s just go to the docks and leave the car there”

“you’re insane” you murmured and felt his hand on your thigh, caressing it in a reassuring motion.

the city was soaked in night sky that already turned coal-black. the stars shone brightly, keeping you a little hopeful. as you passed the high skyscrapers and buildings, their lights blending into palettes of yellows, greens, whites and reds.

when you arrived at the docks, chan gave you the bag to hold and took care of the car (more like drove it into the water). then, he stood next to you and wrapped an arm around your shaking self. standing in silence, you watched the vehicle disappear underneath the water surface.

“let’s go home, pretty” chan pecked your temple and grabbed the bag, hanging it over his shoulder.

once inside, chan placed the bag on the kitchen counter. his eyes scanned your face in worry.

“you’re okay?” he asked, taking off his leather jacket.

“just… a little shocked, that’s all. how much did you even take…?” you asked. a joyful smile bloomed on his face as he approached you, his calloused hands landing on your waist “channie? how do you feel?”

he broke down into laughter, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. chan started swaying your bodies, dancing in the kitchen. you soon joined him, giggled erupting from your lips.

“let’s just say our wedding will be not from this earth” he hummed into your skin, suddenly twirling you around; moonlight shining on your faces, dancing in the middle of your shared kitchen.

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Text

━◦○◦ⓢⓞ◦○◦ⓘⓣ◦○◦ⓖⓞⓔⓢ◦○◦━ .t.w.o.

NFL QB Jake 'Hangman' Seresin AU x Popstar F!Reader

Summary: NFL Quarterback Jacob Seresin is in hot water from a streak of bad decisions, just as you go through the worst public breakup of your life. With people slandering both of your reputations, your publicists hatch a plan to bring both of you back into favor and keep the heat off until spring - that is if you can keep up the facade.

Word Count: 2,999 words

Author Note: :)) I know it's shorter than the first part but I am trying here y'all - I really am. but!!! more Celeste and Jake for your trying monday night xD ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

There are only so many ways to avoid conversation, which is why Jake’s fiddling with the radio. It makes you nervous, seeing how he man-handles the wheel with one hand, the touch pad in the car with the other. Who was the genius to put touch screens in vehicles anyway? That seemed like a stupidly dangerous decision. But you weren’t an engineer so that meant it wasn’t for you to worry about. Or maybe it was since Jake was fucking around with it while operating a motor vehicle.

“Shit, there is literally nothing good on.” His voice is low before he asks the AI assistant again to play a specific song. You turn your face to the glass of the passenger door, trying to hide the growing smile on your face as the country song plays. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything!” You defend, looking at him while actively battling the grin.

“The thing on your face - you’re smiling, why are you smiling-”

“I can’t just smile?”

“Not out of the goddamn blue like Jeffery Dahmer, you can’t!” It’s now that you realize that there’s a subtle twinge in his voice. He’d relayed plenty of stories to you at the bar but not once did he mention where he was from. And the slight drawl on his lips helps you narrow it down slightly. Well that made sense now. The pop country track wasn’t out of the blue when you pieced it together.

That isn’t why you’re giggling though. Instead of answering his question, you lean into the door, watching the landscape whizz by.

“Gonna answer my question?” He prompts once more.

“I’m just smiling!” You try, looking at him with a laugh. The look on his face is one that makes him look like he’s almost about to explode under the stress you’ve seemingly put him under. Finally, you relent. “I- well I wrote this. That’s all.”

Brows furrow as he turns down a road. “I’m calling bullshit.” Now your lips part in amused shock.

“Are you joking? I wrote this!” You give an astonished laugh as you slowly approach a modern looking gate overlooking the driveway to a residence.

“No. Prove it.” Off the top of your head, you begin to list the chord progressions, C. F7. G7. F7. C. As he parks the car, he’s still being stubborn. “That proves nothing other than you can play the song.” Scoffing with a roll of your eyes as he pulls his phone out, tapping something on the screen. The large gate slowly begins to recede into the bushes next to it.

“Here.” You hand him your own phone, Google provides not only the lyrics, but the song writing credits at the very bottom. Jake squints and points to the name, reading it out loud to you. “Yes!”

“That doesn’t say ‘Celeste’.” Now he’s smirking, leaving your head falling forward. You quickly move to your purse, grabbing your wallet and then your ID, throwing it at him, causing both of you to laugh when it hits his face. He scrambles to pick it back up, looking at the plastic. Then, not unlike a bouncer at a bar, he cross references the name on the card to the one on the screen. Jake then has the audacity to bend it for authenticity.

“Oh give me that.” You snatch both of your belongings out of his hands and he holds up his hands in defeat.

“Fine, fine.” The gate is open now, a rolling road of pavement that opens up to a mammoth of a house. You pull into the garage, finally moving into the conversation again, somewhat bluntly.

“Is it so hard to believe I wrote a song about sex?” Jake doesn’t answer. Instead, he gets out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind him. Before you can utter a word, he’s come to the other side and opened the door.

“No. Though, you writing a country song is.” His head disappears from the door frame and he leads you into the house. “It’s not a bad song. You did the whole thing?”

You are slowly following him in, your head craned as you take in the massive building. For its size, it’s very ordinarily decorated. There aren’t massive and astonishingly expensive art pieces on the walls or marble staircases - it was… dare you say: cozy? It was familiar and welcoming in the way a home should be, not sterile and rigid like most homes in the neighborhood were. Of course, you only knew this because of Restoration Hardware and the likes.

Jake is easily leading you to the kitchen, which is less ‘normal’ than the rest of the house. Recent appliances and modern finishes adorn the kitchen, from intricate coffee machines and luxurious wine fridges. He’s stuck his nose into one as you gape at the rest of the house.

It finally dawns on you that maybe you should answer his question.

“I did. It was one of my favorites but.. The entire thing just felt too… out of place for my style- you own this place?” Jake nods. You’re not sure if it’s in response to your question or to your response.

“Sounds about right. I can’t imagine you singing country music.” He’s moved around the kitchen toward the fridge. “And no, I don’t.”

You freeze for a minute. If he didn’t own this place…

“Then whose house-“

“It’s my mom’s.” Well that wasn’t listed in any of the answers you’d predicted he’d give you. Still, he’s pulling a bottle of wine from the wine fridge, reading the label and then sitting it on the counter.

“Your mom owns a place… in LA?” He starts digging into drawers, looking for what you can only presume to be a wine bottle opener. You help him in his pursuits, pulling random drawers open.

“Well… it’s- okay so I bought it for her. She really loves the drive to Big Sur on Highway 1 and so she’s got this place to stay at and then there’s my place in San Diego. My place isn’t big enough to house my whole family, so they crash here when they’re in town for football games, they just take a quick flight up to SD. Or make the drive if they have the time.” You’ve found the wine opener by now and are unintentionally holding it hostage. He’d bought his mom a house so she didn’t have to stay in a hotel in San Diego? And he just flew her home whenever she wanted?

“So.. you crash here because no one can tell when it's your mom or you here?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. It’s as close to home as I can get without boarding a four hour flight.” Jake pushes the bottle in front of you, and you distract yourself by opening the bottle as he putzes around with his phone. It begins to ring as you screw metal into the cork. You preoccupy yourself with your task as he disappears to the other side of the room. The blonde paces the room as he settles on the phone. An unfortunate look crosses his features and it certainly doesn’t inspire anything confident in you. While he hangs up, you are still struggling with the damned cork in the bottle. “Well, that was my lead security guy.” Jake speaks, leaving your attention on him as you hopelessly tug on the bottle and the jammed instrument in the glass neck.

“And what does Mr. Security have to say-” your question is punctured by the pop of the stubborn cork. As well as the splash of decade old fermented grape juice all over Jake’s mom’s nice granite counters. And your very new, very white tank top. Defeatedly, your hands let the bottle gently come to the surface, staring down at the mess. For some reason, you don’t immediately respond to the mess. You just… stare.

It isn’t until Jake comes along with paper towels, bumping your hip with his own to nudge you out of the way. “Don’t worry about it.” The wine is cleaned in no time, and you hazily fill two waiting glasses.

“What a waste of good wine.” You complain, before nearly gulping your first sip down. Jake simply laughs.

“Happens. Anyways, Wells, he said they can’t get to your room.” Setting your glass down you’re about to explain how reception desks work. The quarterback beats you to it. “Now listen, smartass. I know what you’re about to say, cause I would’ve said the same thing-” he laughs. You tandemly giggle along with him, “the hotel literally can’t get into your room. The key card reader is malfunctioning. The guy who fixes them won’t be in until tomorrow.” The groan off your lips is paired with your footsteps as you move to his living room.

“Great. Well,” you take another sip, pausing in the middle of the room, “guess you made a smart move of bringing me here then. We have an out if we get caught. ‘My room was malfunctioning so like the gracious gentleman you are, you let me stay at your place.”

“My mom’s place.” He corrects, slowly following you into the room with massively vaulted ceilings. There are beams across it, dark in color. If the sun was still up, the entire thing would be flooded with daylight from the skylights in the ceiling.

“Right. Your moms.” You spend time staring up at them, admiring how he was a whole ass homeowner as you count his skylights. Eight skylights. When your attention comes back to the horizontal plane, Jake looks over at you as he tosses his phone to his couch. When he does, you realize your own voice is softly playing over the built in speakers.

“Are you quizzing me? Is that what’s happening here?” You squint at him teasingly as he sets his glass down. “No, I’m putting it on so I can learn it. If I consistently listen to things on a loop my brain seems to soak it up - almost like a sponge.” The blonde disappears from behind the couch, down a hallway, leaving you to admire the stone fireplace that crawled to the ceiling, basking in the notes and chord progressions you’d strung together.

“Oh, so I’m not studying, you are.” You call out to him, letting it echo down the hall. He mimics your call.

“Yeah. My coach will have me benched if this doesn’t go well. So, I’m gonna be damn sure I know everything about my girl.”

You know what he meant. The word wasn’t meant to be possessive, or affectionate. Except, coming off of his lips - so naturally like that… it was easy to mistake it for genuinity.

“That tracks. What are you even doing over there?” As you call out, your feet are slowly making their practiced patterns from choreographed rehearsals timed with the song playing over you.

The realization makes you giggle. You haven’t performed this in over four years. So it was silly you still knew it. But it also was just plain silly. Dancing around to your own music, tipsy in a multi-million dollar house in the Hollywood hills, with a stranger who let you spill wine on his quartz counters. The whole thing is something from a novel.

“You ruined your shirt, and your stuff is locked in a hotel almost thirty minutes away, so-” Jake has looped around the couch by now, watching as you step in time with your music. One hand grips to a pile of clothing, his other hand pointing your direction. “If you plan on me learning this then you can forget it.” The clothes drop to the leather of the couch as you continue to step with the words, shimmying for emphasis.

“Oh come on, it’s so easy.” Moving to the coffee table, you set your glass down, grabbing his now empty hands and pulling him further into the room. “Ready? Just follow my steps.”

And he does, doing as best as he can as you emphasize the words, using them as the tempo with your steps. You know that’s not how your dancers did it, but that’s how you’d done it. Using the words were like landmarks, signifying when you needed to do specific motions. Jake seems to pick it up, somewhat effortlessly, with an uncanny ease.

“Oh you totally dance.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. Don’t even try to deny it.” You tease him further as the song ends and transitions into the next one. This one has a heavier tone to it, but it doesn’t stop you from following the steps. Your mind floods with the dance moves and the arena tour. The catwalk into the crowd, the sultry steps you took alongside the music. The outfit you’d had on. God, you had felt so hot in that outfit. It was one of your favorite tour costumes. You’d wanted it back from wardrobe when the tour was over - but the Music Hall of Fame had wanted it for a display not even three months ago. Otherwise you would’ve worn it to New Years Eve. It was your favorite.

It was Jonah’s favorite.

Jake has stopped dancing at this point. His attention has moved to each of the coordinated moves you made until you got halfway through the song, grabbing your glass and sitting next to him where he was perched on the arm of the chair.

“Your turn.” You tease, only to sip from your glass. Surprisingly, Jake downs his glass and stands up.

His dance moves are horrible. Downright awful. But you laugh all the same as he tries to sing along, getting the words wrong. You shake your head and continue to grin as you begin to sing along to the words.

“I’d walk through the fire if you were the flame, couldn’t care less if they call me insane, I don’t need the fortune and I don’t need the fame, I just need for you..” The note drags out as the song picks up, your hand slapping against the couch with the drum as Jake continues his terrible rendition. Finally you finish the line, “to say my name. Say my name! I’d take it all on, face all of the pain, say my name!”

The instrumental approaches the bridge, an overlapping conversation in the background of the audio, ‘Celeste’ over and over in low sounds. But Jake’s voice catches you off guard. He’s stopped dancing by now, but you look at him all the same. Your name falls off his lips again. When you look like you’re about to question him, he just laughs.

“You said to say your name.” Rolling your eyes, you finish your wine, moving back to the kitchen to grab another glass. You wouldn’t tell him, but so few people called you by it anymore. It was refreshing. You retrieve the clothes he’d dropped to the couch, before giving him a pointed gleam of a smile.

“I’m gonna go change- bathroom?” He points you in the direction of the room, and you quickly slide in. Once your shirt is off, you’re dropping it into the sink, the water running as you try to get out a stain that was on the verge of being fully dry. That was, admittedly, less than helpful. Still, your soggy shirt is the least of your problems when Jake comes knocking on the door.

“You okay?” You open the door and show him the shirt in the sink. There’s a low laugh that comes from him. “I have a laundry room- here, give me that, I’ll go put a stain remover on it and let it sit for the night.” You don’t exactly know why, but you are kind of shocked that he offers. You had imagined he would just turn and leave you to your failed attempts, but instead he’s been rather compassionate to your cause. Though, it doesn’t take him long to mock you for your misfortune. You then remind him that this was his wine that was causing the problems after all.

Jake then proceeds to ask you about each song that comes up over the speakers for the remainder of the night. He surprises you with his questions on specific words, asking what they mean and making you laugh as you play dictionary for the man. When the bottle is finally empty, the two of you have sprawled out on the couch, the ceiling having transformed into some form of entertainment for the two of you.

When you try to stifle a yawn, the blonde slowly pushes from the couch with a low grunt. It makes your stomach surge. Being in close quarters with a man like this was one thing: the sound he’d made was a completely other itinerary. One you never planned on following. The only plans you wanted to follow were the contractual ones you’d signed off on the other afternoon. The way that Jake was standing in front of you, holding out a hand to help you off the couch was making that more difficult. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed, popstar.” Drowsily, you take his assistance, but his strength pulls you up way harder than you were anticipating, leaving you flying into his chest and leaving him to subsequently catch you. When he does, you’re only in a fit of giggles as he holds on tight, feeling how his breath falters as he tries to return it to its regular rate. “You think that’s funny?” He smirks, moving the two of you now in some makeshift waddle, arms locked around you. His breath comes hot over your shoulder as you move through his house - his mom’s house - and toward a room. When the door creaks open, another damn near erotic sound leaves the athlete behind you. You know you didn’t cause that sound (even if you kind of wished you had). That was the work of one disassembled queen bed frame against the wall of the guest bedroom.

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