#Ⅰ. ⸻ ( replies )

[skyboundprime]

Open Starter.

Grey fingers kept tapping at the metal of the Ark near one of the old open ledges, protruding from the Ark and the mountain alike. Optics kept staring on into the horizon, absent at first, a purple hue as each tap-a-tap slowed when he could swear he saw a figure in the distance approaching the Ark rapidly.

Said optics zoomed in. More. More. This was a figure unbeknownst to him... who was it? His optics flickered and faded into their normal blue.

" Autobots-- " Optimus called out, his deep voice easily ringing through the Ark, " -- prepare for possible threat-- approaching the Ark. Possible faction is unknown. I will approach it to discern what it is. "

The leader took a step off the ledge, dropping from the metal cliffside and into the earth below with a loud THUD-- then, he walked forward, curious at first... who was this? Were they injured or damaged? Tired? Or ready to fight? Or even someone he might've met already? He wouldn't be sure until they approached...

" ... Hello? "

[mcmmabear]

@orioncarnell

It'd been Aaliyah's first day as the veterinarian in Redwood. She had taken whatever time she could adjusting to the new routine, but it was hardly any attempt. For the most part, she stayed inside, besides letting Aris outside to meet with the other kids his age & walking with him to the school. She'd taken the twins with her each time, and with how young they were, everyone was coming up to her to see the new family.

This time, she'd walked Aris to the school & the twins off to daycare. She didn't trust anyone to babysit Kiyana & Aurelia, not on their own. She didn't know or recognize a single soul in that town. And Aris had already made his decision, he wanted to stay. And dropping the twins off at the daycare was like when she dropped Aris off on his first day of pre-kindergarten. Tears in her eyes & throat clammed up, she couldn't only say weak goodbye's, 'mommy will see you later, okay?' & I love you's. She parted ways & sucked up the rest of her tears on the way to the veterinary office. There she settled in an hour before anyone was supposed to show up in order to familiarize herself with her new work area.

When she was ready, she had the assistant call for the first client. As they walked in, Aaliyah stood up, plastering the best small smile she could on her face. "Hi, I'm Dr. Amana. Who am I meeting today?"

[ghostgirl101]

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅰ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.5K || Angst → Fluff ||

A/N: I had this as a big idea that I had to get down before the basic headcanons and stuff, so here's my take on our Lisan al Gaib 😎 if you like this then hit me up for some relationship headcanons and the like, I'm up for it all. Enjoy reading or watching the movie if you haven't already - I'm going again lol, and screen X is the best way to experience it fr Also I feel like I should write a second part to this lmao, if you liked what you read?

You weren't one for dreams of destiny.

The dreams you had seemed meaningless, confusing, nothing to do with what ifs and what could. Not like his.

But you always seemed to feel some kind of atmosphere, an aura you couldn't quite shake off, even when you woke up from the darkness. There was no face to go with the voice, the voice in the dark that called to you in whispers that you didn't understand. Beautiful words that weren't yours, but sounded so soft and gentle and powerful, as they reached out to you from distant lands.

You could never place them, pin them down and study them, understand them, until the day the Emperor was challenged by a ghost of a lost House, thought to be dead, left to be forgotten. You stand near the Emperor and his guards and men, the Great Houses looming and listening from higher above, as the Fremen fill up the space to watch the confrontation in spirited anticipation.

The life debt was paid. The late Emperor was overthrown. The ascendancy of Paul Atreides rose and took from the throne to claim it.

His attention flicks from his eyes boring coldly into the Emperor's, to meet yours, his voice smooth and set, full of conviction and force.

"Our destiny is together. I'll take her."

Your eyes widen slightly as his words sink in, blinking through the shock and incredulity that rushes through you and makes your heart race in apprehension and wonder. Though his voice twins with your wandering dreams, you don't know whether to feel fascination and longing, or fear and cautiousness at some greater force beyond your understanding, playing out before your very eyes.

"I..." your voice falters in uncertainty and disbelief, and you try again. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me well," Paul responds with an undying, stoic certainty that's almost unnerving. "As I know you."

His eyes study you, his Spice-stained blue eyes bleeding into yours, scanning every freckle on your face and curve of your outfit. Assessing you, knowing you, ridiculous throngs of power filling his aura and projecting onto you with his intense stare. You have to fight not to shiver under it, ultimately failing.

"What of me?" is the wisest reply you can think of before the silence stretches into dangerous uncertainty.

"Everything," Paul says evenly, but there's no mistaking the challenge and determination in his tone, almost daring you to reject him, to disagree, a built-up desire of dreamt promises resolving his stand. "I choose you, as my Empress. We will rule together, over the Empire."

Scepticism and bewilderment washes over you and makes your blood heat and stir, retreating into silence as he takes a step closer to you, gazing at you as if you're the most curious, exotic being he's ever seen.

Desire threatens to override Paul Atreides' reason, clinging onto the hope and chance of a narrow way through to light, a light that could only be sought out with you by his side. Without you, there was nothing in sight but pools of blood replacing luscious marine life and oceans running through Arrakis, disarray and disillusion at every turn and infecting every heart.

You were absolutely perfect.

And you were already his, long before this moment, before you and he were born into the world and named. There was no manipulation needed, because everything was laid out for him to take, welcoming him to rule and grow higher and higher. Fate had bonded you and strung you along to here and now, and as you blink up into his bright eyes that narrow slightly at you, frowning softly as if you hadn't understood his demand.

"Do you know what I am?"

You pause for a moment, speaking slowly and cautiously, as the crowd of Fremen and the wary, late Emperor watch on in tense wordlessness. "You are Leto Atreides' son. Former Duke of Caladan."

"What I am," Paul repeats evenly, "not who I am." He stares at you in silence for another beat, before speaking up again. "Do you know of the Bene Gesserit?"

You stop yourself from glancing in Lady Jessica's direction just in time; the runes patterning her skin, her once soft eyes now spiked with an unfamiliar darkness of ages past. Anyone could get trapped in her watchful glare, and her son's holds almost as much intensity.

"No," you decide on hesitantly.

"Kwisatz Hederach," he adds, taking another step forward until you can feel his breath tickling your cheeks, standing above you with unspoken grace and vigor. "I see the future. A part of me is the future."

His hand is suddenly squeezing yours warmly and tightly, making you flinch slightly and glance down at them before looking back up at him.

"In this future, I am with you."

All you can do is stare at him in awe and wariness, not knowing whether to let your curiosity guide you, or distance yourself as far as possible from the boy who reigns over the dunes.

"Why?" you whisper, the crowds seeming to fade around you as you focus on the boy in front of you, his fingers tangling with yours boldly.

"I've seen it," Paul insists, his tone a touch softer in thought and wistfulness. "All of it. When I am with you..." His grip tightens over yours, the fire in his eyes returning. "We're unstoppable."

"And..." your words dry before you can speak them, and you will yourself to go on, unable to break away from the deep blue hues of his gaze. "And without?"

His jaw visibly clenches at your question, and his hand drops yours, shaking his head only answer as he glances away in slight frustration.

"You don't have the leisure of choice. It's all been made for you, written in the sands and stars, and what you need to do is walk in its path. I will show you the way. You have no other. Do you understand?"

The firmness is strong in his words and glare, making you look away from him too, still in a slight stun over the rush of events. In less than a day, your freedom has been stripped to this young man's desires and destiny, entwined with yours. You, who barely knew him until now, only familiar with his voice, his words, that echoed and rang in your head like a lullaby.

But this feels so harsh and strict. The eyes of the former Emporer linger between the two of you, and Paul's army of Fremen stand behind him attentively, some gazing at you in admiration and hope, of their messiah's promised bride. And she is beautiful.

"That's unfair."

"The future is unfair," Paul says calmly, his collected, cool tone wavering for a moment. "But it will be so much worse without you by my side, and I will not accept that. Not for my people... not for myself."

You stare at him in fascination and caution, lost for words. His fingers rise to brush against the skin of your cheek, sending tingles in their wake and making you fight back the automatic reaction, your eyes following his surprisingly gentle touch. Two fingers trace down the shape of your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head slightly upwards. Just one step closer, and your lips would be touching too.

"Name anything," he murmurs to you, the Fremen straining to hear his voice as it reaches you effortlessly, his expression earnest and determined. "Anything. And it is yours. Only if you willingly wed me in turn. Not as a concubine, nor a mistress."

You blink, then blink again, taken aback as a million thoughts and suggestions race through your mind and make your head spin for a split second. You glance at the elder Emperor, who gazes back at you and the infamous Lisan al Gaib wearily, his eyes clouded with sombreness and light spite.

"I... I don't," you shake your head, overwhelmed by an impossible choice. "I don't know..."

Paul's expression softens into a smile you haven't seen before, one that makes your cheeks flush with colour as you watch him; a gentle, amused smile that's somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once, one meant just for you, as he disregards his surroundings.

"You will know," he replies quietly, "and I will have you, and protect you, rule with you. Love you. As I am meant to."

Paul suddenly brings you closer, pulling you into a searing kiss without warning. The exotic, earthy taste of the Spice on his tongue floods your senses and sends shudders of ecstasy and heat coursing under your skin and hushing the myriad of thoughts buzzing in your mind in an instant.

When he pulls away, all too soon, you find yourself chasing his lips before you catch yourself, and Paul gives you another soft smile, his forehead resting against yours as your eyes lock.

"And as I long to," he finishes against your lips, his words grounded with a look of protectiveness and desire that makes you instinctively relax further in his hold.

⊹⊹⊹

From beyond you both, his mother smiles slightly at the scene, a hand hovering over her rounded stomach.

The first step has been made.

══════════════⊹⊱≼ part two coming soon ≽⊰⊹══════════════

[iris-qt]

Are we getting more of theo whom has a staring problem

The Boy Who Folded First

-> Part Ⅰ - The Boy Who Stares

You’re halfway through outlining your Arithmancy essay, peacefully nestled into your usual spot in the library (the cozy alcove by the window that smells faintly of dust and lavender polish) when you hear the faintest sound of someone… hesitating.

It’s the sound of feet shuffling. A bag being adjusted. A breath being held.

You glance up, expecting Madam Pince or maybe a first-year in crisis.

Instead, you get Theodore Nott, frozen like a deer caught mid-scheme, holding a stack of books and trying very hard not to look like he’s here for you.

He is.

You blink. He nods. It’s weirdly formal, like you’re about to conduct business negotiations.

Then, very carefully, he slides into the chair across from you. He places his books on the table with reverent precision. Doesn’t say a word.

You go back to your essay. Or try to.

It’s been twenty seconds. He has not opened a single book. He has, however, started watching you with the expression of someone seeing a rainbow for the first time.

You glance up.

He quickly looks away. Opens the wrong end of a book. Realizes it. Flips it. Doesn’t read it.

You pretend to focus, but your quill slips. “Theo.”

His eyes flick up, startled. “Yes?”

“You’re not even pretending to study.”

He freezes. Then, slowly he flips a page in the upside-down book and says, “I am.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your book is in Latin.”

“It’s a universal language,” he replies, far too quickly.

You try not to smile. “Are you here to read or stare?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he rests his chin on his hand, looks at you, and says, very softly, but with complete sincerity

“Both.”

Cue the butterflies. Stupid, ridiculous, flapping butterflies.

Your face warms before you can stop it. “That’s not very productive.”

He leans in slightly, his voice just a whisper above the quiet: “It is for me.”

Silence. Except for your heartbeat, which is now doing some kind of interpretive dance in your ribcage.

You look away, biting the inside of your cheek. “You’re very weird, Theodore Nott.”

He gives you the softest, smallest smile, one that tugs at just one corner of his mouth like it’s shy about being there.

“I know,” he says, eyes never leaving yours. “You make me that way.”

You drop your quill.

And for once, he doesn’t panic. He just picks it up, sets it gently in front of you, and goes back to flipping pages in his very, very upside-down Latin book.

And you, utterly doomed, go back to pretending you’re not falling for the boy who stares.

…

You don’t expect to find anything strange in your Arithmancy notes the next day.

You really don’t.

You sit down in the library like always, armed with a steaming cup of tea and the vague hope that numbers will one day make sense.

You flip open your notebook.

And there it is.

A folded piece of parchment tucked right between your notes on logarithmic spell sequencing and wand length correlations. Neat. Crisp. Very much not yours.

You pause. Pick it up. Look around suspiciously, like the paper might explode or insult your handwriting. No one seems to notice.

Your name is written on the front in tight, slanted script. Theodore’s script. Oh dear.

You unfold it carefully.

And you gasp.

Because it’s not a note. It’s a letter. A dramatic, charming, deeply earnest letter, written with the kind of emotional intensity that could only come from someone who once stared at you in class for thirteen entire minutes and forgot how to blink.

To the girl who doesn’t know she’s being watched, I should clarify: not in a terrifying way. Hopefully. Just… in a “you exist like sunlight through old stained glass and it’s very distracting” way. You sit there, every day, with your quiet focus and your ridiculous pens and your little crease between your eyebrows when you're thinking too hard. I’ve watched the way you annotate like you're solving a mystery. I’ve watched the way you smile to yourself when you get something right. I’ve watched the way you make silence feel like a conversation. And I’m utterly, irrevocably— (Ridiculously, foolishly, sincerely) —smitten. You make it very hard to concentrate. You make it very easy to feel seventeen and doomed and soft all at once. I’ve rewritten this five times. Probably because I’m terrified. You’re very smart. I’m mostly composed of sarcasm and dramatic eye contact. But if you’ll have me, even just for a walk by the lake, or a shared study table, or something unspeakably wild like holding hands, I’d very much like that. —Theo (P.S. I know you saw me walk into a door. I’m trying to block that memory out. Please let me have this.)

You stare at the letter for a full minute, brain short-circuiting, heart doing small backflips.

And just as you’re about to burst into tiny flustered sparkles, you hear the soft scrape of a chair.

You look up.

Theodore Nott is standing there.

He looks like he wants to flee the country.

“Hi,” he says, voice unusually hoarse. “So. You found it.”

You hold up the letter with both hands like it’s Exhibit A in a very dramatic trial. “You left me a love confession in my Arithmancy notebook.”

His ears go red. “You weren’t supposed to find it until after exams. I was buying time to work on…bravery.”

You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a giddy smile. “You rewrote it five times.”

“I panicked,” he says solemnly. “And I was out of parchment.”

You try to hold back your smile, but it breaks through anyway, soft, real.

“I’d very much like that walk by the lake,” you say.

Theodore’s eyes go wide. Then soft. Then stunned.

“You would?”

You nod. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

You grin. “You have to stop pretending your upside-down French book is useful.”

He groans. “I knew you noticed.”

And just like that, the boy who stares officially becomes the boy who blushes, babbles, and very gently takes your hand like it might be the most important thing he’s ever held.

Spoiler: it is.

A/N: manifesting this, big thank you to everyone for all the love :)

[strrykais]

♪♫~ English Love Affair

battle of the bands is what every band strives to win, it's a perfect record deal served to the winner on a silver plate. bands from all over the world come to participate, which leads you to where you stand - currently with your new band staring across your douchebag ex and your old band, in which you helped start..

pairing: bassist han jisung x lead singer fem!reader

genre: social media au (some written parts), exes to enemies to friends to lovers, angst, fluff, humor, more to added

warnings: explicit language, suggestive/death jokes, jisung kinda was a bad boyfriend ngl, reader and her band are foreigners, jisung plays bass, reader is leader singer/guitarist, #onebandonesound

notes: reader and her band live in america, the contest is hosted in korea this year, jisung and reader dated when she was studying abroad and after their break up she went back home in america. “a little bit of fame changes people”

playlist: english love affair - 5sos | girls talk boys - 5sos | here we go again - demi lovato | lie to me - 5sos | guys my age - hey violet | moving along - 5sos | aint it fun - paramore | everything i didnt say - 5sos | all i wanted - paramore | ghost of you - 5sos | smile - avril lavigne | in too deep - sum41 | love is embarrassing - olivia rodrigo | again? again! - xdinary heroes | BBB (bitter but better) - xdinary heroes | bad idea right? - olivia rodrigo |

start date: april 22ⁿᵈ

status: bands currently auditioning!!

taglist: open (send a reply or an ask to be added!!)

MASTERLIST

13% | straykdz

introduction

ⅰ - 13% chance of winning

more to be announced .ᐟ

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 8. REPRIEVE BEFORE THE STORM

❝When all seems lost, it is the smallest hands and strongest hearts that guide us home.❞

Warrior M.List | Act Ⅰ

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˚＊˚✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ⚔️・⚔️・⚔️・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ˚＊˚

Countdown: 0 years and 2 months remaining

The sun was warm and gentle as it bathed the courtyard in golden light; the gentle hum of bees and rustling of leaves painting a serene backdrop.

You sat on a cushioned bench cradling baby Telemachus as he blinked lazily at the world around him.

His tiny hand curled instinctively around your finger causing you to coo more over him, his grip surprisingly strong for someone so small.

He was mesmerizing—a perfect blend of his parents.

Dark unruly curls framed his cherubic face as his honey-brown eyes glinted in the sunlight—well...most of them. There, in his left iris, a splash of vibrant blue stood out against the brown like a shard of the Aegean sky—Odysseus's unmistakable mark on his son.

"Look at you," you murmured, brushing a gentle finger across his impossibly soft cheek. "You're going to grow into a strong one little Prince. Just like your mother."

The sound of wood striking wood drew your attention. Across the courtyard, Penelope was sparring lightly with a wooden staff, her movements sharp and deliberate.

She wore a simple chiton tied high to allow freedom of movement, her dark hair pinned back with golden cuffs that caught the sunlight with each turn of her head.

Her strikes were slower than usual, almost as if testing the strength of her recovering body. Yet every swing carried the precision and grace that defined her—each step calculated, her posture perfectly aligned.

Still you frowned, unable to keep your concern at bay.

"You know," you raise your voice just enough for her to hear, "you don't have to train like you're preparing for war. You just had a baby less than a month ago. Your body needs time to recover."

Penelope paused mid-swing, her chest rising and falling as she turned to face you. A single eyebrow arched and a faint smirk curved her lips.

"Are you telling me I should be resting?" she asked teasingly, though her tone carried a challenge that was hard to ignore.

"I'm suggesting you take it slow," you replied, adjusting your hold on Telemachus as he let out a soft coo. "Ithaca can survive without you wielding a sword for a little while longer."

Penelope chuckled, planting the tip of the practice blade against the ground and leaning on it. "Perhaps, but I've never been one to sit idle," She shifted her weight, the staff creaking faintly under her hand. "Besides, I'm older than you. I think I know my limits better than most."

You snorted, brushing a hand lightly over Telemachus' soft curls, marveling at their softness. "Hardly. And if I recall, age doesn't excuse recklessness."

Her lips twitched, her usual composure breaking just enough to let a smile peek through. "Recklessness?" she echoed, tilting her head. "Coming from the person who once fell into the river trying to prove they could fish with their bare hands?"

"That was one time!" you shot back indignantly.

"Uh-huh," she said, her smirk widening. "And how many times have I pulled you out of trouble now? Five? Six?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the grin tugging at your lips. "Fine. If you must, Queen Penelope," you said with an exaggerated bow of your head. "But if you pull something, don't come crying to me."

Penelope laughed warmly, the sound filling the courtyard, warm and unrestrained. It softened her sharp edges, momentarily chasing away the weight of responsibility she always seemed to carry.

Sheathing the wooden blade back in its rack, she walks over to you, her gaze softening as she looks at Telemachus. She kneels beside you, reaching out to brush a finger over his tiny hand that still clung to your own.

Her touch was feather-light—almost reverent, and her honeyed eyes softened as they lingered on her son. "He looks so much like Odysseus," she says fondly, her smile tinged with a trace of longing.

Before you could respond the doors to the courtyard burst open with a loud thud, shattering the peace.

A man stumbles in panting. His short wavy hair clung damply to his forehead and his spectacles sat askew on his nose threatening to slip off entirely.

His tunic was rumpled—one shoulder slipping slightly—as he braced himself against the doorway, his chest heaving as though he'd sprinted across the entire palace grounds.

"Penelope!" he gasped, his voice cracking with urgency.

Your brows furrowed at the casual use of her name. Very few dared to address the Queen of Ithaca so directly, even fewer without a proper title.

Penelope, however, immediately straightened from her position as her expression shifted to one of concern. The shift was subtle but unmistakable—a softening in her eyes that only occurred when someone she trusted was in trouble.

"Polites?" she asked, taking a measured step forward. "What's wrong? I thought you were with Odysseus."

You cast her a questioning glance, your arms instinctively tightening around the baby nestled against your chest causing the babe to stir slightly.

Penelope caught your look and offered a faint apologetic smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"____, this is Polites," she explained, nodding toward the disheveled man. "One of Odysseus's closest allies—his childhood friend actually. You'd have met him sooner if you'd joined us on our honeymoon voyage. He was part of the crew on the ship."

Her lips quirked into a smile and she raised a teasing eyebrow. Still holding Telemachus, you shot her a scathing glare.

"And be forced to watch you and Odysseus suck faces the entire time?" you retorted. "No thank you. It was bad enough hearing him brag nonstop about how he 'won' you."

Penelope blinked as her smirk faltered. But you didn't stop there. A wicked grin tugged at your lips as you leaned into the opportunity.

"Honestly it's a miracle I didn't lose my appetite," you said, your voice dripping with faux annoyance. "He wouldn't shut up about how he, a younger man, managed to win over a Queen older than him. How it was such a pity that men her age—or even older—couldn't compete for her favor. He said they couldn't match his charm, his wit, his everything." You paused for dramatic effect. "'The cusp of adulthood,' I think he called it at the time."

Penelope froze.

Her teasing mask, so carefully maintained, cracked just enough for you to catch the faint pink rising in her cheeks.

"He—" she started, her voice uncharacteristically strained, "he did not—"

"Oh but he did," you cut in, savoring the rare sight of her flustered. Penelope, Queen of Ithaca, student of the God of War Ares, was struggling to form a coherent sentence.

Her lips parted as if to reply but she quickly snapped them shut again, her cheeks deepening in color. It was as if a memory of Odysseus's shameless boasting had appeared in her mind.

Your grin sharpened and you couldn't resist twisting the knife just a little more. "It's alright Penelope," you said in mock reassurance. "He's very proud of you. And himself of course. You should hear the way he talks about it to anyone who'll listen."

Penelope let out a mortified groan as she presses a hand to her face—as if that might somehow erase her blush. "You're insufferable...just as he is," she muttered, though there was no venom in her words.

Your lips curled into a victorious smirk. Rarely did you get the upper hand in your playful sparring with Penelope. But when you did, the retribution was all the sweeter.

With a contented sigh, you finally turned back to Polites who had been surprisingly standing there silently throughout the entire exchange.

Polites seemed frozen in place. His shoulders rigid as if he'd been turned to stone. Already flushed from exertion, the faint sunlight streaming into the courtyard illuminated the deep berry-red flush that crept across his cheeks.

He was staring. His wide amber-colored eyes fixated on you.

It was almost comical, the way he seemed unable to decide where to look, his expression an odd mix of awe and panic.

They flickered from your face to Telemachus, then back again—almost as if committing every detail to memory; the curl of your hair, the tilt of your head, the way you cradled the newborn.

His chest rose and fell with a tremor that betrayed his nervousness.

"You're awfully quiet," you remarked dryly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "Don't tell me you have something to add to Odysseus's tales of conquest."

The sharpness of your tone jolted him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Uh—n-no! Not at all!" he stammered, shaking his head so vigorously that his glasses slipped lower on his nose. "I—um—Odysseus may have...mentioned a thing or two..."

"Polites!" Penelope says snaps as she sends him a warning look, her blush still faintly visible.

"Right! Yes! Back to—uh—why I'm here," he said hurriedly, practically tripping over himself as he tried to steer the conversation back on track. "My name—it's Polites!"

"I already know who you are," you said curtly, cutting him off before he could launch into a rambling introduction.

Polites hesitated before letting out a weak defeated "Right," straightening his posture as best as he could, the Kefalonian born soldier adjusted his glasses with a trembling hand.

The action gave him a brief semblance of control as he cleared his throat and turned fully toward the Queen in what you assumed was meant to be in confidence.

It didn't last long. He couldn't resist sending one more nervous glance in your direction only to cause his composure to falter again.

"Well um," he began gesturing vaguely as though the words might materialize if he waved his hands enough. "It was the uh, hunt! The celebratory hunt for Prince Telemachus! We—uh—Odysseus and I—we were out on the hunt you see and uh..."

Polites trailed off, his eyes darting around as if searching for the right thing to say. "We were setting traps—hare traps really," he added quickly, as if this clarification was of vital importance. "The thing about hares is that they're quite clever. Did you know Ithaca has over—"

"Polites." Penelope's voice was sharper this time, cutting through his rambling like a whip. "Focus. What happened?"

"Right! Yes! Focus!" he echoed as though trying to rein in his scattered thoughts. "So um the rookies—the new recruits—they were...uh messing around. Fooling with the arrows at the campsite—you know, trying to show off their aim. Which, by the way, was terrible. I mean their form? Absolutely abysmal—no discipline in their stances, no understanding of how to nock an arrow properly..."

He trailed off upon catching the pointed looks on both your and Penelope's faces. Realizing he'd strayed again he started speaking faster now, as if rushing to get the words out before his nerves got the better of him.

"And one of them—Zeus help him—let an arrow loose!" Polites blurted, his hands flailing in a panicked gesture. "It—it was headed straight for me but Odysseus—he—he pushed me out of the way."

The air seemed to still.

Your breath hitched, a cold knot forming in your stomach. "...What?"

"Odysseus pushed me out of the way," he repeated in a shaky voice. "And he...he took the arrow instead."

Penelope's honey-brown eyes widened in shock. For the first time in years she looked genuinely taken aback.

Polites flinched at your combined reactions; his hands waving frantically in an attempt to explain. "H-he's alive!" he said quickly, his voice pitching higher in his panic. "The arrow hit his leg—it's bad but he's alive. They're bringing him back now!"

You released a shaky breath as the tightness in your chest loosened ever so slightly. Beside you, Penelope's expression shifted, the initial shock giving way to a steely determination.

"Where?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

"Almost at the gates," Polites replied, his voice still trembling. "I—I ran ahead to tell you."

Penelope's jaw tightened, her expression unreadable as she turned toward the palace gates. "____," she said softly, her voice calm but commanding. "Take Telemachus inside. I need to meet him."

You hesitated, torn between instinct to protect her and duty to the child in your arms. "Be careful," you murmured.

She didn't reply.. Her focus was already fixed on the horizon, her steps purposeful as strode away. Polites lingered for a moment, casting you a nervous glance before scurrying after her.

As you turned back toward the palace, Telemachus' small weight pressed against your chest, you couldn't shake the unease curling in your gut.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

The soft golden light of midday streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the spacious chamber.

You sat on a cushioned bench near the balcony, cradling Telemachus in your arms as a gentle breeze wafted in, carrying with it the scent of blooming jasmine from the gardens below.

The rhythmic chirping of distant birds blended harmoniously with the infant's soft coos, creating an air of serenity that belied the tension brewing beyond these walls.

Eryna, the wet nurse, stood nearby with her hands folded neatly in front of her. She hovered as if ready to assist, though she rarely needed to. Telemachus seemed to prefer your arms and Eryna had grown accustomed to allowing you to handle him most of the time.

As you rocked the baby gently, his eyes began to flutter close as he dozed off. "You're just like your father," you whispered with a silent huff of laughter. "Except you actually sleep quietly."

Your musings were interrupted by the quiet creak of the chamber door. You glanced over your shoulder to see Penelope standing there, her hand still on the doorframe.

Her face was pale, her features drawn with an exhaustion that went beyond mere lack of sleep. Her shoulders, always held high and proud, slumped just slightly, as if the weight of the world had grown too heavy.

And her eyes—usually sharp and calculating—were clouded with something heavy...something that made your chest tighten instinctively.

"Penelope," you said softly, adjusting Telemachus in your arms as you rose to greet her.

Eryna, catching the unspoken weight in the room, gave a respectful bow and quietly left without a word.

Penelope walked further in, her steps slow and deliberate. She didn't look at you at first, her gaze fixed on the floor as if the act of lifting her head was too much to bear.

When she reached the chair beside yours, she sank into it, her elbows resting on her knees as she buried her face in her hands. Your stomach twisted. It wasn't often that Penelope let her composure crack.

And when she did, it was never a good sign.

"What is it?" you asked gently, though you already suspected the answer.

The Spartan born Queen took a shaky breath, lowering her hands just enough to let them rest on her knees. "The arrow...it missed anything vital," she started slowly, her voice steady but brittle. "But it tore through the muscle and tendon. It's bad—he'll have a permanent limp."

She paused, her lips pressing into a thin line as her hands grip her knees. "By the time they got him back to the palace the wound had already started to fester. It wasn't as bad as it could've been but..."

Her voice cracked slightly as she trailed off and she shook her head.

"But he won't be able to lead in the war," you finished for her. She nods, unable to verbally answer.

You sat there for a moment, the gravity of the situation pressing down on you.

Odysseus sidelined by an injury. The man who was supposed to lead in the war to come. A permanent limp. A festering wound.

The implications churned in your mind, but it was the sight of Penelope—her hands trembling slightly, her breath shallow—that hurt the most.

"Where is he now?" you asked finally, your voice quieter than before.

"In the throne room," she said, leaning in the chair and closing her eyes briefly from the emotional tax of the day so far. "The council is pressing him for answers and plans, discussing what to do next."

Penelope lets out a soft bitter laugh—though it lacked any humor. "Meanwhile here I am: doing nothing but thinking about how close I came to losing him."

You nodded slowly as your mind raced with thoughts of what the council might suggest. Another leader? A delay in joining the war effort?

None of the options seemed promising.

Your gaze drift to Telemachus who had drifted into a peaceful slumber, his tiny chest rising and falling with each soft breath. Gently pressing a kiss to his forehead you rise to your feet.

"Eryna," you called softly.

The wet nurse reentered swiftly, her expression curious yet attentive. Cradling the babe as if he were the most precious treasure in the world, you passed Telemachus to her, your hands lingering for a moment as you adjusted the linen wrap around him.

"He likes to be swayed gently," you said softly, transferring him into her arms with practiced care. "And make sure to hum—he loves that. It helps him settle when he fusses. I won't be long."

Eryna nodded, offering a small smile as her arms adjust to support the baby Prince. "Of course my Lady."

Behind you Penelope's brows furrowed. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and exhaustion.

You turned back to her with a bright mischievous smile as your hands rest on your hips. "Why we're going to the throne room of course."

Penelope blinked. "...What?"

"To discuss all this war of Troy business," you replied breezily, your tone deceptively light. "Odysseus needs answers doesn't he? And since I know you're not going to sit here and let the council push him around without a fight, we might as well go together."

Penelope stared at you, her lips parting as if to argue. But no words came. Instead she let outs a quiet laugh and a shake of her head as she rose to her feet.

"You're...impossible," she muttered, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"That's why you keep me around," you shot back with a grin, already heading for the door.

As Penelope followed you out of the nursery the weight in her steps seemed a little lighter. The worry hadn't left her entirely—how could it?

But for the first time that day, you thought you saw a flicker of hope in her eyes.

[burgeoning-ambition]

Business Japanese Review Part One: Emails!

I'm not sure how many posts I'll make about Business Japanese, but probably more than one so I say the part one is warranted, haha.

Feel free to add anything or any questions in the notes! Like I said, this isn't a fully comprehensive infographic. Also, what do people think of the lined paper style background for the title page/intro? I think they look kinda cute for the introduction, but not for the informative parts...

One thing I will add that I couldn't fit on the slides: I think some textbooks don't have super clear distinctions between 「謙譲語Ⅰ」　「謙譲語Ⅱ」 and 「ていねいご」, so I only specifically mention 謙譲語 broadly here. Parts of 謙譲語Ⅱ and ていねいご are both described as "extra-modest" in some things, for example! Just keep in mind that my post is a simplification, and if you're interested in formal language, maybe start at learning all of the different keigo categories and what they involve!

Vocab list note: The set phrases in the greetings and closings are all comparable to set phrases in English for greetings and closings of emails. I'm putting these set phrases in their entirety in the list, with a comparable English set phrase as the definition. Do not take these as equivalent phrases! They have a similar feeling, but I am not asserting that they have identical meanings. I'm just offering something comparable in case it helps a person make more sense of them!

The full vocab list + a transcript of the post is under the cut!

Vocabulary List

試験（しけん）－　Exam, test

質問（しつもん）－　Question

食事会（しょくじかい）－　Dinner Party, Dinner Meeting/Lunch Meeting/etc.

お知らせ（おしらせ）－　Notification, Notice

会社（かいしゃ）－　Company

営業部（えいぎょうぶ）－　Sales Department

部長（ぶちょう）－　Section/Department Head

「いつもお世話になっております」　－　This is a basic email greeting, similar to "Good afternoon" or "Hello, [name]" even though the meaning doesn't match at all!

「だんだん涼しくなってまいりました」　－　Similar to "I hope this email finds you well"

さて　－　Now, Well, Then

謙譲語（けんじょうご）－　Humble Language / Extra-Modest Language

下記の通り（かきのとおり）－　The Following

返事（へんじ）－　Reply

「お待ちしております」　－　Similar to "Awaiting your reply"

「よろしくお願いいたします」　－　Similar to "Thank you"

「取り急ぎお返事申し上げます」　－　Similar to "Please get back to me soon"

申し上げます（もうしあげます）－　To Offer, To Extend (thanks, congratulations, greetings, etc.), To Do, To State（謙譲語）

以上（いじょう）－　Since, Seeing That, Above-mentioned

なお　－　Furthermore, In Addition

日時（にちじ）－　Date and Time

午後（ごご）－　PM (Time)

場所（ばしょ）－　Place, Location

集会室（しゅうかいしつ）－　Meeting Room, Assembly Room/Hall

[mcmmabear]

tags

[mcmmabear]

Aaliyah had a long day. The bags under her eyes were evident. The twins had kept her up, making her sleep impossible. Aris, on the other hand, was able to sleep just fine. His room's walls were slightly thick enough to block out their low-level crying. Their mother wasn't so lucky. And it'd been a day at the clinic. Not too many pets but enough necessary tasks that took longer than she'd expected.

When she opened the daycare door, she yawned but covered it with her mouth. It wasn't hard for the woman to spot Aris, who was talking to Lucy. She walked over & forced the corners of her lips up. She was tired & wanted nothing but sleep. Hearing the twins were asleep made her hope they would stay that way the rest of the night. Aaliyah turned to Aris & nodded towards the door. "Go get your sisters, will you?" He nodded & sauntered to the room next door. She turns towards Lucy again. "Thank you for watching them. Were they easy on you?"

starter for @mcmmabear at the School/Daycare

"...and, frankly speaking, I don't trust the littles to keep their hands away." Shit, Lucy didn't trust adults to keep their hands clear of exothermic reactions. Didn't have the supplies either way, but Aris didn't need to know that. In Clackamas, the older Bells always did their best to hide the lacking from the littler kids as long as possible. In the lab, they'd improvised the fuck out of what they had to work with.

They spotted his mama hovering, and waved her in. "Hey, welcome back!" A last nod to her son and Lucy left him to meet the mama bear. "The littles are a door over, snoozing away and probably loading up a surprise for you. Want I should get them or do you have a minute for jawing?" All the kids kept a person hopping, but checking in with the teacher was - supposedly - helpful.

[ghostheartfelt]

*:･｡☆ tags: cafe cuteness (fr), regular customer au, sunshine reader, grown attachments, pervert!venom, fem!reader, first introduction, no use of y/n, she/her prns used

〔☆〕 desc: you meet eddie during morning rush hour, vv understanding man who admires your connection with your customers and dedication towards your job. eddie's hungry for chocolate (n you), you pique interest in the host and his symbiote. very calm and soft start<3 u get both povs basically cause the way i write can b confusing :)

.. ☆ next part | masterlist (tbe)

—✩ RUSH HOUR P. ⅰ ✩—

word count — 1.7k

a/n: u get both povs basically cause the way i write can b confusing :)

Rush hour, you thought.

Your coworkers were racing in and out of the kitchen holding platters of fresh baked muffins and pitchers of orange juice.

In the evenings, the café is quieter and calmer - in the mornings, not so much.

You turned as someone called your name and nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Can you get the back left corner table napkins and jelly packets, please? That old woman is just about ready to throw her handbag at me,” your coworker, Becc (short for Becca), had asked you while balancing dirty plates going down both of her forearms.

“Yes, yes, I can—“ you nodded, waving her off as you rushed to the check-in desk, grabbing at a few jelly packs; orange marmalade, grape, and strawberry, as well as a new pack of napkins.

You did as Becc asked, bringing the items to the old woman who indeed was clutching her blue leather snakeskin handbag. “Sorry, ma’am, we’re a bit busy this morning.”

With no reply, she snagged an orange marmalade jelly packet from your hand as you were placing them on the table, causing you to flinch at the sudden action.

You as well unpackaged the napkins and placed them in the metal stand, then fixed your apron and walked back to the front desk as the welcoming bell’s ringing filled your ears.

A male in an olive green jacket and denim jeans, a gray undershirt, and black converse made his way towards the dine-in counter where you stood behind.

He had a scruffy yet handsome face, his hair slightly unkempt but in a way that you admired him. Your cheeks slightly flushed.

“Good morning,” he nodded at you respectfully.

“Good morning,” you replied, “just a table for one?”

You picked up a menu, clutching it to your chest as your fingers trace along the plastic cover.

“Yeah,” his eyes nervously dragged around though you let it go and took it in as some sort of social anxiety.

“Right this way, sir,” you lead the way, your head turning over your shoulder to make sure he hadn’t zoned out, turning it once again at the sight of him trailing behind.

“Will this booth work for you?” you placed the menu down and he slid it over with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Oh, yeah, nice cushioning,” he laughed nervously.

“Perfect - any drinks to start you off? Perhaps an O.J, or a coffee?” you straighten your posture, your shoulders slouched awkwardly.

“Coffee sounds great, side of cream of sugar, if that’s okay?” he looked up at you.

You were a nervous wreck, and he could tell - they could tell.

“I’ll have that right out for you,” you turned and took a step, though he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Shit, sorry, just uh—can I get a chocolate muffin as soon as possible?” his lips overlapped one another as he let go, though you blinked and smiled.

“Of course, I’m sorry, I should’ve asked if you’d like anything on the side.” You bit your bottom lip with embarrassment.

The man was rather distracting, your eyes dragging over and analyzing every feature his face held. He had blue eyes with soft bags, tiresome dark circles and a muscular build. You had an oddly specific type.

“Oh, no, don’t apologize,” he scoffed with a small smile.

You smiled back and turned on the heels of your white sneakers and headed to the kitchen.

“SHE SMELT DELICIOUS,” a deep and grim voice echoed in the brunette’s mind.

“Quit smelling random people like some pervert, V,” the man whispered to himself.

“NOT RANDOM, JUST HER,”

“Well, we can’t eat her,” he bit the flesh on the inside of his cheek as he looked outside the window, his forehead in the palm of his hand.

“WE WILL NOT,” the voice snarled deeply. “GET TIRED OF CHICKENS.”

“I know, V, but you can’t just go around the city beheading random people, so for right now we need to deal with chickens.” He grunted.

“BUT THEY ARE BAD, BAD PEOPLE SHOULD SUFFER AND DIE,” the voice grew louder, irritated by his response. “WE KILL, WE SAVE!”

“Yeah, well, we kill, we also risk our lives, V.”

“SHE IS COMING,” it snarked, evading his head.

The brunette turned his head to watch you walk over to his booth, a muffin and a cup of coffee on a large round tray that you balanced on your open palm, waving at frequent customers with a tug at both corners of your lips.

“I’m sorry for the wait, sir,” you grab the plate and set it on the table along with the mug of java.

“Just call me Eddie,” he nodded as thanks, taking a bite out of the muffin.

You introduced yourself, drumming your fingers on your server book before opening it. “Did you want anything else this morning, Eddie?” You clicked your fuzzy purple pen as you spoke with a bubbly voice.

“WE LIKED THAT,” the voice boomed through his head again causing Eddie to swallow thickly.

“I think we—I’m okay,” he stammered slightly, a nervous smirk curving one corner of his mouth upward.

He was cute, your hip dropped to the side slightly. You bit your lip to suppress a smile, instead giving a small laugh.

“Just wave at me when you’re ready for your bill, okay?” you close the book and turn once again to assist another table.

“HUNGRY,”

“Alright, V, just hold on a second,” Eddie peeled back the cover on the small creamer packet, then poured it into the coffee along with two packets of sugar.

Your fingers dig into the pocket of your apron to take out a few crayons wrapped in plastic and place them on the table along with a kids menu. A small ravenette boy with curly locks and smooth dark skin smiled at you brightly as he took out the green crayon and coloured in the small dinosaurs sprinkled across the kids menu.

“Thank you,” his mother sipped her cup of hot tea, her french-tip nails clicking against the glass as she loops her finger through the handle.

“Of course, what can I start you two off with this morning?” you leaned on your toes, then met back with the ground.

“For him, I think just a small pancake—“ she gently tapped the boy’s knuckles with her thumb, then began signing in what you assumed was American sign language.

You observed closely, watching in awe as he signed back to his mother, an exciting smile never leaving his face as he signed a “thank you,” to you.

You knew a bit of signing from your highschool years, so you replied with “you’re welcome,” enthusiastically, hugging yourself to gesture an air hug.

“A pancake is fine for him, some fruit on the side?” she smiled. “Is pot roast on the menu right now, dear?”

“Yes, there’s about ten more minutes until it’s done, if that is alright with you?” you wrote down the mention of extra fruit in your book.

“As long as it’s fresh, am I right?” she let out a heartwarming laugh, earning a small giggle from you as well. “Oh, and three cornbread biscuits.”

“That’s when it’s best, and sounds great - any juice for the little one?” your eyes dragged over to him craning his neck to sip out of the plastic cup of water that was given to his mother with her tea. Your heart fluttered with baby fever.

She caught his attention once more, signing with her fingers.

“Sprite, thank you,” the mother rejoiced.

You toyed with the hem of your apron. “I’ll have it right out for you two,” you scrambled toward the kitchen.

“WHERE DID SHE GO?”

“She’s helping others,” Eddie swirled the little bit of cold coffee in the bottom of his cup, slowly adjusting himself as he watched you set down a small plastic cup with a yellow lid in front of a child, then a bowl in front of his mother.

You place a straw on the table, then walk back to the brunette who had introduced himself as “Eddie”, which you admired. It fit his face well.

“I’m so sorry for the wait, Eddie,” you smile nervously with your eyebrows pinched together as you hand him his bill and a pen.

“Hey, it’s no problem, seriously.” He took it from your hands, scanning it over. “Thank you,”

“Of course,” you quipped. “Tell me if you need anything, I’ll be back,”

“LITTLE MORSEL,” the voice purred. “WILL WE COME BACK, EDDIE?”

Yeah - yeah, we will, V. Eddie watched you leave to assist another group of people walking into the small café as he took out his wallet, setting down two twenty dollar bills for a tip and his credit card for the rest.

“WANT TO MEET HER,” it grunted.

No, we might never even see her again.

“YOU ARE A LOSER.”

You sped back over, exhaling heavily. “It’s getting busier and busier, I’m sorry for the delay of getting you out the door,”

“No need for all the apologies, seriously,” he scoffed.

“Right, sorry—“ you blinked. “The tip, Eddie, that’s so much,”

“THAT SOUNDS—“

Knock it off, perv.

“I was a journalist, that’s nothing to me,”

Your cheeks flushed, but you thanked him again and guided him to the front desk.

“Any chance you’ll be here tomorrow?”

“YES!” it boomed.

“Actually, I won’t,” you hum sadly.

“NO—“ it snarled.

“But I work every Wednesday through Saturday,” you smiled.

“Okay, good to know,”

Your heart thumped in your chest, you were frozen in place in fear of him actually having the ability to hear, which Eddie himself couldn’t - but he could.

“SHE IS NERVOUS, EDDIE,”

Of us?

“OF YOU,”

Did Eddie want to get to know you more? Or possibly were you just that good of a waitress? God, now you were really overthinking things - is that why he tipped you so much? Did he not actually pique interest in you?

“Are you alright?”

You were so captivated in thought you hadn’t even realized you were still holding the brunette’s credit card in the machine; blinking for you to take it out - you felt your ear tips heat up.

“Sorry, I space out sometimes,” you gently pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, which he grabbed with two fingers.

“Not a problem,” there was a genuine tone on his tongue that delivered you some comfort.

“Have a great day, Eddie,” you waved to him as he left the building which he warmly returned; your heart feeling a sudden loneliness as he escaped your peripheral view.

[seventhcallisto]

Chapter ⅰ. "loved by."

— His Cologne.

An/Cw; innocent forehead and neck kisses. Touching. Some arguing. Briefest mentions of domestic violence and scars(other characters). Lots and lots and LOTS of world building. Read prologue, or you'll be v confused. Idk how to word count on here or know how corporate people talk goodbye. (Also I don't have favorites, i love all my men equally)

Wonwoo had another toss and turn night. He's gotten less and less sleep these past weeks than he's ever had in his entire life. His mind can't stop wondering. He's plagued by nightmares of their missing soulmate. The one who begged as she pulled away. Cried like she was being tortured. It transfers into his dreams. Haunted him when he woke up grasping the sheets. Gasping for air every time. Only to realize she wasn't there next to him.

"Hey." Mingyu side steps wonwoo, having just woken up himself, the house was fairly empty, many of the guys were doing their shoots, filming, and/or out. Because of that, wonwoo and mingyu have the house to themselves. The only sound of birds chirping could be heard through cracks in the windows. Gyu pulls a bowl and a bag of cereal, pouring himself some. He glances at wonwoo, occasionally watching him stir breakfast in a large pan. After pouring some milk, he leans against the kitchen counter. Eyeing wonwoos quiet behavior.

"What's wrong?" Yes. He already knows the answer. He can feel something has been awry with wonwoo since.. well. A while. "Nothing.." he lies with a sigh, looking over his glasses at mingyu. Gyu slurps the cereal off his spoon. "Bullsh1t," he mumbles through a mouthful, wonwoo grimaces. "You've been off for weeks, don't tell cheol I'm saying this, but.. You're not telling us either. Not even i know what's wrong.." mingyu looks up through his lashes, stirring his cereal half hazerdly.

Before wonwoo replies, mingyu is chewing through another bite. Wonwoo sighs. His eyes are cast back down to his wrist. The golden goldfish taunts him. "I met another.. one of us, the fourteenth one." it's so casually said. Gyu chokes on his bite. Coughing and sputtering into the sink. "What? Like.." he points to the spot right under his own ear. There's a mark there, small, barely noticeable. It's uncompleted and messy. Saturn, surrounded by its rings.

Wonwoo nods.

You're gonna get fired, but maybe it's what you deserve. Your boss was somewhat upset you left without saying goodbye. Eunha has always been a kind soul to you. You've spent all your time sucking up to her for weeks. Anything to distract you. You mindlessly play with your ear. Caressing your own soul mark. Everyone is born with their own soul mark. It isn't until later their soulmates' mark comes through. You were born with saturn behind your right earlobe, tiny specks of the galaxy shining behind it, the colors vibrant against your skin tone.

You're taking a walk after work. Already dressed to visit some places you had on your bucket list. Not to toot your own horn, but you're feeling better. There's nothing wrong with pampering yourself every once in a while.

"Thank you," you tell the cashier as she checks you out. Bags upon bags lay on your arms when you step out back into the street. Shops line back to back, you glance at each. Taking your time. Spring is almost in full bloom. You find yourself wanting to go out more to enjoy the things you haven't taken the time to before. Your eyes scan every sign, every decoration you enjoy or find adorable. You slow to a stop in front of a bus stop. You glance at the advertisements and help wanted posters.

'Soul mark removal session - book by appointment,' the paper reads. 'Lee Hyun,' the soul doctor in the paper smiles brightly. You want to look away, to pretend you didn't see it for some reason. Yet you reach out and pull off a piece of paper with a number. Turning it over and then shoving it in your pocket.

Not even the next hour you're calling the number, your fingers tap against your marble counter as you wait for the dial tone on speaker. You're on hold for ten minutes. The price of morals is high on your mind. "Hello, this Jane with Soul Surge. How may I help you today?" Your conversation with the desk lady is quick, yet you're still tapping your fingers in anticipation as you continue booking your appointment. "And you will be billed two days after your first appointment. How would you like to pay? Alright.." her keyboard clicks.

"Alright, I have scheduled an appointment for you with Dr. Lee, would you like a reminder? " Before you know it, you're done talking and hanging up. An appointment next week. You sigh, the burden on your shoulder still feels heavy. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

The next week comes sooner than later. You're lacking with work because you're so distracted. You bite your lip and toss before sleep the day before. You stare at yourself in a mirror. The first time you've worn clothes that show the majority of your soul marks. Your face grows ever redder at what people will think. For such a young girl to have so many marks on her? It feels scandalous. You pull a jacket over. Although the weather reads warmer than it has all week.

You're called into Dr. Lees office. You're sat across his pristine white desk. "What can I do for you today?" He starts off, a kind smile on his aged lips. You sigh "well I have thirteen soul marks. And I would like to get them removed. " You emphase with your hands, eyebrows furrowed. "That certainly is a number, I admit I do not think I've had a customer with that many, but that shouldn't be a problem. May I take a look?"

You show him all the ones you can reach on your own. If he's surprised, you can't tell. He throws away his gloves, sliding back into his chair. "I'm able to remove only a few of your soulmates' marks on you at a time, but if I can remove your own mark fully, then with time, the others should dissappear." You nod. There is a solution, after all. "And, sorry but- I've heard that after the mark is removed, the person who removed them feels..lonely?"

He laughs lightly, "No, no, that is a complete urban legend." You let out the air you're holding. It's too good to be true. And you're right. "But the other people involved, the other soulmate or soulmates will go through major discomfort, uhm, it will go away in less than a year, permanently. If you are to get it removed, you will never be able to make a connection with your soulmate." his tone is somewhat cheerful. Yet the dread in your stomach builds as he goes on.

"Oh," you don't have a response to his words. He notices your face dropping. "But, like I mentioned. the discomfort feeling should go away within a year-long period." He uses his hands to emphase his words. "And these - the discomfort feeling. How does it feel for the soulmates involved exactly?" You press, pulling your bag onto your lap to hug it. Comforting yourself.

"Well. The effect should take place directly after the removal process. They'll feel a slight burning, like an ant bite sensation. Eventually, after a few days, it'll turn into an urge to itch the spot. The spot will swell and redden within a couple of weeks, and soon enough, week by week, pieces of it will be absorbed through the skin. The symptoms may vary depending on the person. Nowadays, there are creams to help with the symptoms and process."

You bid the Dr goodbye.

Before your treck home, you decide to visit some more attraction spots while you're in the city. You're happy you can afford the luxuries, but you've already overgone your budget this month. You watch street performers, and occasionally, you'll grab a treat to take home to eat as you walk. One snack won't hurt. Your hands are in your jacket. Enjoying the afternoon breeze. In the back of your mind, you're thinking about the decision you want to make.

"Oh, excuse me!" A lady not much older than you apologizes as she bumps into you, her stomach is wide with pregnancy, two kids sit in a double stroller, no older than a year. She has her hands full. "Oh no, that's my fault," you wave her off politely, looking at the stairs behind her. "Would you like some help?" You offer, she smiles gratefully. "If it isn't too much to ask.." she laughs lightly. You're holding the end of the stroller as you slowly decend the stairs.

Once you reach the end of the stairs, she's bowing her head, thankfully. "Thanks, uhm.." You tell her your name. "What a lovely name, surely to bring good luck, I'm Kim Jiung," you smile. "Are you a shaman, perhaps?" She smiles back, pushing the stroller forward. You follow with a short pace. Stepping side by side. "My husband is," she continues, "when i was your age, he was the most desired shaman on the block." she laughs as she reminisces. "I met my husband asking for advice." she stops the stroller and lifts her long sleeved floral navy blue dress all the way up to her elbow. Scars litter most of her arm.

On the inner curve of her elbow is a crown placed on a perfectly red pillow, the diamonds in the crown shift as she turns it towards you. "That's when I found my soulmate," she cheerily smiles, pushing the stroller once again. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes, yet it's a sweet story. "Because of the law placed for soulmates, i was able to divorce my husband at the time." A sad look crosses her face. "He was a women hitter. And a drunk. It got worse when I told him about my current husband, youngwin. The process took a year to complete." She smiles to herself at the end. "I wouldn't change the hurt for anything," her hand goes to caress her belly.

"Weren't you scared he'd reject you.. because you were married?" You ask suddenly. She's not taken aback in the slightest. "Never," she sighs peacefully. The sun sets to your left, and the sidewalk is void of many people. "He was the most understanding person in the world," she turns to look at you. "My parents never approved of my relationships. They didn't help me when my ex-husband got violent." She smiles sadly. "But my youngwin did," she turns to begin pushing the stroller again.

You stutter to a stop, watching as she takes a few steps ahead. She looks back to see where you are. Then she sits on a bench. She swings the stroller around to look at her babies, wiping her hand against one of their faces softly. "Healing takes a while on your own, but when you have support, it's much easier to get through the days," she coos at the kids softly. You feel sluggish as you walk over and sit next to her, the settling silence nips you.

You watch the children grasp onto their toys and laugh joyously at their mothers' tickles. Her soothing words bring out coos from the twins that make you smile. "How soon are you due?" You ask, turning to face her. She pats her stomach. "Only four and a half more months," she makes a motion, crossing her fingers. You laugh. "A summer baby, thankfully, I can not do any more winter due dates. i already have plenty of winter siblings," she finishes off, pulling out a snack for the twins. You hum quietly.

"I was an only child to three parents, even that was too much for them," you snicker. Leaning back on the bench, you watch the twins messily smack their food around. She turns to look at you.

"Sometimes children can make or break a couple." You know she doesn't mean anything by it. She's just feeding conversation. You're still reminded of that fateful June night. She takes notice of your silence and your distant expression. "I get it,.. it can be hard, but if you're willing to.. you know - talk to each other. That's always the first step to getting better." She smiles reassuringly. Squeezing the hand on your leg. "When my husband and I finalized our soul bond. I was scared of him not liking me - not my past. But me. It was hard for us to communicate." She sighs. Squeezing your hand again. Her eyes fall to your soul marks. Both on your wrists.

"But we got through it because he stayed, and he cared. And I wanted to get better for him, with him." she pats your hand. "Whatever it is, I'm genuinely sure it will work out for you." her gaze is soft and kind like a mother's. You find yourself giving a small smile back.

The week you met jiung your head swirled with unease, she takes some of it away with her advice. She's updated you on her life almost every day. You've become close friends, possibly even best friends in the span of the week. Although older than you she is definitely the more lively and extroverted one in your friendship. You don't mind though, her positivity is a breath of fresh air. Pictures of her twins, Jino and Jina fill your messages. You can't help but adore their chubby faces, their petite pregnant mom holds them up for one photo smiling gleefully, you assume her husband took the photo. 'They're getting bigger than me!' The text after announces.

Your appointment for your soul mark removal is soon. You're not nervous if you don't think about it every second. The man- soulmate you bumped into seemed well off, right? His clothing was designer. His glasses, too. He- and his other soulmates will be able to afford the solution cream.. right? Whenever you think about him too much, your heart flitters. You try to focus on the small things in your life. And not the way he stared at you. The way his name echos in your head every so often. The way your soul mark yearns to be connected with his. What it'll feel like to be connected with the others as well, how they feel, what they're like. Your mind betrays your wishes not to have those thoughts.

In the midst of night, you're cursed with dreams, Tangled into sheets, laughing with him. More than one person is there, every so often the bed sinks in and you can fel yourself pressed against another person. Skin meets skin in soft, innocent touches, just wishing to be close to each other. The sun beats through the sheets, creating an angelic like glow. You can never make out the murmurs and whispers. When he steps out of the blanket, you miss his touch. You feel empty without him. And then, you wake up, usually groaning at your mind for creating such a tantalizing dream. One you can't forget the next day.

Mingyu is no stranger to the looks his members give him. "What do you know?" Seungkwan is the first to ask, jutting his head at the older guy sitting in the makeup chair. He pushes on mingyu's shoulder, biting into an apple slice. "No, it's a secret. I promised Woo," gyu mumbles, crossing his arms. Across the room, wonwoo sleeps in his chair while the makeup artists finish. He's catching up on missed – well deserved – sleep.

"We're tied, remember? I have a right to know. We don't keep secrets," Seungkwan pouts, chewing the rest of his apple slice down. Gyu also pouts, a reactive thing he copies. Seungcheols chin falls on top of mingyu's head, eavesdropping the entire time. An urging look is in his eyes, encouraging mingyu to go on. He almost gives in. "No. I can't, it's something you have to ask wonwoo about." He sighs and turns away from his members.

Seungcheol and seungkwan share a look over mingyu's makeup chair.

The drive back to the house is long, and wonwoo attempts to catch some more zzz's on the drive. The city lights bounce off the glass, it's well past 9 o'clock. Wonwoo gets the farthest window seat in the back. Hoshi and seungcheol are sat next to him. Arms thrown over each other to share warmth, cheol' head falls on hosh's shoulder, the absence of his snores is a tall tell sign he's not really asleep. Hoshi is pressed up against the other window. He's on his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his timeline. Joshua, Dino, and Vernon take the middle seats, each one of them passing their phones around. They laugh quietly. Mingyu sits in the passenger, his eyes relaxed but not yet asleep.

Usually, a drive home like this would make wonwoo feel content. His soulmates being close by is enough to satisfy the need to be curled under a pile of them. He's lost in thought when the van comes to a stop at their building. Everyone begins to shuffle out. Wonwoo and mingyu are the last two to leave the van. Mingyu shoots a look at wonwoo when he steps out, watching his other member rub behind his ear, where the fourteenth soul mark is. Both of them - followed by their manager - walk into the building.

Everyone's already relaxed when they all get settled down. Movie night consists of seats being switched around here and there. Some don't even bother watching. Just lingering around on their phones or laptops, content to just listen in. Everybody needs some soul bonding. Lately, their energy is drained faster, even Jihoon can feel it. He sits on a single armchair, his laptop propped on his lap. His hoodie is rolled up his arm, while the rest of him drapes comfortably in the chair.

Jihoon mindlessly rubs his soul mark, the planet behind his ear. It stings every so often, like it would when he's been away from his soulmates for too long. He sees wonwoo most days doing the same rubbing motion on his ear. No matter how he tries to avoid asking wonwoo what's been going on, he can't help but feel he won't get an answer out of him even if he did. Wonwoo can definitely be secretive and stubborn sometimes. Jihoon glances to wonwoo and mingyu, talking quietly in the kitchen just around the corner. Only he can see them stare at each other, a heated discussion beginning to rise.

He tries to listen in, but it's too loud with the movie. The rest of the members are wrapped around each other on the couch, work clothing and blankets string about here and there, and they haven't had much time to clean up recently. Jihoon slips out of the living room quietly, leaving his closed laptop in his spot. Only cheol blinks an eye for a split second, watching jihoon go.

Jihoon quietly walks into the kitchen, which is dim except for the microwave light that pops popcorn every second or so. Wonwoo stands with his head hung low, defeated. Gyu turns to the sounds of shuffling, glancing between jihoon and wonwoo. Jihoon stares back, a questionable look on his face when he glances between the two quiet men.

"We need to talk," wonwoo says, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes only meet halfway with Jihoons.

Your favorite place on earth was your bed, minus the crumbs. You had spent your first paycheck on it, and you don't regret it at all. It's a king size on the floor. You're perfectly content with it. You can lie and say you're always perfectly content. Today is a lie day.

Your face is squished against your sheets, and your phone is propped up on a pillow. Your appointment isn't until 12. You can feel every one of your soul marks pulse every once in a while. A hearty rhythm you've gotten used to, but you're highly opposed to. A pulling urge to get out of bed and wander the streets til you find who you're looking for. You rub your tired eyes. It was a strange night. Series of dreams plaguing your mind when they're still fresh.

You stand on the sidewalk, golden hues paint every corner. Jiung is no longer pregnant, and her kids aren't currently with her. Surely an image of her your dream made up. She talks mindlessly as you walk. Your eyes never stray from her. "You'll know what to do. The timing will be perfect. Everything will fall into place." She repeats every so often. You're in the most expensive outfit you've ever bought, one you used for clubbing when you turned 21, and you never wore again. Every shiney piece of it sparkles like diamonds caught on flash. In the next moment, you lift your head up to photographers and cameras flashing in your face. You go to shield your face, but you're already being pulled away by your shoulder. You blink your eyes, and you're in an airport now. Faceless strangers shove their phones in your face. A hand tugs on your own, pulling you along, another guides your waist. Both help ease the twisted feeling arising. You're crowded between people escorting you. As soon as you begin feeling claustrophobic, you fall into a weightless state. Floating mindlessly before drifting down into a bed. Your bed. Sheets are neatly tucked in, but blankets strew all of the area. As you continue to look, the bed seems to grow. You can hear the distant sound of clattering in your kitchen, yet you can't see anything pass the bed. Quiet talking and whispers, they're purposeful as if they're trying not to wake you.

You're falling back in, head laid on a broad chest. You can hear their heartbeat through their shirt. Strong and steady. Content. Their voice rumbles a melody, humming soft. Behind you is another chest pressed to your back. Their hand is tucked under your neck, soothing strokes to the base of your hair. Warm lips pressed to your forehead. Another pair falls on your soul mark.

When you wake up. You can't determine your own feelings at the reality of it. No one is pressed by your sides stroking your face and head like you wish. No one is pressing soft, delicate kisses to your forehead and neck. No one is humming to you. After you stretch and yawn, you're doing your morning routine. Humming the melody to yourself.

You crack eggs for breakfast. You tune turning more quiet as you focus on what you're doing. By the time you're done cooking it's 10. You don't have the appetite anymore, but you're obligated to eat something before your appointment. You eat what you can and get ready.

You're taking your time now. When you pull your socks on your finger strokes the infinity mark on your ankle, then each of your hands gently touch the shooting star and goldfish on your wrists. When you pull your clothes up past your thighs, you watch the branch get hidden, you watch It meet just over your hips. Fingerprints, the beautiful figure beneath your belly button, and the moon hide away. Then you pull your shirt over your shoulder. You eye the rose, glancing down at the blackhole on your collarbone. You cant see it but you can feel the pulse of the butterfly and the tiger on your back. You reach up to touch the back of your neck. The dragon shifts when you glide your finger over it. All of these intricate marks will be gone. Including your own. Your soulmates will feel the pain of loosing one of their own. You'll never meet them. Never talk to them. Never know the details about them.

What's gotten into you? Since when did you care?

Why do you care?

You're picking up your phone before you know it, you're breathing hard. Why are you breathing so hard? You take a few slow breaths. Your hands grip the phone tightly while you dial Soul Surge.

"I'd like to cancel my appointment."

The news hits the boys like a train. Wonwoo had not just single handedly refused to tell his soulmates about the woman, but mingyu had hid it too. Their other soulmate. "Why didn't you tell us this?" Seungkwan sighs. "Wait." Dokyeom interjected standing from the couch. "So that light was you two?" Dokyeom grabs wonwoos shoulders, shaking him. "I was right there! How does gyu know before I do?" Wonwoos face shows displeasure, many of the boys are about to intervene. Seungcheol pushes dokyeom back gently from wonwoos space. Kyeom can tell cheol is serious when he doesn't bat an eye at his outburst. He takes his seat next to Dino.

"Well," joshua buts in, he tucks a hand under his chin, his arm propped up on the counter. "Maybe she had her reasons to run." he can buy it himself. It's very possible. The room returns to silence. Cheol shifts from his feet, deep in thought. He stops short, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You two did connect, right?" Seungkwan asks before cheol can, and Wonwoo nods. woozi speaks up. "Then that means she and you will find your way to each other"

Letting the universe and soul connect doing its thing takes too long in mingyus opinion. Everyone decided so anyway. Mingyu was oddly the only one to object. At night, he thinks about it. What'd it be like to finally meet her. What kind of personality would she have? What her likes are. Does she like music? Does she know who they are? Is she a carat? His mind fogs at the number of questions. She's been running around his mind ever since wonwoo told him.

He finds himself restlessly trying to convince his members to step up so they can find her quicker. Maybe he's looking for someone to back him up. Mingyu can be personally driven. And maybe this is something he shouldn't be doing. He's out doing his own thing that day. He doesn't have any filming to do. So his hand reaches for his phone, turning his neck to the side and throwing up peace between his fingers. The fourteenth soul mark is on display. His phone audio shutters when he takes the photo.

Only five slides of him. A tight black tee with a low collar, he's perched on a ledge. One in a black tank in the gym, one of him drinking some type of drink. Mingyu. His name is in Hangul, on the side of the flimsy paper cup. His peace photo. Lastly, it is just a picture of the back of his neck. His head is turned. In every photo, the planet is in clear view. The majority of the time, he can't post pictures with the fourteenth soul mark. The company decided against it.

'It'll cause controversy to the public'

This time, he decides to break some company rules. " 🪐 " is the only thing in the caption.

It's the same day jiung drags you into town. "Girls trip!" She laughs so heartily, clinging to your arm at your front door. On her form is a yellow spring dress. And you're in a drop shoulder oversized tee, a pair of loose pants. She takes you to the most popular jewelry store on the strip, waiting in line. "Why are we here?" You ask, she doesn't tell you. "You'll know soon enough!'" She pouts playfully. And maybe she uses her pregnancy to get your spot in the store faster. You don't point it out.

A young lady tightens a metal of your choice to your right ankle, and the accents blend perfectly. Jiung gets a rose gold color on hers, baby blue accents that look perfect against her tan skin, and lastly, a single seashell pendant to match with her own soul mark. "You don't have to get the pendant," she tells you with a smile shuffling on her one foot as they tighten the bracelet to her. She knows you don't particularly take fond of your soul mark.

"No, I'll get the pendant," you smile back to reassure yourself. You watch now as the younger lady fastens the bracelet to your ankle. Zapping it into place. A permanent ankle bracelet is now tied to you. You're not upset at the decision.

"Thanks for coming with me, I didn't think you'd want to get one, though," jiung smiles, her eyes on her own ankle bracelet as she walks in her flip-flops. "Their designs were too pretty to pass up," you say, you both stop in front of another store on the strip. This one has a couple of cut-out boards on the outside. You don't recognize any of them except for j-hope of bts. It's chained down. You stare in surprise.

"People really steal those?" Jiung laughs like what you said is the funniest thing in the world. "I took the d.o one they had out a year ago," she reminisces. You stare in shock, jaw-dropping. "Jiung!" You scold, she pulls you into the store before you have anything else to say. Once you get over the initial shock of the store decorations, you're wandering around. A couple of albums catch your eyes. Your hand scans over the records.

Here and there are a few people. But it isn't crowded. A couple of young girls, no younger than high schoolers, scroll on their phones, taking pictures of the album section, the laugh boisterously. They switch off to take photos of each other with their newly bought albums. You make sure to stay out of their shots. Not far away, you're at the plush section with jiung. She talks to herself about which plush she wants. "Dwaekki or Quokka.." You zone out when the loud girls squeal.

"Oh! Mingyu just posted!" A confused 'huh?' Follows. Okay. Maybe you're curious yourself. You secretly eavesdrop into their quiet conversation, squeezing a plush you got from the shelf, its a wolf with only a shirt on, a content expression on its face. A notification peaks jiungs interest. It's a jingle pop. Her phone is in her right hand while the plush is in her left. She gasps. Your head whips around towards her, glancing over her shoulder at her screen.

There in bold reads; "SEVENTEEN 14TH SOUL MARK REVEALED!" followed by a collage of zoomed in photos of a guy, his hair is short but on the base of his neck is the planet.

Your planet. Your saturn. Glittered with galaxies behind him. When you go to double look, you can feel your neck crick in protest. Jiung calls your name. Shock on her face. She stares at your neck. Gosh. The one day you decide not to wear something that'll cover your neck AND you forgot your jacket. You slap your palm over your neck.

Your name is called again. Jiung has taken the plush from your hand, putting it back on the shelf. "Let's go," She says, so casually glancing behind you. You continue to stare, nothing coming from your throat. You follow her gaze. The two girls' heads shoot back down to one of the phones. "Doesn't it look like hers?" They whisper. Just your luck. "Ji, I-" she grabs your arm and marches to the front of the store, your head is downturned. This can't be real. How could all of this happen? How does-

The girls stop you. "It's you, isn't it!?" Their tone borderlines obsessive fangirls. "No, please move," jiung speaks for you, her arms hold you defensively by your shoulders. You're starting to regain your senses. The girls push your shoulder, acting playful "gosh I didn't know someone so ordinary would be one of their soulmates." The other girl pouts, "She doesn't look good enough for mingyu." her tongue clicks, both of them shove their hands over their arms.

Jiung goes to defend you. "Hey! Why are you two bothering customers?! This is the third time this month!" An older lady yells, she comes over with a book in hand. The girls look shocked, they bow their heads, and Apologize. Sneaking looks at you two that are heated. It's pretty forced. "ajumeoni! We're just talking!" "ajumeoni! Have you restocked the txt albums?" Their voices get high pitched. Shoulders bumping yours and jiung as they pass.

"Let's get you outta here," jiung sighs. She pulls you out the door.

You're in a state of shock.

Jiungs apartment is homely, fit for a family. Boxes pile upon each other. "Sorry it's messy, we're moving soon," she sulks, pushing a box with her foot. She takes a seat on her couch. Patting the spot next to her. You move from the hallway and sit. "Girl talk?" She suggests. "Or we can watch a movie. The twins are with youngwins' mothers. So I have until tomorrow off. " she shifts with her feet under her.

You don't think about it. "Girl talk," you sigh, staring into her dark eyes. When you explain everything. No, really. Everything to her. She takes it upon herself to rub your arm in a soothing gesture. "And.. then I canceled the appointment." You finished. She shifts to get closer to you. "Oh honey" she pats your hand.

"You are such a sad fool," she sighs. You pull your head up, looking at her. "Excuse me?" She stutters. "t-that came out wrong. What I meant was you're not giving it a chance to work out; I mean. I understand not being ready. I do. I don't know what you went through to have done all of that. And there's not a way to change the past. So you'll have to pull yourself out of this mess." She pats your hand again. "I recommend finding a way to talk to your soulmates, talk about it" you nod at her advice.

You exchange a few more sentences, and jiung is right in all cases and scenarios. "Everything will work out"

News spreads quickly in Seoul. You can't go outside much, and when you do, you always feel like someone is about to find out who you are. You usually grab your groceries as fast as you can. Always pulling at your shirt collar.

"Who are these guys again?" You ask on the phone, on your laptop, you're on naver searching up images. Jiungs kids can be heard giggling and fussing in the background. "They're seventeen. They're a 13 member boy group. You've heard of K-pop, right?" You say a simple 'uh-huh' "you know that song. Aju nice? It was pretty popular a few years back." "Nu-uh, nope," she sighs. "I was in America then," you respond casually. "America? Are you American?"

A notification pops up on your open browser. "BIGHIT Entertainment and PLEDIS Entertainment speak up about SEVENTEENS' 14th soul mark." Jiung speaks up for you. "Bighit and pledis are looking for their 14th soulmate," she mumbles through the speaker. "This could be your chance to talk to the company," she speaks your thoughts. You read the site briefly. "I think I'll email them." You nod like she can see it. Throughout the rest of your night, you fill out a detailed email, it takes you hours to come up with the right thing to say.

Everyone has given mingyu a piece of their mind and the silent treatment. But seungcheol? God. He's the quietest of them all. Mingyu is backstage, and many of the members stand around talking and / or getting their makeup retouched. He's not focused on anything particular, though. A frustrated sigh leaves his throat. He excuses himself from the makeup artist and walks over to cheol. Cheol stands tall, talking with jeonghan. His biceps flex against the stage outfit.

"Hyung" mingyu stops just shy of the two members. Jeonghan shoots a look at mingyu. One he knows says he's still upset at him. I mean, the whole reason they're not on strike right now is because this was pre-planned. Immediately, mingyus post was taken down by the company. His account is temporarily taken away. It's been more than a week. And now they're seeing if the public will let it slide under the rug.

Cheol parts from jeonghan who goes the other way. He stands face to face with mingyu. "I'm sorry," mingyu starts. he pauses. "That's it?" Cheol asks, folding his arms. "Mingyu, have you thought about what's going on?" Cheols' frustrated voice makes mingyu drop his head. "Yeah -" "You don't, though, Gyu. our soulmate is out there, and you know what wonwoo said. She ran away from him. It's possible she's not ready to see us. But we dont know unless she comes to us first." cheols voice turns more melancholic at the end.

Mingyus heart hurts, seeing him upset. He wants to reach out and hide away at the same time. "I'm sorry," he repeats himself. "I wasn't thinking," his voice grows quiet, the quietest he's ever been. Cheol can't help it when he reaches out and rubs his thumb on mingyus cheek. "I wanna see her too," he smiles sadly. Mingyu tilts his head into cheols palm. Wrapping his arms around him tightly. Cheol wraps his arm around him back. Ruffling his hair.

A man stands at your doorstep. Cloaked in normal everyday clothes, you would see on any stranger walking the street. "Hello?" He says your full name to your doorbell camera, leaning in too close. "Hello, this is she. Who are you?" You reply from your phone. You're at work at the moment. Your shift ends in less than 20 minutes. "Hello, I'm Song Jaeho with bighit and pledis entertainment. I have a few questions to ask you if that's alright. Do you happen to be home?"

Bighit-pledis ent..? You slap a hand over your mouth. Who told!? It wasn't jiung! Right!? No... she'd never. She respects your boundaries. Oh.. the girls. The two from that store! Oh wait. You sent an email.

Are you even ready for this?

"I.." You look at the time. 15 minutes. Screw it. "I'm not currently home, but I'm just about to get off work. It'll take less than five minutes," the man claps his hands, pulling back from the camera. "Great, I can wait in the lobby then"

"Eunha! I'm off. My parents had a medical emergency and need me to drive them," you clock out, praying no one notices your blatant lie. "Oh yeah, you go on! Tell them I said hello. " she's never met your parents. But is so kind anyway.

By the time you make it to your apartment lobby, you're just under 4 minutes. Mr. Song stands up and greets you. You bow your head back. "Hello," you smile politely. "Song jaeho." He shakes your hand. "I'm assuming you know why I am here," the hybe employee says. Crossing his hands together. "Is this possibly about my.." You point to the back of your ear. "Soul mark? Yes. Actually, it'd be much easier to talk somewhere more privately. Would you mind accompanying me for coffee?" You look around, and he's right. Many people come in and out of the building, and work for a good number of people is over.

The coffee shop is crowded for the afternoon. A good thing in your opinion, maybe you should have thought before following some strange man to a cafe you hardly know. You're lucky he caught you on a half day. You take the only available seats by the exit. The space is fairly far from the next person, so you'll be able to converse openly.

Once you order, jaeho gets down to business. He slides his card between you and folds his arms. "I am specifically the legal advisor for idols who are soulmates with non idols. I work for bighit and their departments. Now, to start off, I would like to first see your soul mark. It's a precaution, so we know you're -" You stop him there. Pushing your hair away and turning your head, you show him your soul mark. He sits up a bit to lean over, eyebrows furrowed. You scrub at it to prove your point. It doesn't flake or move. "It's genuine," you mumble. He sits back. "It seems so," he says skeptically.

"May I?" He points to your wrists. You sigh and lean your wrists out to him. "Go ahead, have at it," he turns and inspects the soul marks on your wrists closely. You watch the top of his thick hair while his glasses hang off the bridge of his flat nose. It's like he's trying to see if you're a real diamond.

"I apologize for the precautions. You can never be too safe." he lays the folder between you. Legal documents laid out perfectly. "What's this?" Song jaeho crosses his hands together, placing them on the table. He points to each sentence as he says them. "I'm assuming you know of the boys' status. They are celebrities, and we, as the company they are signed under, must take the proper precautions to prevent any harm coming to them. It's nothing personal. Strictly business." He smiles. It's not genuine.

"And you want me to sign this?" You stare. "Yes, I will guide you through all of what you'll be signing," he smiles again. Pulling each paper towards him. As he continues to explain. You get the feeling this is just an nda. You read whatever you can on your own, trying to catch any funny business if you can.

"Once I sign these, what will happen?" He pulls away and closes his folder. "Once you sign the paperwork, we'll be in contact shortly. If everything goes well, you should be able to meet all of them. There is no guarantee or specific date set in stone, though." You hum at that. Looking down at the stamped papers in your hands, you flip through each.

All that's stopping you is some paperwork. Yes, it's not as easy as you wish it was. But you can't run away again. And now, probably, is your last chance of meeting them.

"Could I use your pen?"

You're wringing your hands as you sit in a spacious room. It's been atleast two months since you've see song jaeho, you almost thought you had been scammed until he called and scheduled a meet up. You feel foolish when you say that. 'Meet up'. It's like this moment doesn't determine your future. Set in stone. You couldn't even pick what to wear. Should you have gone in your favorite outfit? Something modest? Sophisticated? Sexy? God, you're going crazy.

You place your head down on the arm of the couch. Sighing into it. Your nerves are shocked. You've got to get a hold of yourself. You take a few deep breaths. You smooth out your clothing, making sure it's pristine. You're lifting your head up to scan the room, it's a giant comfortable room, almost like a living room. It seems homely, it must be a place where the boys rest before makeup. You've caught up on the lore of kpop, thanks to jiung, and figured the rest out yourself, possibly through a series of videos.

Truly, you're trying not to run away. But song jaeho already knows where you live, and you need to get meeting them over with. What's your plan? What are you even doing here?

The door opens abruptly. For some reason, you shoot up. Three men step in first. You only recognize Jaeho. You can hear the footsteps echoing down the hallway. It's a wide amount of them.

You feel your heart thump in beat. It rings loudly in your ears. You want to hide. To run from the center of the room. Anything to get every eye off you. Your lips purse. You lick them gently. Suddenly feeling your mouth dry.

The shoes echos as they stop just outside the open door. You can make out some harsh whispering. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Maybe they're just as nervous as you are. The thought makes your lip quirk. "Get in there!" A louder whisper cuts through. Your lip quirks into a smile. What were you getting yourself into?

One by one, models pass through the door. Why are there mod- it's like your heart leaps. You laugh internally. These guys.. these guys are Seventeen.

You can distinguish every one of them. Features you're fond of, already memorized. There's something so familiar about them. You can't put your finger on it.

Your hands squeeze by your side. Glancing from each guy to the four older men in suits. Each of the suited men talk to each other. "Take a seat, please," one of them breaks off from the secretive circle they had formed.

You plop yourself back down onto the couch, almost falling over from the cushioning. You smile to hide your embarrassment. There's only one other couch, and each guy attempts to fit on it. The shortest of them all takes the single armchair, smiling smugly as a much taller one complains about not having room. "I got here first," he says.

Your lips quirk up into a smile, and you bite your laugh down. The taller guy looks to you, a challenged smile on his face. You stare back with a small, a knowing look that definitely says 'yeah i laughed. What're you gonna do about it?'. He takes his place next to you. Plopping his full weight down. You almost fly forward into him. He grins from ear to ear. When you pull away and he scoots to the edge of the couch to give you some space, you find yourself smiling inwardly.

It's no surprise that all of the guys didn't fit on the couch. Two of them noticed this guy taking a seat next to you, yet playfully rush to take the spot on your left. The guy with hamster like features beats the much taller, otter looking one.

He smiles in victory, and you watch the guy pout and walk away. For a split second, your eyes catch each other, you smile, face scrunching. A tiny laugh erupts from you. He grins from ear to ear. He's not so upset he didn't win the spot anymore. He stands behind the adjacent couch with his arms resting on the top of it.

A shoulder bumps yours. It's from the hamster looking guy. He pouts, and you smile, bumping your shoulder back at his. His pout lifts despite him trying not to. His lips curve upwards.

Finally, once everyone is settled down into their spots. Two of the men in suits step forward.

"On behalf of Bighit and Pledis Entertainment, I will be representing seventeen." The other one speaks up. "And I will be representing Ms -" he says your full name.

You sigh, more legal work?

"If this is about more legal signing, I have already signed everything with Mr. Song Jaeho" You gesture to jaeho, who stands off to your left. The men in suits looked puzzled. Jaeho nods. "If that's the case, we can just begin introductions." The fourth guy says, clapping his hands together.

One by one, you learn the names of each guy. You make sure to memorize it perfectly. Some of them are even foreigners, you really wonder how they all met. They seem to have the closest bond, apparently they've known each other for years.

You've got a lot to catch up on.

Soonyoung and Mingyu are the two that sit with you. Soonyoung on your left and Mingyu on your right. The one who took the chair is Jihoon. From left to right, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Joshua, and Vernon take the couch across from you. Sitting on the arms are Seokmin and Wonwoo. leaning against the back of the couch is Seungkwan, Junhui, Minghao, and lastly, Chan. The one who lost the race.

"Tomorrow, we're shooting for a video," seungcheol speaks up over the growing silence. "You could come if you want," he nods. Everyone waits with bated breaths.

"I'd love to," you grin.

[psychedelic-ink]

We Fall Like Snow ║ Part Ⅰ

After the events that took place at the Cliff Beasts set, needless to say as his bodyguard (and friend) you became overprotective of Dieter. You have all your worries under control until you accidentally flip over a young fan by grabbing her wrist, causing the media to stir with speculations as to why. Luckily Dieter's family arrives in the nick of time, scooping you both from New York to their cozy cabin; however, winter wonderland can't last forever and you need to face the consequences of your actions sooner or later.

pairing: Dieter Bravo x bodyguard!ofc; Amina Addams, written in reader format

chapter summary: You and Dieter are late for a Q&A. Again.

word count: 4.5k

chapter warnings: weed use, dieter having a filthy mind (and a wild s.ex life), cursing, so much banter, minors dni

**dividers by the amazing @saradika

The floor might as well be drenched in grease by how slippery it was.

Your poor sneakers glide across the marble tiles, nearly making you trip as you climb two steps at a time. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, heart hammering in your chest, you force your legs to move faster. You can feel each individual muscle throbbing. It was stupid of you to expect Dieter fucking Bravo of all people to show up on time.

You’ve been waiting by the car for nearly half an hour, already late for the signing. His fans are used to it by now, but that doesn’t mean you enjoyed being late to these events, and Shannon –Dieter’s ever passive- aggressive manager– had graciously put you in charge of his time table. You still aren’t sure why. You’re the bodyguard; the person that slaps his hand whenever he puts his grubby little mitts on something containing peanuts. Occasionally you’ll push away a fan or two. Generally speaking, for such a riot of an actor, he has calm admirers. There was one incident that nearly got him harmed.

Finally reaching the door, you aggressively punch it, the sound echoing throughout the entire hotel. When you detect no movement you knock again, this time accompanied by your sheer shout of his name.

“Dieter! Get your butt out of the bed– NOW!”

Just as you’re about to knock again, the door opens wide, leaving your fist awkwardly hanging in the air. In the threshold stands a disheveled, yet happy-, looking woman. She’s probably in her thirties, with long red hair, and her lash line smudged with eyeshadow. Her smile is lazy and kind as she looks at you. Is she high? God if you’re out there, please tell me he’s not high.

“Hi,” she greets you, her voice sultry. “Can we help you?”

You peer above her shoulder and see Dieter full on french kissing a brunette man on top of his luxurious king size bed. The bedding slides down the man’s body, revealing his perfectly sculpted ass. A soft moan reaches your ears, and your face becomes heated.

Ignoring the woman, you step inside, your hand conveniently wrapping around the metal doorknob, the coolness of it gives you some semblance of peace.

“Dieter!” you hiss between clenched teeth. He parts from the man with a smack and meets your gaze. His brows furrow, incohesive sounds leaving his kiss swollen lips. He fucking knows he’s in trouble.

“Shit,” he breathes out. The man turns to face you, his perfect ass matching his perfect face. Dieter turns to grab his phone. “What time is it? Did we fuck until morning?”

The woman giggles; you hadn’t noticed before but the front of her robe is open, her breasts bouncing as she shifts from one leg to the other. “I guess so,” she answers cheekily.

“We’re late for the panel. Get your butt out of bed right now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dieter says. Before doing what you asked him to, he quickly presses his lips into his lover’s. “See you later Eduardo,”

“Awwww,” he bemoans, chasing the actor’s lips. “Can’t you stay?” his eyes flit to yours. “She can join us if she wants to, the more the merrier,”

Dieter wrestles with his pants, barely able to get one foot in.

“She’s not into that,” he replies slightly breathless, then he stops and looks at you, eyes full of curiosity. “Are you?”

“I swear if you don’t leave this room in ten seconds I’m dragging you out naked, paparazzi be damned,”

“Kinky,” the woman grins.

Your fingers tighten around the doorknob.

“I can’t believe we’re late. Again.”

With one hand, you quickly usher Dieter into the limo, using the other to text Shannon that you’re on your way. The driver starts the car, a low hum filling the inside.

“I’m hungry,” Dieter groans, scratching the back of his head.

You eye the sidewalk, the brown paper bag containing a chocolate muffin and a cup of coffee idly laying sideways next to the back tire. The dampness of the pavement had seeped into the bag, the coffee also spilt, turning it into a mushy, disgusting mess. You let out a sigh, climbing into the car right after Dieter. You originally had placed the bag on top of the trunk lid; it must’ve fallen with the wind or something.

The car starts to move and you internally curse at the driver for not keeping an eye on Dieter’s breakfast.

“We’ll just have to get something there,” you say, fishing out a small kitkat bar from your bag. “This is going to have to suffice,”

He takes it with gratitude and a lazy smile.

“Thanks.” Hhe leans into the soft seats of the limo, fingers playing with the edge of the wrapper. “I am really sorry by the way, time kinda flew by,” clearing his throat, he adds,. “Is Shannon mad?”

“Well, she ain’t happy,”

“I should send her a bouquet,”

“You did that last time,”

“Box of chocolates?”

“Did that the time before,”

“Muffin basket?”

“That’s new.”

The smile he gives you is wide and bright and you can’t help but mimic the expression. His gaze is soft as he looks at you, his fidgeting with the wrapper stopping abruptly.

“Could you tell Kate then? Before I forget.”

Without an answer, you quickly text Kate, his assistant, to send Shannon a nice and elegant muffin basket. While you do so you hear Dieter peeling open the wrapper of his unhealthy breakfast, the voice of his favorite youtuber follows.

For the upcoming months, Dieter’s schedule is packed. He’d been cast in an upcoming dystopian blockbuster hero movie. It sounded interesting enough, but while he explained the plot, you were already thinking about the arrangements that needed to be made. Thanks to this new project, he didn’t have much time to relax, so these short limo rides were his little moments of escape.

Seeing that you got a “thumbs up” emoji from Kate, you push the phone back into your pocket. Now that the two of you are actually on your way, you’re relaxed, a ticklish sensation laving across your skin as you melt into the leather seats, the smooth drive pushes your brain into a nearly sleepy state.

Your gaze follows the shops on the street, now that Halloween and Thanksgiving were things of the past, everyone had busted out their Christmas decorations. You enjoy this time of year, the city becomes colorful and bright, the smell of gingerbread following you no matter where you go.

“They were really nice,” Dieter suddenly states, drawing you out of your Christmas- fueled thoughts. “I wish you could’ve spend more time with them,”

“Who?”

“Eduardo and Isabel,” he scrunches up the wrapper and stuffs it into his pocket, dropping his phone to his lap. “They showed me around,”

“Are they actually friends of yours or two people you met at the after party?” You have no doubt in your mind that it’s the latter;, your lips curl into a mischievous smile. You cock an eyebrow, face contorting with confusion. “I thought you came to New York before, what do you mean they ‘showed you around’?”

“I might’ve said I’m new in town,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “I like the attention,”

“As if you don’t have enough of that already,”

He ignores your playful jab and indulges in his train of thought.

“We should meet them again, the four of us,”

“Is this an attempt to lure me to bed with you?”

“It’ll be fun,”

“I have no doubt about that,” your expression grows smug when you see that he wasn’t expecting that answer. “I’m not saying no because it’ll be boring, I’m saying no because I’m your bodyguard. What if someone bursts into the bedroom with a gun? What am I supposed to do when I’m butt naked?”

You exaggerate your words with your hand movements, “Am I supposed to search the floor for my holster while some maniac holds a gun to your head?”

“You can keep the holsters on,”

You hold your breath as discreetly as you can. Dieter leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. How far he can reach surprises you, the brush of his knuckles against yours prompts you to let out the breath you’ve been holding. His pupils devour the color of his eyes, his gaze burns your skin, a feeling that should hurt but doesn’t. His tongue licks over his bottom lip. Your eyes drop to his neck when he swallows.

As he speaks again his voice comes out low and sultry, like he’s out of breath. “That would be so hot. And, like, imagine you shooting a dude while riding my cock,”

“Dieter–”

“Not killing him, of course, just shooting the gun out of his hand. Like a cowboy,”

You snort at the image, quickly covering your mouth. He pulls back, fingers absentmindedly scratching his chin. The heat from the brief brush of skin lingers. Dieter appears none the wiser.

You bite the tip of your tongue. His innuendos affect you more and more each day;, it’s infuriating, especially when he does it so nonchalantly. His eyes look up to the limo’s ceiling, and your cheeks heat up. Is he still thinking about you in holsters?

You’re just about to tell him to stop when he speaks again.

“Wait, would it be cowgirl instead? What do you call a female cowboy? Or does the word cowboy include everyone?”

The heat disappears as soon as it comes, leaving you feeling icy cold.

“Gendered terminology is a bitch,”

“Cowperson?”

“That sounds like a superhero with cow powers,”

He starts to mumble the spider-man theme song from 1994. Maybe he is high after all.

“…does whatever a cow can. Eats some grass, any kind. Crushes thieves just like…uh,”

“Bugs?” you offer.

“Why would a cow crush a bug?”

“Why is Cowperson eating grass? They’re still human, that’s not really a super power,”

“It’s to make their cow-powers more powerful. You need to read more comic books.”

“Who are they? Popeye?”

“Hey, if Popeye can eat spinach and grow strong I don’t understand why our cow-hero can’t,”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, you feel a headache sneaking its way to your temples.

“Why are we talking about cow themed superheroes?”

“You said you would fuck me with the holsters on,”

“I said no such thing,”

The limo comes to a steady halt, you don’t even need to look outside to know you’re here. The muffled screams that seeps through the gaps of the car is enough to let you know that there’s a crowd outside. Dieter seems unbothered by it, his soft molten gaze still glued to you curiously. Suddenly, it gets harder to breathe; like someone squeezing your throat. Licking your lips, you slide towards the door, mentally preparing yourself for the fans outside.

“We’re on, Mr. Bravo.”

It takes you everything not to think of the last sentence he said to you. “You said you would fuck me with the holsters on,” the words had rolled off his tongue as naturally as falling snow, not thinking at all about the consequences. You should be used to his flirty remarks by now. Of all the years you’ve known him, he’s always been like that. It never means anything, it’s just who he is. And it’s your job not to allow him to get you all riled up.

Letting Dieter take the front, you step to the side and close the door as he waves at his adoring fans. They all scream his name, posters and memorabilia glued to their hands with hopes that the actor might sign them. He’s got a bit of spare time—traffic had been surprisingly kind—so you allow him to mingle. You trail close on his steps just in case anyone decides to get too familiar. Selfies are taken, and tears are shed. Your gaze swiftly flits to your watch, his panel begins in ten minutes, you have to get him inside– Besides he will do more signings after the Q & A anyway.

Ignoring the blood pooling underneath your nails, you press your hand against the small of his back, gently guiding him to the entrance. He already knows. His steps become faster, yet to an outsider he doesn’t look to be in a rush. You can’t help the way your fingers slightly curl against the soft fabric of his suit; he feels your palm, warm and soft on his hip.

Touching Dieter isn’t anything new. However, this time you sense a crackle in the air, something that can only be felt by the two of you. His muscles stiffen as he fights the urge to turn to lay his eyes on you. If he could, a silent question would be asked with those same pair of soft eyes; Did you feel that too?

The invisible moment shared between the two of you is gone when a poster is abruptly shoved into his hand along with a marker, you notice which movie it’s from; The Bubble, though it’s more of a documentary rather than a movie. He quickly signs it without further inspection, the fan quickly screams words of gratitude.

But your eyes linger.

You hate that documentary. It’s the proof of your biggest failure as a bodyguard. You heard it on the news first. The crazy set where Lauren Van Chance got her hand shot clean off and the actors had to flee via a helicopter. It was a closed set so you weren’t allowed to join Dieter, and the thought alone that something, anything, could’ve happened to him during filming made you sweat profusely.

Your throat closes up, lungs emptying with the reminders of the past. Luckily he returned safe and sound, never again would you accept him to be essentially locked in a hotel by himself, the pandemic be damned.

You feel it first. See it later.

Your skin is coated with unwarranted goosebumps, the small hairs dusted across your nape stands with attention. Years of working had made your senses grow sharp, noticing things before it even came to be. With your backs turned to the approaching threat, you forget your surroundings, forget to hold yourself back.

When you notice your fingers wrapping around a slim wrist, it’s too late. You kneel and throw the person coming from behind using the strength from your shoulder. A small funko pop of one of Dieter’s more popular characters flies out of their hand. It’s a young woman, maybe in her early 20’s. She shouts in pain and Dieter jumps back, only now realizing what happened. You’re horrified, bile rising to your throat as your eyes go wide. You don’t hear yourself, but you know you’re shouting an apology, feeling your lips form the words.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my god I’m so sorry.

You attempt to help the girl up but she yanks her hand back, looking at you with rightful fury. You look up to the crowd and it’s a cacophony of screams, laughter, booing– The sound comes to you muffled, echoed. You see countless smartphones, all of them directed at you, documenting your second-worst mistake of your career.

Turning back you see Dieter kneeling next to the fan. He’s speaking to her, his large hand spread across her back. She smiles, nods, and he helps her up. Two paramedics come, ushering her away from the crowd., Dieter waves her off, saying something to the paramedics. You’re so disoriented that your mind convinces your body that a threat as big as an explosion had happened, your skin crawling with imaginary shrapnel digging in to it.

Dieter’s face comes into view, your stomach churns with the remains of your too-early breakfast.

Every sound, every motion rushes back into you, like your soul being sucked back into your body. It’s an overwhelming feeling, you shake your head once, twice, then ask a question with the sole intention to convince yourself that you’re alright.

“Is she hurt?”

“She’s going to be fine,”

Dieter never touches you when you work, a rule you established well before knowing him –this rule didn’t apply after hours though, you don’t remember how many times he bawled his eyes out and pulled you into a bear hug during one of his many rewatches of Coco– but right now his arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you with him as cameras flash before your eyes, the sound deafening. Your eyes water at the light;, briefly you wonder how Dieter does it, then you’re reminded of his shitty eyesight and connect the dots.

The inside of the building is spacious and cool, you take a deep, shaky breath and stagger forward, balancing yourself by pressing your palms into your knees. An angry set of heels echoes in the building; you see Shannon’s ankles, noticing a small tattoo of a happy cat with a ball of yarn.

How ironic.

“What the fuck was that?” she asks frantically, a rhetorical question, you assume, since she continues. “Amina, what the hell were you thinking flipping a fan like that? She wasn’t even doing anything! The press is going to gobble this story up, it’s going to be everywhere–” she abruptly stops mid- sentence, your head spins, Dieter’s shoes come into view, Shannon’s heels disappear.

“Is she going to be sick?”

You flinch at the hand on your back, Dieter’s voice echoes. You hear something else as he speaks in hurried breaths. What the hell was that sound? You attempt to swat it away. Then you recognize.

Jingle Bells?

“Amina?”

You black out after that.

Needless to say, Dieter is freaking out.

You flatout fainted in front of them all, then woke up acting as if everything was just peachy-keen. He was glad you didn’t puke, but that didn’t ease his worries. The memory of you tossing that poor girl didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day. He was confused, his mind working hard unlike it ever did in order to unravel the mystery. He knew you had your reasons, maybe the girl was a secret agent out to get him or something. Mostly, he was worried about how the scene had stirred something in him. The way you looked so confused about your own actions, how your eyes seemed glazed as if they couldn’t piece together where they were… He’d never seen you so out of your element before.

The screaming crowd probably didn’t help.

Knowing that the internet would be brutal, he asked for your phone before the panel, and, surprisingly, you obliged. The rest of the day was event- free.

He still feels the phone in his pocket as he unlocks the door of the hotel room.

Upon seeing the mess of his late night endeavors with Eduardo and Isabel, a small groan leaves his throat. Couldn’t they have cleaned before leaving the room?

You don’t seem to care. With quick steps you reach the couch and sit. It’s facing the TV, and your hand reaches for the remote. He parts his lips to say something but your hand stills before he does, fingers slightly shaking as you pull yourself back.

“I’m sorry,” you say, your voice cracks and his heart beats in his throat. “I don’t know what happened,”

“Well…” he trails off, closing the door. “In your defense, Rose wasn’t supposed to be there. Technically, you were doing your job,”

“Rose?”

“The girl you flipped,”

“Oh god,”

He stands before you, facing the full force of your doubtful gaze. You cradle your cheeks with both hands, shaking your head, and let out a groan.

“Even so, she didn’t have a weapon, she wasn’t there to attack you. All I had to do was to usher her away,” you lean back, both hands now covering your face, letting out a deep sigh. “Fuuuuuuuuck,”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Shannon is just being dramatic,”

“I saw her looking at her phone Dieter, I think she left early to cry in the shower,”

“Being my manager for so long must’ve taken a toll on her, you can’t blame her for that. I promise you, I did way stupider shit,”

“Doing stupid shit and downright assaulting someone are two different things,”

You’re right, and he knows you’re right. That doesn’t mean he’ll accept it though. He stares at you for a while, thinking what to say or to do to make you feel better.

His first instinct is to roll you a joint—weed makes everything better—but when he notices the subtle tick in your jaw, your lips slightly moving without parting, he understands that whatever you’re feeling, runs much deeper. You eye the remote again.

“Maybe I should just see what they’re saying?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,”

“I’m going to find out about it eventually. I should just rip off the bandaid,”

Offering to roll you a joint doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea anymore.

“How about we smoke weed instead?” He assumes you’re going to say no when you open your mouth. He presses his forefinger against his own lips playfully, meeting your gaze and winking. “We can look at Twitter, check the news, watch youtube breakdown videos or whatever you want to do and see the damage tomorrow morning, sweetheart. Promise,”

“Fine fine, let’s go with what you want,” you give in, clearly exasperated. Dieter grins, but before he leaves you threateningly wave your finger at him. “But this is the only time, Bravo. Got it. No matter what, don’t offer it again,”

“Yes Ma’am,”

Dieter holds the joint between his index and middle fingers, where it looks miniature compared to the rest of his hand. He brings it to his lips, taking a deep inhale before handing it to you.

You move in slow motion— at least, to him it seems like you are. He watches intently at where his lips touched moments ago touching yours. A pleasant tingle blossoms from his tail bone to the small of his back. A delicate puff of smoke dances away from your lips, your head falling back, a long sigh follows your exhale. Dieter’s eyes follow the curve of your neck. You swallow, lips still parted. He mimics the movement, his own adam’s apple bobbing up and down, he thinks of your lips.

“Why did I fucking do that?” you mutter. “That was so stupid of me,”

“Stop thinking about it,” he takes the joint away from you. “I rolled this so you can relax. Don’t waste good weed on tripping,”

“Yeah, you’re right sorry,”

Dieter spreads his legs underneath the fuzzy blanket, and your head lolls towards him, forehead brushing his clothed shoulder. Again, a pleasant tingle spreads, this time warmth added to the feeling. The skin above his lower stomach feels tight. His thoughts the farthest from being pure, he imagines a nipple, your nipple, while sucking the end of the joint. His head fuzzy, a soft moan rattles in his throat. You’re muttering something, and that something comes to him muffled, then you laugh. He laughs too, context be damned. He takes another inhale before passing it back to you.

“It was kinda funny,” he suddenly says, his mouth barely reaching the speed of his thoughts. “The way you just threw her over your shoulder,”

“How is it funny?”

Something in your voice makes Dieter raise his hips, the delicate, barely there pressure of the blanket is equal to torture. He needs his hand, or better yet, your mouth. He bites his bottom lip and chases the feeling, lifting himself once more just to feel that feather-like grind against his cock. You’re unaware. Or maybe you are. Dieter can’t tell. He knows that he should behave, that deep down you’re hurting, but something about your obliviousness did something to him. His teeth sink further into his lip, he wants to draw blood, needs the distraction.

“I’ve never actually seen you get physical before, so the shock factor made me wanna laugh,” his words fade into a surprised grunt when you stuff the joint between his lips.

“I guess you really haven’t seen me like that before,”

You sound genuinely surprised. Dieter shifts to face you better, your face only an inch away from his, he sucks in a deep breath. His eyes dance around your face, taking in every little detail, memorizing it for later. Your eyes seem to have specks of gold in them. Or maybe he’s just imagining it. He hears you swallow, your own gaze dropping to his lips. Dieter shuffles closer. He hears your heavy, but fast, breathing. Your breasts touch his chest, a subtle movement that has him grinding his teeth.

He can taste you in the air, sweet and bitter, you’re so close–

The moment shatters with the sound of a shrill doorbell;, Dieter jumps, an immediate crease forming between his eyebrows.

“What kind of hotel room has a doorbell?”

“The expensive kind I guess,” you giggle.

Dieter smiles sweetly at you, he can’t help it. The doorbell rings again, prompting Dieter to stride to the door with long steps. Gripping the doorknob white-knuckled, he yanks it open.

He forgot.

He can’t believe he fucking forgot.

“Dieter!”

A pair of thick, loving arms, wrap themselves around his neck. An awkward smile tugs at Dieter’s lips as he hugs back, his hands twitching for an imaginary rail to hold on.

“Mom? Dad?”

“You forgot didn’t you,” his dad means for his words to form a question but he’s so sure of himself that it comes out as a statement. “Doesn’t darling Kate remind you of these things?”

“She does,” Dieter answers. His mother squishes his cheeks, making it difficult for him to speak. “I just forgot. Been busy,”

“Such a busy bee our darling boy! I would’ve never guessed,”

“Thanks for the confidence boost mom,”

“I mean I knew you would make it,” his mom defends herself. “I just never thought you would work so hard,”

“Again, thanks,”

“Uh…hello?”

You’re standing right behind him, arms crossed against your chest, you shift from one foot to the other. His mother looks you up and down, a wide smile appears on her face, wrinkles appear at the corner of her eyes, similar to his.

“Well, hello dear. Who might you be?”

Dieter nearly bursts out laughing when you stutter and hurriedly walk up to his parents with your hand stretched out, you nearly topple over. Dieter slightly moves forward, in case you did fall over.

“I’m Amina Addams. Lovely to meet you,”

When you reach out to greet his father, he seems excited, like a fan meeting a celebrity. Dieter raises an eyebrow. His father had the habit of being quite blunt, sometimes steering towards being mean, which made Dieter adapt into having a warning mechanism whenever his dad was about to say something stupid.

Right now the alarms are deafening in his ears, red flashing beneath his eyelids.

You shake his hand, and Dieter’s world falls into slow motion, his father parts his lips.

“You’re that girl who turned over a fan! The crazy bodyguard, right?”

For fucks sake dad.

author's note: I've been sitting on this for SUCH a long time and I'm so excited that it's finally out in the open! I love Christmas, romcoms and Dieter so this is essentially pouring out my adoration to all of those things and I hope you'll all fall in love with Amina & Dieter as hard as I have ❤️ Thank you everyone for reading!

[tvgals]

‘ GOOD GRIEF ! ‘

pavitr prabhakar x black! fem! reader

— the two times pav could’ve confessed to you and the one time he did .

Ⅰ.

the time you two were at the park . —

you and pavitr were walking down the street towards the park eating ice cream. “then hobie came out of nowhere! it was crazy!” your bestfriend says, waving his hands around for dramatics. “really? y’know, pav, sometimes i can’t help but want to see you in action.” you smile, biting the top of the cone to get access to the rest of the ice cream. “maybe one of these days, y/n.” pavitr grins, leaning into your frame. “hopefully.” you giggle.

while you two were making your way to the benches seated inside the park, pavitr couldn’t help but stare at you. you were so…majestic? is that the right word to use? or does that make you sound weird…like you were a horse or something…maybe he should just blurt out his feelings now then run away..before he could open his mouth, pavitr’s train of thought was interrupted when you snapped a few times in his face, a smile on your own. “hellloooooo? i asked you a question!” you laughed — a frazzled look on his face. “oh..yeah, yeah! i agree!” pavitr tried to cover up his embarrassment with fake sneezing. “you had to sneeze this whole time?” you ask, cocking a brow. “yep!”

Ⅱ.

the time you called him . —

pavitr looked down from brushing his teeth to his phone ringing ‘y/n 🌟’ it read. he immediately spit out the remaining toothpaste in his mouth and picked up the phone. “y/n!” pav answered, “pavi’!” you replied, a grin on your face. “what’s up?” pavitr asked, washing his face off.

“just wanted someone to talk to while i got ready for bed.” you shrugged, tying your bonnet in the back then pouring moisturizer onto your hand. “glad to be that someone. so what’s up? anything new happening in the oh so interesting life of y/n?” he asked, walking into his room and plopping onto his bed as he listens to your spiel of stories about people that pissed you off, or something funny that happened — and all pavitr does is stare at you with love.

after almost an hour of being on the phone already, the two of you agreed to fall asleep on the phone — you falling asleep first. once pav made sure you were asleep (by calling your name multiple times) he fell asleep himself. but not without a whisper of, “i love you.”

Ⅲ.

the time he confessed . —

you and pav were staying after school to finish homework together, although he claims he could’ve done it in “1.2 seconds” he decided to wait on you. “so..i carry the two..” you ask, looking up at pavitr with those beautiful eyes of yours. “no, no, no, you carry the six, the three stays there.” pavitr points to the numbers on the paper. you threw your head back in annoyance and groaned; “this is too hard! i don’t get it, pavi’!” pavitr looks at you and starts giggling uncontrollably, doubling over in laughter.

“why are you laughing?!” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. pav takes a deep breathe and whispers out — “you’re so cute, i can’t help it!” and he starts his uncontrollable fit of laughter again, wiping tears from his eyes. “cute? you call me not being able to do math cute?” you ask accusingly, crossing your arms. “yeah,” pavitr started once again, “i just — i just love you so much!” pavitr said, his laughter dying down. you stare in shock. he loved you? seriously? “really?” you ask picking the hangnails off of your fingers.

“yes, really!” “oh. well, i love you too.”

[arminsumi]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱ BEYOND THE SEA

Armin x fem!reader

Chapter index / Chapter Ⅰ: Secret

Overview; a story of your forbidden love affair with Lt. Armin during the war.

Content; 1940s au, fluff, romance, drama

Warnings; angst, tragedy

A warm sunset light cast over Armin and Eren as they crossed over the bridge that lead to their barracks.

They kept a slow pace and absorbed the warmth of the dozing sun.

"So, are you going to tell me about that nurse who you've been swooning over?" Eren asked nonchalantly.

Armin responded defensively, "I'm not swooning!"

"Yes, you are." He replied with a smirk.

There was a pause of silence between them. Armin let out a suppressed sigh.

"I don't know her name," Armin began.

"You don't even know her name?" Eren interrupted.

"No, but," Armin continued regardless, "I remember hearing her sing down the corridors in the early morning. If I would hear her voice again, then..." He trailed off, almost murmuring dreamily at the end, because of the memory of you appearing in his mind.

Eren waited for Armin to finish his thought, but he never did.

"You can't find someone with just the memory of their voice. What did she look like?" Eren asked.

Armin was visibly struggling to recall the image of you in his mind.

"I can't remember too well." He finally responded, "But I recall her father; he had a sullen face that I won't forget. When he entered the ward once, he gave me this prejudiced look."

"A 'prejudiced look'? Oh, you've got to be kidding me, Armin. You're swooning over the Head Chief's daughter? Do you realize what kind of trouble that could get you into?"

Armin gave a sheepish smile, "I know very well the kind of trouble that it can cause, Eren. I already got in trouble once with him, when he walked into the ward while I was laughing with his daughter."

"What happened?" Eren asked half-sympathetically, half-curiously.

They descended the steps at the end of the bridge, and took a moment to look out onto the glistening sea.

"He called for her to meet him in private. They must have had a brutal argument, because afterwards I saw her wailing on her friend's shoulder, and the next day she didn't show up to administer medicine to the patients. I learned through her friend that she was moved to the East wing, and was forbidden from even walking near the West wing."

Armin distantly observed the rolling waves, feeling his spirit sink as low as the depths of the ocean.

But like a soldier, he quickly masked his feelings, and straightened his posture before his heavy mood affected Eren.

"Let's get back." He said.

Eren didn't say anything, but he mustered a sympathetic look for his friend. He could tell how great of an impression you had on him by how fondly he talked about you.

A deep navy washed over the sky, and dots of stars came out to gleam and twinkle.

The lamp posts lining the cobblestone road lit up. Armin and Eren headed down this road to the barracks, and just before they entered their bunk room, Armin turned to Eren and asked with great seriousness;

"Eren, can you promise me something?"

"What?"

"Promise me that you will keep this between us... if the Captain finds out, he's going to tell the Commander."

Eren scoffed, "I'm sure that would strip you of your 'lieutenant' title very quickly."

"Eren." Armin looked at him pleadingly, "I'm not the only one who would get in trouble; so would she, and I don't want that."

"Yes, yes, alright. I will keep it secret."

"Thank you." Armin thanked him with relief in his voice.

"What's a secret?" Connie smirked when Armin walked into the bunk room.

He had overheard enough of their exchange to become curious.

Armin immediately tried to brush off Connie's curiosity by acting a fool, "Huh?"

"I heard you guys! Come on, what's a secret? You can tell me. I'm the best secret keeper." Connie said.

Eren quipped, "Connie, you can't keep your mouth shut to save your life."

"Hey!" Connie frowned.

Jean snickered behind his sketchbook, so Connie spun around and looked at him.

"Don't you laugh! I'll snatch that thing outta your hand and show 'em what you're drawing — or rather, who you're drawing!"

Armin laughed under his breath while climbing into his cot on the top bunk, "What a promising secret-keeper."

"Mind your own business, buddy!" Jean snapped at Connie.

They playfully bickered, and to deter Connie's curiosity, Armin fueled their jokes. Anyone passing by their window would see the glow of light and hear the ringing laughter coming from within.

But by the midnight hour, the lights were out, and everything fell silent.

Armin tossed around in his cot, his mind buzzing.

"If you keep tossing around like that, your bunk is gonna come crashing down on me." Eren's voice sounded from the bottom bunk.

"You're still awake?" Armin whispered.

Eren spoke in a low voice filled with sarcasm, "Of course, I'm brooding on your tragic love story with that nurse." he said.

Armin excitedly sprung to life at the mention of you, "Oh Eren! I wish you could have met her," he rolled over excitedly in his cot to peer down at Eren, "She had something absolutely wonderful about her. I felt as fulfilled and peaceful in her company as I did when I first saw the sea."

Eren pondered Armin's words in silence.

Eventually, he replied teasingly, "Maybe if this whole lieutenant thing doesn't work out, you can become a poet."

"Hey now, you be careful with what you say. Remember, I'm on the top bunk; I could crush you." Armin warned.

"How intimidating. You should use that line on the battlefield next time, it'll scare them shitless."

The two of them giggled quietly.

"You're not the God of Destruction anymore, you're the Cot of Destruction."

Armin repeated the pun to himself to savor the humor. Connie stirred awake and grumbled for them to shut up.

"Hey, Connie, don't talk to me like that; I'm the Cot of Destruction, you know! I could crush you!"

"What on earth are you on about?" He mumbled sleepily and dozed off without catching the joke.

Eren and Armin's banter tapered off, the atmosphere became still again.

"Eren, do you think I'll meet her again?" Armin asked seriously.

There was a lengthy silence.

"It's more than likely." Eren speculated.

Armin fed on Eren's response as if it were the only thing giving him hope.

Once Eren fell asleep, Armin laid awake in his cot like a lonesome insomniac, daydreaming of you to whittle the hours down until the new day dawned.

The anticipation of his awaiting duties had his gut clenching with anxiety. He was no longer just a somebody on the Captain's squad, but a newly promoted lieutenant; expected to be the replacement of the Commander, should the war take him.

[k-nayee]

CHAPTER 3. ATHENA'S CHALLENGE

❝It is not the blade that shapes destiny but the hand that wields it.❞

Warrior M.List | Act Ⅰ

Previous | Next

˚＊˚✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ⚔️・⚔️・⚔️・⚔️・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ・・✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ˚＊˚

The sparring session had gone longer than usual.

You stood shoulder to shoulder with Penelope, both of you panting from the exertion of your nightly routine. Sweat dripped down the side of your face as the sun's first rays began to stretch across the horizon.

Your arms ached, muscles trembling from overuse—but the satisfied burn in your limbs made you smile.

"Enough for tonight," Penelope whispered firmly. She tucked a stray braid behind her ear as she breath ragged yet steadily.

You nodded, panting as you dropped to one knee to catch your breath. The coolness of the grass beneath you was a stark contrast to the lingering warmth of the practice sword in your hand.

Around you the secret clearing, just outside the palace walls, was bathed in hues of purple and gold; a hidden refuge away from the heavy gaze of duty and expectation.

Penelope crouched beside you, her expression softening as she glanced at the sword in your hand.

"You're getting better," she said with a faint smile. "Soon you won't need to butter up the soldiers for practice tips anymore."

You laughed though the sound came out weaker than intended. "And lose the free ego boost they give me? Never."

Her smile widened briefly before she pushed herself to her feet, brushing dirt and grass from her tunic.

"Come on. The guards will be changing shifts soon. If we're caught out here again..." She trailed off, but the weight of the unspoken consequences hung in the air.

You didn't need reminding. The punishment for wandering beyond the palace walls without permission would fall harder on you than on her.

You were just a servant after all—a servant who had no business training in secret alongside a Spartan prince's daughter.

Rising to your feet, you followed her back toward the palace, careful to tread softly as the two of you slipped through the secret entrance hidden behind a crumbling section of the outer wall.

The path was second nature: each step carefully calculated, each breath measured to avoid detection.

Penelope's movements were precise, her grace as a noblewoman seamlessly blending with the agility of the warrior she was becoming.

You followed closely, your senses sharp and your heart pounding in rhythm with your hurried steps.

When you reached the servants' quarters Penelope hesitated. Her hand on the doorframe as she glanced back at you with furrowed brows.

"Be careful today," she said quietly. "I don't trust him."

She didn't have to name her father for you to understand. You offered her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Go on."

With a final nod, she slipped inside, disappearing into the labyrinth of corridors that made up the palace.

You waited a moment longer, scanning your surroundings before stepping inside yourself.

The familiar scent of stone and polished wood greeted you as you made your way to your small bed in the shared room, changing quickly into the plain garments of a servant.

It was a transformation both physical and mental; you shed the role of Penelope's confidante and sparring partner to become her obedient attendant.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

The day unfolded as usual.

By mid-morning you were at Penelope's side, arranging her hair and adjusting her gown as she prepared for a small gathering in the main hall.

Her expression was composed, the perfect mask of a dutiful daughter. Though you could see the tension in her shoulders.

"Does it look acceptable?" she asked, her tone devoid of the warmth she reserved for your private moments together.

"More than acceptable," you replied softly, stepping back to admire your work. "You'll outshine them all."

A faint smile touched her lips but it didn't reach her eyes.

With a graceful nod she left and you prepared yourself for your next task—tending to the soldiers during their midday combat session.

The clang of swords clashing filled the air, accompanied by the barked commands of the training general.

You moved among the soldiers with practiced ease, a clay jug of water balanced on your hip.

"Water anyone?" your voice called out cutting through the noise. Several soldiers turned your way, their expressions brightening.

"Don't spoil us too much," one of the younger soldiers teased as you approached with the water jug. "We might start fighting over who gets to see you."

You rolled your eyes but your grin gave you away. "Careful now or I'll start charging you." you replied, pouring water into his outstretched cup.

As the men laughed, your attention was drawn to a pair of soldiers standing a little apart from the rest, their conversation hushed but intense.

You moved closer under the guise of offering them water, straining to catch their words.

"...Athena's test," one of them said. "The Erymanthian boar—said to be monstrous. A beast even seasoned hunters would hesitate to face. But the reward..."

The other soldier whistled softly. "Riches beyond imagining. Enough to buy a small kingdom they say."

Your heart skipped a beat. Athena's test? A boar? Vast riches?

You kept your expression neutral, pouring water into their cups as though you hadn't heard a thing.

"Do you really think it's true?" the first soldier asked.

"About the gold? Who knows. Men wouldn't risk their lives if there wasn't something worth fighting for."

The conversation moved on but the words lingered in your mind.

Riches beyond imagining. Enough to buy a small kingdom. The possibilities swirled in your thoughts, each more enticing than the last.

If you could claim the prize, everything would change. Penelope could finally escape her father's control.

She'd be free—free to live without fear of a forced marriage, without the constant shadow of Icarius looming over her.

And you...you could leave too.

You'd no longer have to live under the thumb of a household that valued you only for your beauty and your servitude. The thought was intoxicating.

That evening, as you prepared to leave the courtyard, the beginnings of a plan took root in your mind: You would take the test. You would kill the boar and claim the riches. But Penelope couldn't know.

She would never agree to such a dangerous scheme.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

By afternoon you found your opportunity.

Soldiers were preparing for a mild campaign, their gear being loaded onto carts near the palace gates.

It wasn't uncommon for you to be assigned as a wine bearer during such events; your exotic looks often made you a favored choice for such duties.

It was a role you had played before—especially at lavish events hosted by Icarius himself.

When the evening came and the sun began dipping below the horizon, you were in Penelope's chambers helping her with her hair.

She sat before her vanity, her reflection serene but distant as if lost in thought.

"You seem quiet tonight," you said, brushing a stray curl into place.

Penelope met your gaze in the mirror, her expression softening. "Just tired. Father's been...demanding."

You didn't press her further, knowing the weight of her words. Instead, you mustered the courage to set your plan in motion.

"I've been ordered to accompany the soldiers for their campaign tomorrow," you said casually, keeping your tone light.

Her hands stilled on the hem of her nightgown. "Ordered? Why? You've never mentioned it before."

"Wine duty," you replied with a shrug and force a playful smile. "You know how much your father loves showing me off at these things."

Penelope's frown deepened, and for a moment you worried she might protest.

"Do you have to go?" she asked quietly, her voice laced with concern.

Your heart clenched but you nodded. "It's not for long. Just a few days. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone."

"I can't go against Father's wishes. So just—" She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. "be careful."

You hesitated, then leaned down to press a reassuring kiss to the top of her head. "Always."

As she climbed into bed, you tucked the blankets around her, your heart heavy with guilt. But it was necessary.

This wasn't just about you—it was about Penelope, about her freedom, her future.

Once she was asleep you slipped out of her chambers and made your way to your own quarters. It was nearing dusk when your preparations were complete.

Your small satchel held everything you could manage: a few plain garments, hard bread, some dried figs, a stolen waterskin, and a carefully hidden knife.

The sound of soldiers bustling near the gates had masked your movements. Their leaving for campaign, crates of supplies, and clinking armor provided the perfect cover.

Common to see servants moving about during such times to fetch items or following orders; you had played that role expertly, head bowed and demeanor meek as you slipped unnoticed past the guards.

With the gates behind you and the endless horizon ahead, the weight of your decision settled on your shoulders.

The gravel path beneath your sandals crunched with every step taken as the palace became a silhouette in the distance.

You would face the boar, no matter the risk.

And you would win.

══════════════˚･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･˚═══════════════

The route to Gytheio was treacherous in parts—dry fields and rocky hills as far as the eye could see.

Occasional distant bleating of goats and cries of hawks circling above; the landscape was otherwise eerily quiet.

You paused only briefly to sip from your waterskin or take a nibble of your food stash; heat from the sun of the day and cool reprieve from the moon of the night were your only telling of the passing of time.

Two days...

Two days of walking on foot.

The sandals on your feet—once sturdy—now felt thin, the sharp pebbles on the ground a reminder of how far you've gone.

By the time Gytheio's sprawling port came into view your legs felt like lead. The smell of salt and brine hit you first, strong and stinging after hours of dry dusty air.

The port was alive with movement: fishermen hauling nets, vendors shouting over one another, and travelers haggling for passage aboard ships.

An overwhelming but welcomed cacophony. Much easier to blend in.

Keeping to the edges of the bustling market, you scanned for a ship heading north along the coast until a modest vessel caught your eye.

Its crew was busy loading crates of salted fish and the deck was crowded.

Your heart raced as you approached, the sailor at the gangplank gave you a once-over, his gaze lingering on your skin.

The baggy cloth you wore—a threadbare tunic and trousers that pooled slightly at your ankles—helped mask your figure along with the thick sash tied around your waist to made you look weaker than you were.

It wasn't the first time you'd relied on this disguise. Dressed like this, you were often mistaken for a young boy. You'd learned to wield that misconception to your advantage; using it to move unnoticed or to deflect unwanted attention.

"Need passage?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You nodded. "To the western coast."

He scratched his chin. "Can't promise comfort, but we leave at first light."

"I'll sleep on the deck," you said, glancing toward the ship. "Just get me there."

You handed over the few coins you had snagged before leaving, your fingers trembling as he tucked them into his pouch.

He shrugged and gestured for you to board. "Suit yourself."

The gangplank creaked beneath your feet stepping aboard. It wasn't luxury, but it was freedom.

*･:*:★☽✧⚔️✧☾★:*:･*

The ship rocked gently beneath your feet, the rhythmic creaking of its wooden beams blending with the distant cries of seagulls and waves against the hull.

Wind tugged at your loose clothes, the fabric brushing against your skin as the air smelled of salt and damp wood.

You had boarded the ship without incident—unnoticed amidst the soldiers and seasoned travelers.

As the clouds slowly moved across the clear sky, you leaned on the ship's railing, gazing out at the endless stretch of blue sea.

It was then your mind churned with a mix of anticipation and unease. Yes, you knew the plan was reckless.

But the thought of the riches and what they could mean for you and Penelope was too alluring to resist.

If you succeed, you could finally free her from her father's oppressive grip, from the looming threat of a forced marriage.

The vision of a life far from the palace, far from the shadows of power and control was worth the risk.

A burst of laughter drew your attention. Nearby, a group of passengers had gathered, their animated conversation louder than the ship's hum.

Among them was a man with the confident bearing of a King. His armor gleamed under the sun as his voice carried easily over the crash of waves.

"A boar," he says with a smirk. "Athena's test they call it. I thought it might be fun to try my hand at it. What's life without a little danger, eh?"

You recognized him immediately: Iphicles, a minor hero often—overshadowed by his more famous brother Heracles.

Despite his less illustrious reputation, he carried himself with an air of bravado. Almost as if desperate to prove himself.

Before the others could reply a voice flits through the air. "Fun? You mean another chance to fail spectacularly and remind everyone why you're always in your brother's shadow?"

The group's laughter faltered, their expressions shifting to awkwardness and unease. Iphicles's confident smirk hardened into a scowl as he turned toward the source of the comment.

A boy—appearing to be the same age as you—casually leaned against the many crates. His wiry scrawny and unruly dark hair giving him the look of a stray cat that had wandered into the wrong territory.

Yet despite his slight build, he moved with an easy cocky confidence. As if the entire world amused him.

He looked like trouble.

"Who are you to speak?" Iphicles demanded low and dangerously.

The boy grinned, unbothered by the tension. "Oh no one important," he said, shrugging. "Just someone who knows better than to play hero when the odds are stacked against him."

You found yourself watching the exchange with reluctant curiosity. The boy's blunt tongue and the way he seemed utterly unfazed by Iphicles's growing anger caught your attention.

His words, while biting, carried a cleverness that hinted at a mind far sharper than his scruffy appearance suggested.

"You're lucky I have bigger concerns than a whelp like you," Iphicles growled before turning back to his group and moving someplace else on the ship.

An older soldier—more daring and clearly more experienced in battle to not cower before Iphicles—laughed. "You've got a mouth on you. I'll give you that."

The boy shrugged unbothered. "Just calling it like I see it."

Another soldier, a burly man with a scar running down his arm frowned. "Iphicles is still a son of Zeus," the scarred man reminded gruffly.

"And Heracles is still his older brother," the boy countered. "What's your point? That he's good at being second-best?"

The older man laughs once again and claps the boy on the back, his gruff voice carrying a hint of approval. "Careful now. He might just knock you overboard if you keep on smearing his name."

"Then he'll prove my point. Heracles wouldn't waste the effort."

The laughter this time was louder, though some glanced nervously toward where Iphicles was presumably resting.

You frowned. His presence stood out against the hardened warriors around him—his youthful energy, his easy confidence.

"Who's that?" you asked one of the sailors passing by in a forced low voice.

The man glanced toward the boy and snorted. "Some brat of a King from a small island in the Ionian Sea. Says he's here for the challenge, but I'd wager he's more interested in showing off than hunting Athena's beast."

Your stomach tightened at the mention of the Goddess.

You'd been careful not to speak of your true purpose to anyone. The idea of competition hadn't crossed your mind until now.

As if sensing your scrutiny, the boy turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. His grin widened—lazy and wolfish—as he gave you a small nod in greeting.

You stiffened and quickly averted your gaze. Your heart beating faster—not out of fear but out of annoyance.

Of all the people to notice you...it had to be him.

Deciding to move away from the railing, you soon found a quieter spot on the deck near the barrels of supplies and settled onto an overturned crate with a sigh.

The salty breeze tugged at your hair as you stared out at the horizon while trying to gather your thoughts.

"You know," a familiar voice drawled, "it's not polite to stare."

You whip around to find the boy standing a few feet away with his arms crossed.

With him closer you can make out his eye color—well colors. They were...different; a striking blue on the left and warm brown on the right.

His grin was still there, playful and teasing like he knew something you didn't.

"I wasn't staring," you said flatly, hoping he'd take the hint and leave.

"Hmm," he hummed, tapping his chin as though considering your words. "Maybe not. But you looked interested. Couldn't help but notice."

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the waves. "I'm not interested. Go bother someone else."

He chuckled and stepped closer. "Now why would I do that? You're far more entertaining than those louts."

"I'm not."

"That's exactly what someone entertaining would say."

You cross your arms. "You're very annoying you know that?"

"So I've been told." His grin didn't falter, but his gaze flicked to your wrist, where a braided leather bracelet peeked out from your sleeve.

"Nice bracelet," he said, tilting his head as he studied it. "Where'd you get it?"

You immediately yanked your sleeve down and cover it. "None of your business." your tone was harsher now.

"Woah, easy there. Didn't mean to offend."

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression shifting slightly. It wasn't predatory nor was it entirely teasing.

If anything it was...curious.

"You're unusual," he said finally, his tone more thoughtful. "But in a good way. Pretty even...for a boy."

Your head snapped up, your glare hot. He met your gaze with a raised brow and a smirk that dared you to retort.

But when you didn't speak he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off. Don't want you throwing me overboard."

He takes a step back and bows theatrically. "Odysseus of Ithaca, Son of Laertes if you must know," he said, his voice dripping with mock grandeur. "And you are...?"

You barely sent a glance out the corner of your eye, still staring out at the open sea. "I don't have one." The lie slipped easily past your lips.

His grin sharpened, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Everyone has a name. But if you want to be Nobody I won't argue. Nice to meet you Nobody."

Without waiting for your response, he turned and walked away, weaving effortlessly through the crowd of sailors and soldiers like he belonged there.

You watched him go, your irritation simmering beneath the surface.

There was something about him—something too clever, too perceptive. You made a mental note to avoid him as much as possible.

Whatever Odysseus of Ithaca wanted, it didn't matter. You had bigger things to focus on—bigger risks to take.

So let him play his games with the others.

There was a test that awaited you. One you wouldn't let anyone—least of all him—get in your way.

[dwntwn-strnlo]

WHEN I

ⅰ. 𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

❝ᵐᵃᵗᵗ ˢᵗᵒᵖ ᶠᵘᶜᵏⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵘʳᵏⁱⁿᵍ❞

·.★·.·'¯'·.·★★·.·'¯'·.·★.·

↳ ˢᵒᶜⁱᵃˡ ᵐᵉᵈⁱᵃ, ⁱ��ᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ

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🄽🄾🅆 🄿🄻🄰🅈🄸🄽🄶 . . .

❝i've been thinkin 'bout you . . .

. . . do you think about me still?❞

ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴ ʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ - 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘯

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈.

chapter one

❝𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑❞

💫

·.★·.·'¯'·.·★★·.·'¯'·.·★.·

↳ ⁱⁿˢᵗᵃᵍʳᵃᵐ

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username i need friends like this

↳ username real

jennnnyfoster mother

↳ veraaaprince mother

username matt replying to everyones comments but not making his own smh

·.★·.·'¯'·.·★★·.·'¯'·.·★.·

↳ ⁱᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ

vera ; prince 🕺

matt ; matty ratty 🐀

chris ; kristof 🦌

nick ; nick jr 📺

trinity ; trinny winny 😋

jenny ; jenn city 🌆

mac ; cheesy 🫶🧀

11:27 pm !

prince 🕺

matt stop fucking lurking

jenn city 🌆

seriously

like what you doin bud 😭

matty ratty 🐀

Dont call me bud

and im not

kristof 🦌

then what are you doing

matty ratty 🐀

Commenting like the rest of you?

prince 🕺

mm i dont think so ☝️

nick jr 📺

matt.

matty ratty 🐀

Nick.

nick jr 📺

shhhh

trinny winny 😋

can i change his name

pls

pelase

please

cheesy 🫶🧀

literally why

kristof 🦌

no

kristof 🦌 changed matty ratty 🐀 to lurker 🥷

lurker 🥷

Chris I fucking hate you

prince 🕺

LMFAO

trinny winny 😋

what the fuck.

kristof 🦌

maybe be faster next time idk????

jenn city 🌆

i love this

lurker 🥷

Love what

jenn city 🌆

bullying you

loved by nick jr 📺

lurker 🥷 left the chat!

cheesy 🫶🧀 added lurker 🥷 to the chat!

cheesy 🫶🧀

stop being a fucking pussy matthew

emphasized by kristof 🦌 and jenn city 🌆

prince 🕺

oh boy

trinny winny 😋

woah there 😧

nick jr 📺

calm urself 

lurker 🥷

Someone pls change my name back 🙏

kristof 🦌

NO 🙅‍♂️🔕👎❌

trinny winny 😋

we'll do it if you turn off your goddamn caps

lurker 🥷

Uhm

No

prince 🕺

matt PLEASE

turn off your caps

lurker 🥷

get out of here vera

cheesy 🫶🧀

HE TURNED THEM OFF

nick jr 📺

oh my

jenn city 🌆

whipped 🤨

lurker 🥷

excuse me?

jenn city 🌆

you heard me

trinny winny 😋 changed lurker 🥷tomatty ratty 🐀

matty ratty 🐀

thanks ig 

kristof 🦌

literally get over urself kid

prince 🕺

thats crazy

trinny winny 😋

ok im done omfg

im going to bed

matty ratty 🐀

me too

nick jr 📺

yeah get outta here

cheesy 🫶🧀

oh boy

read 12:01 am !

💫

. . .

A/N

oh boy

idk how i feel abt this but

irl chapter next!