#'middle of the night' as though its not just 6am

[crushedsweets]

Do you have any headcanons of Lyra and Toby’s relationship?

this has been in my inbox for like over a week by now because this is a big task in my head. i will focus more on the family itself, but obviously the siblings r there.

ROGERS FAMILY HCS UNDER THE CUT... tw for abuse and addiction, of course

ok. WE'RE GETTING PERSONAL HERE. im the eldest daughter of 3 so the way in which i project into older siblings is insane. ive also had an addict father(no where near like frank though let me clarify) so in general . . the story.. makes me feel very...... basically their relationship is very personal to me.

lyra is about 2-3 years older than toby.

frank's dad was in the vietnam war, his grandparents were in wwii, his grandparents in wwi, etc. so he went into military service right after marrying connie. for a long while, he was SUPER military strict. those kids were up, made their bed, and down for chores by 6am everyday. he made them do military time rather than civilian time. he was incredibly traditional, expected a perfectly clean household, a polite soft daughter, a strong bold son, perfect wife. he wanted the 1950s nuclear family model. so toby and lyra grew up in a very clean, strict, traditional household.

in my au, frank wasnt outright abusive until the kids were around 8-11. it was after he developed his addictions and lost his job. the kids really didnt understand what was changing at first, and legitimately were like 'omg dad isnt making us wake up at 5am everyday..... this is so cool'.

theyd start having sleepovers in eachothers room, slacking a bit on chores, going to sleep late, sleeping in. toby didnt develop his tourettes until he was around 7, so lyra and toby would walk home from their elementary school together. sometimes, theyd walk another friend home first, stop at convenience stores to get candy, pet a cat, etc. frank didnt say a thing for the first few months, just drunken grumbles along connies worried 'WHERE HAVE U BEEN'. if they weren't walking around the area, they were in the backyard playing soccer.

eventually the abuse began, and all of those little freedoms were quickly stripped from the kids.

toby developing tourrettes around this time was a painful coincidence, because not only did he experience abuse at home, but awful bullying at school. he was promptly pulled out after completing 3rd grade. he was only 8.

lyra would practically run home from school everyday, as fast as a 12 year old girl with a backpack could manage, just because she spent all 7 hours in school worrying about toby at home. connie had to start working to pay bills, so..

when toby was around 11 and lyra was around 13, toby started kinda just. being more distant. he was kind of a dick to lyra for a period of time, half because of everything he was going through, half because puberty is rough. his room started getting messy, lyra had to start picking up chores he was slacking on , etc. lyra isnt perfect and began to resent toby for this, and eventually, the two were kinda at eachothers throats for like 6 months. which isnt a lot, but for kids, its an eternity.

when franks abuse evolved from ''just'' verbal abuse, to shoves, to slaps, to full on beatings, toby started egging frank on. just to get him off of lyra and connie. obviously he couldnt feel it, and while it sure took a fucking mental toll, it was so much easier to just wait it out rather than listen to the girls cry.

lyra didnt even realize toby was doing this for a while, she just thought it was all part of him going through his little hormonal asshole phase, until one day frank made a fucked up comment about 'youre lucky that boy is always causing trouble. was supposed to be you'. then it kinda clicked and she very quickly tried to fix their relationship back to what it was.

frank eventually scared connie so badly that there'd be periods of time where she'd take the kids in the middle of the night, and run off to either her parents place, or even a random hotel in another city. she'd use cash, force the kids to keep their phones at home, leave literally everything behind and often make the kids pick out new toothbrushes at a random walmart. etc. it would only last a few days each time, and lyra fought so hard to stay strong while her mom cried and toby closed himself off.

she'd try to get toby to come to the hotel pools with her, try to get him to watch tv with her, try to get him to just fucking talk to her. he was often catatonic during these little runaways, once the confusion adrenaline and fear wore off

it wasnt until they went around a month without seeing their father, and frank had some weird fucking. 'those are MY kids too' thing and went to connie's parents house while all the adults were out, and forced the kids back home. this was the first time lyra was full on sobbing and begging and pleading in years. that was what shifted something in toby, too.

now tobys 13, lyras 15, and theyre on better footing. theyre starting to understand eachother. tobys back on keeping up with chores, knowing that either him lyra or connie was going to get beat if they were missed. sometimes he'd just silently come into lyras room and lay down and watch tv with her. they'd talk about books, about school, their trust was built right back up and toby ended up being the first to know about lyras school drama, gossip, boys, etc.

toby wasn't really socialized properly, since he's been homeschooled for 6 years by now. all the time, he'd hear lyras stories, and wish he could go to school. his mom would be horrified anytime toby asked, because all she could remember was her sweet boy coming home and crying into her arms after a day of being mocked and pushed around by peers.

so he began to live through lyra, in a sense ? he almost became a diary for lyra, and he kinda loved it. she was like a sitcom to him.

frank wasnt a good father by any means during this period, he was still awful, but he wasn't constantly looking for trouble. the kids kept to themselves, connie did everything she was expected to, he didnt give a shit about their grades or social lives. he couldn't even recgonize when lyra was coming home late.

lyra got her license the second she turned 16. the house had two cars, and its not like frank was ever going anywhere, so she was always going everywhere. she adored the freedom, and took toby wherever he'd let her. he only really left the house if he was going grocery shopping with his mom or something, so it was kinda weird now that he was just. going to malls. going to restaurants. going to parks. just Hanging Out. every now and again he'd stick around when Lyra was with her friends, but he didn't like them so it was rare.

sometimes theyd just drive together for a long time. at night, she was the one to take him to every hospital visit, she even got him to volunteer at a pet shelter she worked at for a bit. 3 years and they become so close again, and lyra is tobys best friend. she's his entire world because who else does he have ? he loves his mom, but she's married to the man he hates more than anything

toby was 16 and lyra was 18 when frank strangled toby till he passed out. thats finally when connie kicked frank out, forcing frank to go live on his moms couch. lyra was mortified and started spending an absurd amount of time with toby. she took online community college courses just so she could spend even more time with toby, and it didnt hurt to do so since frank wasnt there anymore. things were getting better for the family, frank was gone, lyra was in college, connie was working, toby was volunteering at shelters and even had a few acquaintances he'd talk to now and again.

lyra picked toby up from the shelter he volunteered at when the accident happened.

lyra and connie had matching silver necklaces with a circle pendant that had their initials. toby didnt cuz frank would get pissed if toby tried wearing jewelry, but when lyra died, toby immediately clung to it. he wears it religiously. the only time he takes it off is if he knows he's going to kill someone that day. otherwise, its always on him.

lyra died and was buried in colorado. toby lives in alabama now. so he really doesnt visit her grave often. only on her birthday, he'll scramble together some money and get brian, tim, and kate to agree to cover his uh. 'shifts' with slenderman, and take a few loooonnnggg train rides over to colorado.

he'll leave two bouquets of flowers. one for lyra, one for connie.

connie just feels in her heart that its toby. she has no reason to believe it, they've never bumped into eachother (toby's visiting at like 2am and falls asleep near the grave for a few hours), but she knows nobody else whos visiting lyras grave and leaving two sets of the same flowers.

toby and lyras childhood home was put on sale shortly after it was reconstructed from the fire, and connie moved in with her sister. lyras bedroom door was the only one that was shut and left unscathed after the fire (legitimately keep your doors shut if you ever have a housefire it can save entire bedrooms and even lives). the rest of the house was ruined, but not lyras room. connie kept every single one of her belongings, but she's put some photos out on the grave. tobys taken them, and connie believes it was him. again, she has no reason to believe it other than the flowers and 'why would someone take a photo of my dead daughter.'

anyway hi. in tears. i love them. sorry. i just retell their story over and over and get sad everytime

[inconsideratekidney]

11/3/24

holy guacamole. it's been a while.

here's something from one day i wrote about:

10/28/24:

i've spent so much time trying to act like i'm someone else. i want to have everyone else's styles instead of trying to embrace whatever i am. i need to just enjoy others' styles instead of wishing and yearning to be someone cooler, more nonchalant, stylish, confident, and put-together. i need to start saying that i like someone's outfit not because i wish i looked like them, but because i really enjoy their style and presence and wish for them to know they are appreciated even if it doesn't change the way they feel, just so that i can say to myself that i liked their outfit and am not envious of how they are confident and accomplished at embracing themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

growing up i always wished i was born asian or born into an asian family. i suppose having a japanese best friend whose house was really clean and family was super nice and house was cool and had 3 floors including a basement and really good snacks all the time made me want an asian family. i also assumed every japanese household was like that. i think i just wish my family was like that. who knows what my friend's family was like behind closed doors but my friend and her sister always listened to their mom and seemed to have a lot of respect for their chores and anything their mom asked. definitely not something i did....i was a good kid, i just never was able to do my chores. i also never had friends over bc we were embarrassed of our apartment when i was growing up. my mom was embarrassed and i aligned with that opinion since she wasn't happy with me having ppl over. she wouldn't let me, lets be honest, that's why i thought i didn't like it. i loved that apartment and all of its quirks, but she disliked it. so i disliked it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

having my own room across the hallway from my parents and my own bathroom is awesome. i definitely needed it for high school. in our old apartment, we only had one bathroom, one floor albeit, and i was content with that. i definitely needed my own bathroom and my own space away from my parents in high school, though. a door to slam, a bathroom to cry in at midnight, a bed to cry in at midnight far away from my parents, and a desk. for the love of all things i needed a desk in my own room that i didn't have to walk all the way through my parents' bedroom or through a living and dining room to get to. i also didn't have to put my phone away at 10PM in a separate room like i did in middle school. that was a huge perk. i could use my phone all night if i wanted to! it was my free will! i never have and don't think i ever will, though--use my phone all night or pull an all-nighter altogether.

i was close to pulling an all-nighter in first year of college, but i went to sleep at 6AM against what people advised me not to do. i turned out fine. had a shitty next day sleep-wise, but it was fiiine.

i guess i did technically pull an all-nighter in Greece, though, because of being jet-lagged. however, i don't count that since i napped and was in a different country with a time difference. it was not on purpose is my point, or wasn't my choice to say the least. we had to keep moving and make dinner reservations for crying out loud. my mother would not let us miss a reservation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i overheard a conversation on the bus [the other day]. one comment a girl made got me thinking about my own scholastic career--she was saying how as a third year honor student she feels kinda iffy or bad about not having joined any school organizations yet. i said to myself, i haven't either as a third year student, is that required for honors students or is she just saying that in general? i had no idea but it made me think of all the things i wish i would have accomplished by now. makes me wonder if ill feel like i succeeded at all of my goals for these 5 years.

looking back on this bit that i wrote last week, i have since decided that i will switch my second major to a minor because man this shit is hard. i don't care enough about research to pursue it that diligently. i would much rather have a minor where i can do all of the fun stuff and people can see that i have a minor in psychology and say, "oh, okay, she's cool, she's into psychology, but she doesn't have a degree so we can't expect her to do research as profusely." exactly what i want. i want a lower expectation or none at all. i do enjoy psychology, but it isn't really working out mental-wise or time-wise for that matter. i am going bonkers each and every day and i truly cannot waste my time like this for longer if i want to stay sane and also get my degree. i don't particularly know anyone who does stay sane throughout their entire scholastic career, though. it's a wonder.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hopefully i can be reevaluated for my ADD and actually figure out some resources within my own mind to help mitigate and manage my anxiety and racing thoughts. hopefully i will get to talk to a therapist and stop yapping the yap on here. i do enjoy writing very much, so i hope this is not eliminated. therapy isn't consistent and also won't cure me, so hold your horses cuz i'll still be here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i am so eepy. i felt bad for not posting this week because i really wanted to write this whole time, but i had wanted to finish all my late work and regular work before posting, but i still haven't finished my late work and it's sunday and i wanted to post this past week, so here you all go. it's not perfect and it's 5 days late. oopsies...but i am posting now because i enjoy it and wanted to give myself a little redo. i will do better this week, not because i have to, but because i want to. and you should too. all of y'all struggling like me, you got this and will continue to got this. we're all in this together. say it with me. okay now get to shleeping or waking up and getting your day going whenever you are reading this.

love you all,

goodnight,

kD ,':{> (mustache and eyebrows from when i was the lorax for halloween)

[neonbitemarks]

Like A Deer In The Headlights - Pt. 1

"6am? You're shittin' me, right?"

"Sorry, sweetheart. Last bus left a half hour ago. Ain't nothing else until morning."

Jolene looked defeated, though she wasn't going to blame it on the janitor at the bus station, the only person she found there after stepping off the bus that had brought her this far, having run away from home due to no longer being able to tolerate the situation between her and Waylon.

Muttering a thanks that carried on a sigh, she left the man to his duties before taking up a spot on a nearby bench, flopping down on it, and putting her head in her hands while she tried to figure out a gameplan that didn't involve sleeping on a bus station bench in an unfamiliar town.

The gas station across the street was still open despite the late hour as it was a chain-owned one that remained open 24/7, monopolizing any light night travelers passing through the area, including the late 2010's Ford pickup that was presently pulled up at one of the pumps and being refilled by one male while he conversed with two others that bore a reasonably strong visual resemblance that suggested they were related.

While the older two continued chatting, the youngest of the three had turned his attention to the scene across the street, noticing the petite redhead talking to the middle-aged man in overalls before she moved to the bench, the lost look on her face and the way she cradled her head giving away that she'd missed whatever connection she needed.

"Chase, are you listening?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Whatever."

Chase's brothers rolled their eyes at each other before following his gaze to the girl, then exchanging strong glances again.

"She's not our problem."

"I know, but it'd be a shitty thing not to ask if she needs help and then something happens to her."

Of course, little could be said in argument to that. After all, it was the middle of the night, there were several hours until the next bus, and this side of town wasn't exactly known for its low crime rate, but the brothers weren't in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress.

While this exchange took place, Jolene had gotten up from the bench and was crossing the street with the intent of buying some snacks and maybe some coffee to help keep her awake long enough that she wouldn't have to sleep on the bench, casting a brief, wary glance at the brothers as she passed by and entered the store.

"I'll go pay," Chase volunteered suddenly, moving toward the side of the truck closest to the store.

"Don't do anythin' stupid," Brennan, the middle oldest murmured, having caught the girl's scent as she passed. "She's a conflict of interest."

Ronan, the oldest and the one filling up the truck, eyed Brennan as he caught the emphasis on his words.

"What is she?"

"Best guess? Wolf hybrid. With what, I don't know, but it smells like somethin' that wouldn't play out well for us if shit went sideways."

Ronan looked back at Chase with a warning look, Chase acknowledging the risk but quietly weighing it up for himself before continuing to head toward the store.

"Where are you goin', Chase?" Brennan asked.

"Still gotta pay, remember?" the youngest brother replied, walking backward a few paces as he responded.

"Plus, I don't see the harm in just askin' where she needs a ride to," he added under his breath as he pushed open the door and ducked inside, knowing that Brennan would have heard his comment.

[dreamofbecoming]

ooh, this is a fun one! took me a bit, but i had a good time with this! tagged by the ever lovely @wren-of-the-woods

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Top 5 works:

pronounce my name aright definitely the shortest of all my posted works, but just as definitely the writing i’m most proud of. linking the tumblr version and not the ao3 because i think the original idea is one of the best things i’ve ever written, i still can’t find a single thing i dislike about it

pale shadows of forgotten names the piece that started it all! this one rotated angrily in my brain for weeks, buzzing like a hive full of hornets, until i caved and typed the whole thing out in the notes app of my phone in the middle of the night. it fell out of me nearly in one go, and the edits i’ve made to it since then are all pretty minor. it just sort of...sprung into being. considering i hadn’t written anything for this fandom, nor anything at all but a very short supernatural vent piece in over 15 years, it felt a little like being clubbed upside the head. but i was (and remain) deeply proud of it, and entirely flabbergasted by the reception. i probably wouldn’t be active in this fandom if i hadn’t written this one

sleep now, she pleads my first ever chaptered work, and one i am determined to finish if it’s the last thing i do, augh T_T it started off as a songfic, which i hadn’t done before, and it’s evolved well past its borders, and there’s a lot of character work and world-building involved that i’m pretty proud of. my brain is made of soup most days so it will continue to take time for me to finish it, but i have so much planned that i’m excited to share for this one!

this isn’t a breakup, dearheart, it’s a season finale this was the first non-canon au i ever wrote, and i had so much fucking fun with it. it’s so silly and i love it so much

our shadows that are bold sing this is not the best writing i’ve ever produced, but it was the first thing i wrote that had me giggling in delight the entire time. this is the dumbest, silliest, most absurd fun i’ve had writing anything in ages. this fic is my beloved idiot child and i would die for it

(listen i only have 6 posted witcher works, it seems cruel to leave bitten lips and broken hands off the list when i love it so much. i wrote this one all in one go overnight instead of sleeping, and i had to type the end on a screen blurry with tears because i made myself cry at 6am over these idiots, and i’m damn proud of it, ok???)

Top 4 current wips:

sleep now, for sure. i’m gonna finish this damn thing if it kills me

my potions 5+1, which involves competent!jaskier and everyone knowing they’re in love before they do

my banshee/siren hybrid au! this is the closest i’ve ever gotten to writing actual plot, and i have no idea if i’m going to be able to follow through, but i’m damn excited to try!

i’ve got a whole warren’s worth of plot bunnies, but a couple of dreamling fics i’m especially looking forward to, including one that involves dream’s biggest ptsd trigger being silence and hob getting to babble him to sleep

Top 3 biggest improvements:

learning to outline, rather than just flinging myself headlong off a cliff and hoping i land on some words that go mostly in order

brevity! i’m a wordy son of a bitch, part of the reason i’m so proud of pronounce my name aright is because i managed to cut it off without beating it to death. i have to keep relearning this one though lol

writing action- the banshee story is the first time i’ve really tried, but i know i wouldn’t have been able to write something like that a year ago, and i hope to keep improving

Top 2 resolutions:

fucking finish my wips dammit

i want to post at least 5 finished works this year. it might not sound like a lot but hopefully i’m going back to school, so i’ll be happy if i can manage 5.

Top 1 favourite line:

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I  do  actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

listen i know it’s more than a line, ok? but honestly this whole section is the thing i’m proudest of out of all my writing. it was one of those moments where you come up with a headcanon kind of on the fly and don’t realize until after you’ve worked the whole thing out that like, fuck. that seems like it could be like. objectively correct? anyway i am very rarely convinced of my own brilliance but this was one of those times.

allllllright tagging the usual suspects, i think, @dancingwiththefae @islenthatur @spilledbutter @podcastenthusiast @fangirleaconmigo and anyone who feels like jumping in!

[keefwho]

September 10 - 2024 Tuesday

10:17pm

4.5/10

The power was out on and off today and it was extremely irritating. I woke up in the middle of the night, scared in the pitch dark because I was half asleep. I got terrible sleep because of it and it came back at 6am. When I woke up on time, I knew I was too tired so I just plopped back in bed for however long my body would keep me there. I slept an extra 90 minutes which only did so much for me. The plan was to pursue a lighter schedule that would still get some work done but as I got out of the shower, the power went out again for a few hours. Then it came back again for a bit and I started making lunch. Halfway through it went out again so I had to finish my stew on my parents gas stove. It was out another couple hours until finally coming back on for good. My day had been ruined by this. With the power back, I had played Simcity 4 by myself for awhile to relax and decompress. I also kicked back and watched some Twitch. DS asked if I was ready to watch her play Hades and I was, I looked forward to it like movie night. I watched her for an hour until the presidential debate which we watched together. That went exactly how I thought it would: a child arguing with a normally functioning adult. I mostly respected how Kamala approached questions and rebuttals but it wasn't perfect. It was far superior to Trump who's speech pattern serves to try and rile me up but lacks real substance. It was refreshing to hear at least just a little bit of cohesion and passion. Im not too into politics though because of how immature the atmosphere has become. I think I would take far more interest if we had a more democratic voting system with greater options and we had candidates motivated by something more than power/party.

I'm wanting to re-determine what my definition of love is and what is smart of me to be on the lookout for. I know driven primarily by emotion, love has been that great elation I feel when things are new, exciting, and intense. I've been chasing that kind of thing for awhile and trying to force it to happen even. Its definitely part of the equation but I've grown wary of overdoing that part. I'm feeling more attached to the idea of love being slow, stable, loyal, and mutual. Its a state of being and its constant. I've always known this and advocated for the awareness of this stable kind of thing but secretly I've been motivated by the rush of quick, ever increasing highs. I love em but I've found that overdoing them gets old.

Im going to try and attend bingo with mom tomorrow I think. I'm a bit nervous mostly because I don't want to waste a night doing that when I could be spending it with DS which I know will be a great time. But this is how I felt when I wanted to do my 2 day VR experiment. From that I learned briefly the importance of space/moderation. Stepping back from anything can help you see the goodness in it so I think an evening out with mom trying something new could help remind me how special my usual evenings are. So if I'm afraid of wasting time, I shouldn't be. It will serve me in the long run either way. And maybe I can get some free wings out of it.

I really wanna get on this attachment book I'm reading with DS but she is unfortunately actually too busy to catch up at the moment. I'm at least going to finish chapter 1 and my comprehensive notes so I'm extra ready to discuss it.

[striving-to-be]

sometimes, i sit in boredom and i summon excitement. i think about how i get to try new things. how im in a city of my own choosing. an intern, busy enough to be useful and yet, not quite bogged down by the thought that this is the rest of your life.

and still. the first week was enough for me to know that 6am showers and 1 hour commutes and days ending at 9pm wasn't for me. at least, i know i need something more.

it's not quite about the productivity of my working day. maybe its more about what i do. but it's equally about what i do after.

capitalism hasn't made a workaholic of me, yet. somehow, it rewoke the urge to fill my life with things. a maximalist.

beginner size two skates. burnt rice. coffee at 9 pm because that's when your friend get's access to her mom's car. joining a curling club. hot chocolate and granola with preteens.

tutoring during the week. PD courses speed written. linkedin coffee chats. phone calls after work. snaps back and forth throughout the workday.

and yet i want more. something just for me. friday night ultimate, perhaps? or maybe volunteering.

and sometimes im scared and nervous and alone. and then i think about how, in the middle of finals, this is what i was looking forward to. the light at the end of the tunnel. being in a city, all by myself. the space that comes with living on your own. the quietness of your living area when you want it so. the way you know exactly what you're walking into. the way you get to set the mood for your day. the realization that yes, you are truly on your own. you have been, of course, all your life. but now, for the first time perhaps, you can feel it.

my friend back home. she called when i first moved, to remind me. 'how exciting is it? one day, you'll look back and say, 'when i was in ottawa...for work, yeah'. this is what we've been dreaming about.

skating. hockey. stand-up. cooking, midnight chai with that friend, who you weren't that close with, but now you're in the same city, and proximity makes friends of us all. reconnecting with old friends, and thinking, huh maybe i was better off. asking yourself, is this flirting?? whispered voice messages to that friend, you know which one, saying. 'i dont think this is good for me', 'i don't think i am ready', 'what's the point of dating if it's not going to be long term?'.

and hearing, after a beat, 'you sound happy'.

and then, realizing. it truly is not that deep. you can just choose to live life on easy. turn up the music when the bus is late. turn up the music when the bus doesn't show up at all, and why not just walk? dress warmly, always. check the weather, but of course wind chill makes a fool of us all. somehow almost two decades into this thing you call life you still don't quite get how its never been colder in -10C weather.

realizing that dating isn't that deep. that you really did put a high expectation on dating. and how serious and long term and perfect and committed it would be. and of course, a pat on the back for not jumping in. because, even though you didn't realize those were some high hopes to put on a partner, that you were more idealist than you thought, you knew that you weren't in a place where dating was for you. because you weren't quite done with forging your life. and though you were only a year in, and fucked up a little every day, you found you quite liked forging your own life. and you weren't ready to stop. but why should it? i think i get it a little more now, dating isn't about sharing your life with them. well at least not quite yet. it's going to be about making your own lives. and finding space in it for each other. i don't know if i can do that. i don't know if i want to.

but i think i get it a little more now. life's in the journey.

[startuplifedenver]

THE HOME BOY STRIKES AGAIN

BANGING POTS AND PANS AT MIDNIGHT?

It has happened again my friends, after several months of really good behavior the one and only HomeBoy was at his worst once again.

Now that the global show of the “World Cup” is in full swing and the games are happening late into the night for those of us in the US, the one and only Home Boy obviously is all about them’ games.

Nothing wrong with it: we even talked about it just yesterday when he was up and about at 6am half yelling because some idiot kicked a ball around the world and hit the goals bar instead of making it in.

To each its own.

But then came the night and right around 11pm he started cooking like if it was 11am. Opening and closing kitchen cabinets, opening and closing the microwave door, and banging pots, pans and utensils while cooking some GMO shit.

Even though Mr. Diz sleeps with earplugs it was loud and sharp enough in the middle of the night to wake him up cold. And off he went to tell this idiot that WTF is going on that he had just woken him up.

He was a bit taken aback, and mentioned not to beat the living shit out of the silverware moving forward. But the damage had been done and it was until about 3am and after reading, tossing and turning, and getting up at 2am to cook that Mr. Diz was finally able to fall asleep.

Only to wake up four hours later with a mild headache, dragon’s breath, and a fucking pretty bad attitude towards the day that was about to get started.

If the past is a mirror of what the future holds, then the same will happen at some point or another because this monkey is only getting started with the World Cup and the midnight cooking.

So to prevent further disruptions to the sleep patterns of our hero, how about with a calm and collected tone of voice remind him not to fucking cook at such ungodly hour or to be fucking extremely quiet during that time.

But again, the mirror of the past tells me that in the next month it will happen again. Hope to be wrong.

[aliendividedbyzero]

Okay, long explanation!

Questions 1 and 2

There's this thing called the Liturgy of the Hours. Presumably you know what Mass is since you're asking these questions, so: Mass is one kind of liturgy. Liturgy of the Hours is a different one. LOTH can be done daily. It's structured into "hours", which are chunks that you pray during different times of day. Currently the hours are:

Lauds - this is usually prayed around 6am, or in general in the morning when you wake up.

Terce - the 3rd hour (where 12 hours is from sunrise to sunset, historically). This corresponds roughly to 9am or midmorning, whenever that happens in your schedule.

Sext - from 6, the sixth hour, this is at midday.

None - 9th hour, this is at about 3pm or mid-afternoon.

Vespers - evening prayer, roughly 6pm.

Compline - before bed, it "completes" the day

Office of Readings - at any time of day, but this originally was done at night, like 3am or something?

So then all of these have a very similar structure that consists of a hymn, some psalms, some readings, a verse-response section based on the reading, and then a closing prayer. In Office of Readings, the readings part is longer than in the other hours, so you read a section of the Bible and an excerpt from a homily by a Church Father or saint, or an excerpt of patriatic writings, could be from Church documents, etc. Meanwhile for the other hours, the reading is usually just a short paragraph from the Bible.

Then, Lauds and Vespers have additionally a canticle from the Bible between the reading and response, and the prayer. The prayer section for Lauds and Vespers is also longer, so Lauds and Vespers are considered the major hours or most important. They're the hinges of the LOTH, and if you're only gonna pray part of the day's hours, you'd choose these two and omit the rest.

Compline, terce, sext, and none are all rather short, because they're prayed around the middle of the day when people are working or at night (compline) right before sleeping. They have shorter psalms, shorter hymns, no long readings, no long prayers, no long canticles.

LOTH is optional for Catholics except if they're ordained or religious, where they might be required to do this as part of their religious order's requirements.

Commons (QQ. 4 and 5)

Commons are basically the shared bits of a liturgy. So what I described previously, it's all got the structure and then the actual readings change by day. There's a cycle of readings for normal days according to the liturgical year, and then feast days (including for saints) have special reading that substitute that day's usual readings. So since there's a lot of feast days and not all of them have the same priority liturgically (and further, the priority might be higher depending on where you are), there's the commons. The commons are a set of readings and hymns that are used for whenever the feast day calls for it. For example, there's a bunch of Marian feast days but not all of them have their own readings. Instead, on Marian feast days you might have a sentence saying "Common of the Blessed Virgin Mary." and that tells you to take the hymns, psalms, readings, and prayers from the pre-set common, which is shared for all those feast days - hence the name, it's common to those days. If the feast day had its own readings and didn't refer to the common, then those readings are propers (proper-ty of that day).

Commons exist for LOTH and for Mass, but you're less likely to be aware of it during Mass because the readings aren't selected by you - the priest picks the correct ones and you hear them. If you have a printed, full missal, you'll notice this though.

Question 6

Anyone who goes to Mass will automatically hear the commons as needed, or otherwise whatever the correct readings for that day are. LOTH as I mentioned before is optional for most Catholics, so they wouldn't do office of readings or anything since those are part of LOTH. They could, and then they'd have to keep track of the feast days and switch to the commons accordingly. However, due to the optional nature of it, they could just ignore the feast days and use the original readings for that day.

Question 7

In my opinion, the differences are largely administrative and cultural. An Eastern Orthodox parish can become an Eastern Catholic parish without changing much at all. Pretty much the only difference would be that they now agree with the Pope. However, that's my opinion as a Catholic; Orthodox Christians seem to disagree and I don't really understand why, because every time I ask, it boils down to different words for saying the exact same thing.

Question 8

Can't answer this beyond pointing out Catholicism is a minority in the US compared to Protestantism, so you get mostly ethnic Catholicism (Irish Catholic, Italian Catholic, Hispanic Catholic) and a lot of bleedover from Protestant culture into Catholicism. Not the case where I'm from, though, since I'm Puerto Rican.

Question 9

It always was, and that comes from Judaism. That is, Judaism has always had that huge depth, and since Christianity came from Judaism, the depth is there in historical churches like Catholicism and Orthodox Christianity. The more you learn about both, the more obvious it becomes.

can someone PLEASE explain:

1) what the office of readings actually is

2) what the hours of prayer are

3) how 1 and 2 relate to each other

4) what the commons of (whatever) are

5) how 1 2 and 4 even relate to regular masses

6) why no one in a congregation seems to do these things despite them being mandatory

7) why orthodoxy and catholicism claim differences when theres SO MANY SIMILARITIES IM BASICALLY TRIPPING ON THEM

8) why did american protestanism basically corrupt how catholicism is practiced in america

9) when did catholicism get so terribly deep anyway

i might be jumping into the deep end to punch things straight into the brain

[crlsmmr]

LOVE LANGUAGES — SOUTH PARK

characters. kyle broflovski, clyde donovan, kenny mccormick, and stan marsh

warnings. nothing!!

note. ill make a detailed version soon!

KYLE BROFLOVSKI — ACTS OF KINDNESS, gift giving, QUALITY TIME.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC DETAIL. cooking for his s/o or friends, unexpected good morning / good night texts, searching about and getting into what his friends or partner are into so he can know or talk to them about what they're talking always about, staying up till 6am playing games

CLYDE DONOVAN — PHYSICAL TOUCH, gift giving, WORDS OF AFFIRMATION, QUALITY TIME.

SPECIFIC DETAIL. staying up on call until 3am, DRIVING AROUND LATE AT NIGHT WHILE BLASTING MUSIC, wasting your money at a carnival game trying to win a stuff toy.

KENNY MCCORMICK — PHYSICAL TOUCH, gift giving, gift receiving, WORDS OF AFFIRMATION, QUALITY TIME (or just. all of them.)

SPECIFIC DETAIL. 'this reminded me of you' texts, sending memes or calling in the middle of the night, jokingly flirting but it’s not actually joking, stealing eachothers clothes (though, its just him stealing his partners)

[michaelmilligan]

Endversetober Day 27: Smile

(explanation post) (compilation post)

“Hey, good morning,” Adam said cheerfully as he entered the kitchen.

Linda nodded at him while Kevin just blinked blearily, looking ready to fall over at any moment.

“Good morning,” Linda said, then fixed him with a look. “It's you, right?”

She tapped the list of names who were assigned to kitchen duty this morning.

“Yep, it's me. Don't worry, Michael is not setting foot in the kitchen again. I'm making sure of that.”

Not that I even want to, Michael grumbled in the back of his head while Linda and Adam smiled at each other, both remembering 'the incident'.

Then Adam's eyes fell back on Kevin. “You okay, Kev?”

“So early...” was the only thing Kevin said clear enough to understand. The rest was a garble of syllables and sighs.

“Oh, cry me a river,” Linda said, putting down a bowl of mushrooms next to Kevin. “Wash these.”

Kevin made a truly pathetic sound, but set to work, rubbing his eyes as he grabbed another bowl and trudged out towards the well to get water.

“I love that boy, but he's useless in the morning.” Linda sighed and gestured towards the array of food she'd already laid out on the table. “I wanted to ask you to do the actual cooking today, but seeing as no one else is here yet...”

Adam nodded. “I can do some peeling first,” he offered, much to Linda's approval.

Technically, she wasn't even on duty today, but you were hard-pressed not to find either her or Rufus (or both) whenever there was work to be done. Even though those two hadn't been in the camp for very long, they had quickly risen to be something like community leaders. Apparently, the camp had been a bit directionless after the death of its last 'commander', and the role of leader had been filled by people who didn't really want the job, or just saw it as an interim thing, since then.

Now there were Rufus and Linda, rising up to the task.

“You know, I think Kevin might work best in the evening and at night,” Adam said conversationally as Linda and him started preparing the food. “I've seen him at 2 am – he looked like he just downed ten Red Bulls.”

“Well, tough luck. He's not cut out to be a guard and there aren't many other tasks to be done in the middle of the night. So he needs to suck it up and work when it's needed.” Linda looked at him while systematically peeling a potato, which Adam thought was impressive. “You have no problems with kitchen duty.”

“Yeah, but I'm a morning person.” Adam shrugged. He'd often gotten up before 6am, even as a kid, so he could greet his mom when she had gotten home from work. She'd often chided him for it, but he'd seen her face light up whenever she saw him, and that had been totally worth it.

Amanda rushed into the kitchen, looking apologetic. “Hey! Sorry, am I late?”

“I think you're on time,” Adam told her. Linda and him were just regularly early.

Amanda threw him a smile, then sat down to help peeling and cutting – immediately breaking into chatter.

After Kevin had shuffled back from the well, he also joined them at the table. He got admonishments both from his mom and from Amanda, who kept telling him he was washing or cutting something wrong.

Adam mostly tuned them out. Work went on, and eventually he was busy stirring things in a pot and occasionally adding seasoning. So he stood with his back to the others when Amanda said: “You know you've got an unfair advantage with an archangel in your head, right?”

Even though he didn't turn around to see, Adam could just feel the admonishing look Linda gave Amanda.

“Yup, pretty much,” Adam said, aiming for light-hearted. “Though we're mostly human these days.”

“Isn't it weird, though? Having someone in your head?”

Maybe she should be less worried about other people being inside each other, Michael commented dryly, when she can't even get her boyfriend hard.

Adam covered his laughter with a coughing fit, turning away from the food. “Um,” he said eventually, “sorry, I swallowed wrong.”

Rude! he told Michael, but they were both mentally grinning. Erectile dysfunction is a very serious-

Michael interrupted him. He gets it on fine with Barbara.

Wh- Robert is-

Yes. And since Amanda doesn't lack the looks, I'm guessing it's her overboarding and controlling personality that's putting Robert off.

Christ on a cracker. Adam thought about it. I mean yeah, probably. But he still shouldn't be cheating.

You humans are all so weird about your sexual relationships. Like Rufus and Linda.

Adam stopped stirring the food. Um, you mean because of the sexual tension...?

I mean because of the sex they're having three times a week, but not acknowledging in front of anyone, Michael said matter-of-factly.

This time, Adam's coughing fit wasn't fake. When Linda threw him a concerned look, the turned away, face beet-red.

Oh my God. I mean, good for them, but holy shit.

You know, I'm not sure what to think about Gabriel's exploits, but at least he's not subtle or weird about them, Michael continued.

Adam just shook his head, grinning as he continued stirring the food.

It always took all morning to prep the meals for the day, not to mention to give the food out to everyone for breakfast and then lunch. Adam would be back to organize dinner in a few hours, though for the moment he was free to do as he pleased.

Which meant he went to the infirmary to see if he could help Raphael.

Working as Raphael's assistant meant he could not only do what he had been planning to do with his life – help people, cure illnesses, all that good stuff – but Michael could also hang out with his sibling, albeit in an indirect way as long as Adam was fronting.

When they stepped into the infirmary, though, there was yelling: “Stop it! Just- don't touch anything!”

Samandriel was kneeling in front of shattered glass, obviously having bent down to pick it up, while Raphael motioned him away.

“What is with you today? You're not usually this clumsy!”

“I'm so sorry.”

Raphael got a broom, but then only fixed Samandriel with a look.

“Wait.” Their eyes widened. “Are you the vessel?”

Alfie cringed. “I'm so so sorry, he didn't want to come out this morning and I thought-”

“Stop.” Raphael waved him off, then pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Hey guys,” Adam said, making sure to keep clear of the shards as he stepped into the room.

“Adam.” Raphael didn't even need to turn around to know it was him, not Michael. “Can you bring Sa- Alfie back to his cabin? I think he needs to rest for a bit.”

Alfie's shoulders drooped impossibly further.

“Sure, Raph. Come on, Alfie.”

Sighing, Alfie got up, and followed Adam out of the cabin, dragging his feet.

A few seconds of awkward silence went by. So far, Adam had mostly interacted with Samandriel, not so much with Alfie.

Eventually, Adam asked: “You said Samandriel didn't wanna come out today? Is he okay?”

Alfie opened his mouth, then hesitated, looking Adam up and down. Maybe thinking about how the first archangel, Samandriel's commander, was in there with him. “Uh, he... isn't really talking to me today.”

“But he's still there, right?” Adam asked, feeling both his own and Michael's alarm.

“Yeah, he's here. Just... I don't think he's feeling so well.” Alfie averted his eyes, looking guilty. As if he'd already said too much.

“Well, it must be hard to adjust to being... mostly human.” Adam was always careful not to phrase it too aggressively. Some angels were really touchy about being called human, Michael included.

I'm not touchy, Michael grumbled, but it was half-hearted.

“Yeah,” Alfie just said, then kept studying Adam out of the corners of his eyes. When they were almost at his cabin, he said: “Is it difficult for him, too?”

“Michael?” Adam smiled at Alfie as he nodded. “Oh yeah. Hella. I mean, he was the strongest of them, probably one of the strongest beings in the universe, and now...”

I'm doing fine, Michael huffed.

Yeah, I know, Adam appeased him, but I'm trying to make Samandriel feel better about himself.

You're not even talking to Samandriel.

No, but he might be listening.

Michael sighed.

Alfie was still nodding, looking thoughtful.

“Well, this is your cabin. Do you need anything? Have you eaten today?” Adam looked Alfie up and down. He was on the thin side, but didn't look starved.

“Yeah, we've eaten.” Alfie turned back to him after walking up to the cabin door. “Um, Adam? Thanks.”

Adam shook his head. He hadn't really done anything. “Just tell me if you need anything, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alfie gave him a small smile, then stepped into the cabin.

After looking at the door for a few beats, Adam eventually turned away, sighing.

As they made their way back to the infirmary, Michael commented: You're good at that.

Hm?

Making people smile. Is that what you humans call bedside manner?

Adam huffed. Someone turned to him in confusion, saw it was him, then nodded knowingly to themself.

Alfie isn't even sick. Well, I guess Samandriel might be depressed, Adam mused.

A lot of people here are. And yet you manage to cheer them up.

Are you trying to pay me a compliment? Adam asked disbelievingly.

It's just an observation.

Adam rolled his eyes. U-huh. Love you, too.

Michael was strangely silent at that, but they were back at the infirmary now, and Adam concentrated on Raphael. The ground was cleared of glass, and Raphael was back to fiddling with what little lab equipment they had managed to scrounge up.

It was still their goal to cure the infection, though they had even less of a chance without their powers.

“Hey,” Adam said as he stepped in, “you okay?”

Raphael just glanced at him, then nodded.

“You sure? You didn't cut yourself on the glass, right?”

Raphael pursed their lips. “It's nothing,” they said, curling up their right hand as if to hide the fingers.

Adam sighed. “Let me at least put a band-aid on it.”

It took some more coaxing, but eventually Raphael agreed, letting Adam bandage their hands. Despite it having been weeks, Raphael, like many angels, still sometimes forgot how fragile their vessel was now. They could have healed their own injuries, Adam supposed, but they preserved what little power they had left for emergencies.

“You were right, it's not so bad,” Adam chattered as he finished bandaging their hand. “That should be healed in no time. But next time, you can leave the cleaning up to me, yeah?”

“You need your hands, too,” Raphael said.

“Sure, but not as much as we need yours. If I can't peel veggies for a day, that sucks, but someone else can take over for me. We only have one of you, though.” Adam finished the bandage and smiled at them. “There. All done.”

When he moved to put the first-aid kit back in its place, Raphael said: “We only have one of you, too.”

“Hm?” By the time Adam had turned back, Raphael had their back to him.

“You're not as replaceable as you think,” they said, already heading back to their work station.

The corners of Adam's mouth ticked upwards. He wasn't sure if Raphael just meant the fact that he was housing their brother, but it was a sweet sentiment – which of course meant that Adam was flustered and didn't know what to say.

You even make Raphael feel better, Michael said thoughtfully. They don't compliment people easily.

Runs in the family, huh? Adam teased.

Michael was silent for a moment. It was a compliment, I guess. What I said before.

Adam sent him a wave of fake shock, smiling when Michael huffed and rolled most of his eyes.

They worked with Raphael for a while, or at least Adam did, until it was time to head back to the kitchen. Even though it had been an exhausting day without much progress, Raphael gave them a tired smile when they walked out.

I don't know how you do it, Michael said as they stepped out, the sky above them already dark.

There were only few lights in the camp, since both power and candles were hard to come by. Maybe it should have seemed desolate, but Adam was still strangely comforted by what little light and warmth there was, the memory of bundling up in blankets on cold fall and winter nights at the back of his mind.

What do you mean? Adam asked, licking his lips as he remembered the smell and taste of hot cocoa.

How do you keep smiling? How do you stay so positive despite everything?

Adam made a non-committal sound to buy himself more time. He could have told Michael about how he was used to keeping up a happy front when times were tough. How he'd comforted his mom since he'd been about five years old, when he'd first noticed her despairing about letters from the bank. How he'd always smiled at her when he'd told her it was fine they didn't see much of each other due to her work schedule.

How he'd often cried in his room when she'd been out, always making sure she didn't see his break-downs.

All of that would have been true. But as he looked at the people already lining up for dinner, some of them smiling as they saw him, all of that faded into the background. Adam smiled back at them, and then smiled wider when he saw Kevin's obvious relief as he entered the kitchen.

“Man, good that you're here! Amanda should have been here an hour ago and mom needed to go solve an argument somewhere in the camp and-”

Adam listened calmly, then got to work handing out food as he sent Kevin to fetch Amanda. Kevin gave him a small, thankful smile before he ran outside.

“Don't run, you'll trip!” Adam called after him, and some people in line chuckled.

“What?” Adam asked them, grinning. “You know him, he will trip.”

“Yeah, it's just... you act like his dad sometimes, but aren't you the same age?” Jerry asked.

Adam shrugged. He'd been born a few years before Kevin, but as far as 'time spent on Earth' went, Jerry was probably right.

“I feel older,” he just said.

“How old?” Jenny, Jerry's daughter, questioned. She was six years old herself.

“Hm, let's see,” Adam said as he poured stew into bowls. “I feel at least... twenty-one years old.” Technically, he was still nineteen.

Jenny gasped. “That's so old!”

“Right?” Adam grinned while Jerry shook his head in amusement.

“Thanks,” he said when Adam handed him two bowls. “Come on, Jenny, let's leave this old man to his work.”

As Jenny trailed after him out of the cabin, Adam heard her ask: “How old are you, daddy?”

Adam's face was starting to hurt from smiling, but he couldn't stop.

This is how I can stay positive, he said in his head.

Silly jokes?

No. I mean, yeah. But just... the people here. Everyone has their bad days, of course, but the people are the ones who keep me going. Adam kept giving out food as he spoke to Michael. That includes you, you know.

Me? Michael sounded surprised.

Yeah. You make me laugh. And you're... you know, you're here.

Well, I can't exactly help being here.

No, I mean... You're here for me. Or whatever. Adam blushed and hoped that people would blame it on the warmth in the kitchen.

Well. Michael sounded equally flustered. Um. Sure.

Huh. Adam had never thought he'd get an archangel all embarrassed.

Once again, he couldn't help but smile.

[obsessive-ego]

Just go with it part 2

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You have to meet juno and pretend you and bj are getting married

Nsft sorta, mentions of activity

Part 1

"Babes"

....

"Sugar"

...

"Y/n"

...?

"Y/n wake up, come on babes"

...!

"Beej?" You mumble rubbing your eyes "what's wrong?" You say in a whisper.

He doesnt respond, you turn on the lamp by your bed and check your phone clock

5:42am

You sigh, looking back at the demon, now being able to see him clearly, you freeze upon seeing that the demon was now completely purple, his hair, his beard, his tie, all deep purple.

"What's wrong?" You ask again, more fear in you voice then intended

"Okay y/n" he starts, using your name rather then a pet name was never a good sign "so you remember a few nights ago when that suit came by to see if I was lying about our relationship?"

"He's back?!" You sit up, more awake "wait... wasnt the repercussion to that not that bad? Just some extra work for you?"

Beetlejuice rubs his neck "yeah, thing about that, it's not him... my mother is here, to talk to you personally..." he trails off refusing to look at you

"Your mother...." you repeat feeling your stomach drop

"Yeah..."

"What's gonna happen if she finds us out?" You ask in a whisper

"...who knows with her" the demon spits before looking away.

The two of you remain in silence over the shit beetlejuice has gotten you into it.

Beetlejuice huffs out his nose as his focus goes back to you.

"So y/n, I mean honey~" the demon pulls you up from your bed and into a side hug "ready to meet mommy dearest?" Beetlejuice tried to smile, make light of the situation, but his hair betrayed him, remaining a deep purple, even though he tried his best to plaster a grin across his face for your sake.

You didnt know much about Beetlejuice's mother, other then she didnt exactly win mother of the year, beej only opened up about her a handful of times, long story short, you knew this was gonna be a rough experience for both of you, but mostly Beej.

Beetlejuice drops his jacket around your shoulders, pulling the same ring he gave you to fool the suit, the same tacky, pretty ring, the band was black and white, and resembled a snake, the gem was a brilliant green, your heart swelled at the sight of the ring.

The ghoul drops on one knee, and gently slides the ring onto your middle finger, pausing to kiss your hand before giving you wink, under different circumstances you would die from such a cheesy romantic gesture, but now was not that time, you did appreciate beetlejuice trying to lighten the mood.

"Alright honey, you remember the drill?"

"Yes"

"That's my future wife, let's not keep the bitch waiting" he smiles linking arms with you

Future wife...

You couldnt help but give the ghoul a soft smile at the thought.

Beetlejuice takes a deep breath, smoothing his hair back, wiping the purple away in favour of his default green.

The demon grabs your hand begins to lead you to your living room, you could barely focus over the sound of your heart pounding, who could blame you, you were about to come face to face with someone Beetlejuice was afraid of.

As the two of you head down the hall , she was finally in sight, you felt your stomach drop, in your recliner sat an old woman, dressed completely in red, she had a permanent scowl across her face, her whole presence give off a bad feeling.

"Lawrence, you took your sweet time fetching your fiance" she barked causing beetlejuice to flinch

"Ya know breathers, they like their sleep-" he forces a laugh, purple slowly creeping back into his hair

"Nonsense, it's nearly 6am, that's more then a reasonable time for breathers to wake and start their pointless routines" she waves off, beetlejuice frowns and leads you to the couch, where the both of you sit.

"Its been awhile huh Ma? Like I was saying earlier, it's nice to see you again and-" beetlejuice was babbling

"Zip it" was all she said and beetlejuice clamped his mouth shut and gazed down staring at his feet. "Lawrence, I didnt come here for pointless pleasantries" her eyes meet yours "y/n l/n I dont know what Lawrence has done to you or promised you, but I can assure you he doesnt care about you, and just wants freedom, further more Lawrence, do you honestly think this breather could love you? This game of yours needs to come to an end, there is alot of paper work tied up in this farce of yours"

You were taken back by her words, she really didn't beat around the bush.

"I dont-" you start, voice trembling

"Ma, y/n loves me and I love them, see~" beetlejuice grabs your hand to show his mother the ring, she eyes the ring for a moment, then goes bad to staring daggers into her son, her scowl never faltering.

"Tacky" she huffs, a simple response like that was enough to shut her son down, beetlejuice pulled away from you, pressing his back firm against the couch, lips pressed shut and hands clamped together in his lap.

"As I was saying, Lawrence is a natural born troublemaker, and youd be smart to back out of this farce before he gains life, knocks you up with a life ruining disappointment, and vanishes from your life" she droned as she lights a cigarette, taking a deep inhale, smoke shooting out from her neck.

You swallow hard.

"I would prefer if you didnt smoke in my house, ma'am"

Juno stares at you for a moment, then shakes her head as she puts out her cigarette on your coffee table.

"Ma'am I really do trust beetlejuice, and I love him, this isnt a farce-" you began, but your words were ignored

"If you want to throw yourself into a mess, I wont stop you, I'm not here to save you, but I have to applaud his efforts on tricking someone LEGAL this time for his little game. Even though this mess of yours is going to keep him out of my way for awhile, it doesn't cover the fact that Lawrence's efforts have caused my office nothing but work. And even if this "love" was real the boy ruins everything thing he touches, cant do anything right, having him around only causes headaches, you'll see soon enough y/n," Juno's hurtful words drone on, as if her son wasnt sitting across the table from her.

"Back to the matter, even if you do choose to marry this fool, I wanted to warn you about the mess your getting yourself into, giving him life would only cause you grief, and I dont want to hear it when you get to the netherworld after a suicide his actions caused"

You grit your teeth at that last remark, you knew juno thought poorly of beetlejuice, but did she honestly thing her son was so awful that youd kill yourself over his actions, you felt like you were going to be sick.

"Lawrence, why is your hair purple?"

You glance over to beetlejuice, who infact was completely purple, the deepest purple you've ever seen him wear.

Beetlejuice bites down on his lip, his hands clenched in fists as they sat on his thighs, he was frozen.

"Bee?" You gently whisper as you slowly place a hand on his, the ghoul flinches at your touch, beetlejuice slowly takes your hand in his and gives it a light squeeze.

"Come on Ma, y/n my be dramatic, and get mad at me from time to time, but they'd never kill themselves over anything dumb I'd do, and hell we already talked it over, we dont want kids" the ghoul leans into you for support.

Juno scowls "to remind you both, I'm not here to stop you two, the only thing I'm here for is to warn this foolish breather, and double check to make sure YOU arent mucking about and blackmailing the living again, there is a lot of paper work involved in this little game of yours, and you still havent delt with the paper work of your failed marriage and death by the hands of that poor child you tricked" her eyes narrow down to beetlejuice, juno pauses, then sighs

"Lawrence just come clean, this little game of yours has gone on long enough, even if you didnt blackmail this poor soul into marrying you, do you honestly think they love you? You dont actually think this breather wants you around do you?"

"That's not true, I do-"

You werent able to finish that sentence, with a snap of juno's fingers your mouth is now cover with a strip of duct tape.

"You've honestly fooled yourself into thinking you could be loved didnt you? Pitiful, maybe this breather found you amusing now, but you dont think it's going to last do you?" Her questioning goes on, she was convinced her son was unlovable, you tug away at the duct tape but it refuses to budge, beetlejuice was too focused on his mother's words, to the point where he was starting to believe her, the purple slowly faded from him in favour of white, a color you've never seen on him.

"Lawrence you're little game is over, and you're going to clean up the mess you made, I have a decade's worth of paper work for you to fill out over this farce and every other little issue you caused, I knew from the start this was fake, no living person in their right mind would let you into their life willingly"

A decade's worth of paper work?! Was that so important that she was willing to manipulate her own son into thinking he was worthless?

"Lawrence you are such a screw up, the amount of work your little games keep giving me is coming to an end, you will never be alive, you will never be loved, let alone tolerated, and you are coming back to my office to straighten up ever little issue you have caused, if you think being invisible for a millennia is bad-" she raises her voice with each hateful word.

This duct tape wasnt going to budge, so you went with plan B, you roughly bump into the demon's side to get his attention, beetlejuice looking your way, your eyes grow wide at his expression, he was crying, black gooey tears. The two of you stare at each other what felt like an eternity, Juno's voice no longer reached him, beetlejuice snaps his fingers and the duct tape vanishes from your mouth.

You jump up from you position on the couch "I'm sorry ma'am  but bee- Lawrence isnt worthless, and yes, he can be an ass, and insensitive at times, but I love him and I really do want to marry him! And whatever stupid paper work that is tied up in this, can just fuck off..." your voice tweaks as the ghoulish women sitting across from you stands up, eyes dead set on you.

You werent great with confrontation, and beej knew this, but here you were talking back to his mother, you  his tiny sweet breather talking back to a literal monster. The white from Beetlejuice's hair quickly left in replacement to pink 'I really do want to marry him!' Those words from your lips could have made his heart start beating , tho that was shortly lived when he saw this mother stand, purple took hold of his form once again.

He couldnt let you fight his mistakes alone, though he found it hot that you could be his knight in shining armor.

No, beetlejuice is quick to jump up and link his arm with yours "see ma, this little breather stole my heart, and hell, we've been planning our little wedding for months" beetlejuice snaps his fingers and in a flash his and yours clothes change. Beetlejuice wore a red tux made with crushed velvet, with a lacy front, his whole outfit screamed tacky, but that was him. Looking down at your self, you stifle a laugh, here you were, 6:30am, dressed in a red puffy lacing monster of a dress, in all honesty this wouldnt be your first choice, but now was not that time. Beetlejuice pulls you close, you could swear he could hear how hard your heart was pounding, could you blame yourself? He looked so handsome all dressed up, even if this was fake.

"My, my Lawrence, doesnt that dress look familiar, isnt that the dress you forced that poor child to wear the last time you played this game?" his mother sneers

"Its called a call back, and y/n loves it" he sneers back you nodded in agreement, beetlejuice continues "we're still working on a venue, trying to find a band, believe me, planning a wedding is exhausting, and oh! dont be surprised if your invite gets lost in the mail ma" the demon gives a shit eating grin, you smile seeing beetlejuice has gained SOME confidence back.

"I have no interest in attending your little wedding Lawrence" she spat "it's clear you're not going to budge, and still refusing to take responsibility for your actions, you always were a slacker, and if that's the case, once you die again you will be returning to my office to deal with the mess you made" her focus turns to you "or I could end this little charade by killing your ticket to life"

Your heart stops at her words, she was a demon, Beetlejuice's grip tightens on you, the silence must have been hurting him as much as it did you.

"But I wont, itd be too much a hassle ending a life before it's time"

You sigh in relief, and beetlejuice loosens his grip.

"This will end poorly for the two of you, and I dont want to hear it" juno walks past the two of you, and with a gesture of her hand the livingroom wall opens up to reveal an office full of the dead.

"Lawrence before you join the living I need to deal with one last errand, so I will see you later, and you" Juno's boney finger points to you "you have no idea what you've signed up for" and with that she was gone, the wall closes up as if nothing happened, the two of you collapse on the floor

"Shes gone" you sigh, you've never been more scared in you entire life then you were talking to Juno

"So you like your future mother in law?" Beej jabs you side

"Oh yeah, a delight" you snort, "how long do you think we have before she notices we havent gotten married?" You tone shifts to a more serious note

"No clue, guess you'll actually need to marry me now" he pulls you into a side hug

"What?" You stammer, beetlejuice laughs at your response

"HA! Just pulling your chain there doll, theres no way in hell she's coming back to check, if I know that Bitch shes going to file away those papers for me, there's no way she'll let them just sit there for who knows how long, and this time next week she'll be harping about something else" beetlejuice stands up and pulls you up with him as he sees you struggling to move in that dress, as you raise to your feet you mumble a thanks.

"You know beej, you really do clean up good, I mean, you look very handsome all dressed up" you smile, now that that two of you were safe, you felt it was the right time to say it.

The purple in the ghoul's hair quickly vanishes at your kind words and is replaced with pink.

"Well you know doll, the tux suits me, but it looks even better on the floor, you'll see on our honeymoon~"

"Is that so?"

"Dont believe me? I'll show ya right now baby~" the ghoul pulls you close pressing his chest against yours, as fun as this little exchange was it came to a halt when you yawned.

"What a way to start a weekend, early and terrified, I think I'm gonna get a few more hours of sleep" you grumbled rubbing your eye "you mind helping me out of this dress?" Beetlejuice goes wide eyed at your question, in a flash his hands were groping for the zipper on your back.

"Naughty minx" he purrs before you swat his hands away

"I ment with magic" you breath out, you may be tired, but your genitals were now wide awake.

Beetlejuice grumbles as he snaps his fingers bringing you back into your pajamas and him in his suit.

"Thank you, I guess this wouldnt be good night, see you in a bit" you shrug as you head to your bedroom to get a few more hours of sleep, you glance back at beetlejuice, who was purple once again, you frown

"Beej do you want to sleep with me? I mean you dont need to sleep, I just thought maybe, you wouldnt want to be alone right now?" After seeing his mother maybe he could use some comfort.

There was a long silence as the demon only stares back at you, you panic

"I'm sorry, that was stupid, I'll just, uh, see you in-" you babble as you spin in your heels eager to get away from this embarrassing situation. Before you could hide away in your bedroom you feel the dicey grip if the demon's hand on your shoulder, and in a deep gravely voice he purrs

"Isn't it normal for a husband and wife to sleep together?~" 

you honestly felt a shiver run up your spine.

The ghoul, now only in a pair of boxers has now cuddled up to you  his legs intertwined with yours, his arms wrapped around your waist, hand rubbing up and down your back, and head nuzzled into your chest, the demon now pink, purred feeling your hands scratching his scalp, his mother was wrong, you did love him, truly and unconditionally, maybe not now, but soon, he will marry you.

Bonus

It's been days since you met his mother, and it seems like beetlejuice has been back to stop caring about it, but sometimes you see him just staring off into space.

The ghoul had only one thing on his mind, replaying the memory over and over, of you shouting "I REALLY DO WANT TO MARRY HIM!"

[mandoalorian]

sensational

Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: Maxwell is away on a business trip for work, and you’re missing him more than you anticipated.

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+ smut; guided masturbation, male masturbation, female masturbation, light degradation, edging, orgasm denial, phone sex, long distance after care 🥺

Authors note: I’ve missed writing. So here’s a little something for Maxie cuz I’ve missed him too :( <3

Maxwell had only been gone sixteen hours. He left at 6am, and it was currently: you rolled over to check the time on your bedside alarm clock. 10pm. You frowned, pulling the crushed velveteen blankets up to your chin. He was probably fast asleep now anyway— after the flight and a long day proposing business scheme after business scheme.

You missed him a lot. He promised to call you every morning and every night, so long as he wasn’t swamped at the office. That was his promise and truthfully, you thought you’d be okay. He was only due to be away for a week. You knew a lot of other long-distance couples had it much worse. But being alone in his big suburban house was more isolating than you had ever even considered. It felt empty without him, and it didn’t feel like home anymore.

At least tomorrow you’d get to see Alistair, so that was a plus. You mentally groaned as you remembered how you were going to have to visit Maxwell’s ex-wife in order to pick up his son. She didn’t seem to like you all that too much, and to be honest, you could probably do without the chore of visiting her every Tuesday evening and putting up with her crap. It would be okay though. Alistair was worth it.

Your mind wandered back to your boyfriend. Your smart, handsome and powerful boyfriend with the honey coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was always soft and warm— and a fantastic lover. Not only he was an excellent businessman, but he was also a brilliant father and a wonderful partner. He really was the perfect man for you.

You smiled wickedly to yourself as you remembered last night, and the antics you had both gotten up to before he had to leave in the morning. It was a long, passionate night. Your fingers ghosted over the love bites and bruises that were peppered across your neck and collarbones, and you gasped at the memory, a familiar heat rushing down your body.

If only he was here now… you two could’ve done it all over again.

Your glazed eyes flicked up to the telephone that was on your bedside table. You must’ve been staring at it for a good few minutes, contemplating things. Maxwell had scrawled the number to his hotel room down on a card before he’d left… just in case of an emergency.

You dipped your hand down to your cunt and felt your breathing hitch as you gathered all your slick on your fingers. You hadn’t realised just how wet you’d become.

Just call him. The devil on your shoulder urged. If he was sleeping, you certainly didn’t want to wake him but… surely there was no harm in an innocent goodnight call. At least then, you could hear his warm voice and his articulate words.

Maxwell Lord had you whipped.

Sighing, you took the phone from the hook and dialled his number. He answered on the first two rings.

“Hey honey,” he had a tired lilt to his voice, but just the depth and richness of his tone was enough to set a blaze in your tummy. “I was just about to go to bed,” he continued. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

Yes, his voice was giving you everything you had desired, and more.

You swallowed thickly, your finger tracing lazy circles over your clit. “Mm couldn’t sleep. Was thinkin’ bout you.” you revealed, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. If you could get off to his voice alone, without having him notice what you were doing, that would be perfect. If he did catch on that you were touching yourself without his permission though… that would be a different story. “Miss you.” you exhaled, your eyes snapping shut.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” Max sighed, and you could faintly hear him shuffle around in his bed, the sheets making a fuzzy noise on the other end of the line. “What— what were you thinking about?”

The question was a trap. You knew Max all too well. He was right to have his suspicions.

You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, and you tried to repress a longing whine as your finger involuntary picked up speed, like some kind of reflex reaction to his question. “S-stuff,” you stammered out when you felt your fingers begin to dampen and slip between your folds. But ‘S-stuff’ was hardly going to be good enough for Maxwell. You dipped two fingers inside you, surprised at how well they were stretching you. “Mm— Max, miss— I miss—“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, already close to pushing your first climax out.

“Princess?” Max asked. “You there?”

Your response was delayed but was followed by a stifled moan that wasn’t lost on Max whatsoever. “Need you.” you gasped out, dropping the phone to your pillow by your head so you could use your other hand to rub yourself.

The friction of your digits rubbing against that sweet spot and the way your index finger and middle finger curled up inside of you was too much. You could feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh,” Max omitted knowingly, unable to contain the small smirk that was crossing his lips. “Oh baby.”

He felt his cock twitch from the faint little whimpers you were making, and he slid his hand under the waistband of his light grey sweats, freeing his already semi-hard erection.

“Tell me princess,” Max hummed. “What ‘stuff’ were you thinking about?”

Fuck. You wanted to curse. He knew. He clearly knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice; probably thinking you were needy and desperate. But you were. You really were and you’d give anything just to feel his hands on you right now.

“S-so much,” you answered, trying your hardest to collect your thoughts for him. “Undressing me. Caressing me. Mm, you playing with my tits like you always do. Kissing them— sucking them. Biting…” you reluctantly pulled your finger from your clit and began to palm at your breasts. “Come home.”

The two words were practically begging him. You ached for him. Your entire body was burning with arousal and you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.

You knew it was a stupid request; and that he couldn’t just ‘come home’. But if you could have one wish— it would be for him to be on top of you right now, smothering you with kisses and whispering dirty little words into your ears.

“M-Max?” your voice was broken as you continued curling your fingers inside of you.

His fingers were wrapped around his own length now, pumping it as he imagined you sprawled out, naked on his king-sized bed. The grey sweats and white shirt had been long discarded onto the floor.

“I’m right here baby,” he assured, gathering the beads of milky white precum and rubbing it up and down his cock. “I’m here. Why— why don’t you take my pillow and grind your pretty pussy over it hm? I know you can get off like that, you dirty girl.”

Another uncontrollable whine omitted from your lips at his light degradation. You followed his orders, knowing better than to disobey. Taking his pillow, you got on your knees and positioned it in between your legs, holding the phone to your ear as you began to thrust your hips.

You imagined it be his lap. You’d rubbed yourself over his thighs plenty of times, making a mess of his designer pants and creating stains not even the drycleaner’s could remove. His pillow still vaguely smelt of his apple scented shampoo and it only spurred you on even more.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” Maxwell grunted. “My pretty girl. What are you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure rifed through your veins. “I’m your pretty girl.” you confirmed, feeling your cheeks heat up when Max chuckled.

It was a sensation overload— and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last. Maxwell knew too, judging by the way your moans picked up and became jagged. “God— Ma-Mmm—Max,” your thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled as you increased your pace. You wanted to feel something inside of you again. Your fingers or a dildo or— something, anything. But you weren’t even sure if you’d get the chance. “I’m so close,” you warned. “Gonna— gonna cum—“

“No,” Max said darkly, his voice having lowered an octave. “Roll on your back princess, and pull the pillow off you.”

You wanted to cry. You knew he always liked to play these games.

“B—but,” you choked out, wanting to finish and reach your orgasm.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He was using that scary business voice. The one you often overheard when he was on the phone with partners or associates. Reluctantly you pulled the pillow away from your weeping cunt put it back in its place.

“O-okay,” you mused, wiping the tears that had pricked at the corner of your eyes as you changed position and got comfortable on your back, just like he’d instructed.

“I wish I was with you sweetheart, wish I could fuck your little pussy. How wet are you?”

“Very.” you replied exasperated, desperately waiting for him to let you touch yourself again.

“Show me,” Maxwell smiled wickedly. “Move the phone in between your legs and finger yourself. I want to hear you.”

You frantically followed his instruction and inserted your two fingers inside of you, pushing them deep and curling them upwards so they hit that hot, spongey sweet spot. Your legs were shaking and your back was arched over top of the satin sheets as you panted your boyfriend’s name.

Max was more than thrilled to hear the squelching wet noise that echoed throughout the comfort of yours and his shared bedroom, with every thrust and curl of your fingers. It felt good but… it just wasn’t him.

Now his own broken gasps were audible. You loved to hear him. He always got loud when he was close. That’s how you knew he was about to finish. “So— so good. Sweetest cunt in the whole fuck—fucking world. When I come home I— gonna fuck you so hard.” he promised in between shaky breaths.

Your lips curled into a grin and you arched your back as your slick dipped down the softness of your inner thighs. After all the edging and over stimulation, there was no way you were going to last. This was exactly what you wanted; Max may not have been physically there but his voice alone had always worked wonders.

“Can we— can we cum togeth—“ your request was fuzzled by the way you buried your head into your pillow, feeling a warm flush of heat race to your core.

“Yes,” Max cut you off impatiently. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think I can hold it—“

“You can baby, you can. I’m going to count down from three and we’ll cum together. Okay?”

You were a screaming sweating mess at this point, and his countdown couldn’t have felt any slower. Three seconds felt like three years as you mustered all your will to obey him.

“Three, two, one—“

He didn’t even say zero. The countdown was followed by a long groan falling from his lips as his milky white seed spilt all over his fist and his tummy. His cry pushed you over the edge and you released your own climax, spasming and shaking on his side of the bed.

You curled up under his sheets, still shaky, and pulled the phone back to your ear. “Hi,” you whispered sheepishly. “That was good.” you bit down on your lip, smiling to yourself. Your own voice was a little hoarse from all the moaning and whimpering.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling himself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” you admitted with a huff, relishing in his cologne scented blankets.

“Wish I was there to clean you up,” Max sighed, and for a split second, he pondered the consequences of catching the next flight home.

He always took care of you after sex, paying a meticulous amount of detail to how you acted after your moments of shared intimacy. He’d fetch you water and wipe away any mess with a warm wash cloth. Sometimes he’d even help you into some cozy pyjamas or one of his shirts.

“I can go clean myself up, don’t worry about me,” you hummed in contentment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect baby,” he grinned “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I can let you go—“

“No,” you cut him off, clutching onto the phone not wanting him to leave. Yeah you’d missed the amazing sex but truthfully, you’d missed him the most. “Can we uhm, can we just stay here on the phone together? Fall asleep together? I— I want you to be there when you wake up.”

Max hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t see a problem with your request. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful idea.

“Yeah, of course honey,” he replied softly. “I’m gonna go wipe myself down. You should do the same.”

“O-okay,” you sniffed. “I love you. I won’t be long.”

When you returned, Max was already waiting for you. “Princess?” he called, when he heard you shuffle back into bed.

“Hiya,” you giggled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m sleepy.” you admitted, your statement followed by a yawn.

Max chuckled. “Has my girl worn herself out?”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Yeah.”

“Okay sweetheart, let’s go sleep.” Max hummed, resting the phone by his pillow and closing his eyes.

“Okay, good night Maxie.” you mused softly.

“Good night honey.” He returned, before you both fell asleep.

——————

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[stay-tinystars]

It's 3am....

Ship: Chan x reader

Established relationship, non-idol au, fluff, slice of life, college/adult life au

Warnings: slightly suggestive, small kisses, sneaking out.

Word count: 1,184

Please enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Hey, are you awake? 2:58am

---Chan, do you ever sleep??? 2:58am

Well I guess that answered my question. Come outside 2:59am

---It's almost 3 am…. 2:59am

I know, just come outside 2:59am

---I'm in my pj's 3:00am

So? 3:00am

---I'm in my bed 3:00am

And? 3:00am

---It's warm. 3:01am

---Why do I have to come out?? 3:02am

You have to come outside and see. 3:02am

You groaned as you slid out of the warm covers. The cold floor felt jarring against your bare feet, as you stood and wrapped a blanket around you. You quietly made your way to the front door, trying not to make a sound so as to not awaken your roommates. Silently slipping on some shoes and quietly exiting your apartment with your phone and keys. You shut the door and locked it behind you hoping you didn't wake anyone. You didn't want to try to explain why you once again broke the rule of leaving or entering the apartment between 1am & 6am. One of the many weird rules of your roommates.

It was almost 15 past when you made it down to the entrance of the apartment building. You quickly looked around the quiet dimly lit street as you exited. The cool night air penetrating through the thin blanket wrapped around your frame.

"You came." Chan sounded far too awake for this time of night. You looked to the right as you finished defending the stair. There he was, leaning against the building in his usual attire. Black hoodie and black pants.

"What's going on Chan?" You asked as he withdrew from the wall and walked up to you.

"Well, I had this idea…." his voice trailed off as he softly grabbed part of the blanket and encouraged you to walk with him.

"Chan, what is your idea?" You pulled your blanket free from his grasp, then placed your hands on your hips, trying to see stern as he looked at you. Silent laughter seemed to trace his expression as he looked at you, a small scowl, in your pajamas, with a blanket almost acting as a cape. He stepped closer, eyes bright with mischief.

"Follow me" he smiled as he reached for you, this time placing an arm around your shoulders.

"That's not an answer Chan. Now how far are we going?" Your question hung in the air for a moment before he responded.

"Not far." He gave you a slight squeeze as he guided you down the sidewalk. After a block you knew where you were headed, a smile crept on your lips as Chan directed you through a small opening between some bushes. At night the small park looked very different, shadows being thrown in odd directions from the street lights, but you still recognized the gazebo. That same gazebo where Chan kissed you on the second date, the same one where many small but significant things happened between the two of you. As you both approached the structure you saw a pile of pillows, and a blanket laid out.

"Chan, what is this?" You asked as the two of you stepped up into the small white gazebo.

"I came here to think because I couldn't sleep." He shrugged as he sat atop the blanket. "Actually I come here a lot when I can't sleep. But tonight I thought why not share this with you. You are the reason I love this place." He smiled, patting the ground beside him. You obliged, and sat beside him, then leaned onto his shoulder. His arm resumed its spot around you as he rested his head upon yours.

"How often are you here?" Your question hung in the air as he shifted, laying down among the pillows, encouraging you to follow his lead. By his silence, you knew the answer, he came here far too much, but he didn't want you to worry. You shifted so your head rested on his chest. His arm tightened around you, his mindlessly drew circles on your arm, with his fingers. You could feel his steady breathing, the thump of his heart constant, almost lulling you to sleep.

"Y/N?" His voice soft, you hummed a slight response as you lazily looked up into the maze of white beams above the two of you. "Have you ever wondered what life would be like if we lived together?"

You knew he got very philosophical late at night, he often asked about things you wondered about when you would spend the night. Tonight however you started to wonder if this question was his way of asking you to move in with him. You'd been together for over a year, spent the night at his place a few times a month. However you hadn't ever discussed the next step. "I have, actually." You softly spoke as you looked up at him. "Truth be told, I've thought about our future a lot" you felt the slight heat spread across your cheeks at the small confession.

"What have you thought about?" He wiggled his brows as a smirk spread across his lips.

"Living together, marriage, pets, maybe even kids." You looked away staring past the railing of the gazebo into the dark landscape.

"Kids, hmm, I like the thought of having a few little Y/Ns running around" he placed a hand under your chin, making you look at him, as he shifted. Bringing his lips to meet yours, the feather soft touch was innocent.

"Chan, why did you bring me here?" You asked as you separated. He rolled onto his side to face you, his arm still around you.

"Well I figured what place would be better to ask you to move in with me. This is the place where we first kissed. This is where I asked you to be mine, and I wanted it to be the place you agree to furthering our life together. Plus if you move out with me I won't have to try to sneak you out without your roommates knowing." He smiled as he pecked your lips again.

"They aren't that bad. They just have weird rules" you smiled.

"Well I think your new roommate wouldn't have weird rules." Chan smirked, as he wrapped his arms around you completely, bringing you closer to him. Your bodies flush against each other.

"Well I'm pretty sure my new roommate keeps weird hours, and apparently sneaks away to a local park in the middle of the night." You smiled as you booked his nose with your own.

"I doubt your new roommate would sneak out much after you move in. Though he might sneak into your room when he can't sleep." mischievous lust danced behind his eyes as he bit his lower lip. You chuckled softly as you cocked an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

"That would make us far more than just roommates Chan." You smiled.

"Well, we already are more than roommates." you felt the smile on his lips as his lips met yours again in a passion driven kiss.

[miamlfy]

Gryffindor Scum

A/N: WOOH PART THREE IS FINALLY OUT! There was so many ways I could have written this part and I actually rewrote it a few times. This part is more centered on Draco rather than the reader but I guess this series is mostly on Draco. Feel free to give me feedback/ideas!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Summary: Draco has an unwelcoming experience with Blaise and Pansy. 

Warnings: Implied depression, Pansy, and a few swear words. Perhaps spelling/grammar mistakes as well. 

Word Count: 1,9k

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Enjoy!

(Not my gif, credit to whoever made it)

Draco laid wide awake on his bed, staring onto the ceiling. He spent hours tossing and turning, just wanting to fall asleep just like everyone else in the house, however, his body refused to shut down. Draco continued to glance down to Harry’s muggle alarm clock he had on his nightstand, 3:46am it read. He let out a sigh, your mum wanted everyone up by 6am. So much for a good night’s rest, he thought to himself. 

His stomach was filled with the nervous feeling, his whole life had changed for him during the summer and he knew life at Hogwarts would also change. If someone told his past self that he would be dating a half blood or better yet living amongst Gryffindors, he would’ve laughed in their faces and told them to fuck off. Draco would have never imagined that this would be his life now, not that he hated it. He loved it, every second of it. He loved being in a household which held warmth, love, and security. He loved having parental figures that asked him on the daily if he was okay but most of all, he loved having you at his side. 

You were there for him for anything he needed the minute he stepped foot into your house. At first, Draco was scared your relationship would have declined when he moved in but instead it got stronger and the love was blooming more than ever. They spent many nights together alone, talking about the present and the future. 

“If I become a professional Quidditch player and you a healer, you can help with any injuring I get.” You said while picking on the grass you were laying on. 

Draco chuckled besides you, “I’ll also be on the stands cheering you on and being the loudest there.” 

Those moments the two of you had are what kept Draco going. You were his world and his yours. He got so used to spending each day with you that he wasn’t sure if he’ll be the same spending less amounts together at school. Now, Draco wasn’t much of the clingy type but after living in the same house for almost three months only to go back to school and being separated by house rivalry but going to take its toll. 

Draco scoffed to himself, whoever created such things and made him believe them were children, he thought. House rivalry was nonsense. Draco looked over to the clock once again, not much time has passed since he last checked it. He rolled onto his side and decided to at least get some sleep to avoid being an awful mood the in the morning. 

Draco was woken up by the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. He looked over to Harry’s bed to see it empty and unmade, no doubt already waiting for the delicious delights Lily was cooking.

Draco was still getting used to seeing a human cook rather than house elves. Lily wasn’t the only person who cooked in the Potter household, he also learned that you, along with Harry were taught some things. James, however, was often kicked out of the kitchen after his many, many, failed attempts on cooking. 

He got up from his bed and quickly made it along with Harry’s. Although your twin brother was fully capable of making his own bed, Draco hated a messy room and often opted into making your brothers bed. Heading downstairs, he saw your luggage packed and ready to go by the front door. Lily made the three you do it the night prior. 

“Ah, he’s up.” He heard you say, you stood on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek. You always complained about your shortness to him, and how it wasn’t fair the Harry got the tall gene. 

“Come sit down, there’s pancakes, eggs, and bacon on the table already. Help yourself.” You said to him. 

Draco nodded and took an empty seat next to James. He began adding foods onto his plate, before he could start eating, James began speaking to him loud enough for him to only hear. 

“Draco as you know, the trial between your parents and us is still happening.” Draco nodded as James spoke. 

The trial was taking longer than expected and although it was unrealistic to think it would end with an agreement immediately, Draco wish it was over. Both parties refused to step down. Not that Draco wanted your parents to give up, he knew they wouldn’t. He just wished his own parents would come to terms that Draco wasn’t returning to them and to drop whatever they doing to claim themselves as the best wizarding parents out there. 

Well, he just wished his father would stop. He knew his mother couldn’t do much, she was just there to be a wife of a pureblood and a mother to heirs. Draco knew she tried to be there for him but the way she was raised proved that the only way she could try to show her love for her son was to buy him things and spoil him with anything and everything he asked for. 

Narcissa still sent him letters once a week, whether it was sending him money, treats, or asking a simple ‘How are you doing?’. 

Draco stared at James and nodded his head allowing James to continue. 

“Word has gotten out and it’ll most likely be in the papers soon which means people will say things to you. Don’t let them get to you and force you to pick a side, in the end it’s you who decides.” 

Draco already had a side picked but he knew Mr. Potter was right. His ‘friends’ will no doubt try to make him change his mind about everything and force him back into being the self-centered prick he was. 

Once everyone finished the very delicious breakfast and got into the muggle car Lily owned, with complaints from you for having to sit in the middle seat, the five of you headed towards the train station. 

“Harry move your bloody elbow!” You yelled out to your brother. “It’s stabbing me in the side!” 

“Maybe it’s you who should move, my elbow is fine where it is!” 

Draco slightly laughed at the interaction, leave it to the two of you to cause some sort of chaos in any given situation. He sat back in his seat and looked out the window, watching all the cars drive by. 

His stomach was getting the same feeling it had during the night. He began chewing on his lip, a habit he had of doing whenever he was nervous. Taking notice of this, you took his hand into yours. 

“Are you okay?” You asked looking at him. Concern was written all over your face as he looked at you. Looking at you is what made him more present and calmer. He loved looking at you, you were always so beautiful to him. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” He responded, giving you a genuine smile. You reciprocated the smile and leaned your head on his shoulder. 

Draco let out a yawn, his lack of sleep getting to him. Perhaps he’d be able to nap on the train. 

Arriving at the station, the three of you said goodbye to your parents. Lily was making sure everyone had everything they needed while James looked ready to cry. Regardless of this being the fifth year of doing this, he was never ready to say goodbye to his children. 

Draco noticed some Slytherins giving him weird looks as he stood with the Potters, a few gasps were heard from others when he hugged James and Lily goodbye. He didn’t care though; it was a bit amusing to see some of his peers sporting confused looks. 

“Alright kids be safe and be good, I don’t want to hear about any more pranks on teachers or students,” Lily said, looking directly at you and Harry. “Includes you now, Draco. These three gremlins can be quite the influence.” 

“Three?!” 

“Yes James, three.” 

“Now that’s not fair, Sirius should be in that list too!” James said. Lily shook her head as if her point was proven. 

Draco followed Harry and you onto the train, he saw a few first years still waving goodbye to their parents through the windows. He saw you poke your head out of one as well, he wanted to laugh at the fact that you looked no different than a first year, but he knew it was best not to as he didn’t want to make you mad. 

“Tell Uncle Moony that I say hi!” He heard James yell. You replied with a ‘will do’ and pulled your head back as the train began to move. Draco could’ve sworn he saw James wipe a few tears from his eyes. 

“Are you going to come sit with us? Harry already went with Hermione and Ron to find an empty compartment.” You asked your boyfriend. 

Draco shook his head, “It’s best if I go sit with the others, Granger and Weasley aren’t much used to having me around unlike Harry and you.” 

“Alright well if anything happens, you can come find us.” 

Draco nodded, allowing you to place a kiss on his lips as a short bye. Watching you skip as you went to find the others, Draco went on his way to find the people he calls his friends. 

The compartment in which they were in wasn’t hard to find, upon entering it Draco placed his luggage above and sat down next to Blaise. 

“Strange,” he heard Blaise say. “We didn’t think you’d be joining us.” 

“And why is that?” Draco asked turning his head to look at Blaise. 

Blaise continued to look down at the book he was reading, “It seemed to us that your alliance has changed.” 

Draco scoffed but before he could speak back, Pansy had already taken the stage. 

“You left us Draco.” She said, forcefully making herself sit in-between Draco and Blaise. She placed her arms around Draco’s neck. 

“Come back to us Draco, we know you’re still in there.” She shook him as she spoke, “We know they brainwashed you now come back.” 

Draco threw Pansy’s arms off of him with a bit of force, making her pout. “No one has brainwashed me.” 

“They clearly did, you don’t even want to be with me anymore!” She screeched. Draco rolled his eyes at her delusional self. 

Blaise closed his book and made Pansy go back to her original seat. He looked directly at Draco as he spoke. 

“We don’t want you here anymore, Draco. You made it clear to us that you no longer want to be in this friend group the minute you hugged that mudblood and her blood traitor husband. Not to mention how friendly you’ve gotten with Y/n Potter.” 

Draco felt his body becoming hot with anger as Blaise targeted the slurs towards your parents. 

“Now leave us and perhaps you’d want to change your house tie as well, seeing as you’ve become Gryffindor scum.” Blaise finished. 

Draco angrily stood up, glaring at Blaise as he grabbed his luggage and stormed out slamming the compartment door with such force. He stood there for a few seconds, taking notice that his hands were shaking as he rubbed his eyes with them.

“This is going to be one long fucking year.”

[onyourhyuck]

Here I am having to send you two asks because it got too long and I'm still probably forgetting something but here we go

Before talking about the birth, the last 2 weeks are kinda difficult cause you get so anxious and you have to prepare o lot of things like the baby's room and bags to bring to the hospital and the worst: braxton hicks contractions, is so fucking painful, is some minutes of pain and then it stops but when it gets closer to the real thing the contractions become stronger, more regular and last longer. And you know when the time comes yk you just feel it will born. In my case I had the contractions at home and got to the hospital with 10cm dilated so it didn't take long for me to give birth cause I suffered at home, also my water didn't break or anything like happens in movies and stuff I just had a minor bleeding. Labours can last like 12 hours but mine was around 6 hours (contractions started at 4am and I gave birth at 10am) but it really depends. Sooo the main event, I don't know about caesareans, I had a vaginal birth and it hurts like hell like so fucking much, while contractions feels like somone is kicking your stomach, giving birth is way worse, I'm not too good with words to explain in detail, but it feels like someone is hammering your whole body especially your belly and lower regions. You have to push on the first attempts but then you don't have to do it anymore cause your body naturally do it for you, you just feel the urge and it happens without trying. Funny thing, my boyfriend was by my side the whole time and he was freaking OUT I think he was more nervous than me and I know jeno would be like that too. I didn't screamed and I looked kinda relaxed, everyone in the maternity was surprised, I heard so many screams coming from others rooms, the nurses said I gave birth pretty fast too. I'm making it look easy but it doesn't make it less painful, it hurted but I dealed well with it I guess? It also depends from person to person. So when my baby girl was out crying she went straight to my arms and it was so heart touching, really, the best feeling, all the pain I felt was worth it when I saw her. I breastfed and she slept in my arms a lot but when she was in the hospital crib my boyfriend took care of her while I rested. I don't know if it was because I stood still for a long time but whenever my daughter was sleeping (they sleep a looot) I just wanted to walk, my whole body was aching but I walked through the hospital and that really calmed me down, my mom told me she also did this twice when she gave birth to me and my sister. Also when my baby was born a part of my vagina tore and i had to get 4 stitches, it didn't hurt because of the anesthesia but its really uncomfortable, it hurted so much the first time I had to pee after the birth. And I bled non stop for a whole month, 30 days bleeding, it was worse than my period, the first days the flow is so fuckinh intense. Back to breastfeeding, I enjoyed it but not when I had to it at 2am, 4am, 6am, so I didn't slept well, but sometimes in the middle of the night my boyfriend took her in his arms and made her sleep so I could sleep more and I think that's something jeno would do.

I— your vagina tore, bleeding for a month—. 🥲🥲🥲omg I didn’t know that could happen, but it does make sense considering you’ve popped out human life.

My mother also gave quick birth with me, I guess it varies from person to person depending how many children and how your body processes by going to give birth!

No matter how quick you give birth though, it’ll most definitely be painful either way 🥺

[to-star-lake]

Mars [ II ]

pairing | kth x reader genre | ahistorical au, military au, yandere!taehyung word count | 5.2k rating/warnings | M, 18+

In the coming days, he had a room made up for you, the one beside his. He had a bed with a wooden frame brought in, and had a lace canopy hung up around it for you. He instructed his servants to bring the best linens to make up the bed, and insisted that it be cleaned and changed regularly to keep you comfortable.

You came to find that the Lady Inah had previously been the head maid of the governor’s estate. Now she runs the servants in this compound, along with a brothel of girls that had been servants of the house before, or were girls from other war-wracked regions, brought here by the men, skin calloused and abused by war. 

You learned more about your captor - that he grew up in poverty, an orphan, scraping by a living through stealing on the streets of a desert nation to the east. You learned that of all the captains in the General’s army, he was his favorite, for he was able to lead only a small battalion of men across the plains of the west, conquering entire nations through sheer guerilla force. You learned credit could be given the Captain for the siege of the north and the west, helping the General more than triple the size of his empire.

From the other servant girls you learned he had never taken any of them for himself, but that they’d heard rumors that he took occasional visits to brothels. Amongst the girls of the house, the Captain was to be respected - he was good to everyone in his charge, he never used corporal punishment on any of the servants, and made sure everyone in the compound was properly clothed, fed, and given a place to sleep. A few of the girls had, over the years, even wanted to serve him, offered themselves to him, in fact, with hopes of receiving more privileges due to his status. The most extreme of these girls were so bold as to openly proclaim how handsome they thought the Captain was. They were immediately silenced by the Lady Inah, and were banished to a week of work outside in the stables.

But despite all of this, the girls feared him. One of the servant girls was a water maid, responsible for cleaning and pressing the captains uniform. Her hands were calloused, cracked and dry from scrubbing the blood from his clothes. Another girl once was instructed to tend to the wounds of a spy the Captain held captive. Each day she was instructed to go into the room where the Captain kept him, where she would find the captive beaten, bruised, and cut, puddles of his blood coagulating by a drain on the floor. The Captain instructed her to keep him alive, so he could prolong the torture as long as it took for him to get the information he needed. And she was able to keep him alive, for an entire week, she managed. Through the screams she heard even through holding both hands tightly around her ears and squeezing her eyes shut, until the last morning on the day she found the captive had died, she no longer recognized his face or body.

These stories were validated by the other soldiers in the compound. You’d helped Lady Inah in the mess hall, where if the Captain happened to pass, a hush fell over the men as they watched him walk past, eyes wide as though they’d seen a prophet. They admired and revered him, he was the best soldier among them - the bravest, and cruelest of them. Honorable, but his heart filled with malice.

You didn’t think too much of any of these stories. In the first couple of weeks since you were brought here, your only concern was finding a way to escape.

Every day he made sure there was a vase of fresh flowers in your room. Each day it was a new bouquet, he wanted to know what flowers you liked best. But it seemed to him that you never took notice of them. 

The servants were also instructed to purchase fresh clothing for you - everything from plain linen gowns, to dresses made of fine silk. 

And last, but not at all least, he had an iron cuff made for your ankle. Attached to a heavy wrought-iron chain locked into a bolt in the middle of the floor of your room. The length of the chain restricted your movement to your room, the Captain’s room and office beside,  the bathroom, and just far enough that you could open the door to the balcony. 

Twice you had tried to escape. The second time you were caught in the bushes under the balcony of the Captain’s room, the skin of your legs bruised and scraped from falling. The cuff and chain ended these attempts. 

He had a daily routine. The early mornings were for meetings, the servants of the house brought him breakfast to his room around 6am. He did not eat much in the morning, opting for just a glass of juice most days. 

Around 11am, he would head out with a battalion of his men. He would be in uniform, and so would they. They were always armed with heavy artillery. They returned late in the evening, sometimes late into the night, their uniforms dirty, splattered with blood, covered in dust and ash. He always found you huddled in the corner beside the large credenza in your room when he returned. He’d go into the bathroom, remove his clothes, which the servants would take to clean and press, a fresh shirt and trousers, and a clean coat always awaited him before he woke in the morning, and shower. 

He bathed daily, kept his quarters tidy, and would sit down for supper shortly after. He always insisted you join him for his meals. You hardly ate. He noticed. 

He watched you in the weeks that passed, concerned, it was as though you were shrinking before his eyes. He never touched you; he did not want to hurt you. But on that day during fourth week of living at the compound, after a long period of good behavior, he became angry with you.

The avoiding eye contact, the refusal to speak to him, and when you did it was to shoot insults at him; all of this he did not pay mind to. But you refusing to eat. This he didn’t stand for.

He’d taken you by the arm, dragged you against your protests into your room and threw you onto the bed. He sat you up and tied your arms to the bedpost. He left the room and returned with a bowl of soup in one hand, and a loaf of bread in the other. He sat down on the mattress beside you, dipping a spoon into the hot liquid. He blew onto the spoon to cool the soup, and held it out to your mouth. You opened up, sipping it, but not soon before you spat it back out into his face. 

He blinked, looking down and sighing. He set the bowl of soup down onto the table beside your bed, and cleaned his face with a napkin, saying nothing. He took the bowl back in his hands, and offered you one more spoonful. 

You pulled your knee up to your torso, and swung it toward him, knocking his hand back. He almost dropped the bowl, a splash of soup spilled onto his lap, dripping and staining the freshly cleaned sheets. 

He’d never been angry with you before this moment. He stood, huffing exasperated breaths. He slammed the bowl onto the table and climbed onto the bed over you, his legs straddling your waist. He sat onto your legs, the oppressive weight of his body kept you from continuing to thrash your legs about. He reached a hand out to grab your face, his fingers closed tightly around your jaw, forcing your mouth open. He reached and picked up the loaf of bread from the table and brought it to his lips, ripping off pieces of it which he proceeded to shove into your mouth. 

You tried to spit them back out, but he pushed more into your mouth and you were forced to swallow. The dry, crusted edges cut the inside of your mouth and throat. He did this until the entire loaf of bread was gone, and the inside of your mouth was scratched raw and dry. He then proceeded to pour the bowl of soup into your mouth, streams of it dribbling from the edges of your lips. You choked at the liquid streaming into your throat, coughing, and he finally tilted the empty bowl back and let go of your jaw and stood up off of your body to the side of the bed. 

You were gasping, hunched over, huddling your legs to your chest, your arms still tied against the bedposts. He fell back against the wall, his chest heaving. 

The early days were like this. 

You fought him often. Fought him when he’d force-feed you after days of refusing to eat. Fought him when he made you share a meal with him. Fought him when he wanted you to sit beside the fire with him and read. Fought him when he locked you in your room for a week after you attempted to free your ankle from its iron cuff, only to fail and he found your skin bloody and bruised from the attempt.

But as time went on this spirit dwindled. And even if your mind hadn’t grown tired of fighting him, your exhausted body wouldn’t have allowed you to continue. So you sat down with him for meals like he asked. You ate the food that was given to you on your plate. You brought books to him by the fire, and watched as he opened a particular volume and would notice you watching, and would hand you a book to read. You wandered the confines of his room quietly. But still, you would not acknowledge him.

Some days he observed may have been better for you than others. As the last of the winter months passed, the buds of spring began to appear on the trees outside the balcony. The smoky, frigid winter air gave way to a warm Earthy scent. The silver clouds that hid the sun began to lift, revealing a bright cerulean sky.

On such days, he’d watch you from behind his desk. He’d study your fragile body, hidden and lost under the excess material of the shapeless linen gowns you wore. He watched as you would walk slowly, dragging the heavy iron chain behind you with effort, your bare feet padding softly against the cold marble floors to the doors of the balcony, where you’d open the door slightly, and sit before it, pulling your knees into your chest, and took deep breaths of the air that blew in. He’d walk over and drape a blanket over your shoulders, though most times you didn’t even notice he’d done this. Your mind was too occupied and lost in gazing into the sky.

On those days he recognized that there was something different in your eyes. He would dare say he may have even seen a light in them. 

He began letting you out of his room when he went out with the scouts during the day. He’d leave you under Lady Inah’s supervision, and she had you working downstairs in the kitchen with the other girls. You cleaned tabletops and floors and dishes. You peeled potatoes and stirred soups and kneaded dough for bread. And in the evening when the Captain returned, Lady Inah would send you back up to his quarters with his supper. 

He learned your name from Lady Inah, but found that he couldn’t use it to call you. Somehow he was afraid. Knowing your name, he would repeat it quietly to himself in his head as he watched you move about your room - sitting quietly by the fire or by the open window, sitting on your bed with a book you’d taken from his desk. He knew you were hiding it. He didn’t mind. But he found himself unable to vocalize your name, as though it were a fragile veil of glass, and his voice, should he call your name, would shatter it. 

--

The sun rose on the horizon on a warm morning in May, and he woke to the sound of birds singing in the courtyard below the balcony of his room. He sat up in his bed, scooting to the edge, swinging his legs over. He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and tossed his hair back. He slowly made his way to the doorway to your room. He did this every morning. 

Peering through the open doorway, he saw you, still asleep in your bed and turned to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. He knew you would be awake once he was out of the shower; it always woke you, it was like this every day. He knew you would wait until he came out and began dressing, and then you’d go into the bathroom to brush your teeth, and wash your face. As he dressed, Lady Inah would knock on the door to his quarters, and she would undo the cuff around your ankle and you would follow her downstairs into the kitchen, where the Captain’s breakfast was being prepared. You would carry the tray of dishes back up to his room, you would set it down on the round table in front of the window, and you would stand by the table and wait until he was seated to instruct you to sit too. 

On this morning, as he watched you follow Lady Inah out into the hallway, a frantic Soobin rushed in through the open doors, almost running into you. 

“Sir, the General has arrived, and he wishes to see you immediately,” Soobin panted, winded from running up to the Captain’s quarters, saluting quickly. 

Taehyung stood, a surge of worry rising in his chest that you might pass the General in the halls. No sooner had Soobin finished his sentence did the General’s booming footsteps arrive. And he was not alone.

Taehyung greeted the General, and the General pulled him into a tight hug, attempting to be fatherly, as he’d always attempted to do with the Captain. 

“The years have not been kind to you, my friend. Perhaps the weather here in the north has put you in a perpetual foul mood?” 

Taehyung turned to see the face that belonged to the sarcastic voice that  spoke. It was Captain Park Jimin, who commanded the forces on the southern front. 

“Yes, I’m certain it’s not as enjoyable as the beaches in the south,” he replied wearily. He watched as the corner of Jimin’s mouth lifted in a smirk at his remark. 

He’d known Jimin for a few years now, and despised him - the way he indulged in drink and women, his addiction to gambling, the way he held no regard for his fellow men, sending his battalions into battle while he lounged in his fortress with his women and his wine. But he was a brilliant strategist, and the General regarded him highly for this, and turned a blind eye on his other, less commendable habits. 

“Well surely with the coming of spring, there will be better weather and prettier sights to ease a wary mind,” Jimin continued to chide. “Speaking of prettier sights, General, you’ve been holding out on me! You said all the girls here were too worn, and none would suit me. But in the hall just now, we passed the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen here in the west, is she one of the lieutenants-”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened and he closed both hands into fists, and the General took notice. 

“Oh her? Oh well, she was actually brought here by our Taehyung,” the General took a conscious step into the tense space between his two captains. 

“Oh?” Jimin smirked, looking up at Taehyung who stared at the ground, his fists tightening. “My friend, I thought you were above all that,” his grin grew as Taehyung’s anger boiled in his chest. “Well then don’t be shy, tell me...how is she?” 

Taehyung made a move to lunge forward, but the General quickly stepped beside Jimin, placing both hands around his shoulders, laughing nervously. “Oh come now, Jimin, must you provoke him? Come, come, let us stop this rabble and go downstairs for some breakfast. You have not lived until you’ve had Lady Inah’s lavender scones, they are simply scrumptious. Oh and with a bit of tea, yes,” he quickly ushered Jimin out into the hall, but looked over his shoulder and shot Taehyung a warning glance. 

---

“The house is bustling, what is going on?” Lira, one of the other servant girls who worked with you inquired as she entered the kitchen, sliding an apron on over her frock. 

“The General has returned from the southern front,” Lady Inah replied, her hands in a bowl of flour and butter, making dough for scones. “Lira, please, fetch me the lavender water.” 

Lira approached the table and handed a pitcher to Lady Inah, who poured concentrated water with careful precision into the dough mix. You stood across the table from her, quietly cutting circular domes out of an already made batch of scone mix and placing them on a baking sheet. 

“So the General has returned already,” Lira said, taking a seat on the wooden bench across from you. 

“Yes, and he’s not alone,” Lady Inah’s hands stopped moving and she straightened herself up. She sighed, wiping both hands on her apron and looked down at Lira. “He’s brought Captain Park Jimin back from the front with him.” 

You watched as Lira’s whole body tensed at those words, a shadow falling over her eyes. Her face became unspeakably pale, like all blood suddenly drained from the vessels in her cheeks. 

Lady Inah gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“Surely, he’s brought a girl here with him? Yes, he wouldn’t travel without at least one girl in tow to..” Lira swallowed dryly, stumbling over her words. 

“That I do not know,” Lady Inah leaned back over the mixing bowl. 

“Is that the man we passed in the hall upstairs? The one with the General?” you asked quietly. 

Lady Inah nodded. Lira seemed to shrink further into herself by the second. 

“Lira-” you began, but Lira stood swiftly and took up the tray of scones you’d assembled, and walked them over to the oven, her head down. 

Lady Inah took a deep breath in. “You must steer clear of Captain Park Jimin if you can,” she whispered, returning both hands to kneading the dough. You looked up at her, studying her expression. “He’s visited here twice before, and both times he chose Lira for himself. He’s always insisted on having the most beautiful girl serve him wherever he goes. And the General has always indulged him. The first time he was here, I sent Lira to him. That is a choice I live to regret every single day. When she returned to her chambers beside mine the next day, her eyes were red and swollen with tears, she had bruises everywhere... She refused to tell me what happened, but I can guess,” she said quietly, turning to look at Lira who stood bracing herself against the edge of the counter beside the oven. 

“Tell me, is our Captain pleased with you? You have not caused him any more strife lately, have you? You have not disobeyed him as you did when you first arrived?” 

You shook your head. “I haven’t angered him recently,” you replied quietly, thinking. “At least I don’t think I have..”

Lady Inah sighed, gazing over at the calloused and rough skin of Lira’s hands and face due to years of work as a servant. Then she turned to you, and looked at you - your long hair, gleaming in the sunlight, at your eyes, wide and attentive, at your posture, tall and poised, not hunched over after years of bowing. “These days, it’s possible the General holds Captain Park Jimin in higher regard than our Captain..” she began slowly. “He’s a brilliant military strategist that’s helped the General win the three nations in the south. The General was so pleased with him, perhaps more pleased than he’d ever been with our Captain, even though he’s won more battles and more land. But those nations to the south are jewel-mining and merchant territory. It brought countless riches to the General.” 

You listened quietly. 

“I know he’s seen you…” she stopped, taking a hushed breath in. “If he wishes for you to serve him...I know the General would not refuse him. And I cannot guarantee that even our Captain could save you..”

You couldn’t move. You stood frozen, her words echoing through your mind. You felt something heavy in your chest, and it kept you from moving, from saying anything. Your mind raced, and you felt your breathing fall uneven. You’d made eye contact with the other Captain just upstairs as you passed him and the General in the hall. He looked at you with an inquisitive eye. You could not shake the image of Lira from your head - you pictured her bruised neck, the skin of her face dry and cracked from the salt of her tears. You imagined what other wounds she would’ve had that she was too afraid to even speak of. You swallowed dryly. You recognized this feeling. It was something you’d come to forget in the presence of the Captain of this compound because he never gave you reason to feel this. It was fear. 

“Lady Inah..” you began, your voice hushed, cracking at the end. 

She glanced up at you. 

“May I be excused, I think I should bring breakfast up to the Captain...”

Lady Inah let out a breath of what seemed to be relief. “I think that would be wise.”

You stood quietly outside the Captain’s door, the large serving tray in your hands holding the breakfast you always made for and ate with him. 

Think. What could you do? What should you do? You knew that the other Captain saw you. Lady Inah did all but tell you directly that without intervention, he would choose you to serve him tonight. It would be alright if he hit you, you thought. It would be alright if he used you for target practice, or if he slapped you, if he cut you. This wasn’t what you feared. 

If he asked for you, would Taehyung really let you go? Think. You knew he cared for you, everyone in the compound knows, though no one spoke of it. You could see the look on his face every time your eyes happened to meet, he always seemed to catch his breath whenever your gaze met his. You could tell him that you did not wish to serve the other Captain. But would that matter to him? Would it not anger him that you would even verbalize this possibility? 

Think. 

 “There are many invirtuous ways you could serve the Captain,” you heard Lady Inah’s voice in your head. This was something she said to you late one evening as she was preparing the Captain’s supper, and you sat stiffly on a wooden chair beside her, not wanting to go back to his room. That afternoon he had returned from scouting a village west of the compound, and you saw as he burst through the doors of his room he was holding onto his shoulder, and there was blood streaming from between his fingers. 

He’d been grazed by a bullet. You’d heard the clanging and rustling of the metal first aid kit from inside the bathroom. Slowly and silently, you walked over, peering through the open doorway and you saw him standing in front of the sink, running a needle and thread through an open gash on his arm. He’d cut his shirt from his body, it lay in a bloodied heap on the floor beside him. You saw the scars on his back. There were so many - blotched, circular ones like a flesh-toned plaque from old bullet wounds, long slender ones you could tell were lashes from a whip, small, precise cuts from a knife. 

When he tied off and cut the thread, he had looked up and saw you in the reflection in the mirror. And before you could back away, he turned, advancing towards you with long strides. He closed a hand around your throat and pushed you against the door frame. You felt one of the straps of your gown fall off your shoulders. You watched with shuddered breaths his eyes as they gazed back into yours, as they fell to your collarbones and to the curve of your neck where it met your bare shoulder. You felt his hand close tighter around your neck, moving closer and you audibly whimpered. 

He seemed to find himself then, quickly releasing you from his grasp and you slithered back into your room. “I’m sorry..” you heard him say softly from the bathroom. 

“If you cease to please the Captain, there are worse fates than death that will befall you. I would recommend you do everything in your power to not lose his favor, he has been good to you,” Lady Inah’s voice played in your mind again. “There are many invirtuous ways you could serve the Captain. But some are less so than others.” 

You entered his chamber and found him seated beside the small dining table by the window. You knew he would be. His elbow rested on the tabletop, his hand held to his lips, lost in thought as he often was of late. 

He glanced up when he heard you enter. You set the tray of food down onto the table and stood in front of him. 

“How many times must I tell you, you do not need to wait for me to give permission,” he sighed, impatient, leaning back in his chair and looking up at you. “Sit, eat.” 

“Captain..” you said quietly. 

“And how many times must I tell you, you do not need to address me as Captain, use my name.”

He had. He had told you many times to call him by his name. 

You nodded quietly. 

His brows furrowled in a concerned frown. “Is something wrong?” 

You took a slow, deep breath in. 

“Captain..I- I wanted to apologize for the trouble and worry I must’ve caused you when you first brought me here..” you swallowed, reaching a shaking hand up to the strap of your gown and brushed it from your shoulder. You looked directly into his eyes, and watched as they grew in shock, his lips pressed together tightly. You brushed the other strap from your shoulder and felt goosebumps grow on your skin as the starched linen material of the gown slipped with ease from your body. 

You stood, naked, and attempting to hide your shivers in the cold room before the Captain, who stared back at you, incredulous, unmoving and addled from his seat. 

You moved closer to him, standing in between his legs. “You’ve been kind to me. You didn’t hurt me to punish me when I tried to escape. You’ve taken care of me.” You reached a hand out carefully, and brushed a strand of his hair back from his forehead. His eyes seemed to soften as he looked up at you. 

“I’ve been wanting to thank you..” your voice shook, and you hoped he did not notice. But you knew he did. He never missed a thing. 

“Y/N..” 

Hearing him call your name for the first time caused you to freeze for the briefest moment. You dropped down to your knees before him, gliding the palms of your hands along his shoulders, down his chest and stomach. Your fingertips grazed the leather of his belt and he reached out to take your hands in his. 

“You don’t have to do this..” he leaned forward in his seat, moving to pull you up, but you felt his thigh twitch at the contact of your arm against him. 

“I want to,” you whispered, gazing up at him with sleepy eyes, your lashes fluttering with a purposeful effort. You pulled your hands from his grasp and ran your palms along his thighs. 

You heard a moan escape from deep in his throat, and saw his hand moving to grasp the edge of the chair. You slid your hands up to the silver buckle of his belt, undoing it. Slowly, you unfastened the button of his trousers, sliding the zipper down and you could tell for a while now even beneath the thick cotton material, how he stiffened. How he grew. 

Carefully, you slipped your fingertips under the opening in his briefs, and brought his full length from under the dampened cotton material. 

“Y/N-”

You scooted closer to him, up on both knees as you leaned your head over him. 

“Y/N..”

You felt his whole body shudder around you as you leaned your head down and licked the drops of precum from him, the salty, bitter taste lingered on your tongue as you sucked in your cheeks, collecting the saliva in your mouth and pushed it out between your lips. It dripped slowly onto him and you slid your mouth down around him. You closed your eyes and could hear his breathing become more shallow and ragged as you clamped your lips around him and worked him slowly in and out of your mouth, pulling in your cheeks to maintain as much suction as you can. You did the best you could to maintain steady breaths, but the air around you grew thick and sticky, and began to cloud your mind, and the sensation of all the ridges of his cock on your tongue made you hazy.

He slid in his seat, quickly reaching a hand out to grasp the edge of the table to stabilize himself. “Fuck..Y/N..” a deep moan emanated from his throat, breathy and heavy, the sound seemed to travel like a wave of electricity through the air, sending a rush of heat through your body. You squeezed your thighs together in protest of this sensation, but you were helpless to stop it. The combination of the taste of him in your mouth, and the sweet, musky smell of his skin made your mind feel foggy, and made you salivate over him, and you tilted your head, your jaw aching from his girth, you could feel your own wetness slipping between your legs. 

“Y/N...ah...mm..I-”

You quickened your pace, holding your tongue firmly against him as more drool dripped down around him, pooling around your hands held firmly at the base of his cock. You felt a vein quiver against your tongue, and you moved your hand, taking more of him than you had been, and you whimpered, feeling the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the air around you filled with the sounds of his gravelly moans and the wet, slurping sounds of you deepthroating him. 

“Y/N...fuck, I’m gonna cum..”

Your muffled whines sent vibrations through his body and with a shuddering breath, you felt the hot stream hit your throat, and you felt your own body shake, moaning as you tasted him, feeling the compulsive ache in your core grow even more. You moved him in and out of your mouth a couple more times, swallowing all that he had pumped into your mouth before releasing him with an audible pop from between your lips. 

You sat back on your heels, and looked up to see his gaze meet yours. His eyes were soft, sleepy, under heavy lids, his lips parted as he huffed rasped breaths in. After a few quiet moments, the rise and fall of his chest slowed and his breathing began to even out. 

A cool breeze came in from the open window behind him and he sat up and leaned down, reaching a hand out to tuck away a strand of hair that fell over your eyes, caressing your cheek as he did so but-

You flinch. You didn’t mean to. But it was all too lucid now, the fog had lifted. 

You stand, taking a few steps back and turning from him. You reached down to the floor and pulled up the gown you had dropped before, pulling the straps over your shoulders hurriedly. 

“Y/N-” he called out, his voice barely a whisper. 

“I apologize for interrupting your meal, Captain,” you sped through those words. “Please excuse me, Lady Inah still needs me downstairs.” You bowed quickly, and turned hastily out the doors of his room, speeding down the hallway and stairwell to the servants’ chambers. 

After you left, Taehyung sat, frozen to his chair for a few moments. Partly because he was still affected by the euphoric haze you left him in. Partly because he did not know what to do next. Why did you rush off so hastily? He wondered if he’d done something wrong. Or if he should have said something. Perhaps he should’ve done more to stop you from doing this. Perhaps he should’ve kept you from doing this. He regretted now that he did not have the strength to stop you. Perhaps he should’ve kept you from leaving him. He wanted you to stay. 

After a few moments he stood, zipping himself up and sliding his belt back through its buckle. He ran a hand through his hair and gazed around the empty space where you had just been with him. 

He took quick strides from his room, out into the hallway and down to the kitchen. 

“Captain,” Lady Inah greeted him, a flash of concern flew across her mind as she caught sight of the anxious expression on his face. 

“Y/N. Where is she?” 

“She..she’d just gone upstairs to bring you your breakfast as usual, sir..” Lady Inah exchanged a nervous glance with Lira. “Perhaps she’s gone to the servants’ quarters? I send her there sometimes to fetch fresh towels for the kitche-”

He was gone before she could finish, picking his stride up in a small run as he leapt up the winding stairwell, flying to the door at the end of the hall and as he burst through it, was met with the startled and petrified faces of the servant girls that were cleaning the room. 

“Y/N. Is she here?” he huffed. 

“....Yes, sir, she just came in not a few moments ago...” a girl’s voice squeaked quietly from the far corner of the room. 

“Where?” he charged toward her, and she was so startled the broom she held fell from her hands, clattering against the floor. She held up a shaking hand, and pointed to the adjacent room. 

He swung through the open door, and was met with a dense cloud of condensation and heat in the air. It was the servants’ bath. 

At the end of a line of stalls he could make out a silhouette of your body from behind the steam of the shower. He could see your head dropped, hunched over against the wall, your hands across your chest, clasping both of your shoulders. 

He let out a slow exhale, falling back against the dampened marble wall beside him, leaning his head back against the warm stone. Seeing you like this seemed to confirm for him what he already knew to be true, only he didn’t want to believe it - that you did not actually want him.  

Of course you didn’t, he thought to himself. Why would you? Of course you’d be disgusted by him. Of course you’d want to wash the smell of him, this memory, from your body as quickly as you could. 

He stole one more glance at you and turned from the bath, walking back through the servants’ quarters, not seeing the distressed looks on the girls’ faces.