#I did Providence's head thing no wonders either. No justice

[thefantasticfoxolotl]

RoR doodles

[deadsetobsessions]

Ghost King Phantom was an odd addition to the League. J’onn was often the last to find others odd but from the get-go, Phantom was the only quiet spot he’d have in his telepathic field. At first, it was off putting as most of the people that slipped beyond the reach of his immediate field tended to be villains and the like. But as Phantom remained in the Justice League, J’onn had come to learn to appreciate the calm spot in the turbulent sea of his friends’ and coworkers’ thoughts.

“You have taken to me faster than the others. Why is that?”

Phantom hummed purringly, another peculiar sound that J’onn had yet to see any of his human or alien heroes recreate with any success. They sat at their usual spot, face facing the cosmos and backs guarded by their friends. Plus, J’onn and Phantom could look directly into the sun without painfully loosing their sight.

“I guess I’ve always been fond of the stars. Of space, and everything in it. What about you? Why did we become friends so fast?”

J’onn shook his head, a human motion he’d learned a long time ago to imitate. “No, we became slower friends than most, as my telepathic abilities allow for easier communication and understanding of one another’s motives. With the exception of Batman but I have found he is often the exception to most expectations.”

“That checks out,” King Phantom laughed. “Well, I’m glad we became friends. It’s very cool to meet a Martian. Space is one of my Obsessions, you see.”

J’onn nodded. “I see. I am sorry that I am the only Martian you will meet.”

“You are?”

J’onn nodded again, slower. Sadder. His facial muscles, in this form, does not imitate human patterns well and he knew that most people could not pick out his emotions without his verbal expression.

Intuition tells J’onn that Phantom knew regardless.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?” His voice is gentle, the emotions that Phantom pushes at him are gentle and questing, but not demanding. It has been a long time since anyone has asked him of memories he clung to. And so, J’onn J’onzz speaks in the way that was natural to him, the way his people communicated.

With his mental voice flowing into Phantom’s head, J’onn tells him of the wonders that used to be his home. He provided images and sounds of how his home shone as the sun rose, how the shadows that fell when the sun dipped beneath the horizon felt as comforting as a Martian’s first telepathic cradle. He tells Phantom of his twin brother, grief and agony entwined in the memories of someone he had loved. He spoke of his wife and their daughter, and their cozy home on the windswept plains of Mars.

King Phantom sat still with him as the Watch-Tower moved along, around a king and his friend who was recounting the stagnant grief of his past.

J’onn tells him of the virus, borne of his twin’s hatred, and how he watched everything around him burn. How he had desperately tried to prevent his wife and daughter from using their telepathic abilities. He spoke of his failures. He wove together a tapestry of insanity and grief, built upon the burning bodies of his wife and their beloved daughter. He tells Phantom how the Mars now was just ashes and dust of his former home. How he could not look upon the planet and not see the shades of his wife and daughter and parents and friends, walking upon a barren planet that no longer held anything familiar to the last Martian.

Phantom had hummed again, a soothing rumble. Sadness dripped from the edges of his consciousness.

“If it was not for the Doctor, I would be dead and shattered.” J’onn spoke for the first time in three hours. “It is… less painful to live. I have purpose.”

“I am glad that you are not either of those things.” Phantom stood. “Come with me. I have to show you something.”

J’onn trusted Phantom, and thus followed the king into the glowing green portal.

They flew past many doors, Phantom often glancing at him before shaking his head and changing directions.

They stopped at a door that felt familiar. J’onn knew it from somewhere.

“Go ahead, open the door. But know that you can’t stay long. You don’t belong to this realm quite yet. Not for quite a while.” Phantom moves, hand gesturing towards the door without a knob.

“How..?”

“How else? You have telekinesis, don’t you?”

J’onn blinked. Right. He opened the door and- oh.

The door warped with the screaming storm of grief and love and oh-how-I’ve-missed-you that J’onn unleashed.

Because there in front of him were M’yri’ah and K’hym, his wife and daughter.

The door was an imitation of his home, back when he had not known true loss.

“Impossible,” he stumbled back.

“You are in the realm of the dead. You didn’t think the title of the Ghost King was for fun, did you, J’onn?” Phantom smiled and- a move J’onn would definitely engage in petty payback for, later after he’d gotten over the shock- pushed him flying right into the room.

M’yri’ah and K’hym cradled him with telepathic swirls of love and husband!-dad!-love-love-love-safe!

And J’onn shuddered and gathered the his world in his arms to say goodbye.

——

[ellecdc]

Can I request a Remus Lupin x single mum!reader fic please where they're best friends, completely in love with each other and remus is practically acting as your child's father, and while everyone around you know this, you and remus have no idea. Thank you 💝

I actually had a lot of fun with this one, thank you for the prompt! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x single mum!reader who's maybe not as single a mum as she thought [1.8k words]

p1 | p2

CW: kid fic, reader and remus are oblivious, fluffy and hopeful ending

“Moony!” 

The little girl’s squeals brought an instant smile to Remus’ face, and in record time he was crouched down with his arms open wide as she collided into his chest with an ‘oomph’.

“There’s my girl!” He cheered, stamping a kiss to her head. “How are you, cariad?” 

“Mummy said if I was good, maybe we could have a sleepover?” Isla asked, folding her hands under her chin and tilting her head at Remus in a way he knew he’d never say no to, though hoped to all hell she never figured out.

“Well that should be easy, yeah? You’re always good!” He replied, earning him more excited squeals before she went running into the living room to play with Harry and Luna.

“Cut the shit, Lupin.” You muttered fondly as you hung your daughter’s jacket as well as your own, shooting him a wink.

“You cut the shit; claiming my girl is anything short of perfectly well behaved always.” He volleyed, quickly accepting your friendly peck on the corner of his mouth before you moved around the room to do the same to the others. 

“Oh yeah,” you muttered dryly, “she’s real perfect when she throws a fit in the middle of the frozen section at the shops because I deigned to tell her we had ice cream at home already.”

“No, again?” Remus tsked. “She must have just been having an off day - growth spurt, perhaps?”

“Yeah there’s gotta be an excuse, Trouble, Isla’s perfect.” Sirius called, shooting Remus a playful smirk from his seat across the table. “Moony raised her well.” 

“Like we should expect anything less of Remus’ daughter, yeah?” James agreed, earning a round of laughter from the table. 

You rolled your eyes  at the usual teasing with a shake of your head as you sat down, though Remus thought he noticed a small look of bashfulness cross your face as you refused to look at him. 

“I can’t take any credit; she is her mother’s daughter.” Remus argued. 

“S’probably why you like her so much.” Lily taunted as she brought the drink in her hand to her lips. 

“Who?” You and Remus parroted, both smiling shyly at the other. 

Regulus snorted. “Take your pick.” 

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Remus finally demanded, looking around at his friend skeptically. “What are you all on about?” 

“Cut the shit, Lupin.” Sirius taunted, echoing your earlier sentiments. “The two of you are practically a married couple coparenting that kid. The only thing either of you fail to do is admit how terribly in love with each other you are.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You offered primly, crossing both your arms and your legs as you leaned back in your seat and looked at Sirius defiantly. 

“No? How often do you and Remus have sleepovers?”

“Remus and Isla have sleepovers.” You corrected.

“And where do you sleep on these ‘Isla Moony’ sleepovers, hm?” James queried, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Is it, perhaps, in Moony’s arms?” Sirius continued when you refused to provide an answer.

“That was one time.” Remus argued then, accounting for the time that you and Remus had fallen asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa after putting Isla to bed, only to be found the following morning by Sirius who showed up wondering why the sod wasn’t answering his texts. 

Sirius made a ‘hm, kay’ sound that sounded nothing short of disbelieving as he shared a look with James that screamed ‘can you believe this guy?’ 

It’s not that Remus didn’t love you or your daughter with his entire being. But it's never what you had needed from him; it’s not what you needed him to be.

You’d found out you were expecting and the father [or, as Remus referred to him, the donor] wasn’t interested in being involved, and you needed a friend; Remus was that for you. 

He helped you move into your own place, but so did Sirius and Lily. They all threw you a baby shower. They all took turns helping you once Isla was born, though Remus admittedly ended up taking more “shifts” once you healed and formed a schedule with the wee bairn, but that was only because James and Lily had their own, and Remus had the most flexibility with his job. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

But he did sort of love you and Isla. He loved your determination and perseverance. He loved that you were ready and capable to do it on your own but were also willing to accept help from the people who cared about you, and did so with no shortage of grace. He loved the way you were steadfast in your mission to ensure your daughter was surrounded by no shortage of love. He loved how you managed to lead with kindness always but never hesitated to put any of them in their place when they needed it. He also loved your eyes and your smile and your hugs and the sound of your voice. But he mostly loved the way your eyes fell soft when they looked at him, or how your smile seemed to widen whenever you caught him smiling back, or how you seemed to put an impossible amount of yourself into your hugs when you could tell he needed to be held just a little tighter, just a little longer, and he loved the sound of your voice the most when it was directed at him. 

He loved that Isla was completely and utterly you, from the way she looked to the way she spoke. She was your little doppelganger through and through, but he also loved getting to watch your little mini-me grow and develop into her own little person, too. He loved learning her opinions and preferences, he loved watching her interact and play and even fight with Harry and Luna. He loved getting to teach her how to read, he loved gently rocking her to sleep every night as a babe whilst he read Goodnight Moon. He loved that - though he didn’t name her - she named him; Moony. 

But had he really been so obvious? This entire time? 

“Whatever you guys say.” Sirius relented as he raised his hands up in mock surrender. “But the longer you two hold out, the more money you all make me.”

“You bet on us?!” You and Remus chorused again, and Regulus actually let out an inelegant bark of laughter at that.

“Christ, the two of you are so predictable.” Lily giggled as she stood to go see what the squabbling among the kids was about in the next room.

“Yup.” James agreed shamelessly. “Peter bet that by Isla’s first birthday that the two of you would have at the very least been living together already.” 

“Marlene bet that the next pregnancy announcement would be Y/N’s, and that you’d have been the father.” Sirius continued, and you choked on the sip of water you’d just taken just for something to do.

“Fuck off, the lot of you.” Remus muttered as he pulled you over to him by the leg of your chair before rubbing on your back consolingly until the coughing passed. “You’re gonna kill the girl.” 

“Can’t have that.” Regulus smirked, turning his body preemptively when he heard little feet padding their way over to him, though he kept his mirthful gaze pointed at Remus. “I bet that you’d be official by the end of the year.”

“It’s December already.” You guffawed, and Sirius shrugged his shoulders.

“We still have 25 days.” He replied breezily. 

“I told him he’s not s’posed to shove.” Luna tattled as she climbed onto her godfather’s lap, causing James to sigh a tired “uh oh” as Lily came into the room with a teary Isla on her hip and a little hand in her free one attached to a rather contrite looking Harry.

“What happened, lovie?” You cooed at your upset daughter, though Lily responded first. 

“Why don’t you tell them what you told Auntie Lily in the living room, hm?” Lily asked Isla whilst keeping a somewhat predatory gaze locked on you. 

“I- I want my… my Moony.” Isla whimpered before breaking out into a sob, and Remus thought his heart might have actually split in two. 

“Well for Christ’s sake, Red, give her to her Moony, then.” Sirius scolded, looking between Remus’ outstretched arms ready to embrace the child and Lily’s teasing smile with furrowed brows. “S’even breaking my heart.” 

Isla wasted no time in tucking herself underneath Remus’ chin as he cradled her to his chest, leaning his cheek against the crown of her head as he looked at you. 

You held his gaze. 

“Haz, my man, what happened?” James asked his son.

“I’m sorry…” Harry pouted from his fathers lap. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“We’ve talked about this, yeah? You cannot shove or push; I know you get excited, mate, but we don’t want to hurt our friends.”

“M’sorry.” The boy repeated.

“Did you say sorry to Isla?” James asked, even though Lily was nodding from her place where she reclaimed her vacated seat. Harry nodded too. “Should we maybe apologise again? Offer her a hug, too?”

Harry agreed and jumped down to stand beside Remus. “M’sorry, Isla. I shouldn’t have shoved you.” 

“That’s a good lad; good apologising. What do you say, lovie?” Remus asked Isla who sniffled, looking up at Remus for guidance before she nodded and accepted a hug from the little boy. 

Appeased, the three kids went back to playing under the promise that there would absolutely be no more shoving.

“See, if she had been my kid, she probably would have shoved him right back. But no, of course Moony’s kid would be lovely and sweet and forgiving.” 

“Alright you know what?” You started with a good natured smile on your face as you stood; moving to the bar behind you to pour yourself a drink and sharing a lifted eyebrow with Remus before pouring one for him too. “You’re all a bunch of tossers.” 

“Listen, if you want me to raise your next one, just say the word, Trouble.” Sirius laughed. “But it seems like you and Remus have that all sorted out.” 

You didn’t grace Sirius with a response, but as Remus went to accept the glass you’d poured for him, you held onto it a moment longer, murmuring something that sounded an awful lot like ‘yeah, I think we do.’ 

There was going to be a lot to discuss at your Isla and Moony’s sleepover tonight.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Lucien and Night Court Emissary Reader who were falling in love pre-UTM but she had to break it off/start being cold to keep the cruel High Lord and Court ruse up/Velaris secret safe. Now he's come back with Feyre and sees the truth, is being rejected by Elain, and Reader can't bear to watch him pine after someone who doesn't want him when she's still miserably in love with him.

Angsty but happy ending please ❤️

Anything.

Summary: She's ready to do anything to get him back.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: babes. anon. my darling baby. marry me plis. i LOVED THIS IDEA so much i wasnt ready to write it because i thought i might never do it justice, but i think i like how this thing came out, so thank you thank you THANK YOU anon for this request 🥹🥹🥹

anywas, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n watched him watch her.

Elain.

Soft, gentle Elain.

Nice, beautiful Elain.

Inconsiderate, unaware Elain.

Elain, who either did no care for who she hurt with her lack of decision making skills, or she genuinely had no idea that she was hurting her mate as she strung him along. Maybe it was just because of the sheltered and happy life Nesta provided for Elain, always keeping her away from the harsh truths of life, and while Y/n had admired that habit of her new friend, she could not help but resent her a little for it.

Y/n took a slow sip of the wine she held in her hand as she stared down from the dimly lit balcony at the ballroom floor, the twirling and swaying couples, wondering how the hell Lucien had changed so much.

So much that he'd gone from being hounded by pretty females falling at his feet and shoving their breasts in his face to get him to give them attention to begging for attention from someone that probably would not be able to tell if she was paining someone.

With a sigh, Y/n made to turn away, deciding that the sweet obliviousness was better than drowning herself in wine and bitter jealousy.

She felt his presence a moment before she smelled the night court high lord.

"Sister." He stepped forward, leaning his elbows onto the balustrade next to her. "Who hurt you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, immediately relaxing in the presence of her older brother. "What makes you think someone hurt me?"

"Oh, are you telling me that you've decided to take up Azriel's job of brooding and glaring at people from a dark corner just for fun?"

Y/n said nothing, her eyes flitting all over the dance floor absently before settling on a head of fiery red that stood against the far wall, holding a champagne flute.

Rhys turned his head to glance at her when she sad nothing, then followed her gaze. "Oh. Did he kill your cat?"

Y/n released a frustrated breath. "Rhys."

"What?!"

"I don't have a cat."

"Oh my, I am sorry your highness."

Y/n was tempted to shove her middle finger in his face, and he might have read it on her face, as he huffed out a laugh. "Sorry. But come on. What happened? You know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Y/n turned away from the view she had been staring at, instead leaning her back against the railing, letting her head fall back as her arms came to rest on the expensive wood of the balustrade.

"I do."

Silence settled around the two siblings, comfortable and welcome, heavy with internal thoughts, filled with the music from the orchestra in the corner and soft humming from Rhys.

Before long, Y/n started humming along with him, almost subconsciously. She hadn't even realised it until after a few moments, and she smiled at the wall she now stared at.

"Y/n. I've known for quite some time now that you have been hiding something from me. If there's anything I can do for you and whatever you are doing, then please let me know. You don't have to tell me what it is-"

"It's Elain."

Rhys fell quiet, and Y/n sighed. "Come. Let's go somewhere more... private."

Rhys followed her quietly down the stairs and out into the hallway, letting her lead him to her room.

He did not ask anymore questions, nor did he speak, but Y/n could feel the intrigue and curiosity rolling off of him.

Y/n did not speak even when the two of them arrived to her bedroom, walking over to the small cupboard in the corner she stashed her favourite drinks in, including pineapple juice and champagne. She also kept a bottle of whiskey there in case her brother decided to give her a visit.

"So... what happened with Elain?" Rhys spoke as Y/n was pouring him a glass of whiskey, and Y/n steeled her resolve. There was no way she could keep it to herself anymore, because if she did, she would very likely explode.

And anyways, this was her brother. She could tell him anything.

"So... you remember how you sent me to that spring court ball to represent night court?"

Rhys nodded, his attention rapt.

"Yeah well, I met Lucien for the first time there." Y/n busied herself by popping open the bottle of some bubbling champagne, letting it slowly trickle out and into the flute she held, her eyes fixed on the little bubbles that floated from the bottom of the glass.

"He, of course, being the charming male he is, got me running after him. We talked that night. We talked till it was morning, till we knew I needed to return or else you would worry." Y/n smiled softly as she remembered the way she had made Lucien laugh till he was telling her to shut up because his stomach hurt.

"Oh." Y/n could see the pieces falling in place for her brother.

"Everytime after that when I told you I was going out to party all night, I was just travelling to the outskirts of spring court and just talking with him the whole night." Y/n blinked away the prickling in her eyes at that. "I started to fall for him, and he reciprocated."

Y/n let that marinate in the air a little before continuing.

"But then Amarantha came, took his eye. He pulled away, drawing into himself and shutting off anyone who tried to comfort him."

"But how come I never saw you with him?"

Y/n smiled sadly. "He had returned to spring with Tam, and I was trapped under the mountain. When he did visit, he would always hide in shame because he thought I would hate him after he lost his eye." She downed the rest of the liquor left in her glass, grimacing. "He did approach me once, and I..."

"Fuck." Rhys mumbled under his breath after a moment of silence, staring at her. "You told him to leave you alone, didn't you?"

Y/n closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair. He cursed again.

"He probably thought it was because of his eye. Or maybe that I was playing him all along. I don't know why, but he accepted it. Did not fight back. I let him believe it. I did not want him to get any more unnecessary unwanted attention from Amarantha. That was the only way that felt right."

Y/n opened her eyes to find Rhys bowed, his elbows resting on his knees as he clutched his head in frustration. "Fuck Y/n. I thought you were smarter than that."

Y/n sighed. "Apparently not."

Rhys reached out to grab the bottle of whiskey from the low table in front of them, drinking directly from the bottle.

Y/n simply watched him.

"Why are you getting so worked up over this? I thought you didn't like Lucien?"

Even just saying his name made her heart ache in longing.

Rhys stayed silent for a moment before standing, extending his hand towards her. "I might dislike him, but I can tell how much you like him. And your happiness comes above all else."

When Y/n stared at him and his hand, unmoving, he wiggled his fingers. "Come on, let's go get you your knight in shining armour."

Y/n's eyes widened. "What?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Trust me baby sister."

Y/n thought over it for a moment. She knew whatever her brother's unhinged brain had come up with would probably be uncomfortable, but it would definitely help her out.

So, with an exasperated sigh, she stood, slipping her hand into his. "For everyone's sake, Rhys, I hope that whiskey hasn't gotten to your head yet and that you are not planning something stupid."

"Me? Stupid?" His grin widened. "Never."

Now that, concerned Y/n.

•○🌑○•

Y/n knew she made a mistake when trusting Rhys the moment he led her to a secluded room in the house of wind.

He opened the door, shoved her in and then locked it behind her. She turned, slamming her fists on the door as she cursed at him. He only laughed, telling her to wait and be patient.

Y/n huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she took in the room he had brought her to.

It was a cosy, intimate place, with a circular table in the center of the room, two chairs on opposite sides of it. There was a huge spread of food on it, most of it she'd already seen in the living room earlier in the evening.

The entirety of the room was covered in nothing but candles, giving the darkened room a soft, romantic glow. And slowly, things started clicking for Y/n.

Rhys had gone to get Lucien.

Shit.

Y/n whipped around, frantically searching for a way out.

While she was still in love with him, in no way was she ready for the confrontation.

She knew he hated her for breaking his heart. There was no way he didn't. She hated herself for it. She did not know how she would go about apologising without it looking like she only wanted him after he'd found someone better.

The glass doors leading to the balcony were thrown wide open, the soft gauzy curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. Y/n stared out at the night sky mournfully. She had taken more after her father than her mother, and so while her brother was half illyrian and could summon wings, she could not.

Now, more than ever, Y/n cursed her father for not being a winged male.

The door was locked, and winnowing was out of the question. Begging someone to let her out would tire her out and make her get angrier, so that had to be scratched out too.

Looking around defeatedly as she accepted her fate, Y/n found a full body length mirror against a far wall.

Meeting her own eyes, Y/n walked closer, knowing that her brother would have left no exit way for her to run from the situation at hand. So there was only one thing she could do, and that was prepare herself.

She studied her own figure, turning this way and that as she smoothed down the nonexistent wrinkles from the skirts of her dark maroon gown that reminded her of Lucien in all his glory.

"You can do this." Y/n muttered in the silence of the room, staring intensely at herself as she pushed back her shoulders and took in a deep breath. "He deserves to know."

Not a moment later, the sound of a lock clicking open echoed through the room, and Y/n winced, turning in time to see Lucien stumbling in and then the door being pulled shut.

He grumbled under his breath, fixing and pulling on his sleeves. He glanced up, then stilled, his eyes filled with surprise.

"Y/n." He addressed her as he straightened.

"Lucien..." He stared at her, his eyes slowly and leisurely roaming her figure. The look in his eyes was just like the way he used to look at her fifty years ago, when everything had been right, perfect. It made Y/n blush, and she had to swallow in an attempt to peel her tongue off of the roof of her mouth. "How- how have you been?"

He met her eyes. "I've been good. Good enough to not die I guess. How about you?"

Y/n swallowed the guilt climbing up her throat like bile. Maybe it was bile. Damn, should not have drank that champagne. "I'm good. As good as I can be without you-"

"Don't."

Y/n looked down at the floor, her blush increasing in embarrassment as he took a look around the room, his golden eye clicking softly. "I'm sorry-"

Then his eyes flew to hers, accusation written in every angle of his beautiful face as his metal eye whirred. "Why did he bring me here?"

Y/n swallowed. "I- if you're saying that I made him drag you here, stop. I did not tell him to bring you here."

Lucien glanced around the room again with a skeptical look. "So he just decided that putting the two of us in the same room with such a setting would be funny?"

Y/n closed her eyes, forcing herself to speak the truth. "I... was just talking to Rhys and he found out that we were seeing each other before under the mountain happened, and he did this by himself."

Lucien scoffed, making her open her eyes to look at him. "And did he tell you why?"

"Lucien-"

"Of course, his brother's happiness matters far more than a bond to him. I just know he's doing this to keep me away from Elain to give Azriel a chance-"

"My brother is strictly against Azriel and Elain getting together-"

"Oh yes, your brother is a fucking saint who can never-"

"Lucien!"

He turned away with an incredulous laugh, walking to the balcony and leaning against the railing. "You've made your feelings very clear Y/n. You've hurt me enough for one lifetime. Leave me alone now. Let me wallow in hope and defeat."

Y/n followed him out. "You don't have to wallow alone." She mumbled, her voice quiet.

"And who will be with me? Feyre? Elain? You?" He laughed, a humourless sound that shot sadness straight to Y/n's heart like a bolt. "I'm always meant to be alone."

Y/n's heart broke right alongside his voice. "Lucien that's not the case."

"Then tell me what is, because as I see it, everyone seems set on hurting me or leaving me. Tell me. Tell me what the case is."

Y/n looked away from him, staring out over the twinkling light of the rainbow and the snake like Sidra cutting through Velaris.

He huffed, his disappointment evident as he followed her gaze. "Exactly."

Y/n was silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to explain without having him leave.

The best answer was to let all her thoughts free.

So she took a deep breath, composing herself, and began in a soft, calm voice.

"I still love you, more than anyone ever could. I hope you know that." Y/n felt his gaze returning to rest on her face, but she did not look away from the glittering Sidra, knowing she would lose her nerve if she did.

"Amarantha? She had taken a special interest in Rhys and me. Anyone who was found even remotely close to us, whether it be a courtier or someone we just talked to that day, ended up dead, tortured and beaten."

She swallowed, trying to not let those memories resurface. "You also had dug up your own grave. What were you thinking, telling her to crawl back to the hole she crawled out of?"

She finally removed her eyes from the Sidra, using them to glare at her past lover. He was not deterred, lifting his chin as he turned his body to face her fully.

"Nothing other than the urge to get you to safety. I was dumb. I know. But I don't regret it. Even if it cost me my eye." With a meaningful look, he mumbled out softly. "But it was no use, as it cost me you too."

Y/n stared at him, her nervousness long forgotten. "Lucien... why do you think I told you to leave me alone?"

"Because I lost my eye?"

Her eyes widened, and her brain practically stopped functioning. All she could do was whisper, "What?"

He gave her a look. "What? You told me to leave you-"

"Lucien I- no." She facepalmed, releasing a frustrated sigh. "No Lucien. That was not the reason why."

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, not saying anything. "I- thank you?"

Despite her efforts, a smile made its way onto her face, and she slapped his chest. "You dumbass. I pushed you away because I did not want Amarantha and her cronies targeting you because of our relationship."

Lucien blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Y/n sighed. "Look Lucien. I... I know there were better ways to tell you to stay away, but I knew you would try your best to stop me from my instincts to protect you, and when you did not put up much of a fuss or even ask me for a reason, I thought you'd been waiting to get rid of me."

Lucien laughed then, a soft, pained but genuine sound. "Looks like we need to learn how to communicate."

Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes prickling a little.

He said nothing for a long time, just staring at her, his eyes swirling with an emotion that Y/n desperately wanted to name but was too scared to.

Y/n waited for him to speak, to move, to do something, with bated breath. He just looked away, releasing a breath.

"Lucien?"

He shook his head.

Concerned, Y/n went to touch his arm.

He recoiled, an Y/n instantly pulled her hand back, her heart breaking again.

"I- I didn't mean to make you uncomfotable-"

"No."

Y/n paused. "Um... No?"

"Why Y/n? Why now?"

"Because I can't watch you pine for someone who does not care while I'm still miserably in love with you!"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on something in the far distance. "That's not- no. Y/n, I... you know I'm a mated male now."

Y/n reared back like he'd slapped her, and if she was being honest, it would have been better if he dd, because there was nothing in the world that hurt more than hearing that.

Y/n stared at him, trying not to feel betrayed.

"You- you're not mated, Lucien."

His jaw clenched, but he remained quiet.

"You, are not, a mated male-"

"Well I know that-"

"Then why do you pretend that you are unavailable for anyone-"

"I have a mate now-"

"Who does not want you!" Y/n screamed, her chest heaving. A dark look crossed his face, and his eyes hardened as he turned away.

"Thanks for the reminder that I'm unwanted, Y/n. Its almost like I'd forgotten."

Y/n kicked herself mentally, reaching for him. "Lucien, I did not mean that-"

"Oh you for sure did. Don't lie." He mumbled softly as he was stepped through the threshold into the warm interior of the house, like he was defeated, and Y/n wished that he'd screamed at her, fought with her, because that would definitely have been better than this torture of watching his shoulders curve inwards.

She stepped forward, her dress swishing around her legs, tears slipping out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek into the defined muscles of his back, knowing her tears were going to stain the fine threads of his navy blue jacket.

"Lucien please." Her voice broke as she spoke, and he froze, letting her squeeze him tighter with every sob that ripped through her.

The two of them remained in that embrace for far too long and not long enough, unmoving and unspeaking, the only sounds her soft cries and his breaths.

With a jolt, Y/n realised he was crying too.

"Lucien, I need you. I need you so bad." She turned her head, digging her face harder into his back.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her fingers from where they'd climbed up his body as the two of them cried.

"Y/n-"

"No. No, let me finish." Y/n sniffled, trying to get her voice to stop wobbling. "I love you Lucien, and it pains me greatly to see you get hurt by her."

"I'm used to it by now." He whispered. If it was even possible, her arms tightened around him more.

"Lucien I love you. I need you back. Come back to me, let her go." Y/n cried.

"It's not that simple my love."

Y/n's heart- whatever shattered remains were left in her chest by this point- froze at the term of endearment. He didn't even seem to notice.

Y/n just absorbed and basked in the normalcy in which he spoke, as if the two of them were back when everything had been okay fifty years ago. As if the last fifty years had never happened.

Like the two of them were not standing so close but were still so far away from each other.

"It could be if you wanted it to be." Y/n mumbled into his back, wondering if there was any way she could press closer still.

He sighed, his body relaxing as he let his head fall back. Then he turned.

Y/n had to force herself to breathe so as not to pass out as his eyes met hers again. They now swirled with so much more emotions than they had before.

He lifted his hand silently, letting his fingers trace the apple of her cheeks.

She did not let her arms fall from where they were now wrapped around his waist.

Moments passed.

Months, years, millenia.

Still, they stood in their embrace, quiet, lost in thoughts in the arms of the person they loved most, sacred bond or not, the moment only broken by him parting his lips to speak.

Y/n tracked the action eagerly.

"I... guess you're right."

Y/n blinked, her brain slow to process as she was so busy trying not to bite the soft flesh of his lips.

When she realised what he said though, her eyes flew to his, alert.

"What?"

He swallowed. "I just have to... tell her she can be free. That I won't bother her again. That will do it, right?"

Y/n blinked again, shocked at how easily he'd agreed.

He rose a brow at her.

"What, you think I don't love you still?" Her lips parted in shock at that, and his lips lifted at one corner. "You will need more than a few harsh words to make me hate you-"

Y/n did not let him finish.

His lips were soft against hers, moving in a rhythm more familiar to Y/n than the back of her own hand. And the fact that he kissed her back without any hesitation made her melt.

And, maybe, if possible, fall more in love with him.

The both of them were reluctant to pull away, but air was also a necessity, as much as Y/n was loathe to admit it.

She blinked open her eyes, finding him already staring at her, a small quirk to his lips and a blush on his face.

She smiled up at him shyly, as if she just hadn't been the one to initiate the kiss. She tried to hide her face in his neck, just like she used to do before, but he caught her chin between his fingers.

Just like he used to do before.

He grinned at her, nudging his nose against hers. "Look at that facade, getting all shy."

"Shut up." She mumbled.

His smile softened.

"We might have to start all over again."

She straightened, nodding. "I know. I'm ready to do anything it takes."

He smirked at her. "Anything?"

She matched his expression, standing on her toes to kiss his nose to emphasize her point.

"Anything."

•○🌑○•

Whore hive (because yall bitches need to read this): @artists-ally @thehighladywrites @berryzxx @clairebear08 @riddlesb1tch @cupidojenphrodite

General taglist Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs

[erytherion]

I knew watching it again would probably result in some different perspectives from when I watched as a kid, but I remembered the film really well already and wasn’t expecting anything particularly ORV-related to suddenly hit me out of the blue, but like. Right at the end. RIGHT at the end.

Sing-Shong (or Han Sooyoung and KimCom, if you’d rather - or maybe both!) really did put so much thought into everything that got included, didn’t they?

You could say that ORV itself is exactly the same to them as this story was to the Rose who shared her story - Jack’s story.

I guess the idea is that, without ORV, we would never have known about Kim Dokja at all, because nobody would have remembered him. Maybe without those specific people surviving, there would not be any other record of him at all. Maybe that is part of the change between what may have ‘actually’ happened and what we read. Maybe he really, truly is ‘just some guy’ trying to survive like Jack Dawson, but nobody even knew he was a part of their story in the first place? What we read is a story saying ‘he was there, here is evidence of him being there’, but maybe he was just like Jack, there unplanned and undocumented, even in the <Star Stream> itself.

And they are still there, telling every world line outside of their own: He was here too. We want to find him. As the only ones who know he was there - maybe without any statue, any documented heroism. Just like everyone in the background of the film, saving each other, dying together, trying to survive.

And a promise, of course, to never let go. Not of a hand, but of a promise: A promise to survive, to live to an old age, and die in a warm bed.

I think a young Kim Dokja would appreciate the kind of message that provided, even in film form. Or at least, it’s one Han Sooyoung (or Sing-Shong, if you’d rather) would consider would want to convey to her readers.

Maybe they don’t even have a picture of him either. Maybe the only record of him exists within their memories. And that was the only source they had with which to try and recreate the ‘him’ that they knew, whilst knowing that, as with the film Titanic, the story would out of necessity become somewhat dramatised to sell the story as plausible or to make it popular enough to reach him.

Anyways, this quote (from the movie transcript - couldn’t find screenshots to do it justice) was what really hit me the most as being relevant to his story, too. Since they were there too, in the theatre dungeon, on the Titanic. It being a fictional rendition of a historical event makes it even more relevant too, and even as a kid I wondered - how can everyone be so okay watching these people die so horribly? But it’s because it’s fiction, it’s fiction. But, in this case, was it? How much of it?

Interpretations of fiction could still be close to reality, in universes where these things did happen, in their reality. As history. So are the things we read, watch, play all the same, in the end? Artists’ renditions, dramatised documentaries, or similar? Fiction, yet also reality.

Like ORV. Fiction, yet reality. Always both and the same.

And they always say ‘it feels like a dream’, too. What do dreams count as? Fiction, or reality? The memories stay in your head from them too. Does that mean they are or are not real?

Just some guy dreaming of the helping his friends through the apocalypse, who came out of nowhere just like Jack Dawson on that ship, walking the fine line between fiction and reality that never had any distinction to him in the first place. It’s always been both, for him, with his story.

Anyways I am crying right now so feel free to cry with me! We have many tears with all these stories and histories, I think.

[inverted-flowers]

Secret Life Tarot Reading no. 6!

It's Scott's turn!

Quick reminder that as of reading number 5 with Tango these are done after episode 3s have come out. Also! You don't really to know anything about Tarot Cards to enjoy this post. Just understand that I'm using them to predict how our lovely ccs are gonna do in Secret Life.

First Card - Start

So to describe the (now passed) start of Secret Life for Scott I drew The Hanged Man. This card feels like it's more so saying he did well in terms of avoiding rash descions. How? My thoughts are on how while everyone else was taking silly bits of damage, from falling off of things for example, Scott didn't really do that. He did very well in thinking through his situations to avoid losing hearts.

Second Card - Individual

This card is meant to describe how Scott plays this season. I drew The Lovers. This card talks about positive collaboration and how trust in your team provides strength. I'm thinking this is saying Scott plays with a strong bond with his team or at least intends to. He wants to be able to work with his team and trust in them.

Third Card - Social

This card is supposed to describe how things go for Scott on the social aspect. I've drawn Justice in Reverse which discusses dishonesty and one-sidedness. It's funny because at first I was just looking at this card and the one before it and wondering how the heck that could make any sense. They're kind of difficult for someone to have at the same time here ya know? But then I changed perspectives a bit and it makes more sense.

There's a few ways we can take this. Usually when I'm drawing this card when someone's I'm got a team assuming that it's going to refer to their team first and the rest of the server second. Since we're looking for the more major kinda baseline stuff it just makes sense. So I suppose the first idea here is that this card is referencing Scott's social experience outside of his team. I'm not really feeling that theory but it felt best to mention it anyway. The next idea is that the dishonesty is coming from either Gem or Impulse. I'm also not going to completely shoot down the idea that Scott is the perpetrator in either of these. I just think the cards are saying he gets deceived- maybe marinated if we don't mind using Among Us terminology lmao. Someone pulls the wool over his eyes and keeps it there.

Fourth Card - Big Impact

This card is meant to tell us about what has the biggest impact on Scott's season. I drew The Chariot for this. This sounds like he survives something by the skin of his teeth. That or it's describing something like what usually happens to the last green (which Scott has plenty of experience with). If that's the case I'd reckon he sees it coming from a mile away and narrowly avoids it.

Fifth Card - End

I drew The Emperor in Reverse. This card talks about being blind to others needs as well as hiding one's true intentions. This sounds like it could be a callback to our 3rd card. Someone, whether that be a teammate or someone else, decieves him.

Final Thoughts and Theories:

I somehow drew all Major Arcana cards for this reading? Also as I was interpreting this the song Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine by The Killers popped into my head which was ironic with some of these cards. (I always have a song stuck in my head at this point I swear.)

Is he gonna win a second time? This reading certainly doesn't sound like it's giving a definite 'no' but I'm not sure it's a 'yes' either. If I had to make a guess as to how it unfolds I'd say he trusts someone he gets deceived by (cards 3&5) and it does him in. Could he pull a gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss? Sure but thats not the vibe I'm getting. Maybe he gets decieved and it results in him being unable to help his teammates. That would leave him alone after he builds his game around working strong together. If we wanna go back to my previous reading with Impulse, I said there's a chance he betrays or just overall messes things up with Gem & The Scotts. Maybe Impulse stabs him in the back for a task? The task would be the need Scott is blind to here (card 5). There's also the whole thing with how Scott is usually one of the last alive. Those who will be around towards the end of his season are likely to all be red. Yeah we'll see I suppose!

'Til next time! :D

[rise-my-angel]

Confessional essay from an anon: despite framing him as a cruel monster most of the time, there were a few moments where I was reminded that Joffrey was just a child, and I felt awful about such a fact, because he has so much power and responsibility on his hands that he was not raised for even though that really should have been his parents main priority.

It was most noticable in a scene I remember with Tywin in the throne room. I don't recall the details, it's been a while since I last watched the series, but it was such a calm moment that had Joffrey asking questions a genuine child his age would ask and I sort of had this revelation of "oh shit, this is a child, and everyone is egging on his death, what the fuck?"

Because he was never raised properly on how to handle such power and responsibility but he still had that promise of "you will be king some day" which of course plenty of children were going to be excited about regardless if they have mental illness, which I would not be surprised if he had because of his true parentage and how genetics work.

I am a firm believer in not holding children responsible in the same way you would any grown person, and I genuinely think he shouldn't have been blamed as much as he did for his behaviour. It's the neglect of his "father" and the selfish acts and lack of responsibility by his mother that put him in the spot to be killed in such a horrific way. If one person, did the right thing earlier on and put their foot down none of the horrors would have occurred. But nobody did anything, either because of the fear or craving for that damn spiky chair.

I'm not saying forgive and forget obviously, but I think there is a reason a lot of the Starks are viewed as more humane. Because at least the executions they provide are quick and done by their own hands. The death Joffrey had would have been torturous. He did unforgivable things, but it doesn't feel like justice.

But when I expressed this I got funny looks, so...yeah...

It's funny you say this, because I have a scene where I feel exactly the same way. During the battle of Blackwater when Stannis's troops land outside the gates and Lancel comes trying to subtly tell Joffery that his mother has requested he come inside. And Tyrion tries to reason with him to stay, but he doesn't.

It's that look on his face, conflicted and scared and ends up leaving beacuse he's not brave enough to handle this. But it only reminds me, he's just a kid. No one ever prepared him for something like this. No one ever gave Joffery the time to learn how to lead into a battle like a man, and so when it falls on his shoulders, the first out he gets, he takes beacuse he's just scared and has no idea what he's supposed to be doing.

Of course it doesn't excuse the way he lies and takes credit for what was Tyrions work and initial victory, but it's just a small moment where I'm like "Oh. He's still just a kid whose never truly been prepared to do anything like this in his life." Some might be brave enough to push through it, but neither Robert nor Cersei ever did anything to teach him how to be brave enough to push through it.

He aggressively attacks and threatens Arya, only to later stand in front of everyone in the Inn arguing with her about what happened so childishly that he pettily just tells her to shut up when he can't think of anything good to argue back with.

Obviously, something here was never right with him, considering that raised with the same parents and environment, Tommen and Myrcella turned out to be genuinely good, innocent children. But it's like Ramsay. Clearly Ramsay was born with something wrong in his head, but being raised with Roose Bolton as his father only enhanced and encouraged the worst parts of him, and the same is clear with Joffery.

He would've never been a good person and certainly not a competant King, but there is the wonder of those moments when he's clearly still just a boy who was never raised to be prepared for this.

He became an uncontrollable monster when he had the power to do so without punishment. But like Tyrion tells Cersei, "It's hard to put a leash on a dog, once you've put a crown on it's head."

They only tried to control and teach him AFTER giving him the ultimate power. When it's their fault for not even considering doing so way before then. And his death is very clearly designed to make you feel for him. It is horrific and never once does the show nor book act like it's a moment to celebrate. It is scary to watch and it's a horrific, torturous way to die that he didn't deserve. Because no one deserves that.

There's something that was always seriously wrong with Joffery and the world in the series is a better place without him, but at what point do we also hold the adults around him responsible, for allowing him to turn out the way he did?

[wilddragonflying]

Alright, tagged by @tiltingheartand and I'm writing this on mobile bc otherwise I'll forget so forgive any typos/weirdness!

How many works do you have on AO3?

247, however a bunch of those are from the Collaborations series! It's a series collecting all of the fics that @queerpeasantchic and I have written 😁

Total AO3 word count?

3,093,324 (2,065,618 of which is from the aforementioned Collaborations)

What fandoms do you write for?

Ahahahahahaha ummmm

9-1-1, Roswell: New Mexico, Baldur's Gate 3, Fallout (as a whole), Detroit: Become Human, Sandman, Avengers, Stranger Things, Borderlands, MCU, Teen Wolf, Dragon Age, Far Cry (specifically New Dawn), The Witcher, Overwatch, House of Ashes, Harry Potter, Skyrim, Mass Effect, Justice League, Kingsman, The Quarry, Wonder Woman, How to Train Your Dragon, Buzzfeed Unsolved(don't think I actually published anything for that one tho)

Honestly like. If I'm in a fandom, odds are I WILL write a fic for it at some point

Top five fics by kudos?

A Question of Pack (Teen Wolf, sterek, canon-compliant thru I think s2? Been a while since I've reread it, but people are still reading it! Collab w/ @queerpeasantchic)

Between the Drinks and the Morning (Witcher, Geraskier, PWP)

Rumor Has It (9-1-1, Buddie, 5 times people thought buddie were divorced + 1 time they realized they want to be married)

What (Not) to Tell Your Friends (Teen Wolf, Sterek, established relationship w/ sex-repulsed ace!Derek where the rest of the pack finds out sterek have never had sex and meddle; another collab w/ @queerpeasantchic)

Two Steps Forward (9-1-1, buddie, Ramon and Helena come to visit after Ramon's retirement party and they misunderstand buddie's relationship, featuring Ramon trying Very Hard and not quite hitting the mark, but acting sincerely)

Do you respond to comments?

I will if there's a question or if the commenter is being a dick - odds are I'm more likely to respond if they're an asshole because I like tearing them apart them freezing the comment thread and deleting any other comment attempts 😂

Fic with angstiest ending?

Oh jeez I don't know I don't...... think I've ever done a non-happy/hopeful ending?????

Fic w/ happiest ending?

.... see above 😂 most of my endings are happy!

Do you get hate on fics?

Yepper-ooni 😂 I actually have a couple of fics that were motivated entirely by some idiots who didn't understand the concept of 'don't like don't read' when it comes to messed up characters having messed up relationship dynamics 😂

Do you write smut?

I sure do! Surprise myself with it sometimes, but sometimes you just gotta sit down and bang out 6k words about your favs banging

Craziest crossover?

Hmm I don't typically do crossovers, but I did write a couple leverage/supernatural fics way back when I started writing & posting fics; that's the only one coming to mind right offhand

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Ye! Or at least, had some where a request to translate was commented lol

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

See the very first answer 😂 I co-write loads of fic w/ @queerpeasantchic but I also like to talk about my WIPs w/ people like @tiltingheartand who is wonderful to bounce ideas off of and who has provided much food for thought & inspo 💖

All time favorite ship?

Oh God that's a toughie 🙈 I gotta say either Parker/Hadison/Eliot, or buddie, or maybe sterek???? It's so hard to choose

WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Oh Jesus *guiltily glances at google drive* there are.... way too many 🙈

Writing strengths?

Hmm I like to think I'm good at digging into a character's head and showing the internal thoughts

Weaknesses?

Anything requiring a physical description 😂

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If the POV character knows the language, I'll usually put it in italics w/ a note about which language it is, but if not, then I'll describe the other speakers' mannerisms/attitude as they speak

First fandom you wrote in?

Erm I think that might've been Warrior Cats, *way* back when I first discovered fic!

Favorite fic you've written?

Without a doubt, Supplementations and Upgrades! This is a fic inspired by a Tumblr post wondering what if BioWare *had* gone with the apparent original idea of the geth bringing Shephard back to life for ME2. I wrote the first chapter as a one-off with my Shephard, Rochelle (biotic ping pong ball of death), and then the idea just wouldn't leave me alone! Ended up being over 230k words and honestly it's my biggest project to date and the one I'm most proud of 😁 I constantly re-read it, and have commissioned art for various chapters from @defenestratin! (With plans for more bc I CANNOT get enough of how they draw Rochelle 😍)

I'm gonna tag........... @queerpeasantchic @systlin @inexplicifics and anyone else who wants to give it a shot 😁

[jargonautical]

The Alfriscombe Hoard

SOMEWHERE NEAR VICTORIA, tucked down a narrow side-street, there’s a tiny hole-in-the-wall café bar that appears in no tourist guide to the city.

The owner is unconcerned. Her prices wouldn’t suit the idly curious, nor tourists on a budget, but they’re perfectly pitched for her actual target demographic - for example the man currently sitting alone at the pavement table outside, chair angled to collect the afternoon sun. Passers-by might take him for a senior civil servant stopped for a moment’s respite between meetings. This neighbourhood is stuffed with them, after all.

They’d be almost completely wrong aside from one single point; he is in fact patiently waiting for someone. The superb espresso in front of him, black as a churchman’s conscience with a perfect galaxy-swirl of crema, is merely an indulgence, an excuse to sit while he waits. He reaches over and claims the newspaper abandoned at the next table, shaking it out and turning to the back page. Crossword half-filled in - in pencil, he notes with a baffled lift of his brows. Either commit or don’t, what’s with the half-measures?

Typical mudside though. People claim to care about things, but they’ll abandon the quest if it proves too complex. They want, but their heads are soon turned by the next want, and the next; shallow desires pursued with misplaced determination.

The day’s headlines are a depressing but grimly satisfying case in point. People sick and dying because of sub-standard housing. Yet another politician caught in the wrong bed. Possible insider trading at an investment bank, management issuing strenuous denials. Negligence, greed and lust … speaking of which, he reaches for his pen and flips back to the crossword. 16 down – ‘Fur in disarray, Danny starts a scam. (5)’ . Ah yes; ‘F’,’R’,’A’,’U’,’D’. 

Scanning the next few clues provides no further inspiration, and he turns his attention back to the crowds crossing the main concourse, heads down and wrapped up in their own thoughts. A rolling tide of humanity, lifeless and disconnected.

Exceptions prove the rule though. A girl comes past, pretty in the sunshine, with hair dyed bright red, multiple silver piercings in her ear, knitted rainbow sleeves warming her arms. Other than his coffee she’s the most interesting thing he’s seen all morning, a bright counterpoint to the dreary background she moves against, and he watches her until she disappears out of sight behind the buildings before turning back to his headlines. City councillor suspended for misconduct, criminal investigation ongoing - good. It took long enough for justice to catch up with that one. His satisfied smirk turns thoughtful, and he examines the crossword again. 3 across, ‘Attack on Lot’s wife removes support, we hear.’ (7). The pen is deployed again; ‘A’,’S’,’S’,’A’,’U’,’L’,’T’.

He sips his cooling coffee, letting the flavour roll over his tongue and debating internally whether he has time for another. The sun has moved round behind the office blocks now, putting him further and further into the shadows, and he’s almost out of time. There’s a sudden edge in the air though, a brightening of the dreary street and the impression of a melody just beyond the edge of hearing, which tells him his wait is over. He doesn’t even need to look up to see who’s joining him.

“Good to see you back.”, he says, leaning back to catch the barista’s eye. “Can I get you something?”.

“No, I can’t stop. I’m surprised to find you still here, to be honest. Did you not hear?”.

“I heard.”. Mainder smiles bitterly. “They finally made the connection. It made the papers and everything.”.

“That’s it then, isn’t it? He’ll be moving on the Fold before we know it. People are wondering when you’re going to step in.”.

“Are they …?". The quirk of his mouth politely hints at disbelief, drawing a reluctant smile from the scribe.

“Alright then, I’m wondering. Couldn’t you do something?”.

“I am doing something. The long game, remember? Half of progress is made by standing still.”. Mainder grins over the rim of his cup. “You’ll just have to trust me. How was it, anyway?”.

The scribe sighs. “It was a mess, honestly. I’m amazed nothing went wrong, the way they were picking it over - like children digging for worms! What if there’d been something active down there?”.

“Was there?”. The bland query is delivered with a knowing smirk.

“I know, I know. You’d have said if there were. No, it didn’t feel like any of it had ever even been used, at least not that I could sense.”.

“There you go then. A trade drop maybe? Anyway, it doesn’t matter what they found. Never has. They’ll put it all under lights and behind glass and write about it until they get bored.". Mainder sounds indulgent rather than irritated, like a parent discussing the latest crayon-on-the-walls incident. “Were his people there?”.

“All over it, yes. He’s the last, isn’t he? Surely it would be easy enough to finish it here.”.

“Easy, yes. But where’s the elegance in that? He’ll have his chance, just as all the others did before him. If he chooses to over-reach that’s on him.”.

“You’ll let him ruin himself.”, the scribe smiles as understanding dawns. “Elegant indeed.”.

[kenxmatsui]

Ken pressed his lips tighter together to hide a smile in an attempt to prove Rohan wrong, to say he wasn’t laughing, but try as he may, it only wanted to be expressed more – and it did, accompanied by a shake of his head, of course. It seemed stupid to tamper down these fleeting moments of genuine happiness when it could be snatched away easily, joy had never been something that took root within him, it wasn’t allowed and he had continued to not let it in. Striving to be perfect, despite what Rohan had said was what he had been trained to do and this of course led to many flaws within him, which only reinforced the notion to be perfect. Ken had, on his own accord, held his own enjoyment at bay and only of late he had begun to shed that frame of mind, not completely, not entirely enough for it to be visible to others without close attention but wasn’t it enough that he saw the change within him? And the hug, not moments ago, was a prime example of it.

Yet, comments on that had to wait as Rohan stunned him to silence. Clarification of what the big question could entail did not need asking when there could be no doubt as to what he meant when best man was mentioned. “He better fucking not say anything other than a resounding yes.” Ken didn’t mean to pose it as a threat – well, maybe a little, but being the best friend and all, he had the right. “I’m only slightly joking, but really, Rohan, you’re every bit lucky and he’d be a fool to say no. I’m happy about this next step for you, I know and can see how he makes you feel, and you deserve to be loved without limitations.” He would spare his friend the ‘are you sure’ and ‘think it through’ because no, that was not needed now or ever, “Shouldn’t that fall on me to give you cufflinks and all things? This is enough for me really, no formality required. And thank you, I’ve never had such a privilege or such a friend like you.” 

Despite an exhale and a shake of his head Ken truly did take the words into serious consideration, letting them sit in his head and his heart, feelings had never come easy nor had a sense of self, the latter especially being something thrust upon him to be a certain way, to think and act had been lessons taught never ones that could be explored and found by will, you’re exceptionally you but who even was he? And how did Rohan seem to know him better than he seemed to know himself? “I am all those things, rigid, orderly and stubborn beyond high heavens. But this…” he pointed at the scene described, “This is only me because it’s you and directly feeds into the level of comfort and ease your presence provides. My parents were not good people and the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. I carry that name as a burden but here you are equating me greatness, you’re on my side when I’m not even on my own side, I still can’t wrap my head around that…” He drifted off into thought and silence, wondering what he possibly could’ve done to deserve this level of kindness and came up blank every time. Deciding to not think too much into that right now, he pulled thoughts to the present, “What would my stage name be then? Maybe I'll do that more justice.”

Ken skipped on the modern medicine joke, features, and mood too a little, growing grave at the mention of living for two hundred years, as much as he didn't want death to collect his friend, the life spent in the in-between of living and end was not something he wished for Rohan either, “I don’t ever want to be rid of you, but Rohan I love and care for you too much to not advise against the thought you’re having. Not my decision, I understand, and I hope we have a long time before you or fate decides it, but consider it carefully.” Having given his opinion on matters he wasn’t sure needed or not, Ken pondered on the rest of what Rohan continued to say. Nice versus good still didn’t come to a clarity but there were things that Rohan said that could instantly be denied, “Perhaps this whole thing needs a review, or maybe it still confuses me but I hope that you don’t believe you’re dishonest. I’ve seen and dealt with those kind of people and you’re not one of them. I only do things that seem sensible and interest me, not to be good or otherwise.” Usually the one to not talk on things he didn’t care about, voicing these opinions meant that in some respect he did care on these differences, or nice and good, he knew himself to be neither though but knew himself enough to figure his mind would indefinitely give time to these thoughts more. “No, not at all. Perhaps it could be possible to simply exist, it sounds like a dream but looking at this year alone I can’t shake the pessimistic outlook. Saying that however, I don’t think it’s foolish to wish for it, I’m not a big believer in hope but it’s all we have isn’t it?” 

Rohan smiled, genuine mirth managing to crack away at some of the tired stone layers he had been building around himself like fortifications these past few weeks. "Hey! It got you to laugh. Mission accomplished. The good news, though, is that we don't actually have to be perfect, I guess. Maybe it would be dull. I'm supposed to say that as a writer. People needs flaws and shortcomings. But I'd like to be wonderful in all things all the time." He rolled his eyes at himself, his own features softening as Ken spoke. Really, he thought, the vampire was the one who had to put up with his nonsense, not the other way around. And among his own nonsense was his sentimental insistence on physical contact; Ken being the initiator of this hug took Rohan by surprise. But still, he returned it fully, tightening his grip on the other for a long, bracing embrace. "Thank you," he murmured softly as they parted. "I'm going to hold you to it. And I am going to need very many other favors soon...if I should be so lucky. I'm, uh, I'm going to ask Jonah the big question soon, Ken. I like to fool myself into thinking he'd say 'yes.' This is premature, and I swear I'll get you a whole giftbox with cufflinks and everything and properly ask later, but I couldn't have another best man but you."

He shrugged weakly, trailing off. Despite all the heartache, despite the loss of the theater, despite the sleepless nights, this really was perfect, he thought, to be so rich in so many things. To have someone he loved, to have such an extraordinary best friend, to have a career and a home: these were the building blocks of happiness indeed. "I think you're right. The universe blesses us in usual ways," he agreed, giving a nod. Listening, then, Rohan furrowed up his brow, placing his own hands in his lap. "For the record, I think you're exceptionally you. And that you can be whoever you want. Truly. In fact, I give you full permission. As your friend, I think you may think that you're bound by...rigidity. Or order. Or formality. And sure, Ken is some of those things, and they make him spectacular. But Ken is also the kind of person who eats ice cream on my floor and daydreams about opening seaside inns with me." He smiled softly. "I do understand, though. Our parents' ghosts long follow us. We are, after all, the only surfaces on which they can cast their shades. But you know what? I, personally, will only think of the Matsui name fondly. It belongs to one of the greats." He pointed at the other with a very serious nod. "I can help you come up with a stage name if you'd like, though."

Rohan sighed, his own face growing contemplative. "I couldn't possibly. And besides, modern medicine works wonders. I shall live to be two-hundred, three-hundred myself. You won't be rid of me so easy." He jostled the other with his shoulder, but in truth, Rohan was not necessarily above the notion of vampirism for himself. He considered that one day, when he had lived enough time, he might be persuaded to take on some more. He would not ask Ken to do the task. He shrugged weakly. "Nice people are more concerned with appearances. We're polite. We try not to hurt feelings. We keep things neat and tidy. Good people, though, they do what must be done for goodness's own sake. It's very noble to be good. Niceness can be dishonest," he explained. "You're among full company, though. All of us are losing it. Is it foolish of me to hope that...one day, really, maybe one day, we can all go public and just exist in the world? No hideaway? No memory spells. Just...normality."

[muddyorbsblr]

little darling

View the list of all my works here!

Based off of this post by @lizzyjustice

Summary: You find out that Loki made a joke about you being helpless without him because of your height, and you attempt to exact your revenge

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 902 (I know, less than 1k? I'm shocked, too)

Warning/s: implied smut (minors and pearl clutchers, dni); besides that, nothing. this is fluffy [let me know if i missed anything]

"My love, sometimes I wonder if you purposefully ask the rest of the team to put things out of your reach so that you could tell me to retrieve them for you," Loki commented as he reached up to the cupboard to grab you the spice you needed to make dinner for the team tonight. 

"I could always just tiptoe on the stepladder next time," you deadpanned in response. 

The god set down the spice next to the stove top before wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on top of your head. "Absolutely not. I will not have you risking this body…" He slid his hands up and down your sides. "That I am so deliciously fond of…" His hands slid to your hips as he pressed his body against yours. "Over this minutiae." 

"I love you, too, Mischief," you giggled as you tilted your head to look up at him.

"Furthermore, I'm quite fond of how you choose to thank me for my…assistance," he said, leaning in to kiss you, which you were more than happy to close the remaining distance to. "Mmm yes," he murmured against your lips before pressing in another kiss to them. "I'm more than happy to allow you to use my body to fulfill your needs." 

"Why must you make everything sound dirty?" 

"Because it makes our lives much more interesting, my little mortal." 

Before you could respond, you heard the protestations of both Tony and Sam from the door. "Whoa whoa whoa not in the kitchen, Y/L/N, we eat there!" Sam said with a little shudder.

"Can you go even two hours without trying to corrupt her in front of us, Rock of Ages? We get it, you two are a thing now, but…really?" 

"I do not understand your people's aversion to displays of romance, Stark," Thor commented. Before you could thank him for his intervention, however, he kept talking. "Domesticity becomes you, Brother." 

"Dammit Thor, shut up, you'll scare him away," you whispered as Loki muttered something about retreating to your shared apartment before dinner and pressed a kiss to your temple. As he walked away, you motioned to him while glaring at his brother and hissed, "Now see what you did?" 

"I apologize, Lady Y/N. I will be more than willing to provide any assistance you might require since my brother has mentioned that you are quite…I believe the word was helpless? Without him?" 

Your jaw slacked open at Thor's admission. "He said that?" The blond god simply nodded his answer. "That bitch…" 

"He's lucky you love him, right?" Sam quipped from the kitchen island. 

"I demand justice," you said playfully, eyeing the three men in the kitchen. "One of you give me an idea. Now." 

"I will happily squander a glass of wine for this," Tony offered. "So this is what you do…" 

When you finished making dinner you made your way to your apartment, glass of wine in hand, quietly snickering to yourself. As you suspected, there was an unfairly beautiful sleeping god on your bed, looking almost too peaceful to disturb.

Almost.

You stepped up onto the bed, careful to not wake your lover prematurely, and moved slowly until you stood over him, feet placed on either side of him, holding the wine glass high over his face.

"Y/N, my love, what are you doing?" Loki mumbled, his eyes still suspiciously closed. "Did you truly think you could sneak up on me?" He turned his head to face you and his gaze met yours. "I heard you snickering in the hallway, my darling." He flicked his hand and in a flash of green, the wine glass disappeared from your hand and materialized on the nightstand.

Before you could move off the bed, he grabbed hold of your legs and pulled you down onto the bed, forcing you to your knees as he used his hold on you as leverage to sit up. After a playful struggle and a mess of grunts and squeals, you found yourself pinned to the bed, his hands holding your wrists in place as he hovered over you, straddling your waist.

"Much as I adore the view as you hover over me, dear heart," he said with a smirk as he leaned down, his lips grazing your ear. "I relish how you look beneath me." He pressed a kiss to the skin under your ear, making you whimper and squirm against his hold. He kissed a path to your neck before murmuring against your skin. "Do you wish to try again, my love?" 

"I'll get the jump on you one of these days, Mischief," you gasped, biting back a moan as he lightly sucked on the skin at the base of your throat. 

"As amusing as that day will be," he mumbled as he smirked against your skin. "I look forward to enjoying the days that your efforts are unsuccessful." He pressed more kisses to your skin, trailing back up to your lips. 

Your eyes widened as you watched Loki's magic wash over the room, and you suspected that he'd silenced the room to the outside world. The devious smirk on his face as he looked down at you confirmed your suspicions.

"Make as much noise as you wish, my love," he told you as he pressed his lips to yours once more. "I intend to thoroughly enjoy you." 

A/N: I love little situational prompts like this, I swear it's such a fun little writing exercise. I love prompts in general honestly.

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston

[hyunjilicious]

I just read what is and what should never be and it was PHENOMENAL! I love everything you write anyway so I was wondering if you could do a small one where Bucky is alone and depressed and he calls yn because he feels lost and she is just there for him? No worries if you can't! I love you anyway 💕

Omg!! You’re too sweet! I really wanted to do this one justice, but I suck at angst... I love you too!! and I’m sorry if this sucks!

Summary: after the events of Endgame, you and Bucky part ways. Even though you haven’t spoken in months, when he needs you, you’re there ANGST 2.2k

Warnings: overall angsty vibes. Sad Bucky. Idk depictions of depression I guess? shitty writing!

“You came” Bucky's surprised tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Before saying anything else, you shook your head in disbelief. From certain points of view, he looked exactly the same as when you last saw him months ago, but if you looked past his rugged exterior, it was very easy to tell something was truly eating away at his heart.

“Of course I came” you frowned, “You called me”

“Thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Bucky mumbled.

You looked him up and down, thoroughly confused by his statement, but decided to keep the tone of the conversation from going too dark too fast. “Shut up, Barnes” you scoffed, “Don’t even joke about that.” A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips, but it was forced, you could easily tell he wasn’t truly being himself. “What’s up?”

Bucky took a deep breath as if gathering the courage to word his thoughts. When his eyes met yours he flinched, the pain clouding his otherwise bright blue eyes. He started with a long sigh and a shake of his head but then, cringed as he finally spoke up. “I need help”

His confession went directly to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Whatever it is, you got it, but what-”

“Nothing happened” Bucky stopped you, “I need help”

“I don’t understand”

“I need someone to-” he sighed, closing his eyes as his head fell forward in what could only be described as shame, “I need someone to talk to” and it was funny, considering he just walked out of his psychiatrist’s office. “Someone that’s not paid to listen to me” he added, “Someone who understands”

It was moments like these that you truly wished Steve was still here. Or Nat. Your best friends, yes, but they were the glue that held you all together, and now in their absence, you were all threatening to fall apart. 

But of course you’d be there for Bucky. Whatever he needed you were more than eager to provide, but at the same time, you were fully aware that your capabilities were limited. You didn’t lack the understanding or the experience, but you lacked the words. You had the sympathy, but not the advice he needed. But you were there. Like you have always been and always will be, so, that afternoon you ended up on his living room floor.

Surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol that had no effect on either of you whatsoever, you sat and listened to him rant his heart out until his throat couldn’t take it anymore. And then he broke down - completely. A full on mess, tears staining his cheeks as the temperature dropped in the room with every other pained groan he’d release. But he let it all out and the weight he had been carrying on his shoulder was unimaginable. There were too many things eating away at his heart, but the guilt was what kept him under its spell, what kept him up for the last months, what was physically destroying him.

“Y/n... “ he called for you, face hidden in his hands as he spoke, “I know you’re gonna say no, but-”

“No,” you stopped him, “Then don’t ask me”

“Please”

“No, Bucky” you sighed, grabbing his wrist so you could look him in the eyes, “If you already know it’s a bad idea, please don’t tell me because I’m afraid I’ll actually go through with it right now”

“But i can’t fucking sleep!” he cried out loud, falling back against the couch, arms propped up on his knees, “I keep having the same nightmares over and over again, and I can’t take it anymore”

“You don’t-” you took a deep breath, “You don’t want me to erase your mind, do you?”

The look in his eyes proved that that was exactly what he wanted. And the unshed tears that coated the otherwise pure and radiant blue of his eyes was almost enough to convince you.

“Please-” he begged, “I-”

“No, Buck” you shook your head and shuffled to face him properly, “As time passes, it’s only gonna get worse. The past will eventually catch up to you. You’ll want to know what you did”

He didn’t have it in him to fight you, so silence settled for a while. “You know sedatives don’t work on me?”

“I… never thought about it, but that makes sense”

Bucky gathered his lips into a tight line and nodded his head.

“Lady shrink isn’t of any help?” you asked.

“I have no clue what she’s doing” he shrugged, “Maybe it’s good in the long run, but fuck if I know how she expects me to make any kind of progress right now”

“You are, tho” you reassured him, “Making progress I mean”

“Am I?” Bucky laughed incredulously.

“Yes! You’re almost completely on your own feet. You really pushed through”

“Or maybe I’m just ignoring all of my problems”

“You just told me about them” you chuckled, and threw an arm over his shoulders.

Hesitatingly at first, he eventually leaned in into your hold, allowing himself to completely fall against your chest. “I hate this”

“I think that’s a given” you laughed, curling your fingers around the roots of his way too short hair. “A wise man once said that whenever someone acts like they have their shit together, they’re either lying or delusional”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know” you confessed, “I saw that on the internet”

For the first time that night, you actually heard him laugh, and it sounded so good - it was short and weak, but it was sweet and honest. “That’s a pathetic attempt at cheering me up, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it” Bucky said as he pushed himself up.

“I wish I could do more” you mumbled, “But I don’t know what, or how, but-”

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that” you smiled.

He didn’t know that. He’d never stop thanking you for even the smallest gestures. The day where Bucky would understand that kindness, in some cases, is a given, was far away, but you had the patience and determination to work for it.

As you talked and talked, and the topic of conversation kept shifting from one area to the other, the sun set, night settling outside his small windows. It was time for you to leave, and you would’ve done it, had he asked you not to at the last second.

You had your shoes on and one hand on the door handle, when he stumbled over his words, obviously too shy to properly hold his ground. “Actually can you- can you-” he mumbled, pointing to his couch, “Can you stay here tonight?”

And of course you did. The night didn’t last much longer after that, with Bucky settling on the floor, only a blanket to keep him company, and you sprawled out on the couch as silence settled.

But your mind was too busy to drift off. You knew his’ was too, but decided to refrain from speaking up, hoping to let him fall asleep, even for a short while.

It was loud inside your head. You always promised yourself you’d never intrude on someone’s thoughts and read through them without their approval, but you physically felt Bucky radiate energy, and your mind just slipped. But then, your heart almost stopped.

You saw yourself. You saw yourself slapping him back in Wakanda when he decided to go under ice again, you saw yourself moving a car out of his way back in Bucharest, when you risked your life for his because you trusted Steve that much, and because you were that good of a friend. You saw yourself at Tony’s funeral, eyes shiny with tears and then felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hug yourself - and then realised it wasn’t your urge, it was Bucky’s. At this point, your heart beat so fast you were actually afraid he’d hear it. But when goosebumps appeared all over your skin, you realised he couldn’t hear you, that he was asleep and that the nightmares started materializing. 

What convinced you to act on it was the sudden jerk of his body and the way to fully tensed instantly after. So, unable to just sit and watch, you rolled over to the side and allowed your hand to fall by his temple, little specks of light rolling off the tips of your fingers as you forced the thoughts away. Seconds later, you saw him relax and shift around, gathering the blanket he laid on to his chest as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

His relaxed form and the steady pace of his breathing put a smile on your face. But you made the mistake of thinking this was a one time thing, however, before you realised, you found yourself leaning over him again, ushering yet another wave of nightmares away. And it kept being an ongoing process until the sun rose, and you cursed yourself as you did not get one second of shut eye. But it was worth it. The sight of him finally resting, knowing he spent his night in his happy place that you this time did not intrude on, made up for your tiredness. 

When Bucky drifted out of his deep sleep, you figured it was safe to relax too. But knowing that if you went to sleep right now you wouldn’t wake up until noon, you stood up, determined to give him the full best friend experience.

But all you found in his kitchen was a box of stale cereal, a soft cucumber and candy wrappers. Had he not looked so adorable sleeping shirtless and curled into a ball on the floor, you would have woken him up yelling. But instead, you decided to order some food, and the simple fact that the sound of the delivery guy ringing the doorbell didn’t wake him up, actually terrified you. With a life like yours, no one sleeps that deeply, but then there he was, snoring away the late hours of the morning. 

By the time he finally stirred awake, the food was already cold, and you were bored out of your mind. “What- what time is it?” he mumbled, voice rich with sleep.

“A little bit past 2” you yawned from your spot on the couch.

“2 pm?” Bucky huffed, sitting up in a hurry and rushing to grab his phone. “What the-” he turned to you confused, “It’s 2pm…”

“Yeah” you sighed, “And the food is cold”

“Food?” Bucky gawked, looking over at the small table by the window, “You got food?”

“You didn’t have any” you defended yourself. You wanted to scold him for not taking better care of himself, but he looked so homey and cozy and vulnerable, that you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Eventually, you stood up and walked over to him. “I’ll let you eat, Buck, but I gotta go” you sighed, giving him a hug, “Got some stuff to do” you lied, by stuff meaning sleep, since you were exhausted.

“Yeah, of course” he mumbled in agreement, wrapping his arms around your frame, and bringing you closer. He sank his head into the crook of your neck, holding you to his chest for a moment longer than you would have considered friendly. But you didn’t complain, his hold was stern and loving, and you really needed that right now. “Thank you” Bucky added when he finally let you go. His right palm cupped your cheek as he looked down at you, awe and admiration in his eyes.

“Nothing to thank me for, Buck” you smiled, and then pulled away.

He silently watched you get ready to leave, following you around until you reached the door and turned around to say goodbye. And it was weird. Your heart boomed against your ribcage, and you didn’t have to read his thoughts to know he was feeling the same kind of nervous. And it may have been the one too many stories you read but you actually feared something was going to happen. Thankfully, it didn’t. Instead you shared another hug, and parted ways.

However, all you managed to do was reach the staircase before you heard his door open, followed by the sound of his bare feet sprinting down the hallway. “What are you-”

“Can you stay?” he asked, shaking from head to toe, “In New York I mean, can you please stay? Just a few more days”

“Well, I- yeah, I guess I can” you mumbled.

“I just, I need a few more days. You’re screwing my head back on, I just need you now. Steve is gone, and Sam is all the way in Louisiana and I hate phones and I-”

“Wow-” you laughed, “I’m not even the second choice, I’m the third?”

“Shut up, Y/n” Bucky frowned, “Stop being a smartass for a second”

“I’m sorry” you rolled your eyes, but he didn’t care.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky threw his arms around your shoulders and hugged you close, and you weren’t sure if the ‘I love you’ that echoed inside your mind had actually been spoken or just thought, but it was everything you never knew you needed.

[tsukishumai]

pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn word count: 3.2k summary: In which Osamu finds that the stranger lurking outside his store window has a connection to his restaurant that he could have never expected.

Osamu remembers every single face that has walked through the doors of Onigiri Miya since the day they’ve opened. He has yet to hire another worker, manning all stations of his business himself. The rush hours always provided him with a bit of a heavy work load, but Osamu has learned a lot about diligence and patience. Business had been good enough; traffic was steady throughout the day, and he had his fair share of regulars whose orders he had already memorized.

The stuffy, salt-and-pepper haired man in the pressed three-piece suit always ordered two umeboshi onigiri and a medium iced green tea. The kind old woman that ran the shop across the street would come in for his salted salmon, and if he had extra, Osamu would throw in an extra tuna mayo. She’d always smile and give him a pat on the shoulder, her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Osamu of his grandmother.

It was when the shopkeeper had slowly walked out of his establishment and back to her own that Osamu noticed you standing a few feet away from his storefront. You had been wearing a face mask, but Osamu could see that you were staring at his sign. Your eyes squinted at the block letters that looked down at you, before they trailed down to land directly on Osamu. You seemed a little startled at the fact that his eyes were already staring at you, but you were standing outside his restaurant, weren’t you?

Before he could lift a hand to wave you in, you quickly turned and walked away.

Every few days, either during the dinner or lunch rush, Osamu would catch a glimpse of you outside of his restaurant. You’d stare at his sign for a few seconds; maybe glance at the menu board that stood a few feet away from his entrance, or look at the pictures of his full menu taped to the restaurant window. he would see the way you studied each item, yet you always walked the opposite direction.

It bothered Osamu. Why didn’t you want to come in? Did his menu look boring? Was his sign uninviting? Is his decoration too traditional? Should he have made it look a little more modern? He grumbled to himself about it each time you peeked in, and walked away. Why do you bother coming so often if you didn’t want to try his food? Osamu huffed.

It wasn’t until four weeks later, when Osamu had posted three brand new flavors on his menu board that you finally deemed his restaurant worthy enough to step in.

You had stopped by a little bit later than usual today, the dinner rush had come and gone, and the only ones left in the restaurant were you and Osamu. He stood patiently waiting behind his counter, desperately trying to look busy and as if he hasn’t been waiting for this moment for weeks. 

He waited until you were close enough to his counter to say his greetings. You nodded at him in acknowledgment, taking a seat at the bar in front of him. He handed you a menu, and your eyes roved over the words as if they hadn’t done so dozens of times prior. 

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” He asked, and you took off the baseball cap you had been wearing, setting it down on the counter beside you. Your finger hooks along the ear loop of your face mask and Osamu realizes he’s seeing your face for the first time. You place the piece of cloth in your pocket, and Osamu fights the heat across his cheeks. 

“Just water,” you said, and Osamu was quick to set a fresh glass down in front of you. 

“What’ll it be?” He asked after a few moments, adjusting the bill of his hat and settling his hand on his hip. 

You hum a little, tapping your finger against your lips before you reply. “I’ll have the combo #2 with the gyoza.” 

Osamu nodded, “What two flavors onigiri would you like?” 

“For the first one, I’ll have your most popular flavor,” you say, before closing the menu and handing it back to him, “I’ll let you choose the second one.” 

Osamu raised an eyebrow at your odd request, but nods anyway, putting the menu away and walking back to give his hands a quick wash. 

He begins to gather his ingredients when he noticed you take out a notepad and a pen from your bag, placing it on the counter in front of your water. 

“So,” he says, starting the process of making his number one seller (salted salmon), “What was it?” 

“Excuse me?” You asked, pausing the drink that was half way to your lips. “What was what?”

“Well, ya stood outside for weeks, so I gotta know,” Osamu said, placing the delicate filling into the ball of rice he was kneading in his palm, “What made ya decide to finally come in?” 

You tightened your lips, awkwardly setting the cup back down on the counter and placing a palm on your forehead. 

“I was that obvious?”

“Were ya trying not to be?” He laughed, looking at you expectantly. 

“It was the flavors on your board,” you finally replied, leaning back in your seat, “There was one that my grandfather used to make.”

Osamu smiled to himself, wrapping his first finished onigiri in the seaweed he had roasted earlier that day, placing it gently on a serving platter and moving over to make the next rice ball. 

“That’s a coincidence,” Osamu said, “Your grandfather must have had great taste.”

“He used to own a restaurant,” you blurted out, and Osamu hummed. 

“You’re kidding,” he said, “Whereabouts?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, shifting your eyes side to side as if debating on whether you wanted to divulge him in your greatest secret. Eventually, you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the counter and placing your chin in your palm. “Actually, it was this one.”

Osamu’s fingers froze. “Ya don’t mean—?”

You nodded excitedly. Osamu lets out a scoff. “Now you’re just messin’ with me.”

“No, I swear!” A bright smile erupted across your cheeks as you jumped a little in your seat, “My grandparents used to own this restaurant.”

“I thought this was a boutique before I bought it?” Osamu questioned, putting his final touches on the second rice ball. 

“It was,” you agreed, taking a sip from your water, “They owned this place until I was in high school, and sold it before they retired somewhere in the mountains. It’s been a few different stores since, but this is the first time it’s become a restaurant again. I was pretty surprised when I first saw it.”

Osamu felt an odd sensation of pride began to brew in his chest, shown in the way he sprinkled his sesame seeds a little extra forcefully. 

“Well,” he said, placing the plate of two perfect onigiri right on the counter in front of you, “I hope I do this place some justice.” 

You smiled, and Osamu found himself smiling with you. He pointed out the shake on the left, and the surprise flavor on the right. You nodded, intrigued, picking up the onigiri lying on the left side. 

Osamu makes the gyoza while you take your first bite, nearly pumping his fist in victory when he sees you close your eyes in satisfaction, the tension he didn’t even know you carried slowly melting from your shoulders. He sees you quickly jot down comments on the notepad next to you, and Osamu tries to peek at what you wrote when he gives you the gyoza. 

“Ya jottin’ down comments about my food?” He joked, and you jumped a little at his voice, “Got any suggestions, then?”

You smile sheepishly, “It’s just a little hobby of mine.”

He nods, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter that he had just used. “Well, ya let me know if ya need anything else.” 

“It’s just you working tonight?” You ask, grabbing your chopsticks and picking up a piece of gyoza. 

“It’s just me every night,” he chuckled. 

Your eyes widened as you chewed on your food, swallowing with a loud gulp. 

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?” You ask, quickly jotting down your notes before diverting your attention back to him. 

Osamu just shrugged. “I poured my everything into something I didn’t love half as much as cooking. This is just how I know how to do things.” 

You tilted your head to the side, “What did you do before this?”

Osamu takes a deep breath as he lifts his hat up a little bit to ruffle his fingers through his hair. He flips the cap around and puts it on backwards, his vision no longer half covered by the bill of his hat and he can now look at you fully. He almost wants to laugh because no one has ever asked him that version of this question before. It was always, ‘What are you going to be doing after volleyball?’

He hated the fact that any answer other than ‘I’m going to play professionally’ was deemed a shame, or a waste. For Osamu, he didn’t want to waste another second not pursuing his passion.

So it was refreshing to tell you about volleyball as if it was just a footnote in his food journey; something that he had done prior to finally recognizing his actual potential.

You gawked at him in disbelief, “Volleyball? Were you even any good?”

Osamu actually recoiled in offense, “I’ll have ya know I was on a team that went to nationals three years in a row.”

You raised your eyebrows appreciatively, and Osamu straightened a little.

“So why food?” You question him again, and Osamu wonders if you’re always this inquisitive. He’s answered this question hundreds of times, swore up and down that he would shoot the next person that even dared to say ‘Why food?’ in front of him. Yet for some reason, he felt more than happy to divulge you. 

“Because food is more than just something ya eat when you’re hungry. It’s coming back from a long trip, and it’s the warmth that spreads through your body when ya eat your mom’s cooking for the first time. That taste of victory that spreads across your tongue when ya go out for a meal with your pals after a game. The sensation of closing your eyes in satisfaction when ya take a bite out of a fresh onigiri after a long day,” you pause your scribbles at that moment, looking up to shoot him a playful glare. Osamu chuckled and continued, “It’s laughter shared around the table, and memories made over a plate that makes food more than just nourishment for our body, but also for our soul.” 

Osamu feels his cheeks heat up as he finishes his speech, embarrassment beginning to sink in at the end of his long tangent. You looked at him with a soft look on your face as you finished the last bite of your first onigiri, and dusted your fingers from any stray grains of rice.

“Words to live by,” you commented, lifting your glass of water up in agreement before tilting it back for a drink.

He let out a breath of relief that lasted only a second when he saw you reach over to pick up the onigiri with toppings he picked out for you. He held his breath as you took a bite, not expecting to see your eyes widen so fast, snapping your head down to the innocent rice ball that now sported a bite mark.

“Shio kombu cheese?” you say hurriedly, holding the onigiri closer to your face.

Osamu steps forward, “Do ya like it?”

You take another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavors as they melded in your mouth, and your eyes nearly begin to water.

“I never thought someone other than my grandfather would be weird enough to come up with this,” you laughed, scarfing down the rice ball in less than two seconds. “Yet here it is.”

“It’s not weird,” he defended, “It’s refined.”

You laugh as you dive into a story from your childhood spent sitting in this exact restaurant. Osamu listens intently as you recount how many different failed recipes your grandfather had forced you to ty and review, helping him decide what to put on the menu, or which combinations would bring in the businessmen that always seemed to just walk passed the restaurant.

He tells you of the tantrum his brother threw when he told him he was quitting volleyball, but still, Atsumu was his first sale. You pester him about his secret ingredient, and give him an incredulous look when he says it’s the rice. (“My old volleyball captain is a rice farmer.” “… what an interesting volleyball team.”)

The furniture was different, and the lay out was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere around Osamu’s counter had brought you right back into your childhood, reminding you of all the reasons why you loved what you did in the first place.

Long after your plates had been emptied, and the hour hand on the clock had extended way passed closing time, you finally paid for your meal, stood up from your seat and prepared to take your leave.

“Thank you for the meal, and the conversation,” you lean forward to read his name tag, “Miya-san.”

“Osamu,” he corrects, and raises an eyebrow at you.

You tell him your name, and Osamu repeats it in his mind over and over again.

“Come back soon,” he calls out his usual greeting as you walked out the door, but it felt different when he said it to you.

“I will,” you smile, waving a hand before stepping into the night, leaving Osamu with a dizzy head and fluttering stomach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the following weeks since his late night encounter with you, Onigiri Miya had ceased to be a simple stop along someone’s route to work, or an afterthought on the way home.

One could imagine Osamu’s surprise when he arrived an hour and half before he was due to open, and already a line began to form down the sidewalk. He thought, perhaps it was a fluke, or maybe there was some sort of business convention in town nearby – something to explain the sudden spike in popularity.

Yet day after day, the crowds of people came to him by the dozens, climbing over each other to get a taste of his cooking. He couldn’t stop to wonder how long this was going to last, barely having the time to stop and give himself a break.

He finally realizes it’s not merely coincidence when the lines get longer, yet the faces he sees stay the same. Osamu remembers every single face that walks through the doors of Onigiri Miya, and it’s the ones that he sees over and over that truly give his restaurant its meaning. 

The last customer of the dinner rush left thirty minutes ago when Osamu’s phone rang.

“‘llo,” he greets, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he sweeps the floor, thinking about how he needed to start looking for someone to hire.

“Hey, asshole,” the voice of his twin comes through loud and clear, “When were ya gonna tell me ya invited that food blogger to your restaurant? And how the hell did ya get them to like your garbage cooking?”

Osamu stops in confusion, grabbing the phone and holding it up himself. “Did ya finally get hit in the head a little too hard at practice? What the hell are ya talking about?”

Atsumu curses at Osamu, telling him to hold on a second as he sends him the link.

Osamu pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, quickly pressing on the blue url that popped up from Atsumu’s chat bubble.

It took a second for it to load, but when it did, Osamu’s jaw dropped

ONIGIRI MIYA IS AN ONIGIRI MUST HAVE by L/N Y/N

Beneath the obnoxious title was a photo of his sign, shining brightly against the wooden panels of his building, looking very much like a beacon for those searching for the perfect plate.

“Your shop is all over the internet and I had to find out about it on my news feed?! What the hell kinda brother are ya...”

Atsumu’s voice faded into the background as Osamu read the flattering words you had written about his restaurant. You complimented the decoration he had been insecure about, and he chuckled at the way you had described the fluffiness of his rice. He was captivated by your use of prose, painting the perfect picture of exactly everything he wanted his food to convey.

It wasn’t until he got to the last paragraph when he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Though the years have passed, and the season have changed, the sentimentality of this particular shop had never lost its meaning for me. For the first time in years, I felt the soul of my grandfather, the curator of my inspiration and passion, all around the atmosphere of what is now Onigiri Miya. I have every faith that the new owner has already done him justice.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

Osamu tore his eyes away from the screen, the very author of the only review that will ever matter to him stood a mere few feet away from his counter.

“Call you later, Tsumu,” he said hurriedly.

“Hey, wh—“

Osamu slips his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to you. You had a cheeky smile on your face as you waited patiently.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya,” he says dryly, and you laugh at his tone.

“Should you be on your phone while you’re on the clock?” You joke as you settle in the same seat you occupied the last time you paid him a visit.

“I don’t know,” Osamu crosses his arms, “Should ya be writing articles about people without telling em?”

You winced a little at his words, holding your hands up in surrender. “You saw it then?”

Osamu nodded.

You looked to the side, rubbing the side of your arm. “Did you like what I wrote?”

Osamu smiled, uncrossing his arms and walking to the back to wash his hands. You watch him curiously as he walked back to you, and pointed to a spot on the wall directly to your right.

“That’s where I’m gonna put it,” he said, “when I print it out and frame it.”

You laughed at the seriousness of his face, and he smirked in satisfaction.

You ordered the combo #2 with a side of gyoza, letting Osamu pick the two flavors. You mentioned how you tried to visit a couple of times, but the line was always so far out the door. He realizes that he has you to thank for that, and you blush deeply when he sincerely tells you so.

“So,” you say as you munch on the honey garlic pork onigiri he prepared, “Aren’t you glad you did this instead of boring, old volleyball?”

Osamu nearly chokes at the insult. “Volleyball is not boring.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let me take you to a game some time. We can eat something other than rice balls.”

You look up from the half eaten onigiri at the chef who made it so carefully, looking so bashful and nervous you couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I would love that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

thank you for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated <33

[supercreig]

Craig shrugged and shook his head in response to how Pongo could have gotten loose even while being securely tied somewhere outside of a shop. "I don't exactly have an answer for that. Animals are quite stronger than they may seem though." Of course Craig would know, considering how his own guinea pig can shapeshift into a ginormous guinea pig, almost the size of a fully grown totoro, and Craig never knew his own guinea could even do that. "Like I said, I was coming off work and then suddenly I saw this guy wandering aimlessly and then saw me then just started following me." He wondered why Pongo started following him of all people. "I was a bit surprised when he followed me of all people." If anything, Pongo could have followed Grantaire, who actually does not like dogs very much. To Craig though, it would be hilarious if Pongo has ran into Grantaire, and then Grantaire could have started screaming and running or going to find somewhere to hide. Maybe the dog could smell another animal on him? "Maybe he trusts me, or maybe smells my guinea pig." Stripe was at home though, and usually is unless he wanted to go out for some kind of walk in which Craig would take him out of his cage and let him run around in his play pen, or put him in a ball to run around in the house. Sometimes Craig would also just let Stripe sit on his shoulder while Craig does the walking around outside.

He was glad to know that Pongo's owner was still out there somewhere, and here he is. Reunited with his owner. Thank goodness. It wasn't like Craig disliked dogs as much as Gregory's boyfriend old friend does. He just wasn't quite familiar with how to take good care of a dog nor did he ever think he would ever have to since he never planned on getting a dog or even a cat.

"A compensation? Well..." Honestly Craig didn't spend that much on this owner's dog. "It'd be nice to have some compensation, but wouldn't that be too much to ask for?" He only bought a small bag of dried dog food for him, suggested by Stan and Al since something like kibbles tended to be the better option for dogs moreso than wet dog food. Craig also provided the poor dog some water, even bought the dog his own two bowls. One for the kibbles and one for water. Even with the kibbles Craig had bought for Pongo though, Pongo refused to eat, but at least he was drinking water.

"You know... Pongo here hasn't eaten much. I'm not sure why, but my guesses are he either didn't like the food I bought for him, or maybe he just wasn't use to my apartment. He seemed a little fond of my guinea pig though." Craig shrugs once more. "Come to think of it, don't take this the wrong way, but I actually have the stuff I bought for him in my car. The dog food and his bowls. Some bottle water too, mostly for myself, but I brought extras just in case. If you want, we can go to my car and I can give you the stuff I bought for him." He hoped that he wasn't coming off as someone sketchy, despite being part of criminal justice with his forensic analysis and dong his thing in his lab, also being a private investigator on the side.

"You have behaved, haven't you?" He spoke towards Pongo as ignoring one of his many dogs never felt correct. They were one of the most important things to him. Just this specific one was one of the first pets he ever owned, and if anything happened to Pongo someone would surely be in for the worst day of their life. But attention fell back on the stranger. At least the fellow seemed to have treated the elderly dog well given that there was no change in mood.

"Indeed I am. Though I have questions as to how he had been wandering around when he originally was tied securely outside a shop." It really was a bewildering situation that he could not full understand though at least had some thankfulness that the dog did not end up being found by someone less than kind. The fur coat had been pulled back onto both shoulder. To rush around for some time had completely ruined what high fashion he was currently wearing and it truly was frustrating for a man that held such pride in his own appearance. Though he did have common sense not to complain all too much. At least aloud.

"I cannot blame you for that belief however it is quite lucky I found you beforehand. Pongo is an important part of my household. Given that you have looked after him, would you want compensation for anything spent on him."

[current-interest-writings]

Hello! Ive veen reading your writings and i love your work! May i please request a trans!reader dating Jason Todd but only realizing theyre trans (ftm) somewhere during the relationship and then breaking up with him bc theyre scared Jason wont like them anymore. Eventually when reader doesnt want to give an explanation they crack and tell him. Jason being Jason just comforts reader and tells them its okay he loves them anyways. Pls i am so sorry if this is too long and specific i was definitely in an angst with comfort mood while typing this. Of course it is completely your choice to write this! Thank you for reading and I hope you have an amazing and a wonderful day! :)

Jason Todd X Trans!Reader

!Warnings!- if you aren't comfortable reading fics about a trans read, then keep scrolling! other than that maybe some angst and comfort.

I hope I did this request some justice, and I hope readers enjoy it.

Dating Jason has been one of the best times in your life, it was almost the perfect relationship for you guys.

Dates were fun and well thought out

He had trust in you, which for him is rare

You guys had met through his older brother Dick, you were being targeted by someone for god knows what. But you needed protection, and Jason has many places to lay low. and from there the relationship formed.

after a few years of dating, you noticed that you weren't being honest with yourself. The outside appearance did not match the inside, to be honest, it scared you a little bit. And in this panic, you had decided it would be better to leave Jason, and maybe navigate what you were feeling alone.

Breaking up with Jason was hard,

"Jason, I know this is coming from out of left field but I think it's best that we break up."

"Why? was it something I did? is this because I'm the red hood?"

"No Jason, it really has nothing to do with you, this is because of me. you've done nothing wrong"

"Can I know what you think you've done? I need a clear answer"

"I don't have a clear answer, I don't really understand what's going on with me yet either."

"so no explanation?"

"I'm sorry"

it took a lot for you to walk out of the door, and drive yourself back home, you stared in the mirror a lot, and then looked away. it wasn't easy, the break up with one of the sweetest men you've ever known, and to see that the outside is not what you feel it should be.

You used an ace bandage to wrap over your sports bra, as a makeshift chest binder, You had know you were trans right now, but that didn't make your feelings any better, only slightly better.

But a week after the breakup Jason had enough, he needed to know what is going on. He drove to your place to see you, he knocked on the door instead of using the key he still had, and when you came to the door Jason had a spike of fear in him, you looked like you've been kinda upset. But you let him in.

"Hey"

"Hi Jay, What are you doing here?"

"I, I just need an answer as to what is exactly happened. we were happy or so I thought and then suddenly you end it. I just need to know why''

"Jason, I'm"

"I want an answer and not just some runaround."

''Jay I'm transgender"

he looked at you and then let out a laugh

"that's why you broke up with me?"

"I was scared Jay, That's why I did what I did. I was scared about what you would think about me, and I was just scared about what it means for my life. it's not a small change. I thought it was better to go about this on my own."

Jason just pulled you into his arms and cradled you pressing your head to his chest

"I love you, but sometimes you're stupid. I love you, and you being trans isn't going to stop me from loving you. You won't be going through this alone, I love you. And I'm not going to leave you alone, besides who else is going to make inappropriate jokes."

you let out a small chuckle, he of course will make terrible jokes at the worst timing.

"I know Jay, and I'm sorry for just breaking up with you."

"No it's okay, you were scared and I don't blame you. I wish you would've just talked to me first but I totally get it. I can't judge you, I came back from the dead and decided I wanted Bruce dead instead of being rational. Fear can make us do strange things"

and he did get it, he was by your side for everything

If you want to cut your hair? he's right there cheering you on

buying new clothes? he's there to provide his opinion and cheer you on

thinking about making surgical changes or not? he's right by your side, he's supportive no matter what you choose.

he's right by your side for all of your changes.

if/when you're ready to change your name? he's there making jokes about you choosing the name Jason.

"common it's an awesome name, and have you met me!"

"I'm not picking Jason as a name, that would be kinda awkward in bed"

"Alright, fair point that would be weird"

his family is ready to fight anyone who wants to purposely misgender you or deadname you.

He's by your side no matter what.

[songmingisthighs]

[19.06] mafia!hongjoong × reader

⇀ you were interested in hongjoong, a notorious leader of a very successful mafia organization. sadly he didn't see you that way. if only he knew the true you before making a rash judgement

⇁ tw : mafia life, angst, mentions of black market activities, death, violence, dark stuff. read at your own risk.

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author’s imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

The door to Hongjoong's office opened and in walked his right hand, with a teasing smirk on his face. Hongjoong looked up from the paperwork on his desk and looked up to the man with a raised eyebrow, "what are you smirking at?" he questioned.

Seonghwa nodded his head towards the door, "there's someone here for you," he said whilst holding onto his laughter. Hongjoong shifted his gaze from his friend to the door and then back to him again, "who?" "your girlfriend," Seonghwa teased.

Before Hongjoong could throw anything at him, though, Seonghwa had run off, laughing heartily.

Not long after, you came into his office with a wide smile. As per usual, you were dressed to impress, head to toe with a black and white vintage channel mini skirt and blazer, adorned with a channel necklace and earrings. As you walked in, Wooyoung, one of Hongjoong's trusted men, looked at your passing figure with mouth hanging low and a starstruck look on his face. But you didn't care, you only had eyes for Hongjoong.

It has been roughly five months since you started dropping into Hongjoong's office. Your dad, an equally highly successful head of the mafia from where you're from, wanted you to get married to expand his business and make more allies. He gave you several options but you were immediately intrigued by Hongjoong, one of the mafia heads he made a partnership with by providing him with weapons. The comprehensive file your dad gave you did Hongjoong no justice so you decided to get to know him for real.

Unluckily, Hongjoong is very secretive and protective of himself and his family (re: his brothers; his most trusted men in the mafia). He had been betrayed so many times before and his thirst for revenge both became his strength and downfall. While he managed to build a highly acclaimed mafia organization at such a young age, he closed off everyone who he deemed not worthy of his attention even after only seeing them for less than five minutes.

Sadly, that included you. You weren't the only one who got a comprehensive file on the other, he too had one of you. A straight-A student from Wharton with hobbies consisting of horseback riding and charity? He wondered whether you were preparing to take over your dad's mafia or to steal the Crown of England and be its ruler.

Hongjoong tried his best to hold in a groan of annoyance but even so, some still escaped him and you heard it. Though you were used to it so you just ignored him.

"Hi, Joong," you grinned widely at him, walking in and putting a medium-sized box of cake on his desk after closing his door. "Don't call me Joong," he grumbled.

In all honesty, your bubblegum personality sickened him. He knows for a fact that no one is that happy-go-lucky and excited and has rainbows shooting out of their asses 24/7. So there has to be something you were hiding from him.

You only chuckled at his response, "You're a sourpuss, you know that? You're gonna have wrinkles before you hit thirty if you keep frowning all the time like that," you said as you focused yourself on opening the cake box.

Inside it was the cake you made for him. All the times you visited him, you never made him something from scratch. You were trained to be the head of a mafia organization one day, not in the kitchen. So that cake was the very first thing you made and you were beyond proud of yourself.

"Look," Hongjoong exhaled sharply, starting to get annoyed even before you did anything, "You came at a bad time, I need to get a hundred thousand things done before tonight, in case you didn't realize, my organization is-" "in the brink of war with Stray Kids, I know, I've read the reports," you simply said, hands moving to cut the cake in front of you to hand to him.

"I have connections with the leader's soft spot, the foreigner one, I can make a deal that would help your case if you would jus-"

"NO!!!!" he yelled out, slamming his hands onto his desk, startling you so much that you accidentally dropped your knife and stepped back a little.

Maybe it was the stress of having to deal with things alone, or maybe it's just him finally snapping from overthinking about you, but one thing's for sure is that he had had enough. He needed to put you in your place.

"You may be your daddy's little princess back home, all dressed in white and pink and lace, showered with Channels, Tiffanys and your hoity-toity prestigious Wharton degree. But here, you're nothing, got me? You understood nothing about having to work your ass off to get the recognition and rewards you deserve, you had your daddy behind you this whole time and that's very convenient for you. But don't come here and act like you know shit, okay? Our worlds are different, you came from a cotton candy palace, I came from the ditch, your opinion means less than shit to me," he spat out so quickly, he didn't realize that your expression changed to something that he had never seen before.

Your eyes were blank and glazed, lips slightly quivering and chest heaving.

Hongjoong thought that he had really put you in your place and he was about to celebrate the fact that he might finally drove you away when you opened your mouth.

"Cotton candy palace? Not understanding having to work my ass off?" you choked out.

At first, Hongjoong thought you were gonna cry. But a sadistic, maniacal laugh resonated in the room from where you were doubled over, holding onto your stomach.

It was Hongjoong's turn to be stunned into silence.

"Oh my god, I thought you were smarter than that," you muttered as you calmed down, wiping tears from the corner of your eyes, "you think that this is who I am?" you asked with a raised eyebrow at him.

Hongjoong was confused about whether or not he should speak. It was the first time anyone had ever stunned Hongjoong and Hongjoong didn't know what to do.

"I was born from a girl who was en route to be sold in a human trafficking ring, I came out premature and was about to be sold to a satanic cult as their sacrifice but my 'dad' 'rescued' me. I was stored in a facility with thirty other children, we were trained to be assassins since before we could walk, brainwashed with ideals that ruined our brains. One by one, each year some of us were taken out if we show a lack of improvement or no promise," as you talked, you took off your earrings and necklace and put them on Hongjoong's desk.

While you ran a hand through your messy hair, you stared into him deeply, "I was seven when I first killed someone, my last competition. She was two years older than me and she was sold by her parents for coke money, or as the warden told us. We were reminded every day of how worthless we are so we wouldn't rebel and escape. But even in despair, I wanted something more. That's where daddy came in. He was impressed with me and he took me in as his daughter, telling people one of his whores were pregnant with me to assure my legitimacy. I was schooled in my own private red room. I had to fight for my right as a human being, I made deals with my dad to be able to go out with bodyguard escorts for only an hour every month,"

Hongjoong's eyes followed your hands that gripped onto the edge of your skirt, "did your little binder wrote that I went on my first official mission when I was just twelve? My dad cut the ballet lesson that I trade in for 120 hours of combat training short to gear me up, put me in a room of adult men and sent me off to plant an active bomb in 5 minutes in an air vent of the headquarters of his rival, crazy, right?" you chuckled humorlessly whilst ripping your skirt off to reveal your black shorts inside, a knife and a gun holstered on your thighs were revealed, making Hongjoond's eyes widened.

He never would have imagined someone like you to carry weapons under your very girly outfit. Or to even have such a traumatizing backstory.

"My whole appearance is compensation for my very dark upbringing, I wanted to hide it all. My dad told me I was stupid, that I belonged in the dark, dark world. But when I went to Wharton, I tried to change myself. I thought that I might be able to be the person I wanna be by marrying someone my dad approved so I don't have to take over wholly, I could just be the voice by the side, lending my skills and help the organization indirectly,"

You looked down at your heels clad feet for a second, letting your toes point and moving them from left to right to see what it looks like.

At this point, Hongjoong felt bad for having blown up at you. You had only wanted to spend time with him and even if he didn't want to see you, he could've said it nicely. Hongjoong never felt like this before, it was very weird for him.

He was about to walk over to you when you suddenly took your heels off in a flash and threw them both at Hongjoong so hard that it embedded deep into the wall on either side of his face.

Your usual smile was replaced with a frown, the eyes that usually twinkled showed nothing but darkness. He barely recognized you and he was on edge about it.

"You made your standing with me perfectly clear, Kim Hongjoong, while my dad is one to stop things before they become an issue, I like to see how things unravel," you smirked at him.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, not being able to process anything.

"It means that your partnership with my dad is off, good luck finding a new weapons supplier," you spat out before turning around to leave the room, leaving traces of yourself behind at his office.

Hongjoong wanted to call after you, try to make things better somehow. But his head still couldn't even wrap around the shocking information you had just revealed.

Not long after you left, Yeosang came in but stopped at the door, scanning the room that was littered with remnants of you. "What the fuck happened here? Did a hooker tried to kill you!?" he asked, still confused at the situation.

When Yeosang looked up, he saw Hongjoong in a way he had never seen him before.

Nervous.

"I-I- I think I just forged a war between us and the largest mafia weapons manufacturer on the eastern hemisphere," he uttered out.