#I don’t know why people would make it up either

[harryspet]

rough hands, soft chains [1] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!grey!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, future smut, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: This is an au I'm trying out where Kildare County is actually in Montana and all the pogues and kooks exist within a ranching community. Hope you enjoy!! I would really appreciate feedback, reblogs are most appreciated!

In which your dying father struck a deal with Ward Cameron, he promised the family land in exchange for your safety. But protection comes with a price, and that price is Rafe Cameron.

word count: 5k

rafe cameron masterlist

After the funeral, you flopped down on the old leather couch in your living room, absently twirling a lock of your hair as you stared up at the cracked ceiling. Your black dress, meant for the sweltering summers, fell just below your knees. You’d paired it with a shawl you found tucked away in your mother’s dresser, a pretty, soft thing with little patterns you didn’t understand, but it smelled like her, so it felt right.

People at the funeral said you looked “so grown up” now, which filled you with a sense of pride. They said nothing about the dirt under your nails from wandering around the yard barefoot earlier that morning or the way your mascara smeared from crying too much. No one ever took you seriously anyway. 

The quiet of the house was deafening, pressing in at you at all sides. The lack of his presence weighed on you. He’d built every corner of this house, your mother painted every wall, and you were grateful for the life they’d built you. Three bedrooms, a wrap-around porch where you’d once dreamed of watching your children play in the yard as you rocked in your chair, and the old, red barn that had weathered time alongside them. You knew you couldn’t lose it, but you weren’t sure how to keep it either.

A loud knock at the front door made the house shake and snapped you from your daze. It was not the knock of a kind neigbor delivering a sympathy caserole, the knock was firm and authoritative. You half expected the sheriff to be behind the door but instead found yourself staring back at Ward Cameron. 

You pushed back the curls that had fallen into your face. He stood before you, tipping his finest black cattleman hat with deliberate grace, lifting it from his head and placing it over his chest in a quiet gesture of respect. His square jawline was sharp, his striking blue eyes unflinching, and though the gray streaks in his hair hinted at age, they only added to his rugged handomenss. 

“Miss,” he greeted you smoothly, his voice as sharp as the crease in his shirt. He looked out of place here, too clean, too polished for the worn edges of your family’s ranch.

Your anxiety peaked, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You gripped the handle of the door tighter than you expected. 

“I think you know why I’m here.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s time we talked about your father’s arrangements.”

Arrangements? You shifted nervously, trying to make sense of his words. You knew your dad had debts, but it wasn’t like he told you all the details. You knew that a significant amount of your father’s debt was to Ward. It humiliated your father to lease the Cameron’s grazing rights but he only did it to keep the ranch afloat. Money and paperwork were never your thing, and your dad always said not to worry about it. “I—I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’ll figure out how to pay you back, okay?”

Although Ward wasn’t the tallest man, most people towered over you, and as he leaned in the doorway, you knew he had your stature in mind. 

Still, his smile was empty, “Why don’t we discuss this in your father’s office, hmm?” 

“Um, no thanks,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But before you could shut the door, his hand pushed it open with way too much ease. You stumbled back, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as he walked in like he owned the place.

“Excuse me! You can’t just barge in here!” you squeaked, hurrying after him, his expensive boots, tapping against the creaking floor of your home. 

He made his way down the downstairs hallway, barging into the room that not even your father wanted you to step in. Immediately as you stepping inside, a coldness touched you. he heavy oak desk sat like a monument to your father’s stubbornness, papers scattered across its surface in disarray. Just looking at it made your brain feel fuzzy. Ward moved behind it as if it were his own, his hands brushing against the chair’s worn leather.

“I offered to come speak to you, before all of this drama, but your father insisted I wait until he was gone,” Ward gestured to rickety chair that sat in front of the desk, “Sit.”

You ignored him, crossing your arms in stubborness, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how much exactly your father owes me? How much you’d be taking on?”

His words, like they had certainly intended to, made you feel stupid. Your father made sure you were uninvolved in the ranch’s finances and he had just passed this week, you hadn’t thought about entering his office and disturbing his things. 

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing. “Well… um… I know he owed some money, but he didn’t really tell me how much.”

“It’s more than the farm is worth, Y/N.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, thickening the already suffocating air in the room. You clenched your jaw, refusing to show any sign of the panic tightening in your chest. The farm, your father’s legacy, your mother’s dreams, was supposed to be yours to save.

“That can’t be right,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “My father would’ve told me if it was that bad.”

“Would he? It’s nothing you should’ve worried your pretty head about,” Ward continued, his eyes sharp and assessing, “We parents try to protect our children. But he was too prideful. Pride doesn’t pay the bills and banks don’t wait forever.”

“The bank–”

“The bank would’ve taken the entire property if your father hadn’t already signed the land over to me.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach at Ward Cameron’s words. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You shook your head in disbelief, “He wouldn’t do that.”

The land was the only piece of your father that you had left. A hundred acres that your family and only a few ranch hands tended to.There were dwindling amounts of livestock, mounting debts, but it was your home. Humble in comparison to the Cameron’s thousands of acres but it belonged to your family. Even if you were the only one left. 

“This all would’ve been easier for you if your father had explained all of this to you before. I think he was scared of you hating him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ward’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked almost bored with your responses, “We came to an agreement a year after his initial diagnosis. Instead of losing it to the bank, he would sign it over to me.”

“I promised to take care of you.” Ward’s words were slow, deliberate, as if he were explaining something to a child. “You’re unmarried, no prospects, and this place is a sinking ship. Someone was bound to take advantage of you eventually. You don’t have the resources to rebuild.”

“T-take care of me?” you stammered, your face scrunching in confusion.

“You’ll come live with my family for the time being. And eventually you will marry my son, Rafe.”

Your eyes went wild, “Are you crazy?”

Ward’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more smug. “This arrangement keeps the land in the family, ensures your safety, and gives you a future. You’re not equipped to handle this ranch on your own, Y/N. Your father knew that. I’m offering you a way out.”

You gaped at him, your thoughts spinning too fast to make sense of anything. “I… I want to talk to a lawyer or—or see his will or something!”

“You’re out of options. It’s either this arrangement or being out on the streets. I’m tossing you a lifeline.” 

 “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“No,” Ward admitted, standing and adjusting his cuffs. “But your father did. And a Cameron always honors their agreements.”

You wanted to scream, to tell him to leave and take his deal with him, but the weight of your father’s decisions pressed down on you. The debts, the ranch, your future—it was all tangled up in a web you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to pack your things,” Ward said, placing his hat back on his head. “Rafe will come by to collect you.”

He turned and walked to the door without another word, leaving you standing alone in the office. The walls seemed to close in around you, and although you’d be crying for a week, you cried again. 

You thought that if you weren’t at the house when Ward’s oldest son came to collect you, they might just give up and leave you be. Maybe you’d slip through the cracks of their plans, vanish into the quiet of the countryside. You could disappear for a little while and return in a few days. It would be rough surviving outside but you could make it on your own. You’d packed a small bag of essentials and took Juliet, the chestnut-colored mare that had belonged to you since your fourteenth birthday.

“Okay, Jules, we’re gonna go on a little adventure,” you whispered as you fumbled with her saddle. 

Her large, liquid-brown eyes blinked at you with trust as you led her down the south path, the one behind your family’s ranch, overgrown from years of neglect. You left before the sun had a chance to rise. You didn’t want Ward Cameron or his scary son to find you, after all.

You tried to dress for comfort. Your long jeans would keep you warm, and you layered a jean jacket over a soft white cotton shirt. Perched atop your head was your trusty white cowboy hat, its wide brim offering protection from the sun, taming your unruly curls, while keeping your face shielded.

Juliet made a snorting sound, and you patted her neck. “Don’t worry, girl, we’ve totally got this. Like, what’s the worst that could happen?” You glanced back at the ranch, its dark outline fading behind the trees. 

You mounted Juliet after deciding the direction you were going to travel in. You wanted to be much farther away by the time the sun came up. The air was cool and crisp, a reminder of the coming morning. You looked behind you although you were sure no one was following you yet. 

The path twisted and turned. “Okay, so if we head toward the old fishing shack by the river, we can stay there for, like, a day. Nobody’s used it in forever.” You spoke out loud, pretending that Juliet could respond. “I think it’s... that way.”

You continued down the path in the direction you remembered the fishing shack to be located. The sun rose slowly, bringing light to the dark path. The shack was tucked away on the outskirts of the ranch, sitting in the bend of the river, most of it shielded by tall grass. The water flowed gently, the sound caressing your ears, it’s hues reflecting the red in the sky. 

A clearing sat nearby covered in wildflowers, the bright colors splashed against the muted landscape. You hadn’t ventured this far out since the previous spring and were surprised to see how the flowers had held their vibrancy, defying the chill of the cooler months. 

You hopped down from your saddle, taking Juliet’s rein before you tied her to a nearby tree, allowing her room to graze. The shack was small and weathered, and you rested on a rickety cot that you had to clear of cobwebs. It felt safe. At least for now. 

If only staying still was your strong suit. A few hours later, boredom quickly got the best of you. You could only talk to Juliet for so long and you’d failed several times to nap inside the dirty shack. The silence pressed in on you. You decided to wander out into the wild flower fields, tugging your cowboy hat low over your curls. The vibrant colors were calling to you. 

An hour later, you held a thick bundle flowers in your arm and a crown of daisies wrapped around your hat. Before you knew it, the shack was almost out of your sight and you faced a long trek back to Juliet. 

You didn’t hear him at first.

“Hell of a hiding spot.”

The deep drawl froze you in place. Slowly, you turned, heart pounding, your eyes landing on Rafe Cameron sitting tall on his horse a few yards away. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at something darker.

Rafe’s quarter horse was even more intimidating. It’s coat was midnight black, sleek and imposing. There was a wild, untamed quality to him, a fire in his eyes that mirrored Rafe’s own.

“I… I was just…” You stepped back without thinking, the urge to drop your bouquet and bolt creeping up. You’d seen Ward’s son from across a room before, but no one had ever bothered to introduce you. Still, you knew enough from the whispers and rumors. He was wild, always getting into trouble with the Kildare County police, and everyone said he was gonna take over his dad’s power and influence one day. 

He was older than you remembered, more rugged, and definitely more muscular. His black button-up shirt clung to broad shoulder and his sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted arms. A baseball cap sat atop his head, the bill slightly bent, with the Cameron Ranch sigil stitched on the front—an emblem of a stallion rearing. His light brown hair peeked from beneath it, slightly tousled. 

“You’ve been wandering around all morning. Half the town’s already seen you,” Rafe leaned forward slightly, eyeing you curiously, “If you were gonna run, thought you’d go a little bit farther.” You gained the courage to finish your sentence, “I wasn’t running …or hiding. And you can’t tell Mr. Cameron that.”

“Why do you think he sent me?” He smiled devishly, “I’m the one you gotta worry about, darlin’.” 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe watched you take another step back. His jaw clicked before he swiftly hopped down from his horse. His heavy boots hit the dirt with a thud that seemed to echo, and you couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of him. Though he wasn’t much older than you, it was clear he towered over you, his presence demanding attention in a way that made your knees feel weak.

“I’m not coming with you,” You stated with all the strength you could muster, “It’s not right. You can’t make me.”

He stared back at you. Where Ward was bored by conversation with you, something about your Ward’s made Rafe’s eyes fiery, “And I guess you’ll make your living by what … selling flower crowns?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t considered that an option. In fact, you hadn’t dwelled long enough on what you would do once Ward gave up on this arranged marriage nor did you have any idea of how to make the ranch profitable again. The idea seemed wrong. Flowers weren’t the key, were they? 

“I’m kidding,” Rafe spoke again after a moment of watching you reflect, “That’s a bad fucking idea. You know…I think your father might’ve been right about one thing in his life. You do need someone to look after you.” 

“You don’t know me,” You looked away, your face heating up with embarrassment, “And I don’t want to go with you.” 

A yelp escaped your lips as he started to close the distance between you, his long strides closing the gap in a matter of seconds. His smirk widened at your reaction, and quickly, you dropped your bouquet and made a run for the fishing shack. Rough hands easily snatched you up by your waist, lifting your feet off the ground, and making your head spin, “You’re real cute, darlin’,” Rafe drawled, hardly breakin a sweat as he dragged you back towards his horse. His grip on your waist was firm, unrelenting, and no matter how much you kicked or squirmed, it didn’t matter. He only hoisted you higher. 

Heavy boots crunched against the dirt. You could hear your breathing and the sharp pounding of your heart in your ears. You lost your hat and subsequently your flower crown in the struggle. Scared that you might spook Rafe’s horse, you found yourself succumbing to his force, letting him lift you onto the saddle. 

“Please, let me down,” You whispered, tears beginning to fall. Rafe was next, hoisting himself onto the black stallion, squeezing himself behind you. You were pressed against him so much that you could feel the flexing of the muscles of his stomach. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Rafe shushed you, and surprisingly, you felt him settle your hat back on your head. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. You were never supposed to ride without a hat, that’s what your father had taught you. You barely had time to process it before he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal's hooves pounding the earth beneath you as Rafe held you tightly, “M-My horse, Juliet!” You remembered, panicked, “I won’t go without her, Rafe!”

“I didn’t forget your horse,” He spoke calmer than you expected, though his tone still had an edge to it, “She’ll follow. Unlike you, she seems to have a decent amount of common sense.” 

He kicked the horse into a gallop, the powerful animal responding instantly, the sound of its hooves hitting the ground like thunder in the otherwise still air. The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your face. You gripped the saddle tightly, to anchor yourself, despite knowing that Rafe’s grip was strong enough to keep you from flying. 

This wasn’t the escape you wanted. Not even close. 

Sure, he’d heard the rumors that you were a little …daft. And maybe that was true in some ways, but you were more than he had anticipated. He followed you, watched as you handled the horse with ease, and found himself intrigued. Your confusion, innocence, even your stubbornness drew him in like a moth to a flame. 

The last thing Rafe wanted was a wife. He resisted the way his father felt like he could stll make decisions for him. Rafe was losing with this arrangement. Your father’s hundred acres was nothing in comparison to what he family already had and would acquire. But perhaps his father had seen exactly what Rafe was seeing now. You were raw, so unpolished, and that meant you could be shaped. 

Once you were under the Cameron’s roof, Rafe had the power to do whatever he wanted. 

Proving himself to Ward was a constant battle, every choice scrutinized, every misstep noted. To run the ranch one day, Rafe needed to show he could manage it all, the land, business, and now a wife. Building a home and keeping you in line was just another test.

That morning, Rafe had never expected to chase after you on horseback. He had arrived in his truck, scouring the house for any sign of you, only to realize you were already gone. In frustration, he called John B., one of the Cameron ranch hands, and sent him to bring Trigger, his horse, to the Y/L/N ranch.

When you both returned, John B. was already there, waiting. Thunder cracked above, a sunny morning turning into a dreary afternoon. Rafe barked orders to ensure Juliet and Trigger were both stabled at the Cameron’s ranch.

He lifted you down from the saddle, his grip firm on your wrists before you could bolt. It only took a second for him to realize the urgency in your voice as you spoke, trying to talk to John B., who was already taking Juliet and Trigger’s reins. “She gets nervous when she’s in new places. She doesn’t like to be rushed,” Rafe overheard, catching the panic in your tone.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow with her,” John B. assured her although Rafe only glared at the worker, jaw tight. 

“Come on,” Rafe pulled your arm, “We’re leaving.”

Your small hands grabbed where he’d wrapped his hands around your arm. You dug your boots into the gravel in front of the house, “Wait, I don’t have everything. I-I need to grab some things,” Rafe’s gripped only tightened as his irritation grew. 

“You should’ve thought about that before you made me chase after you,” He took one more look at your teary-face before he snapped. Taking you home should’ve taken thirty minutes, not four hours. Without warning, he scooped you up over his shoulder, ignoring the surprised gasp you let out. 

Your legs kicked in the air, “Hey! Please put me down!” Rafe didn’t spare your house on John B. a second glance as he trudged over to his dark, blue truck. Please, that made Rafe brow furrow. Rafe took the opportunity to cop a feel, of course, he had to know exactly what he was working with. You were his future wife, after all, “Rafe! I don’t like being upside down!” 

“Scream all the way there for all I fucking care,” He muttered under his breath, his voice cold as he finally reached the truck and tossed you into the passenger seat.

Rafe sped off moments after he pressed start engine on the vehicle. You went quiet and he hoped to be alone with his thoughts, soothed by the soft pitter patter of rain on his windshield. Fifteen minutes down the road, he heard your breath hitch. He looked over to see you were staring straight head, eyes wide and wet with tears. Smudged mascara beneath your eyes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and you clutched your hands tightly in your lap. Your lips were shaking, moving as if you were whispering something to yourself. 

Your legs began to jitter, restless, and Rafe looked away. He managed to tune out your obvious panic for nearly an entire minute. He had a rare feeling. One he didn’t fully understanding. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to reach out, to try and comfort you. He thought about what Wheezie might think if this was the disheveled state he brought his future wife to meet her in. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was only going to get worse as the reality of your situation set in.

“Hey,” He spoke without that sharp edge, channeling a voice he might use with his youngest sister, “I didn’t mean you’d never get your things. We can come back, when you’re more settled …And I’ll send someone to get all your keepsakes. Okay?” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” You repeated though your voice sounded empty, “Okay.”

He thought those would be the magic words but you hadn’t even turned to look at him. You were doing the same thing, shaking like a leaf, barely taking in enough breath, “Fuck,” Rafe cursed. He pulled over to the side of the road with a sharp jerk, the gravel crunching under the tires as the truck slowed to a stop. Without thinking, he shifted into park and turned to you.

Rafe needed to be more deliberate in his actions. He had eyes on him, his entire immediate family, and he wouldn’t have them thinking he couldn’t handle you. 

He tried to calm you, squeezed your hand, told you to breathe over and over again. Nothing. You were spiraling, letting your thoughts consume you. Rafe had been too rough. It was all too much too fast for you. He wanted to mold you, not break you. 

He leaned in, taking your face in his hands, and pressing his lips to yours. You went frantic but he only deepened the kiss. He held your hand and slowly felt your tension lesson. He entwined his fingers in yours and slowly felt you move your own lips against his. You tasted like cherries, dark red, and perfectly ripe. His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing lightly, urging you to focus, to let go of the panic.

He pulled away only when you stopped your heaving. 

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. Breathe with me.”

He waited for you to come back to him, cradling you there. You had no one left, Rafe realized in that moment, the truth settling heavily in his chest. And maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel. 

No, taking care of you wasn’t just an obligation, it was an important responsibility. One he’d shoulder completely. Whether you liked it or not, Rafe would make sure of it.

Rafe Cameron tasted like whiskey, with a faint hint of mint that lingered now even as you stood in the foyer of your new home, Tannyhill Ranch. The white house was sprawling and pristine, situated amidst of sea of green fields. Windows sparkled even in the storm that was coming down, and although the roof’s shingles were weathered, it was hard to believe the property had been there for more than a century. 

Workers, chefs and maids, bustled by but no one spared you or Rafe a glance despite the dry tears on your face and disheveled appearance. 

The interior was grand, the hardwoods polished until they shined, and the ceilings were higher than the ones at church. Everything screamed old money. You felt a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the grand entrance hall and then up one side of a grand staircase. Portraits line the walls, serious faces, Camerons and previous owners of the estate. 

Their eyes watched you, “Rafe, where are we going?” You asked him quietly. 

“To your room,” He spoke low and firm. There hadn’t been any rough grabbing of your limbs or unwanted rides on Rafe’s shoulder since your kiss in the car. You hadn’t fully let you guard down but you preferred when Rafe was calm, and so you remained calm too, “You can settle in.”

Rafe led you down the upstairs hallway, stopping at one of at least six bedroom doors, and pushing it open. The room was breathtaking, a four-poster bed draaped in white linens, oak furniture, blue-white toile patterns, and large windows that overlooked the property. It was beautiful, yes, but none of this belonged to you. 

Your fingers absentmidnely traced the fabric of the bed’s comforter before you got a grip, turning around to say something in protest, “Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe interrupted, hands tucking into the front of jeans as if to give off a non-chalant appearance. The position emphasized the silvery belt buckle that sat on the middle of his waist. 

“I don’t want to live here,” You spoke softly, your voice still weak from all the crying. 

“I know,” Rafe continued, sounding exactly like his father, “Your father did though. You still love your Daddy, don’t you?” 

Rafe’s words made you think. Really think. Of course you loved your father. He was a smart man and he always did right by you and your Mother. However, deep down, this all still felt wrong. You stood there, caught between the beauty of the room and the unease of what you felt.

You nodded, “But–”

“But this is what he wanted, darlin’,” Rafe spoke in a way that carried a sense of finality. Rafe stepped closer and suddenly his body was a brick wall keeping you from leaving the room. His lips pulled into a smirk and he leaned down to speak in your ear, his breath fanning over your cheeks. Whiskey and mint, “You always did what your Daddy said, right?” 

“Yes,” You answered too honestly for your own good. 

“Now you’ll do what I say. That’s how it works. A young lady belongs to her father, and one day, after she grows up, she belongs to her husband,” He straightened up and you blinked your big eyes up at him. Slowly, your eyes traveled down to his lips, “You’ll thank me, one day.” 

Gently, he tucked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it even higher. You held your head exactly in the place he placed it, making something flicker in Rafe’s eyes. A heat bloomed in your core. You could only think about that kiss, your first one, despite the fact that he was one of the men completely ruining your life. 

“You ever seen someone break a wild horse?” 

His question caught you off guard, and your brows furrowed slightly as you searched his face for meaning. The smirk on his lips deepened, and his hand dropped from your chin.

“Takes patience. Takes strength. Takes knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. But eventually, the horse figures out who’s in charge.” His blue eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place, ”Out on the ranch, when we get a wild one. It’s my favorite thing to do. Watch em’ go from fighting you to starting to trust you. Really, there’s no point in fighting. The one’s who don’t submit, we don’t keep em’ around. They’re dangerous.”

“Oh,” You managed to say, shifting uncomfortably, “That sounds … hard.” 

Rafe chuckled in response, “Hard? Yeah, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Rafe’s smirk returned, sharper now, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You want me to kiss you again. I can tell.”

His words sent you stammering immediately, “No!” 

“Tell you what,” Rafe interrupted smoothly, ignoring your denial as if it hadn’t even registered. “If you settle in, get all dolled up for dinner…” His voice dripped with false generosity. “I’ll give you another one.”

You stared, dumbfounded and frozen until the young rancher casually turned and walked out of the room. Your fists clenched at your sides as a storm of emotions swirled inside you, anger and fear. One emotion simmered quietly beneath the surface, unwelcome and disorienting. Anticipation.

Reblog and let me know your thoughts to be added to the taglist!

[edenfenixblogs]

It would be so easy to ghost most of my old friends that I’m still loosely in contact with since 10/7. They never reach out to me. I’m always the one making contact. I know it makes them uncomfortable when I bring up literally anything that’s affecting me. And yet I can’t bring myself to do it. I just…can’t. I don’t have the energy to confront any of them about how deeply they’ve failed me as friends or how deeply they’ve failed themselves as people who supposedly care about marginalized people.

But I also can’t bring myself to sever ties.

And I think I’ve figured out why. I refuse to be the one to take an emotional risk. There is a plate glass wall up between them and me now. We can see each other, but we can’t get close. Not anymore. But there is a door in the glass. On my side, I have a hammer. On their side, there is a hammer and a key. My only options are smashing that wall with my hammer or doing nothing. They have the same options, but they also have the option to open the door.

I feel like I’m surrounded by lots of other rooms where other friends got to make the same choice. Some opened the door. Most smashed the glass. But either way, I know where they stood.

The only group that hasn’t made a choice is still behind glass with the door locked. But the door is also made of glass.

So I’ve chosen to stand at the door. Glaring at them. I breathe on the window and write messages on the steam like “hi!” And “I saw a great movie today, have you seen it?” And “woohoo! Three hostages are released!”

Most of the time they pretend not to see the messages. Sometimes, if it’s not too visibly about being Jewish, they’ll write a message in their own breath. A small smiley face or a one word reply. But they’re very careful not to meet my gaze. If they did, they’d notice when I pointedly shifted it to the hammer and key lying side by side.

I know they want me to walk through the shards of glass or the doors that other, better friends have opened. They want me to give up and forget about them so that I don’t make them uncomfortable enough to make a choice.

But I’m not going anywhere. At the end of the day, the wall shouldn’t be there. If they want to be my friend, they’d need to open the door. If being friends with me is too much of a hassle for them, they need to nut up and break the glass.

Either way, I’m not absolving them of the responsibility of making that choice.

Their silence, like mine, is the third choice. But I do not consent to letting them make it a comfortable silence. I will pointedly be as direct in my silence as possible.

Some of them have been somewhat supportive. But not to anyone but me. Not where anybody outside our circle can see. It’s exhausting. But I have my nose pressed to the glass.

[my-castles-crumbling]

fire - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 1367 (whoops)

There were few things Regulus Black valued more than sleep. Perhaps reading. Or music. Or a nice dark roast coffee. But either way, sleep was of the utmost importance. He was even more prickly than normal without at least eight hours of it, and miserable as well, so he always prioritized getting his rest.

Which is why he was ready to kill everyone in his path when the fire alarm was pulled at 2:47 am on a Tuesday night in his university dorm, and he was forced to evacuate into the parking lot.

Not only was the whole thing infuriating, but to make matters worse, it was also freezing outside. The September air was chilling him to his bones, and he could feel his body screaming for shut-eye. It was his definition of hell.

As he stood shivering, a tall, dark-haired, tan-skinned, hazel-eyed boy walked up to him and offered him his coat with the most obnoxiously beautiful grin he’d ever seen.

Too cold to play stupid games, he just hissed, “Fuck off,” and turned away.

As soon as they were all allowed back inside, Regulus curled under his blanket and fell asleep, keen to put the whole miserable experience behind him.

-

No such luck.

It took one week before the alarm went off again. This time at 1:19am on a Thursday, he found himself trudging down the stairs and into the cold, cursing himself for once again being too sleepy to remember a coat.

So furious that he was about to scream, he didn’t see the same boy walk up to him right away, until he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

“I brought you an extra,” the boy grinned, making Regulus’s frozen knees melt as he offered him the jacket.

“Do you make a habit of giving your clothing to strangers?” he bit out, giving in and grabbing the offending garment, immediately throwing it over his shoulders. He figured if he was going to be harassed, he might as well be warm while it happened.

“Only the pretty ones,” the boy said with a wink, walking off and leaving Regulus both pissed off and flustered.

-

The third time happened only three days after the second, and Regulus bit back a scream when the alarm roused him from his slumber. At this point, it felt like a pattern, and he was at least smart enough to grab the oversized, frayed, horrifyingly maroon, disgustingly warm jacket he’d thrown over his desk chair three days ago.

He was only outside for a few minutes before the boy walked up to him again, looking completely comfortable in the frigid night.

“So, do I get to know your name?” he asked, sending Regulus the same stunning smile.

Frowning, at both his current whereabouts and the way his stomach flip-flopped, Regulus scoffed. “I don’t know yours.”

“James,” he answered easily, kicking at a random rock on the pavement. “Now, I’ve given you two things. It makes sense that you should give me one, yeah? Only fair.” And he batted his long eyelashes, making Regulus nearly choke on his spit.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, getting ahold of himself, before rolling his eyes. “No,” he said shortly. And he walked off.

-

“What about your major, then?”

Ten days. It took ten days before the alarm was pulled again, and the school had started sending out cryptic notices threatening consequences for the party responsible. But still, Regulus was here, in the parking lot in the middle of the night, sending a death glare at James.

“Why does it matter?” he asked with a huff.

“Because people tend to care about their majors,” the taller boy shrugged. “And I want to know what you care about. Mine’s education, by the way.”

Education. It fit, strangely. James’s sunshiny disposition warmed the surrounding air even during the cold night, and his smile seemed like the type of thing that would put kids at-ease.

Regulus sighed, giving in. “English. With a minor in creative writing,” he mumbled, looking down.

“Hmm. That suits you,” James replied vaguely, smiling. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “And your name?”

He thought about it for a moment, but at this point, it almost felt like he would be giving in to some sort of weird, unspoken battle if he shared his name. And he had to admit, talking with James passed the time during these stupid evacuations. “No,” he answered, sending the boy a smirk, heart skipping a beat at his own nerve, and turning to find someone else to speak with.

-

It became a game. Every time the alarm was pulled, James found him. He asked him questions, and Regulus answered every one, shocked at the way James listened. It was actually nice to talk to someone who seemed genuinely interested. He hadn’t made a lot of friends on campus, yet, and James felt…safe. But every time James asked his name, he refused, grinning as much as James did, before sauntering away.

-

One cold night in November, though, he couldn’t sleep. Stress about classes had his mind going wild, and anxious energy flooded his body. So, he decided to take a walk through the dorm, to clear his head. He drifted through the floors and halls, no destination in mind, when he happened across one of the more-quiet areas of the building. This area happened to have a fire alarm in a dark corner of the hall, almost hidden in shadows. It was as he turned a corner to this spot that Regulus saw a hooded figure slowly approach the alarm, arm outstretched, intentions clear. 

Eyes wide, Regulus watched as the figure pulled the latch and began to run, turning and smacking right into Regulus.

“Ouch!” He cried out, nearly falling over.

“Fuck!” The person yelled, losing their balance as well.

And then the hood fell. And Regulus would have recognized those hazel eyes and that beautiful hair anywhere.

“James!?!”

The other boy looked terrified, mouth open, his body frozen in place. He uttered a few syllables as if he was trying to form words, but no sound came out. Scoffing, Regulus grabbed his hand and led him down some nearby stairs and out the emergency exit, alarm still blaring overhead.

When they got into the quiet, freezing air, he turned to the taller boy. “It was you?” he hissed, resisting the urge to slap him across the shoulder. The amount of sleep he’d lost in the past two months was abhorrent. “Why?”

James grimaced. “Well…the first two times, it wasn’t! But, y’know, the first time you didn’t have a coat…”

“I remember,” Regulus frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. And…I couldn’t stop thinking about you. So the second time, I just…grabbed my old one. And when you took it and you looked so…” James gestured to Regulus, eyes wide, cheeks pink. Regulus blinked, trying to understand. Was James saying he looked good in his jacket? “…I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I just…”

Regulus gaped. “You’ve been pulling the fire alarm to see me?”

“It was only supposed to be a one-time thing! Just to get your name!” James defended himself, looking almost scared. “I didn’t know how to find you, and I just….you have to understand, you’re fucking stunning, you know?”

Blushing furiously, Regulus sputtered, “That’s…well, that’s not…”

“But then you wouldn’t tell me your name! So I had to keep pulling it, you know?” James explained, a desperate look on his face. Like it obviously made sense why he’d been breaking the law for two months. “...Just until I found out.”

He blinked several times before biting his lip. Nobody had ever gone to such lengths to get to know him before. It was stupid, and risky, and idiotic, and so damn romantic.

“My name is Regulus,” he sighed, wondering if he’d regret this. “I live in room 743. And if you ever pull that damn alarm again, and wake me up, I will never speak to you again. Understood?”

James grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Your name is as beautiful as you are, by the way.”

Regulus could only sigh. What had he gotten himself into?

I also posted this here if you want to go give it some love!

[babymorte]

the caption is hilarious but can we take a second to admire how far ive come? this was at a fitting for a silent hill cosplay shoot i did a while ago. i was not mentally in a great place here. at best i was 98lbs and im 5’4. im afraid im falling back into old habits and im starting to scare myself. im not asking for sympathy or pity but when these old photos pop up that people are liking them it makes me sad because i know a lot of people see these and think i look good (which doesnt make sense but is appreciated) and like even now i stopped posting photos and vids of my body because im so ashamed of how im treating it. ive lost control of everything and i just dont really know how to handle it. im losing friends im losing family my entire relationship went up in flames in the blink of an eye and im losing my house in probably a year and a half on top of having to help someone get out of debt so they’re not completely fucked when the time comes. i really don’t know what to do anymore and im just so fucking lost and alone.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Finds Everything Cute

Marvel finds literally every creature cute and it’s either extremely disturbing or strange to the rest of the league.

Marvel, Aquaman, and Wondy: *in Tartarus*

Aquaman: “Is that Cerberus??”

Wondy: “Yes, yes, it is.”

Random Demon: *flailing around in one of its mouths*

Marvel: “Cerby!”

Cerberus: *all three heads perk up*

Marvel: “Drop.” *points down*

Cerberus: *spits him out*

Marvel: “Good boy!” *flies over to scratch under one of it’s heads*

Aquaman: *watching as Marvel coos over the dog*

Wondy: *kills the demon*

They all got to ride the Cerberus after that. Aquaman was on the left most head, Marvel was on the middle, and Diana was on the right. Hades was extremely confused when he saw this because he never thought Cerberus would act like this around mortals??

or

JL: *all wearing blindfolds besides Marvel because they don’t wanna go insane*

Marvel: *waves* “Hi Cthulhu!”

Cthulhu: *tentacle noise that’s the equivalent of “Hello, Champion*

Batman: “Mighty Cthulhu, we have come here today-”

Marvel: “You’re just as cute as I remember!” *disappears past the tentacles and is probably scratching his chin or something*

*silence*

Batman: “Captain, please step away from the primordial entity that can drive people insane with just one look.”

Marvel: *poked his head out of the tentacles, not that they can see* “But he’s adorable!”

Everyone on the JL was a little confused as to how Marvel was able to call the Lovecraftian entity cute but whatever.

or

Wondy and Marvel: *on a ship, watching a single harpy sing*

Marvel: *isn’t affected*

Wondy: *is a little affected but covering her ears makes it more less affective*

Marvel: “Look Diana! A Harpy!” *picks it up*

Harpy: *between singing and screeching at being picked up*

Wondy: “Brother, we cannot take it back to the Watchtower.”

Marvel: “But why?”

Wondy: “It will bewitch all the heroes with it’s song.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah…” *gloomily puts it back down and it runs off*

Marvel was like super depressed, but Diana just got him a chicken and that instantly made him happy again.

or

Constantine and Marvel: *both in Hell and walking down a path*

Hellhound: *pops in out of nowhere and starts barking*

Constantine: *gets jumpscared* “SHIT!”

Marvel: *sounds so excited* “A hellhound!” *bends down to pet it a bunch* “Who’s a good boy?”

Hellhound: *loving the attention*

Constantine: *watching this and judgmentally lights up a cigarette* “How do you do that, mate?”

Marvel: “Huh?”

Constantine: “I’ve heard from others that you’re like a fucking Disney princess when it comes to monsters for some reason. How do you do that? Is that something you get from being the champion?”

Marvel: “I don’t know actually!”

He actually doesn’t know, because Solomon told him that none of the Champions besides a couple were like this and it was just because they were good with animals and stuff. In other words, he and a couple others were like Disney princesses because they love animals, regardless of the fact that they’re alien or monsters or not.

[bweeeb]

PUPPY EYES

Synopsis: When Pedro doesn't take you to the awards ceremony for his new movie, your relationship starts to go downhill with the thought that maybe you're too young to give him everything he needs.

Warnings: nothing major, angst, couple with problems, Pedro and you are 26 years apart.

Career, projects, new movies, memories, and that topic that always left you unsure—was it negative or positive anticipation when people brought up relationships?

It wasn’t news to anyone that five months ago, when you and Pedro made it official that you’d been secretly seeing each other for a year, people started digging into every little detail. And a few months ago, the age difference between you two didn’t bother anyone in your social circle. Both of you were adults who knew exactly what you were doing with your lives.

Even your parents, who had initially been surprised by the man 26 years older than you, eventually came to accept your choice. So it shouldn’t bother you or anyone else anymore.

"So, I don’t think you’ve ever openly talked about your relationship with Pedro Pascal after making it official. Is it okay if we discuss it?"

The podcast host smiled at you, and you let out an embarrassed laugh, shrugging.

"Why not?"

"How did you two meet?"

"We worked on the same movie, so we were constantly together on set. One thing led to another."

"And you never thought, like, ‘Wow, he’s way too old for me,’ since there’s a significant age gap?"

"Twenty-six years, isn’t it?" Another host interrupted.

"Didn’t he say in an interview that he wouldn’t date anyone with more than a 20-year age difference? Doesn’t that make you curious about what changed?"

"Well, when we met, I didn’t think much about it, and I don’t think he did either. Yes, he mentioned that he wouldn’t date someone with a 20-year age gap. But I’ve always had a thing for DILFs, and he’s definitely one. One thing led to another, without either of us realizing it."

Your cheeks flushed as you spoke honestly, your eyes briefly catching your publicist’s approving thumbs-up from behind the glass.

"I think it’s much more about connection than anything tangible, you know? Our age difference is almost unnoticeable in our day-to-day life now."

"Pedro is, what, around 50 years old? Let’s not pretend it’s entirely unnoticeable." One of them chuckled, and you narrowed your eyes, frustrated at how your words were twisted.

"You’re young, clearly with the body of a 23-year-old, while he’s middle-aged. I think people are just curious about what made you stay." The other one chimed in, leaning toward the mic. You smiled politely, glancing between the camera and the hosts.

"Maybe the real question is what makes him stay. He had a firm opinion, and suddenly, it changed. Pedro has the purest and most beautiful soul in the world. He laughs at his own dad jokes, he shows me things I’d never imagined because he’s from 1975, and he’s a man with a capital M who treats me like the last rose petal in the universe. So, honestly, if he ever agrees to do an interview with you, maybe you should ask him what makes him stay.

"After the podcast aired, what you thought would be a calm discussion turned into a social media battleground. People twisted your words and intentions.

"A man taking care of a child—what nonsense."

"Really, ask him why he stays because she’s unbearable."

"Did she call his jokes ‘dad jokes’? Who does that to their boyfriend? RUN, PEDRO!"

"She’s just after his money."

"The most boring woman in the world is with the hottest man alive. How does that even happen?"

"She has nothing to offer him. Relax, ladies, it won’t last three more months."

"Dakota Johnson seemed interested in him; I wouldn’t be surprised if he ditches this corn husk for her."

"If I knew he was into younger women, I’d have listed a hundred better options than Y/N."

"Wait, guys—he didn’t even take her to the Gladiator premiere. How serious do you think this is?"

It was exhausting. Even though you avoided reading the comments, they popped up everywhere, and all the therapy you’d done to maintain a stable mental health seemed to be slipping through your fingers. But Pedro couldn’t know, so you plastered on a sweet smile whenever you saw him, even as doubts began to creep in.

Maybe you really were the worst option for him. Maybe someone older, with similar experiences, would be better. Someone more mature, less bubbly and silly.Sitting in the car, you stared blankly out the window as Pedro talked about the Gladiator premiere—the one you hadn’t attended because you weren’t invited.

"Hey, are you okay?" It wasn’t that you weren’t listening. You just didn’t have much to say, so you let him keep talking.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Go on."

Your smile didn’t falter, and you silently thanked yourself for being a good actress.

"No, you’re not fine. What’s wrong?"

"Of course I am. It must’ve been surreal, babe. Even Dakota Johnson was there, right?"

"Yeah, but what’s wrong with you?" His eyes left the road momentarily to glance at you. You shook your head.

"Nothing. You’re just imagining things." You leaned over, cupped his face in your hands, and pressed a kiss to his lips before pulling away.

"Eyes on the road, old man."

"Okay, but I thought I was your daddy."

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes as if offended. You loved that about him—the way he was so expressive and dramatic, some might call it embarrassing, but you found it endlessly entertaining.

"You know when you’re my daddy," you said with a mischievous smile, swallowing the rising bitterness in your throat. That night was the last time you slept at his place. Over the following days, you insisted on being dropped off at home, and Pedro didn’t argue. He simply observed your strange behavior.

At first, he thought you might be pregnant and unsure about what to do. But then he remembered you weren’t the type to hide something like that. He considered that maybe you were overwhelmed with your new projects, but you usually loved talking about them. And then, his thoughts landed on your relationship. Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t pinpoint anything.

Five days later, the two of you were at a dinner with friends. Everything was going well until it wasn’t.

"Hey, Y/N, why didn’t I see you at the premiere? I thought I’d catch a glimpse of you in a glorious dress," Lux, Pedro’s sister, asked.

Your cheeks burned, and your heart raced with nervous discomfort. Were you supposed to admit you hadn’t been invited? No. Your mom had taught you better than that.

"I…" A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair. You didn’t dare look at Pedro beside you, though you could feel his guilty puppy-dog eyes on you. You wouldn’t give in.

"I had some things tied up with the script for the movie. It was a hectic week."

In reality, the script had been finalized, and even if the writer had faced complications, you’d have found time to support your boyfriend and contribute new ideas to the director.

"Ah, really? What a shame. I hope everything’s okay now," Lux said.

"Oh, it’s all sorted," you replied, forcing a smile.Your smile faltered briefly when Pedro’s hand tried to find yours under the table. Clearing your throat, you stood up, announcing that you needed to use the restroom.When you returned, Pedro was chatting with one of his friends, and you were grateful he was too preoccupied to bring up the earlier conversation.

"Wow, did you do something with your hair? It looks blonder, or is it just me?" Hazel, one of Pedro’s friends’ girlfriends, asked politely.

"Yeah, I did. Amelia’s amazing," you replied.

"Oh my gosh, give me her number, please. I need something this stunning."

"Of course, I’ll even book you an appointment if you want."

"It’s impressive how an older man managed to snag someone as beautiful and sweet as you," Lux teased. Normally, you would’ve laughed it off, but everything felt different that night. You chuckled falsely, smiling as you’d been doing all week.

"Oh, come on, stop that," Pedro said, sounding uneasy. He could sense your odd mood.Of course, you were acting strange.

Everything had been strange lately.

Later, in the car, your gaze rested on your hands in your lap while you felt Pedro’s eyes boring into the side of your face.

"Honey—"

"If we could not talk about this now, I’d be much happier. Can you just take me home?"

"You know I want to—"

"Pedro."You turned to him, tired of pretending. Your voice was tense, and he immediately understood how serious it was. You never called him by his name. "Stop." Your tone wasn’t angry or annoyed, just lifeless. That terrified him. Women didn’t usually scare him. At nearly 50 years old, he thought he’d learned to handle these situations.

"I’m sorry, okay."

His gaze returned to the road, while you looked out the window, waiting to get home.

As you were arriving, you realized he wasn't taking you to your house but to his instead. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh and covered your face with both hands.

"What are you doing?" The words came out muffled as you felt him slow down.

"Going home."

"This is the way to your house."

"My house is your house, darling."

"You know what I mean," you whispered, exhausted.

"I thought you didn’t want to go. That it would be too much pressure for you, that... that you wouldn’t want people talking."

You heard him lament, and biting your lip, you sniffled. You tried hard not to act childish in the situation, looking up and taking a deep breath, reminding yourself not to let the tears fall.

"I know," was all you managed to reply before your voice broke.

"I... I just need to think for a bit."

"Think... right. Think about what?"

"Can you please take me home?" Pedro nodded at that and drove to your building. For the first time, he felt a strange haze between the two of you.

"Thank you." Even in the awkwardness, there you were, sweet as ever. Pedro could never deny how much he appreciated that about you—the way you always thanked everyone for everything. You were so pure. "Anytime." You opened the car door and stepped out, but before you entered the building, Pedro got out and called after you.

"I'm sorry. And I love you." That’s what he said before you turned to look at him with sad eyes—the same expression you wore when you thought he had forgotten to pick you up for a date, only to find out he was planning a surprise trip to Chile.That night, Pedro went home with his tail between his legs. When Lux called him in the morning, he couldn’t have felt worse.

"You look like one of the infected from The Last of Us. Gross."Lux teased as Pedro rubbed his face with his left hand."What do you want?"

"Wow. Rude."

"Sorry, I didn’t sleep. Just tell me why you’re calling me at six in the morning."

"I was thinking about how you said Y/N was acting strange, and I agree. Last night, she was quieter than usual. Pero luego empecé a preguntarme: ¿la invitaste al estreno? Porque se puso muy rara después de que lo mencioné y estaba revisando los comentarios..." ( But then I started wondering—did you invite her to the premiere? Because she got all weird after I brought it up, and I was checking the comments...)

"Ya te dije que no revises los comentarios. La gente está loca". (I already told you not to check the comments. People are insane.)

Pedro rolled his eyes, sighed, and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. You and Pedro had talked about ignoring online negativity countless times. Neither of you usually cared about it. You weren’t starting now, were you?

"Lo sé, lo sé, pero se están portando fatal con ella. Y al no invitarla, la gente pensó que la estaban dejando de lado". ( I know, I know, but they’re being awful to her. And not inviting her made people think you were sidelining her.)

Lux sounded worried, almost angry.

"Eso es ridículo. Yo nunca haría algo así. Ella lo sabe. "(That’s ridiculous. I’d never do that—she knows that.)

"La compararon con Dakota Johnson. No es justo, son completamente diferentes. Dijeron que te cansarías de la 'niña'. Sabemos que es más madura que la mayoría de las mujeres, pero aún es joven". ( They compared her to Dakota Johnson. It’s not even fair—they’re completely different. They said you’ll get tired of the ‘kid.’ We know she’s more mature than most women, but she’s still young. )

Pedro propped his elbows on his knees and sighed. You had never acted immaturely. You never made rash decisions or threw tantrums over small things. You never picked fights or complained about work or friends. People didn’t know anything about your relationship—how could they?

"¿Crees que está preocupada? "(Do you think she’s worried)

"La mujer está intentando mantener la compostura y alejarse antes de que la abandones, como todos han estado diciendo". (The woman’s trying to hold herself together and pulling away before you ditch her like everyone’s been saying.)

Lux sighed and continued,

"Deberías haber escuchado cómo habló de ti en ese podcast. Nadie más sería así, no como ella. Haz algo. ( You should’ve heard how she talked about you on that podcast. No one else would be like that—not like her. Do something. )

Fuck. Pedro thought. He’d be stuck working all day, knowing you were likely asleep now. As the day went on, you ignored his missed calls. Not as an act of immaturity but because you needed personal space. You planned to talk to him eventually, but your phone felt like a weight you couldn’t bear. Instead, you threw yourself into work, ensuring every detail was perfect.Later, your group decided to go out for dinner, and you joined to keep your mind occupied. You loved them all but remained mostly a listener. Exhausted from a sleepless night, you struggled to follow the conversation, though you smiled at their stories.After dinner, you excused yourself to the restroom. As you washed your hands, you overheard two women talking in mocking tones.

"Do you think it’s a PR stunt?"

You frowned, listening as the other responded,

"It must be. I mean, it’s all over the news, and she’s playing the sad little girl role."

"Yeah, right? He used to call someone 25 a kid, and now he’s with a 23-year-old? Ridiculous."

"Did you see the photo of him with Dakota at the bar?"

"What? When?"

"Today, about an hour ago. She was kissing his cheek, and even if it’s for the movie, I doubt it. They weren’t even working."

"Think he’ll trade her in?"

"She won’t last ten days."

You grabbed your phone and opened Twitter. The first thing you saw was the photo of him and Dakota. He had that drunken smile on his face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. You weren’t the jealous type, fully aware of how PR worked in Hollywood, but it still stung.You washed your hands, turned to face them, and said,

"At least I’m more than a nameless extra without a single line. The only roles your venomous tongues will land you are in adult films, and not the Pearl kind—cheap, disgusting ones. Have a good night.

"With that, you left, hailed a cab, and went home. Fighting back tears, you repeated to yourself, Don’t cry. It’s just a picture. You ignored him all day, so stop acting like this.But for the first time, you cried over something like this.

Your head ached, and with the tip of your nose red, you picked up the phone and called him—without thinking too much, without wrestling with your thoughts. You just did what you felt needed to be done.The first call went straight to voicemail, and even though the thought of not wanting to humiliate yourself for him crossed your mind, you ignored it, knowing you were the one who had lost ground first. On the second call, your phone was answered, and the muffled sound made you swallow hard—he was out of the house.

“Hey.”

Your voice came out low, and you heard some murmurs on the other side, blending with loud conversation.

“Hello?”

A woman’s voice called from the other side, and you grimaced. “Uh, hi. Is Pedro there?”

“Uh, he’s kind of busy right now,” she said.

“Busy…” you repeated softly. “Who are you?”

“Carly.”

Carly? Who the hell is Carly? you thought immediately.

“Then tell him I called, Carly.”

“And you are…?” The mocking tone in her voice irritated you, and your expression was far from pleasant.

“A friend. Tell him a friend called.”

“Great.” She hung up without saying anything else, and you wrapped yourself in your own cocoon of blankets that didn’t warm you like Pedro did.Suits was playing on TV while you avoided going to bed, eventually falling asleep without even realizing it. Around 3 a.m., frantic knocks on your door startled you awake, making you look warily down the hallway. The doormen usually informed you of anyone coming to your floor.

Cautiously, you peeked through the peephole and saw him there, rubbing his face with his two hands, five times bigger than yours. You stopped, stepped back from the door, and sighed before opening it. Once you unlocked the door’s security latch, you looked at him and almost closed it again upon seeing your reflection, still wearing his shirt.

“It’s late. What are you doing here?” Your voice came out softly, and you saw Pedro stammer as he raised his hand in a nervous tic.

“A friend?”

“What?”

“Why did you say you were just a friend, sweetheart?” Pedro asked, stepping forward. You didn’t step back, only shrugged and gave a disheartened smile

.“She said you were busy. I thought it would be more… convenient than saying something else.”

“You’re something else. You’re my girlfriend. And my fiancée. And my wife. And I don’t care if you want to be the mother of my kids when I’m a hundred years old.”

He’s so drunk, you thought.

“How much tequila did you drink, Pedro?”

“The whole bottle.” He laughed, moving closer and gently touching your face. He’d always been gentle; being drunk didn’t change that.

“Please don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me.”

“I won’t say anything to you while you reek of cheap booze and cheap women.” You closed the door behind him and stepped away, heading to the hallway and your closet to grab a towel and clean clothes for him.

“Take a shower. If you sober up, we’ll talk.”

Pedro knew what you were thinking—that he’d gotten mad, drunk with his friends, and gone out with women named Carly. But he hadn’t done anything other than stare at the karaoke machine, hating every second he wasn’t there to mock what he was hearing.

“Everything’s cheap,” he laughed, following you.

“You know what isn’t cheap, Pedro? My patience. I haven’t slept well in over a week, and now it’s almost four in the morning, which means it’s been twenty minutes since you showed up at my door, and I don’t know why the hell you’re not naked yet.”

Your words left your mouth, and Pedro smiled at you.

“One day without you, and I forget how hot you are when you’re bossy and sleepy,” he slurred, making you laugh softly as you turned on the shower and pushed him into the bathroom.

“Don’t fall in there, please.”

Fifteen minutes after you pushed him inside, your eyes were heavy, and the strange way your body associated his presence with a different kind of rest annoyed you. Without realizing it, you fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in your blanket. It was as if your body said":

— Oh, it’s okay; Pedro’s home, so we’re safe,— but was your heart safe?When he saw you asleep there, the tequila had only left him dizzy—nothing a cold shower couldn’t fix. He approached and carried you to your room without thinking twice, whispering as he looked at your face:

“I’m so sorry, my preatty little thing.”

He laid you on the bed, and as he was about to leave, he heard you murmur:

“Stay. Please.”

Without hesitation, he lay beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both in a cocoon where it was just the two of you.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m not the right person for you?” you murmured, burying your head in his neck and feeling his hands trail up your back.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I’m not the right person for you, sweetheart?” he emphasized, and you sighed.

“I’m scared of losing you when you realize I’m too young, too naïve, and haven’t even experienced half of what you have.”

“I don’t even know why you’re thinking that. I’m the one who’s old. You’re perfect, intelligent, hot, and extremely talented—a young woman who fell into the arms of an old man like me.”

“Yeah, but I think maybe one day you’ll want someone your own age, someone like Sarah or any of your exes. I think it’s okay if you get bored of me, start feeling ashamed, and—”

“Stop. Stop that.” Pedro cupped your face, pulling it from his neck and making you look into his eyes. Your hands rested on his chest as you stared at him, and with a disheartened smile, Pedro caressed your face, clearly upset. When had your relationship reached such a fragile state?

“I didn’t take you to the premiere because the press is cruel. They’d talk about you, probably reinforce the rumors, and talk about me—call me a disgusting creep. I was going to take you, but all of our advisors told me not to risk exposing you in a bad light. I… I would never feel ashamed of you, for God’s sake. Look at you. A woman of any age wouldn’t hold a candle to you in a million years.”

Sniffling, you climbed onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Pedro sat on the bed, hugging you back, his hand resting gently on your waist.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. Whatever was written about you was a lie. God, I don’t think I even know how to live without you by my side anymore.”

You laughed, and a smile appeared on his lips.

“You don’t need to worry either. Other men lost their appeal the moment you wanted me.”

“That’s good, sweetheart.”

His hand traveled to the back of your neck, his large fingers running through your hair.

“And who was Carly?”

“A friend of the group.”

" And why did she have your cell phone?"

" It stayed on the table because I focused on looking at it for five to five minutes waiting for you to send me a message. "

“And the photo?”

He knew what you were referring to, and when he took it, he hadn’t expected it to reach you before you two made up—if you made up.

“It was to promote the movie, sweetheart. Dakota’s engaged.”

He brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Hmm, alright.” You looked at him, tracing your fingers from his hair to his beard until they stopped at his mustache.

“Stop looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes. It makes you irresistible.”

“Like this?”

He did it again, and you laughed, kissing his lips immediately after.

“Mm-hmm, like that.”

You murmured against his lips as he smiled at you, and you whispered,

“I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart. Just you.”

Pedro pulled you close, laying you back against the soft mattress, kissing you as if it were the last moment of your lives. At least, that’s what both of you hoped.

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

I apologize if there are any mistakes in this writing. I didn't proofread it with the best eyes.

Requests are open

[rat6ix]

So what?

Nam-gyu x reader

Summary: you are horrible for each other but neither of you are gonna do anything about it.

Warnings: smut, toxic!nam-gyu AND reader, neither of them are good people dont be like them, degrading from both parties, switch!nam-gyu and reader, biting, doesn’t take place in squid game, talk of drugs; no description of either doing them but yall high as shit, reader and nam-gyu love each other in some kind of fucked up way…i think, reader is highkey a freak and not in a good way, choking but not the sexy kind reader is tryna kill him, but then again he finds it hot so maybe it is sexy..?, no aftercare.

Porn with no plot 😇

—

Wc: 1.1k

— 🐀

At this point you’re not sure nam-gyu remembers why you were fighting, the drugs in your system combined with the feeling of his cock shoved inside of you making both of your brains fuzzy, you could tell he was getting antsy —impatient even. You hadn’t moved since his cock had slipped inside of you, he didnt deserve it, Not until he apologized. His hands away from any part of you, you made it very clear you would have no problem kicking him out of your apartment , it wouldn’t be the first time he was on your doorstep begging for you to let him in.

You heard him whine from under you, obviously trying to keep himself from squirming. You could feel his cock twitch every time you shifted a certain way, you wanted to roll your eyes at how pathetic he was. His eyebrows were scrunched together, his eyes squeezed shut trying not to fall apart but you knew he would sooner than later.

“Don’t be like that, stop being a cunt nam-gyu look at me.” You teased.

Bringing your hand up to his jaw. You chuckled as he glared at you, his hands twitching by his sides. You know how much he wanted to flip you over and fuck your brains out but you also knew he wouldn’t cause his ego means too much to him.

“Fuck you.” Nam-gyu growled, his jaw clenched his eyes still glaring. You stared down at him blankly before you started laughing, you’d might as well have tears in your eyes at this point.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.” you joked.

You rolled your hips, a smile still on your face as nam-gyu let out a strangled noise. You moved your upper body closer to his, your hand leaving his jaw finally. Leaning to whisper in his ear.

“Say you’re sorry and I’ll fuck you.”

He made a noise of defiance, jerking his head away from your’s. You leaned back up and frowned, reaching down and gripping his hair. He winced at the feeling, your grip tight as you pulled his face towards yours.

“Don’t do that nam-gyu, you owe me an apology for what you did.” You insisted.

When He didn’t answer your grip on his hair got tighter until he broke.

“Fuck—fine! Im sorry.” He pleaded tears gathering in his eyes from the pain.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” You chuckled.

You knew he didn’t and you were right, the look on his face gave him away. It was the face he always made when he was about to lie himself out of trouble. You knew him far too well for far too long for that to work on you. He didn’t know but you didn’t mind reminding him, your hands moving to his chest.

“Remember when you left me high off my ass on the bathroom floor of club pentagon tonight because you had “better things to do than babysit someone who cant handle their drugs”, hm?” You tilted your head as you spoke.

You were tempted to get off his dick kick him out right now just because he didn’t remember, luckily a nice girl stayed with you until you were sober enough to walk and he’s lucky you’re somewhat sober now or else you’re sure you’d be throwing his shit out of your bedroom window; you probably still will if he pisses you off again.

“You’re still mad about that?” Nam-gyu laughed.

His laughter didnt last long as you brought your hands to his throat and fucking squeezed. His eyes widened as you smiled down at him, his fingers trying to pry your hands off of him.

“C’mon say sorry.” You chuckled, doing your best to keep your hands where they were.

“Fuck— im— sor—sorry.” He tried his best to wheeze out.

Satisfied with his shitty apology you release your grip on his neck leaving him sputtering for breath and coughing. You looked down at him with disinterest, your fingers drawing shapes into his stomach. It took him a little bit to get back to normal, his eyes still wide looking at you. He opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off before he even began.

“I could feel your dick twitching the entire time i dont wanna hear anything you fucking slut.” You rolled your eyes.

You barely had time to register him flipping the both of you over, his hands on your wrists keeping you still. His face was unreadable but you could tell he was fucking pissed. It didn’t take long for him to start fucking his cock in you at a brutal pace, his ringed fingers moving to to dig into your thighs, You were definitely going to have bruises on them in the morning.

Your fingers digging into his shoulders kept you grounded, your jaw dropped a bit has he fucked you into your mattress. He was breathing heavy above you, his head hung with hair framing his face. You could hear him curse under his breath a few times before raising his head back up and flipping his hair back to where it wouldn’t obscure his vision.

“Looking a little tired nam-gyu—“ you laughed.

You were cut off by a particularly rough thrust, jolting you backward. You could nam-gyu had enough if your bullshit but that only made you smile harder as he got angrier.

“Stupid fucking bitch, always running your mouth.” Nam-gyu retorted, gripping your jaw.

It hurt to keep smiling, his fingers digging into your face, but you didn’t care. Your mouth open now as you drool all over his hand. He looks at you disgusted before letting go to wiping the drool all over your face. You laughed as best as you could with his cock still being shoved into you at an alarming pace. Your breathing was as labored as nam-gyus at this point, you could tell he was as close to cumming as you were.

Your hands went to the hair on his neck, he probably wasnt even feeling anything but you wrapped around his cock as you tugged at it. His eyes were trained on where your bodies met, occasionally looking up at your face. His hips were stuttering now, the way you were squeezing his cock not making it any easier. For the first time that night he leaned down and caught your lips in a bruising kiss, you decided to take pity on him and return it. After the kiss was broken you took advantage of the position you were in, digging your teeth into his shoulder smiling up at him when he pushed you back with a glare.

It wasnt long after that you both came, nam-gyu pulling out to cum on your stomach. The room was still, the only sound being both of your loud breathing. He rolled off of you a minute later, taking his place on your other side. You stared up at the ceiling for a while before getting up and making your way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Nam-gyu asked out of breath.

“Shower.”

—

Belongs to rat6ix

[alyjojo]

PAC - January 2025 - Who’s Stalking You? 👀

Pile 1: Whips 💥

This would probably be the first pile one thinks of when they think of their “stalkers” - jealous bitches 💯 of the worst variety. Whips with Fury shows them being so bitter they can’t stand it, like you’ve stolen their opportunities or blessings, it’s your fault they don’t have what you have - or they just hate you for it. These are people that do NOT want you to win, and if they had the choice, they’d enact some kind of revenge on you to make sure you don’t…but it feels like most are powerless to do so, that’s why they’re so bitter, they can only watch you win and be all pissed off about it.

This stems from feelings of regret, wishing they’d have made different decisions or were offered different opportunities. If you have money, they don’t. If you had some kind of blessing or privilege to your life, they don’t. For some reason they were/are unable to do what you do, and rather than admire you or give you your flowers 💐, they just burn inside because it’s not them. These are not self-aware or mature people, they feel powerless to direct their own life (valid or not), some may be genuinely struggling (they’re largely unconscious of this behavior) and others just suck and it’s definitely intentional hate & evil eyes 👀 being thrown your way every time you have something positive going on, or just you existing. Your light irritates tf out of their demons 😈 They are all unaware or don’t care that this kind of energy & behavior won’t get them anywhere positive.

I don’t see them changing either, if they’re unaware then they’re unable, this is not a growth-minded group of people. They’d rather blame everyone else and point fingers, nurturing revenge fantasies and hating you then ask how you did it, or learn from you. Patience can show they may have felt this way for a long time, there’s no helping them. While it does show they could be in a not great situation, it’s also showing you are not expected to give af, they’re assholes. Red Moon shows their intentions, perceptions, fears, and triggers as delusional, pessimistic, hateful, angry and toxic. You can’t help these people, it’s up to them to help themselves and with 9 Pentacles rev, they won’t. If you even tried, they’d just despise you for being a person that tries 😆 Do you. Keep shining 🌟

Signs: Heavy Virgo & Cancer, Taurus, Scorpio, Aries & Sagittarius - Jupiter Virgo, Mercury Taurus, Mars Scorpio

—————————————— 🤎

Pile 2: Sun ☀️

You are the pearl in the oyster and this is the group of people that knows this but they don’t have you anymore, and they miss you. It’s also the pile most likely for you to give them a call, because for most it’s family. Parents, grandparents, ex’s that aren’t toxic, but most feel like guardians of some kind. Teachers, bosses, leaders, older siblings, people who tried to steer you in a direction that wasn’t for you - and you went your own way anyway and SUCCEEDED. That’s the thing, and there is shame here in these people…but it’s like the intentions were good? People misjudged you. They thought you were like them, or the rest, or some other experience that narrowed the mind and put you in a box.

All of you have reached some level of success, recognition, status, maybe fame in some way - or at least on the path you’re on, you’re well known. Or you will be. There’s guilt here about not supporting you in the way you needed, not loving you correctly, and ultimately losing you. Could be divorced parents for someone, an estranged parent, someone that…it’s like they didn’t believe in you, or brushed you off. Like your whole life you drew pictures and got in trouble - now you’re an artist, that’s the vibe. They know they can’t take credit and that they tried to force or steer you in directions that weren’t for you. If you’re one of several children, you could’ve all been parented the same way; these are the rules, these are the goals, in this family we all go to this college and study Business…and you’re the artist. Or the gay kid. Or the theater kid, I’m definitely getting theater strongly. That’s the vibe 💯

The point of it all is love, Eternal Love with the white heart is showing purity and coming from the right place, even if they were wrong. They want forgiveness, want you to call, if it’s an ex they see you clearly now and want you back. For some there was a particular event that caused an ending, there could’ve been heavy Judgment energy and a lack of feeling supported, some of you may have ran away or did something impulsively - or they did. It ended. There’s also a note here about passed on loved ones, if a tragedy happened where you couldn’t say goodbye or the last words were in anger/judgment, they’re okay, they’re with you all of the time and support you now 🙏 There’s no lingering anger just love.

If none of that applies, then these people simply miss the time they had with you, the lollipop 🍭 shows childhood - for most it’s your parents or someone like that. They’re nostalgic and look at old pictures of you, they miss the little kid coming in with muddy shoes even though they always yelled about it - now they wish they didn’t. This one made me cry ngl. Call your grandma or whoever this is…they feel like they can’t access you. Either you’re busy, they think you’re angry, they don’t want to impose, The Pathless shows them feeling like there are no options or you’re not on their path anymore and they can’t. For some that’s true. For others they’re leaving it up to you, but the love is genuine, they are both proud of you and ashamed of themselves in some way - maybe too much - and they don’t want you to know that, because they do want you to be happy. Even if you don’t, the love is never ending and they’ll just keep watching from afar 🧡 For the passed on loved ones, they know you’re sad or lonely without them, and they just want you to know they’re okay and they’re watching you WIN - they want you to win & they’re proud 👏

Signs: Heavy Scorpio & Cancer, Gemini & Capricorn - Saturn Gemini, Mars Taurus, Mars Aries

—————————————— 🧡

Pile 3: Letter ✉️

Heh 😏 This is the “you were right” pile 😆 You are some sort of a teacher to this person, could be a parent, ex, friend, stranger, doesn’t matter - YOU are wise and they are/were…manipulative, liars, schemers, cheaters, fools of some variety, and you didn’t deserve it if they did any of that to you. Now it’s 50/50, sure some are sorry but they’ll never admit it; others would just do it again and they know they would, even if they also know you’re right.

Even if they’re wrong, and even if you’re often right, these people quietly judge everything you say or do just looking for the one thing that’s like SEE THEY’RE WRONG LIKE ME, like this somehow excuses their own shitty behavior. They think YOU think you’re better than them when you’re just an honest person, and you even drop some pearls of wisdom on them because you’re not a judging sort of person either - you share the wealth of whatever you’re doing. A genuinely kind person. So you are better, as a human generally. Fuck you though 😆 They could too but they’d rather be immature and sabotagy. These are also people you need to watch out for, they see your kindness as weakness, stupidity, or naïve - while also knowing you’re a good person like wtf guys…if you have a platform or social media, this would be the trash diggers of the bunch. Digging for trash so they can compare yours to theirs, you to them, and I’m seeing raccoons 🦝 which made me laugh. Some may want to or try to steal from or copy you, manipulate things, even try to flirt or butter you up - but it’s with this shady ass manipulative energy - it’s not going anywhere. You feel untouchable to them because they’re not on your level, whatever level that is, it’s that simple.

Letter shows you receiving good news, which makes these people squirm, anything positive being said about you or happening to you. Everyone has their haters /ignore. If you post helpful things, recipes, dance is here showing some amazing craft or talent you do, religious stuff, wholesome happy healthy anything - these people don’t understand wtf healthy or wholesome is, so they mock and criticize and dig for trash. Let them? I mean they’re still watching. Your biggest haters are clearly just misguided fans 🥳 Some may be complete strangers, most of them even, I don’t see these people being in your life for the most part, nor do I see you noticing or caring at all. You just keep doing you boo, clearly you’re doing something right or they wouldn’t have to dig so much for something that’s wrong. You’re out here dropping wisdom, knowledge, guidance, helpful advice, whatever - let them talk, at least they heard you, and if/when they find themselves in positions where they need what you’ve said, the best karma is the burn they feel when “you were right.” Unconsciously even, for most 🤗

Signs: Heavy Scorpio, Libra, Cancer & Taurus - Venus Sagittarius, Mars Virgo, Jupiter Scorpio, there’s also a Gemini vibe but it feels like you or communication is what it’s all regarding

———————————————- 🖤

Pile 4: Garden 🪴

I’m getting two sets of people with this pile, the fans and the opposition.

The fans see you as a Muse, whatever it is that you do, you probably have a lot of friends, fans, admirers, love options potentially, and they’re afraid they don’t compare, that you don’t like them back or you’re out of their league. Deep rooted insecurity, shyness, projections - but essentially they just want to BE you or at least be in your energy. Some may want to be with you romantically, but that’s a side note not the main idea, most are fans. Friends, people that think you’re really cool and they wish they could hang out with you or do what you do. You’re like a guide for these people and they deeply appreciate your contribution to whatever it is you do 🥳 You may inspire them to make decisions in their own lives, and not even know it.

The opposition feels like “the patriarchy” or some shit, that’s the vibe. You don’t do things their way, you contradict their “facts”, they may not appreciate the gifts you have to offer and as such they only want to control, cage, maneuver, schedule, criticize, keep you small because how dare you be out here just doing you and being great at it. Or they feel that way about you and it’s all switched. You could be part of a group that is in opposition to another group and it’s the whole other group watching. It’s like white collar jobs vs. community volunteers, you can’t compete where you don’t compare and these people do not compare but they’d be the ones like “glad our tax dollars are going towards playgrounds”…shut up. No one cares. Luckily, this group is a scattered few.

Most are fans that ADORE you, your group or community, and whatever you’re doing. You inspire others and really make an impact with whatever you do. Teachers, counselors, community centered things, music directors, it feels very people oriented and not very rigid - it’s the rigid people with an issue or comment. “The man.” Does not have to be A man. I’m miserable and you should be too. I’m taught one way, you should be too. Ick. For some it’s literally the government or some higher organization that doesn’t support what you do. I’m seeing Planned Parenthood, don’t @ me I promise idgaf, I see what I see be mad. I’m also seeing charities…and what are those dances that everyone gets together on the street and films for TikTok or something, I’m seeing those too. Community support or a generational thing even, the boomers are mad at you guys 😆

The fans though, you’re making a difference in the lives of other people, changing perspectives, inspiring change, getting support, and you’re doing it in a way that’s giving people LIFE. Changing the narrative. Forging your own path with all of this Aries energy, both within and some stalkers maybe. Most people want to be you, or they want to help, want to take a part in this or have a seat at your table - in support. It’s admirable and most of you that chose this, I don’t get you being closed off to anyone, though they may fear it. Locked Heart ❤️ came out reversed, you’re someone always willing to make new friends, invite people to your table, it’s giving “the more the merrier,” which is great! Ignore the naysayers and let them squirm idk, for the most part it’s showing them as silent. In this pile, the winners are louder than the losers 📣 and if you’re feeling unappreciated, just know there are way more people that love and support you than hate you - you got the sauce and you’re widely adored. Idk if you’d even know the haters, they’re quiet and will stay that way, just leave ‘em be. You’re deeply appreciated where it matters 💚

Signs: Heavy Aries, Virgo, Leo & Capricorn - Jupiter Aries, Moon Leo

[starredblood]

NOWHERE GIRL

PART THREE

kang sae-byeok x fem!reader

synopsis: sae-byeok gets a concerning call from her brother while you start to get paranoid of yesterdays events.

wc. 2.3k

warnings: one mention of murder, mentions of bullying

(nowhere girl masterlist)

There is a lot Sae-byeok should thank Ji-yeong for in her life. They both met purely by chance. Whilst Ji-yeong had to do community service by cleaning up the park, she couldn’t help but notice a little pickpocketing thief roaming around. It amused her. When she approached Sae-byeok, the North Korean was the most guarded she’s ever been. It took Ji-yeong a year to finally get a name from her and her revealing where she truly came from and why she is living a life of crime.

Although Ji-yeong didn’t have much either, she felt bad for the girl who felt like the world had already given up on her. So, she gave Sae-byeok the opportunity to work at her old bakery job. Soon after, Ji-yeong suggested they should move in together as it would financially be beneficial since they can cut the cost of necessities like groceries. Surprisingly, Sae-byeok agreed but only with one condition: she will bring her little brother Cheol with her. Ji-yeong didn’t know that she had a sibling, nor that Sae-byeok was saving as much as she could through her job at the bakery and pickpocketing to have Cheol under her wing again. But she agreed nevertheless.

Sae-byeok knew that it would be hard for Cheol to transition from a children’s home to being under her guardianship and go to a proper South Korean school. Cheol, although naturally introverted, had a hard time getting along with the other kids at the children’s home. With all the trauma and isolation he had to endure at such a young age, he felt like otherworldly to the other kids. And he lets his accent slip from time to time so it worries Sae-byeok sometimes.

She thought that that the hard part was over, but new challenges arise everyday and she feels like she can never rest.

Sae-byeok was jotting down a customers cake order when the phone began to ring. The owner, Miss Ahn popped up from the kitchen to pick it up. At first she answers the phone with her usual warm tone which soon wavers into a worrying one. Sae-byeok takes a quick glance at Miss Ahn but didn’t have time to notice her concerned expression as she was still taking an order.

“Sae-byeok,” Miss Ahn says, cupping the side of her face with her hand and passing the phone to Sae-byeok when she finished helping the customer. “it’s…for you, dear.”

She mumbles a thank you to her and brings the phone up to her ear. “Hello? Who’s this?”

“N—Noona.” she hears a sniffling Cheol on the other end of the call and her stomach churns.

“Cheol, what happened? Are you alright?” she asks, her voice trembling.

“Can you come pick me up…I’m not feeling well.” he says weakly.

Sae-byeok’s breath hitches. “I’m on my way just stay put I’ll be there as fast as I can, alright?”

“O—Okay.”

Sae-byeok hangs up the phone and peers down at Miss Ahn, they both exchange a look of distress.

“Go. Don’t worry—and I won’t cut your pay for today.” she rubs the sides of Sae-byeok’s shaking arms, smiling weakly.

Sae-byeok isn’t used to kindness. “Thank you.” she whispers, although she isn’t sure if she actually said it out loud. Miss Ahn urges her to leave quicker, so she grabs her keys and wallet and sprints out the bakery forgetting that she still has her apron wrapped around her upper body.

She pulls out her phone to check whether taking the bus or running would get her to Cheol quicker. When the map shows that she’ll arrive five minutes earlier by bus she rushes to the nearest bus stop.

Although the bus arrived in a few short minutes, every second that Sae-byeok isn’t with Cheol feels like an eternity. When she got on and found a seat in the back corner, she stared out the window while bouncing her legs uncontrollably. She’s certain that people are throwing weird looks at her behavior but she doesn’t care.

When she makes it to the school, Sae-byeok has to wait another agonizing five minutes for the staff to retrieve Cheol and the anticipation was slowly killing her.

Cheol’s eyes were glued to the ground as he and a school staff walk side by side to the front lobby. When Sae-byeok spots him coming she kneels down and lightly grabs him by the sides of his face.

“Cheol, are you okay? Are you sick?” she presses the back of her hand on his forehead, he was warm but not enough to signal that he has a fever. But Cheol nods. “Are you able to walk or do you want me to carry you on my back?”

Cheol purses his lips in thought. “On…your back?” Before Sae-byeok spins around to carry him, he quickly speaks up. “Is it okay if we can get something to eat? I didn’t have lunch—but it’s okay if you can’t. I know we can’t ask for much.”

“Yeah, we’ll get some food want to stop by a food vendor?” Sae-byeok says without further thought. Cheol bashfully nods. “Hop on my back.”

Sae-byeok did her best not to show any signs of exhaustion as she carried her brother on her back so he wouldn’t second guess himself. Although the sun was beaming, it’ll all be worthwhile by the time they make it to the park with their lunch.

The two siblings found a bench shaded underneath a large tree. Sae-byeok handed Cheol the cup of tteokbokki from the street vendor.

“I already ate.” she lies, knowing that that’s the reason why he’s so hesitant to eat the food. He looks up at her, with round doe eyes then back down on the tteokbokki and to her relief he slowly starts eating. Sae-byeok’s eyes wander around the park while contemplating if she should ask Cheol the real reason why he wanted to skip school today. She already has her suspicions.

She waits for him to finish eating before she talks with him. “Cheol.”

“Hm?”

Sae-byeok exhales. “You aren’t sick, right?” Cheol bats his eyes up at her, cheeks burning red. “I’m not mad so you can tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want to stay in school?”

Cheol’s eyes start to gloss over and his bottom lip quiver. Sae-byeok rubs his back reassuringly.

“They’re all so mean here, Noona.” he whispers, wiping the tear streak with the hem of his sleeve. Sae-byeok’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach. This is what she was afraid of.

“Are they…bullying you?” she asks carefully.

Cheol shrugs. “They keep making fun of my accent.”

“Did you tell a teacher?”

“Yes but…they only do it during recess time.”

That’s why he said he was hungry. He wanted to skip recess time.

“But,” Cheol says hopeful. Sae-byeoks peers away from the ground to look at him. “I think I made a friend. He defended me the other day.”

Sae-byeok wants to be happy for Cheol, but things like kindness and empathy isn’t a luxury they tend to experience. But she tries her best to form a smile for him.

“That’s great, Cheol.”

He takes a final bite off the rice cake then speaks again. “He also likes to color so during lunch time we color with the oil pastels your new friend gave me.” he lets out a gasp of remembrance and starts rummaging through his bag. He hands his sister a drawing. The drawing was of him, Sae-byeok, and their parents all holding hands smiling.

Sae-byeok didn’t notice how hard she was clutching onto the sides of the paper, or how her eyes began to form tears.

“Noona? I’m sorry—“

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” she quickly says. “It’s amazing. You’re really talented.”

The Kang siblings share an embrace. After years of feeling isolated by this new world, slowly but surely they are getting there.

They spent another hour or so at the park until they decided to get back home, Sae-byeok carrying Cheol on her back the entire way home since she used her last bit of disposable income for the bus and Cheol’s lunch. By the time they arrived, Ji-yeong already made it back and she spoke loudly on the phone with someone until saw the two arrive so she tones herself down.

“Go get changed.” Sae-byeok tells her brother. He nods and scurries to their room.

She leans her body on the kitchen counter, waiting for Ji-yeong to end her phone call.

“My uncle.” Ji-yeong says when she tosses her phone across the counter. “He gave my piece of shit dad this address so now I’m receiving his letters.” she points with her chin at the stack of letters on the living room coffee table.

“What is he saying?”

“I don’t know—I haven’t opened them. Probably some bullshit excuse about why he murdered my mom.”

Sae-byeok doesn’t say anything. It always astounds her how freely Ji-yeong speaks of her past traumas. But they’ve spoken about them so many times it no longer takes a toll on them to say the words aloud.

“Why did you pick up, Cheol early from school?” she asks.

“Some kids kept making fun of him.”

Jiyeong purses her lips. “It’ll get better for him over time.” her roommate just shakes her head in agreement. “Also, this might be a bad time, but we need to get groceries.”

“Yeah, I know.”

It was easy to tell how defeated Sae-byeok appears to be. Her bangs still clinging to the sweat on her forehead, she still has on her work apron on, and her breathing is still unsteady.

“Actually,” Ji-yeong chuckles nervously. “nevermind. You can stay here with Cheol I will just go.”

“Okay.” Sae-byeok says, too tired to retort back.

When Ji-yeong leaves the kitchen to go get dressed in her room, Sae-byeok pulls out a folded piece of paper from her apron pocket and starts to unfold it. She grabs the kitchen magnet and hangs Cheol’s drawing on the fridge then makes her way to the couch where she lies face down.

⊹ ✿・・───・・✦・・───・・✿

As long as you had your internship at the art gallery, your sanity will remain intact. Or so you hope.

However, today was a heavier workload at the art gallery with majority of your morning being unpacking and installing a new exhibition. And by the time you and your co-workers finished the morning task, it was lunch time and you both agreed to eat outside rather than in the break room.

“So, now can you tell me what happened?” your college friend and co-worker Mi-Cha asks once you guys found a secluded area in the outdoor dining hall of the gallery.

“Yoon came up to me in class and asked me if the ‘rumors’ were true.” you explain with fervor in your voice, stabbing your salad with a plastic fork. A gasp escapes Mi-Cha’s lips. “And I didn’t say anything but I guess she saw the look on my face which gave it away then after she went to tell her friends. So, yeah, I’m probably screwed.”

“No, you aren’t screwed. This is a very developed school—we go to an art school for goodness sake!” she says to soothe your anxious mind. “I’m sure no one will care, we are all deprived college students.”

“You’re right.” you mumble. “But Yoon is so kind. Do you really think she’s—?”

“I don’t know. She seems cool but you can never really tell what people’s intentions are, it’s scary.”

“Well, I’d rather not try to figure it out. I just have to avoid her and her friend group for the rest of the semester.“ next thing you know, you let out a laugh. “This is so ridiculous! You would think that we are past bullying and mean girl cliques by now? The fact that I have to be afraid of running into Yoon of all people is so childish.”

“Some people just can’t let go of their high school years. It’s sad.” your friend sighs.

You two sit in silence for a bit to finish your food before it’s time to go to work again.

“Hey.” Mi-Cha says out of the blue. While still chewing on your salad, you raise both your eyebrows to signal to her that you have her attention. “How is that new place you’re staying at going?”

“Eh.” you shrug. “Ji-yeong, my old classmate, is nice. A little aloof but she’s really nice overall and keeps packing my lunches hence this salad. Her roommate though...”

“Ah. Bitchy?”

“Not bitchy more like—how should I put this—guarded? I’m pretty sure her and her brother are defectors so maybe that explains why she doesn’t trust me. Because she definitely thinks I’m going to steal their shit or something. But I’m only staying with them until Friday so.” you shrug.

“Where are you staying once you leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” you admit shamefully. “Maybe a shelter.”

“What?” Mi-Cha’s eyes widen. “No, come stay with me at my dormitory again—“

“I can’t it’s too risky. All the resident assistants recognize me now so if I get caught one more time I could lose my scholarship and then everything really go to shit. I just need to weight it out until this semester and summer break so I can live in the dorms in the fall.”

You two sit in silence to process the stressful situation you’re currently in. Your cheeks bloom red in embarrassment.

“Wow…I’m sorry you have to deal with this.” Mi-Cha mumbles.

Her pouty lips make you chuckle. “Hey, don’t cry before we have to go back to work. Again.” you say to lighten the mood.

“That was so embarrassing last time.” Mi-Cha facepalms. “That poor old lady endured my venting when all she wanted was to buy an art piece—I’ll never live that down.”

“At least she agreed that your ex was being a complete asshole.” you add.

“Yeah and she snuck a twenty dollar bill to my pocket. Gosh…sometimes old people are truly the best.”

You hum in agreement and wipe your hands with a napkin. Since there were only five minutes left till lunch is over the two of you start packing up your things and head over to the break room.

🏷️: @monroesturnns @knfthxv @jumpedthenfell-13

[ssweeterthanfiction]

Hii love your writing obsessed with I wish I hated you 💋💋 wanted to request a Finnick x capitol reader where it’s him breaking in to find reader sneaking around the house at night behind peacekeepers, he was sent by the rebels to capture reader to use her to threaten snow but she is on their side and goes willingly, maybe her falling for Finnick during the escape. Keep in mind since she is close to snow by blood that means she wasn’t exposed to a lot of people so even if she is for the right cause she is naive so her love might be obsession or reliance but I mean it all works out in the end. Anyways other thank that ik I said it but I love how you write Finnick!

omg thank so so much girly💗💗 i always love whenever people enjoy my writing!! and oh i love this idea sm (THIS IS PROBABLY GONNA BE A 2 PART THING)

‘I Can See You’

finnick odair x capitol fem reader

masterlist

You'd made it a habit of sneaking around, something about it always felt so freeing. Ever since the rebels had satrted making moves against the Capitol, your grandfather, President Snow, had uped the presence of guards in the mansion. Everywhere you went, the halls would be lined with guards posted at every window, at every exit, at every entrance. You felt trapped, but you couldn't complain too much, you were trapped in a luxorious mansion whilist the people in the districts suffered the wrath of your grandfather.

You hated watching the coverage of the districts, but you're grandfather forced you to. He knew you hated it, but he hoped that you would let go of you naivety that way you could learn how to keep control of the districts, that way when it came time, you could stand in a place of power.

But you didn't want power, you wanted peace. You hated seeing the people suffer, the people that the Capitol were supposedely in charge of. You hoped the rebels would win this war.

You were sneaking around the house again. Tiptoeing around every peacekeeper on guard, your silk slippers making no noise as you did.

But something was different about tonight. Everything felt quieter. Like you were being watched. But whenever you would turn your head, no one would be there. You brushed the feeling off and turned the corner to make your way to the rose gardens, but once you did, thats when a hand clamped over your mouth. You let out a muffled gasp as you were pulled against a broad chest. You struggled a bit as the person pulled you into the shadows of the hallways.

"Don’t scream," the voice hissed in your ear.

You stopped struggling as the hand slowly withdrew from your mouth. You spun around, fully ready to call out for help or to run away, but all thoughts of escape stopped as you looked up at the person.

Finnick Odair. The Capitol Darling, now a rebel.

You had seen him before at events, but you had never spoken to him before. You were used to seeing him in flashy Capitol attire, now here he was in tactical gear.

"Finnick?" you whispered, your voice shaky but dripping with awe.

Finnick tilted his head, watching you carefully, his expression unreadable. “You know who I am. Good. That saves time.”

"I-I mean, of course I know who you are," you stammered, your cheeks flushing. "Everyone knows you. You’re... you’re Finnick Odair. Capitol Darling turned...rebel"

His lips twitched, but the hint of amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you know I don’t have time to explain.” He reached for her wrist, his grip firm. “You’re coming with me.”

Your brows knit together, “Coming with you? Why? Where?”

"I don't have time to explain. So we can do this the easy way and you can either come with me willingly, or," he pulls out a tranquilizer, "We can do this the more...difficult way. Your choice honey."

Your mind rushed with thoughts, if you went with him you would be leaving the comfort of the mansion.

But it dawned on you. You would be leaving the mansion.

"I'll go with you."

Finnick smirks, "Good girl. Good choice." he says pocketing the tranquilizer. "Stay close and don’t make a sound. Keep quiet."

Finnick’s hand wrapped around your wrist as he began moving swiftly through the shadows. You struggled to match his pace, your silk slippers slipping slightly on the polished floors. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant murmur of Peacekeepers made your heart race, but Finnick didn’t falter.

"Where are we going?" you whispered.

Finnick shot you a look, his expression stern. "Didn’t I say no talking?"

You blushed from embarassment, "I'm sorry- I've just- I haven't been allowed to leave this place in a long time."

"I know," he interrupted, his tone softening just slightly. "That’s why you need to trust me and stay quiet."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as he turned another corner.

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached a back entrance you’d never noticed before. Finnick paused, pressing his ear to the door. "Come on," he whispered, tugging you forward as he opened the door, but the moment he did he saw a group of peacekeepers coming down the hall.

"Shit." he whispered under his breath, pushing you through the exit as he quickly closed the door.

He pressed you against the wall, his body shielding yours as he peeked through the crack to watch the Peacekeepers’ movements.

"Stay still," he whispered, his voice low but commanding.

You nodded and held your breath, you could practically hear your heart pounding against your chest, and you were sure Finnick could hear it too because he was looking down at you with...a look. You couldn't exactly figure out what he was thinking, but he was definitely thinking of...something.

The muffled sound of boots echoed through the hallway on the other side of the door. Finnick pulled back, taking your hand as he led you deeper into the shadows of outside.

"Do you even have a plan?" you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

Finnick shot you a sharp look but didn’t stop moving. "Yes. Step one: get you out of here alive. Step two: worry about the rest later."

"That doesn’t sound very reassuring," you muttered under your breath.

Finnick let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "Welcome to the rebellion."

As you both maneuvered through the courtyard, there was complete silence.

"Why take me?" you ask suddenly, "To hurt Snow?"

Finnick paused, glancing back at you with a raised brow. "What?"

"Why risk everything to get me? I'm...not that important to him, he thinks I'm a lost cause."

"You’re more important than you think. The rebels need leverage, and you’re it. You’re Snow’s blood. If we can use you, we could end this war."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling on your shoulders.

Finnick’s gaze softened slightly as he noticed your unease. "Look, I know this is a lot, but you’re doing the right thing. You’re on the right side now."

You nodded, unsure if it was reassurance or simply Finnick’s presence that made you feel safe.

He tugged your hand gently. "Come on. We’re not safe yet."

As the two of you approached the outer edge of the courtyard, Finnick stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to silence you. The faint hum of a hovercraft’s engines grew louder in the distance.

"Is that...?" you started to ask, but Finnick shook his head, cutting you off.

"Not ours," he said grimly.

Your stomach dropped as the spotlight of a Capitol hovercraft swept across the grounds, illuminating the pristine gardens.

Finnick pulled you close, his arm wrapping protectively around you as he ducked behind a large hedge. "Stay low," he whispered.

You huddled close to him, your heart racing as the spotlight came dangerously close. The warmth of Finnick’s body against yours was oddly comforting, even more so when he wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"Good girl," Finnick said quietly as he kept you low.

His words sent an unexpected warmth through you again, and you found yourself wanting to impress him, to earn more of his approval.

As the hovercraft finally moved away, Finnick let out a breath he’d been holding and looked down at you, brushing a stray hair out of your face. "You okay?"

You nodded, "I think so."

"Good," he said, helping you to your feet. "Let's keep moving."

You both kept moving but then Finnick stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to signal you to be quiet. His expression was hard, calculating, eyes flicking back to the mansion in the distance.

"What's wrong?"

Finnick’s gaze flickered toward the front gate, where a squad of Peacekeepers stood guard. The front gate was heavily fortified, and with the increased military presence lately, you knew escaping through there would be nearly impossible.

With a swift motion, he reached for a small device tucked in his belt, his fingers working expertly as he adjusted the settings. He looked at you, his eyes serious but with a glint of something like reassurance. "Get down," he ordered, his voice low.

"Finnick, what are you-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, he threw the device at the gate and quickly shielded you with his body.

The sound of the explosion tore through the silence of the night, the force of it rattling your bones. The entire front gate of the mansion was engulfed in a cloud of smoke and fire, sending debris scattering in all directions. You could already hear the shouts of peacekeepers and the sound alarms blaring in the distance.

"We need to go now" he gripped your wrist tightly and pulled you along again. His pace was unrelenting, and despite the fear that was settling in your chest, you had no choice but to keep up.

"You’ll be fine," Finnick murmured, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding you. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You're his mission. His protection was overwhelming, and you wanted more.

[imblueeforyuu]

yandere frontman x male player reader

a/n i wrote this when i was high as shit and had to spend to much time editing it i want to kms

Your hole in the wall corner store was going bankrupt, you were millions in debt and your life was falling apart. This store has been in your family tree since forever, it was your family's pride and joy. And you were ruining it,  Of course you were. the one thing you had to live for was being taken from you. You were ashamed and embarrassed. Why did you have to be the one to ruin your family business? You felt hopeless, there was no way you could continue to live like this, i mean it wouldn’t be selfish to kill your self, right? You have no family to take on the debt you created, so it’s fine. Maybe it was best to take the cowards way out. Someone stopped you though, on your way back home a strange business man stopped you and offered to pay you if you played a simple game of Ddakji, you couldn’t turn that down, no way. In the end you managed to make half a million won, which was not nearly enough but you were out of options. The strange man gave you a card and went on his way. 

With nothing better to do with your already broken life you decided to join this game. You didn’t expect to win, god no, you just wanted to try something so you could say you really did attempt to make some money, and you didn’t just give up. 

You woke up with a quick breath, you look around quietly, you notice a 002 on your uniform. Interesting, were you the second person to join this game? Whose the first, they had to be more desperate than you to join so fast. You had a personal mission now, to find this number 1 guy.. You crawled out of your bed to start your search. Everyone was either waking up or still asleep. This would be your perfect opportunity to find this guy, or girl. You looked around for a good while and found nothing. It wasn't until the masked guards took you to the first game you gave up. You don’t know why you're so interested in this man you're sure it’s just some boring fat old man. you were so incredibly focused on finding this guy you didn’t realize people were dying around you. Well you did but it really didn’t matter to you. On the walk back you noticed something, your number 001! And two guards leading him to the line of players, why was he with them? Maybe he got separated but you doubt it. You are definitely going to keep an eye on him now. 

“Hey your number one,” you stated, you really weren’t good with interactions. your dad always used to tell you that your awkwardness was what was going to run the store to the grave, and it really did. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he said looking into your eyes. You stare back looking at every detail of his face. He was older but definitely still attractive. He didn't look like he belonged, he had the look of someone more well off. You glare slightly before continuing walking. You felt his stare bore into the back of your head.

Next was voting, you pressed O, you did want to continue the game. Why would you want to stop here, it was fun, and easy. It was just kid's games. It had been awhile since you were a kid  but you're sure you still had it in you. You went back to your bed and sat observing, there was a group of people surrounding the person claiming they’ve played this before, You can’t blame them who wouldn't be intrigued? you also noticed a purple hair guy and his little minion pick a fight with some other guy. Boring, what wasn’t boring was the reaction of a certain number one. He was really interesting, first he supposedly worked with the guards and now you've learned he's really good at combat. Maybe he was secretly a guard, or some type of spy, you needed to gather more information on him. You look around the room and notice player 456, the crazy one. Maybe he knew something. 

Your chat with him was unsuccessful, player 001 came back, the very person you wanted to gossip about. Maybe you didn’t want to talk about him exactly, still if he was someone important and noticed you trying to get more information you're pretty sure he’ll have you killed. Unintentionally you’ve found yourself part of 456s group. You tried to slip away when 001 came back but you were too slow. Fuck now you were stuck interacting with this creep. 

The time the second game happened you’re so done with these people. Player 001 whose name you've learned to be Young-il especially, he made you feel nervous, it’s probably all in your head that he’s a spy or something. You’ve done this before; get it in your head someone’s out to get you when they're really innocent. But there's definitely something off about this guy. 

6 legs was pretty much boring, you split away from  gi-huns group as soon as the opportunity came. You don’t dislike the group by any means but they were loud, you've always been so introverted.  Maybe you were just jealous, you probably were.

“002,” 388 came up to your bed with the rest of the group following behind . You peel your eyes open, god you're not ready to talk to them.

“Yes?”

“Where did you go?”

“I lost you guys,”

You probably shouldn’t make them hate you especially because they were your ticket to a good amount of money, even though they were against the games they were smart. And strong. Perfect for victory. They started talking about voting and you could care less. you wanted to keep these games going. 

Mingle was annoying, you were the last pick of the group. When it finally was time for two players, young-li grabbed your Hand. You expected him to pick gi-gun who was practically his boyfriend, but no he picked you. When you got to the room you didn’t expect someone to already be there. You were at a loss. Maybe it would be best if you just walked out. But young-il can never not shock you? He grabbed that poor man and snapped his neck. You were shocked but that proves your suspicion, this man was not who he seemed. 

It was Time for gi-huns master plan. To fight back, you didn’t have the heart to tell this delusional old man there was no way he would win but you did have a use for this. Finally proving that number one was evil. You were going to wait and see him betray them, but You decide to join the raid and follow in the back. When it was time to go to the front office you joined young-il and the group that went with him. You said you were going to stay with 456 and 390 but secretly followed behind him and his group. You saw everything, him shooting the people with him, him pretending he died and his smirk at the camera. You smile. perfect.

“Got you.” You raised your gun to face him. He didn’t seem to take you seriously, he smiled softly before moving closer. You glare.

“Back up,” you yell, you clutch the trigger. 

You shouldn’t have let your guard down so quickly, you saw him reach to put his gun down. Seeing him submit you released your grip on the trigger just a little bit. He must have seen you relax, because Out of nowhere he grabbed his gun again and shot your leg. You fall over unable to hold yourself up. You saw young-il move closer towards you until he was standing right by your head. He crouched down before smiling even wider. You look into his eyes, you were expecting anger not pure bliss in your bloody weak body. Your world went black.

When you woke up you noticed you were on an uncomfortable leather couch. Your head was propped up on a pillow. Your eyes were still somewhat blurry. You reach to rub the blurriness out but you notice your hands were tied. You try not to panic just yet but that fails miserably. You look around desperately and wiggle around, unintentionally knocking something off a table, ouch now your leg hurts. You freeze for a moment, damn it now your kidnapper knew you were awake. The elevator door dings causing you to flinch, fuck time was running out. Quickly you rush to hide somewhere. Unfortunately your feet and hands were tied so there was not much you could do. Of course besides rolling. You quickly roll under the couch which fortunately was tall enough for you to fit under but damn, rolling off the couch must have reopened your gunshot wound , you almost scream in pain. You heard the clicking of dress shoes come closer, they stop for a moment before continuing. They stop right at the front of the couch before the owner of the pair of expensive shoes starts to talk

“You know your feet are showing,” young-il, if that even was his name, said. You kept quiet even though you knew it wouldn’t help at all. 

“You can come out,” he paused before continuing. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”  

Talk my ass. There is no way he just wanted to talk, if so why would he kidnap you? Yes, maybe you held a gun to him but still. You crawl out from under the couch, Or well wiggle out. When you finally managed to get out you saw young-il he was drinking a glass of whiskey. You were still on the floor wiggling around trying to free yourself from the rope. Young-il stood up and crouched by you. 

“What happened to all your confidence? You were so sure of yourself with that toy gun of yours,” he smirked and started to pat your head. You flinch and scrunch your face. 

“Fuck you,” you glare.

“Sh [name],” your eyes widened, you don’t remember telling him your name. But if he was the mastermind behind this you guess he would know your name after all. It still did disturb you. He disturbed you. The way he smiled, the way he crouched, and how he patted your head. There was something off about him, I mean of course there was. You felt helpless, he had tied you up and was treating you like a child. You spit at him, what else could you do? You were helpless, ok? That seemed to make him mad, good. He stood up abruptly and stared down at you. He kicked you swiftly. the middle of your back hit the leg of the couch. You winced and curled up into a ball. 

“What the fuck do you want from me,” you glare at the floor. You were still in the ball and your voice was low. You're not sure he could hear you. 

“Hm, you.” you heard the leather of the couch crinkle as he sat. What did he mean by you? Why Did he want you? You were just a failing business owner, you were about to end it when you were invited to these games. Maybe he liked that stuff? You hugged your legs closer, being careful of your wound. Why the fuck did you have to be so interested in him? 

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

So we're doing this, lol. Okay.

He is a double agent.

Literally just headcanon. As I said. Like, I think it's a GOOD headcanon — as I also said — but even you admit that it requires heavy inference and conjecture to claim that he did anything to help Animals; and slipping in "I don't think of her as a Wicked Witch" and wanting to push back against the more insane rumors is not being a double agent (which would require actual action), it's being a known contrarian and former friend of hers. As I explained to begin with: his quest to find her is not evidence of some kind of revolutionary activity behind the scenes — it's evidence that he wanted to personally reunite with her, which is exactly what his actions led to.

Fiyero knows this, by placing himself here he is in the best position both to protect Elphaba but also protect the Animals in the regime.

He didn't do either of those things though. Like, I fully believe that he wanted Elphaba unharmed (obviously) and that he had some qualms with rounding up the Animals... but he literally volunteered for the Harm Elphaba and Round Up the Animals Brigade, and there is zero evidence he did anything to undermine them until she finally showed up in the Wizard's palace unexpectedly.

Given he used the first opportunity, when they wouldn’t get in trouble, to help the Lion Cub it seems a pretty good inference that he was trying to send out warnings to Animals when he could (especially now the movieverse has made him the only character aside from Elphaba who is friends with an Animal – he probably even has a network he can tap into!).

I would like to see that fleshed out in the second movie, yes — because I agree it would be in character, but on stage, we're left to just hope that he did that (albeit his hypothetical offscreen attempts to help Animals still seem objectively outweighed by his actions that harmed them, so — again, as I said — his having sympathy for them doesn't seem to have stopped him from knowingly doing a lot more harm than good).

IDK about you, but I think if I were to search for someone wanted and was given the opportunity to both have the best resources and information to find her and hamper people who might find her and hurt her, I would totally do it this way too.

Saying you'd totally join the Gestapo instead of the Resistance if given the chance — because of "resources and information" — is not the winning argument you think it is, I'm sorry, lol. Like, if he'd already been a soldier before he realized it was fashy, that might make a bit more sense. If that were the case, then yeah he should've become a double agent! But as it is, it kinda just seems like you're making a lot of excuses for why volunteering to do fascism is justified as long as you feel bad about it and (speculatively) tried to sabotage it (with no evident success whatsoever). I would truly love to believe in Double Agent Fiyero, and I hope that's the direction the second movie goes with him: but I also really liked the Amoral Nihilist Fiyero we got on stage. You keep acting like I'm denigrating him as a character, but I can only express so many times that I'm not. He's a great character: just not a great guy imho.

I know we don’t see him helping the Animals, but nor do we really see Elphaba doing so?

No, we don't see Elphaba doing stuff to help Animals onstage (albeit, as I've said, there don't really seem to be any free Animals left by the time we get to Act II), but there are at least direct statements that she's been involved with the Animal resistance. There isn't even an implication that Fiyero tried to do that, let alone did. You're basing your interpretation of his character on speculation — because it is somewhat difficult, in some ways, to reconcile the compassionate boy we saw in the woods with the fascist commander he's become by Act II — but I'm basing my reading on sheer text; on the actions and statements on the page. Regardless of whether you choose to think he was secretly doing a ton of anti-regime work behind the scenes, I just don't think (as I've said) that the preponderance of his behavior really justifies that. Because at the very least he was still choosing to swallow his compassion and do fascist stuff at the same time, and in the end those were the actions that objectively shaped the future of Oz, not the imagined attempts at sabotage he may or may not have done. Either way, he's interesting, but his actions are hard to defend.

Does this mean he didn’t commit atrocities? No probably not. But bear in mind if he hadn’t been doing it, someone else would have.

Yikes...

He literally succeeded in the exact goal he was planning by joining the Gale Force: to protect Elphaba.

But he didn't protect Elphaba. He couldn't even fuckin find her, lol. She protected herself. While he was actively participating in the violent repression that she hated more than anything in the world.

If he hadn’t been Captain of the Guard in the throne room when the Wizard called his guards she would have been captured and killed, instead she escaped which eventually allowed the Wizard to be overthrown and Elphaba’s values to be acted on in the form of Glinda ruling.

None of which was REMOTELY planned, or even likely. Granting for the sake of argument that she would definitely have been captured and/or killed had he not been in that exact place at that exact time — I'm not convinced of that — if we're really gonna try these long-term domino effect arguments, then Glinda's questionable choice not to get on the broom was actually a heroic act that ultimately led to the liberation of Oz! Come on.

There is a difference between keeping quiet, not protesting a regime and actively endorsing it. Glinda was doing the latter and she was not forced into that. (She also was not helping undermine it the same way Fiyero was).

Yes, she was literally forced into that, lol. Claiming she wasn't forced into her position when she was literally captured and molded into an asset of the regime — and then moralizing about her trying to make the best out of her literal enslavement — whilst somehow insisting that Fiyero going out of his way to enlist as an armed servant of the regime wasn't "endorsing the regime", is actually absurd. Like, it's all well and good to believe his ulterior motives for joining make it okay, but to argue that the guy who volunteers to do the hands-on violent repression side of the regime is somehow "protesting it" because he said a couple things mildly out-of-step (so mild that he doesn't seem to have faced any official criticism for it whatsoever), while the girl we saw two seconds away from getting imprisoned or worse right before the intermission is "not forced into endorsing it"?? In what universe??

Madame Morrible made abundantly clear that the only thing keeping Glinda from being thrown to the wolves like Elphaba was serving as a pretty mouthpiece for the Wizard, and nothing more. I've got a whole list of decisions she actually, with little to no coercion, that I think are legitimately questionable. But you aren't even citing those: you're just victim-blaming because she didn't... suffer enough? Or signal against her abusers enough? Like YES, I will say there's a point where a victim can cross lines and become complicit to varying degrees in their own situation — she herself all but admits this — but unless we're going to talk specifically about those instances of dubiousness, it seems as if you're just blaming her for trying to make space for herself to breathe and not be miserable every waking moment of her... *checks notes*... forced servitude in the regime with absolute power over her life????? A victim trying to make the best of their terrible predicament is not a crime. And Glinda makes very clear that having to spread lies about Elphie is an abuse against her; it's a pain to her very soul. Saying it's her fault and that she wasn't forced into it is just... gross tbh.

But do not pretend for one moment that she is not actively complicit in this regime, with no real desire to stop it until it starts actively hurting her.

Yes, she got a lot of things that she wanted out of her arrangement. She is a complex character, after all. She's flawed. Certainly not the "perfect" victim. She also understands that Elphaba would want her to be safe and happy, and that silly (and outright wrong) rumors will not actually bring any more harm to Elphaba than what she already faces. It's a challenging situation, but Glinda chose to pursue a net positive approach: do her part to maintain her situation, make the best of it, and trust that one day Elphie would manage to set things right. She was incorrect — in the end, she had to be the one to do what Elphaba couldn't — but to claim that she was at fault for her own situation and could/should have done more to push back but just didn't want to enough (and moreover, that Fiyero somehow is NOT accountable for his much more violent, much more voluntary situation), is just perverse. The regime was actively hurting her the entire time; Fiyero certainly understands suffering and living one's best life at the same time, so don't act like it doesn't count for her.

He gave up his wealth, privilege and safety to ensure Elphaba escaped from the throne room and continued her cause (this isn’t about running away with Elphaba btw, he lost everything from the moment he pointed the gun at the Wizard). He was ready to die for her in the Corn Field scene. I don’t know what more you want him to do to prove that he was not shallow and he wouldn’t die for his cause in the exact same way Elphaba was prepared to?

He acted on spontaneous desire, as he always does, and is a nihilist who never gave a shit about any of the things (or people) he cast to the wind to begin with. "He lost everything" — and you expect me to find that brave and romantic, I take it? I don't. Throwing caution and care aside to run off and have a passionate night with the object of his affects isn't WRONG — and I've never said that it is — it's foolish and selfish and impulsive. And as I explained many times: I think it's cool that he's like that. But please do not expect me to accept your premise that these actions were deep and selfless. The actions of a depressive with nothing left to lose, recklessly pursuing the one and only object of obsession that keeps him going — irrespective of all other considerations, even hers — is actually shallow and selfish. It isn't a crime to act on passion or desperation or whatever, and as I've said, I think it's really interesting on multiple levels. Just because he's shallow doesn't mean he doesn't have layers; just not many. We can acknowledge his motives as essentially selfish and still respect that he defended her. I think we should be a little more critical and ALSO account for the consequences of his actions in ways that he did not. Why is that such a controversial suggestion?

Fiyero is the only character of the trio to put thoughts into his actions. He is the only one who doesn’t immediately act on his impulses.

Hard disagree. Like yeah, Elphaba and Glinda have their own brands and moment of impulsivity too — I wrote about it in my original post — but no, Fiyero does not think through shit. He doesn't think about the potential consequences of denouncing the rumors about Elphie; Glinda has to temper his impulse to do so. He doesn't think about the potential consequences of abandoning Glinda; for never cared about either his own safety or hers, only Elphie's. If you assume he joined in the army to be a double agent, then he clearly didn't think through or care about all the violence he was going to have to commit.

I'm not saying he isn't clever — his thoughtlessness is not a function of lacking intelligence, but of lacking concern — and I'm not saying he's reactive to denigrate him. Things happen around him, and if it's something that ignites his passion he acts boldly and fearlessly, with zero concern for anyone or anything outside of that moment. When he makes "plans", they're all very ad hoc and making resourceful use of situations that he absolutely did not (and could not) have planned for. Which is neat! Some find that bold, spontaneous, "she's all that I care for in this world" intense personality type romantic. I'm not one of them, but I can see the appeal; as I've acknowledged. I think it's a bit sad that he behaves that way tbh: because it speaks to his pretty hollow existence, as Elphaba herself identified.

[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

[sirhamburrger]

DIE WITH A SMILE (m. bachira x reader)

━☆ (post-apocalypse au, for day three of @phantasmaebg) ━☆ in which the only thing you can do is join him in undeath. ━☆ wc (written portion): 831 || tags/cw: f!reader, reader is a researcher working on a cure for the virus, bachira is part of an elite military squad, major character deaths (both bachira and reader, among others)(this is a zombie apocalypse au after all) || event m.list ━☆ why did i write this... this is so sad *runs away crying*

meguru bachira is beautiful. a little tired - that much is evident from the dark circles under his golden eyes - but still: beautiful. his eyes practically light up when you step into the room, clad in full personal protective equipment. 

for a moment you get self conscious of how you look dressed like a walking banana, but that all disappears when he chuckles warmly, making you blush beneath your mask.

“you’re even more beautiful than i expected,” the squadron member breathes.

you cock your head to the side, highly skeptical as you take a seat in front of him. “you can only see my eyes, though,” you point out, voice muffled.

“yeah, well.” a short pause, then, “they say true beauty is all in the eyes.”

you don’t quite know how you should respond to that, so you don’t.

you end up talking to him than is honestly necessary for the psych eval. he’s a sweet man, and the things his squad-mates have said about him are proven true - optimistic, cheerful, perceptive. somehow, the man you’ve only ever been able to talk to over the phone from behind a reinforced glass panel has become one of the people you trust most in this world.

maybe it’s the way he listens to you intently about the stresses of work, lets you confide in him about hard days - especially really hard days when you find out another one of you has been lost to the virus - trusts you enough to spill his own secrets too.

maybe it’s the way he laughs, or calls you pretty when he’s not calling you “doc”. maybe it’s the way you relate to him, both being people with risky jobs. in a broken world like this, either of you could go at any minute. but he helps you accept it, and he helps you embrace it.

but maybe it’s the way he tries to reach a hand out to hold yours on the table during a particularly hard part of the conversation, but restrains himself, a dejected and heartbroken expression on his face.

how ironic that the only thing you want is the only thing you cannot have. not just yet, at least.

it’s been three days since squad z perished in tokyo’s biggest hot zone, and meguru is not doing well.

it started with erratic vitals - high blood pressure, arrhythmia, severe migraines, then escalated  violent outbursts. your superiors don’t allow you in the room with him any more, even though you’d bet your life he would never hurt you. it hurts to see him like this. delirious, in mourning, broken.

he is not the man he once was, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll live long enough to see that change.

he still talks with you, so at least that hasn’t changed. you are one of the last few scientists on earth even remotely close to synthesising a cure, since many have been wiped out already. it’s stressful, frankly, and you’ve had shameful, selfish thoughts about ending it all - joining the dead before you are forced to walk amongst them. but meguru tells you to keep your chin up, doc, you’re getting there.

and who are you to say no to him, if not for the fact that he’s not doing much better himself?

you open up to him once, more than you think you should. you tell him about how you’ve wanted to be a scientist for the longest time as a child, but before that, you wanted to be a singer. but your parents saw no future in it. so you never pursued it further.

in the quiet of the space between you, then, meguru bachira asks if you would sing for him.

and you do.

you don’t even notice when he starts to cry, but you know that you’re crying too.

you bring him flowers sometimes. he lets them die in a corner of the confinement cell. you can’t blame him for not even trying.

the horde has broken in.

all your colleagues, your superiors, your friends - they’re all gone. they’ve all been reduced to mindless monsters, hungry for human flesh. now, those monsters push against the door, trying to get to you.

you stare back through the glass, eyes landing on meguru, who convulses on the ground, clutching his head. his head jerks backwards, blood spilling from his mouth. just like all the others. you let out a sob, your heart aching for him.

you fumble for your phone.

the air smells like blood, and meguru looks like hell.

you pad towards him slowly, tears streaming down your face. you freeze when he notices you, hunger in his bloodshot eyes. you take a step towards him. hold his hand. embrace him. tilting your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

he’s crying now as he mumbles something. it sounds like i’m sorry and thank you. maybe it’s both. you feel hot breath on your neck, and his sharp teeth sinking into your skin.

and all is well in the world.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist © sirhamburrger 2025

[passionesolja]

Rah rah, Sith bad but like when the Sith Order was apart of the Sith Empire society and not a weird trauma cult (I.E.: Bane’s Order), imagine how scary it had to be to grow up in that environment. For one, your people (the OG Sith) were already occupied by the Jedi Exiles and your species became the Sith Purebloods. Then, you guys get ran the fuck out of Korriban and have to struggle to survive because Naga Sadow flopped. So the Republic and Jedi really beat y’all ass.

The Sith Empire just doesn’t have the overall economy or power of the Republic so imagine being a Sith Pureblood child and knowing that it’s pretty much on sight for you for the rest of your life. Because unlike a lot of alien species, if you see a Sith Pureblood there’s a high chance they’re Imperial or Sith Order.

Like mfs had the most iconic design of anybody in Star Wars, there’s no hiding from being a Sith if you’re a Sith Pureblood. A Jedi can spot you a mile away and it’s immediate smoke. Growing up knowing that would make me an aggressive mf who’s driven by fear and hatred too. Your culture also has a lot of practices that are considered “darkside” but it’s probably just because you guys evolved to survive Korriban (shittiest planet ever, makes Tatooine look like Naboo in comparison)

Then you factor in that you guys are exiled and there’s probably zero chance the Republic will welcome you into the club after y’all were acting an ass for like 4 generations. It’s pretty much fight or die, you don’t even have your home world a good minute either. Plus, Jedi and Republic mfs go to your homeworld to steal your ancestors shit like mfs stealing your great great great grandmas ancient incense burner and sticking it in the chancellors office or some shit

I’m not saying the Sith Empire are right or whatever, but I’m saying that I can only imagine how scary it has to be to be a kid growing up in these circumstances and why you’d grow up being like “I want to be a Sith Lord and beef with the Jedi too”. Sith Pureblood parents probably telling their kids “if you be bad, the Jedi Knight will get you” when they’re misbehaving

Because on the real, I know Sith Purebloods be looking intimidating and scary when they grown but when they lil kids they have zero aura. Sis imagine looking like that and knowing that grown ass people with telekinesis and the world’s hottest swords want you dead. Yeah, I’m turning my fear into anger, anger into hate, and going to the darkside too. Also, I’m getting dripped tf out in jewelry too

[ninatheelf]

perfection can keep you from persisting :

“once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen.” -ralph waldo emerson

some motivation for any perfectionists / over-thinkers!

— — — — — — — — ✿ — — — — — — — —

this kind of ties into one of my other posts about embracing the parts of shifting that we don’t understand. we can’t really grasp the “how” of it all- and by that i mean how exactly our thoughts reflect from the 4d and manifest in the physical plane.

and what’s really nice is that we don’t have to worry about how it all works. in fact, not worrying about how it happens is what allows the manifestation to occur.

before i learned about loa, i had a blockage regarding the logistics of my dr. i was stressed out about my backstory making sense, or about accidentally creating a butterfly effect that would make things end up not going the way i wanted them to. i thought that i had to script everything to be “perfect.” i thought i had to have it all planned out and control every little aspect in order to make sure nothing occurred that i didn’t want to in my dr. and in doing that, i was holding myself back. 

there’s an element of trust one must place in the universe in order to let things happen. when one is constantly obsessing over how it’ll all work out, it doesn’t, because that questioning and distrust is breaking the persistence part of loa.

the “how” is doing all of the heavy lifting. the “how” is adjusting the logic of your dr to make it make sense and have it be natural. the “how” does it all for you. you don’t need to stress yourself out by trying to do all of this yourself. 

this is why that one woman on shifttok frustrated me when she talked about how if you script that you have no body hair and don’t sweat, that means you’ll have some sort of disease that causes those things. when that video came out, i was just staring to study loa, and i knew immediately that she didn’t understand what she was talking about.

the universe isn’t plotting against you like that. there’s no “careful what you wish for” moment when it comes to scripting different aspects about your dr and dr self. if you script something like that out of conveniency’s sake, your subconscious understands that and the logic of your dr is going to change to make the fact that you don’t have body hair or sweat perfectly normal for you. how? we don’t have to know, and it literally does not matter.  a hogwarts dr is a great example of this. that reality contains magic that goes against our cr's biology and the law of gravity (mythical creatures, potions, levitation, etc.) and yet the reality doesn’t descend into chaos with all of these crazy consequences, because the logic of that reality is set in a way where the creatures and potions and floating objects make sense. 

anyways, that woman’s take is what i’m talking about with the over-thinker, butterfly effect, distrusting mindset. you do not need to consider the consequences for things you script that are like that. if you believe that you will be fine and safe and healthy with new characteristics, then you will be fine and safe and healthy.

i’ll always say this (and i don’t care if people get annoyed because repetition is important for the subconscious!!) as long as you stay truly grounded and persistent in your assumption, it will always manifest. and in order to do that, you have to trust that what you want to receive will work out in your favor, and trust that you don’t have to worry about controlling every little aspect to make changes seem understandable. that is the “how” / universe’s job. 

give up some control to the universe, and that’s when it’ll happen. maybe it’ll make sense how it happened after the fact, and maybe it won’t. but either way, you got what you wanted!

— — — — — — — — ✿ — — — — — — — —

as a control freak, i’ve found a lot of relief in giving up some control to the universe lol- in my experience it’s really quickened my manifestations and just made the process much easier. since the universe is a part of you, it is always working in your favor. 𝜗𝜚

[florencechase]

So I came across the Mayfair Witches thing with Lestat and Felix, and like pretty much everyone on here I was bummed but then I though about it for a very long time, went through the books again and… here’s how I think they can still make it work. Just as a disclaimer though, I’ve only fully read IWTV and TVL, and am currently like 1/3 through QOTD, so if there’s anything in the books after that that disproves my theory I’m sorry! But since the Lestat/Felix arc takes place towards the end of IWTV, I thought I’d still give it a go.

So the main issue here that people bring up is that if Lestat taught Felix to “cull the herd”, he can’t be book Lestat because book Lestat admits to only killing the “evildoers”, so why would he tell Felix to be so merciless? The answer: it’s complicated.

Lestat, the book and the show version, is unfortunately (or fortunately because that’s part of what makes him so interesting) a man who often does the opposite of what he says. I took a closer look at his first moments with Gabrielle after he turns her, and we have a similar situation in which he’s teaching her how to kill. Here’s an excerpt from it:

“I found a victim as soon as we had crossed the river […] [a]nd as I lured the victim out of the tavern, as I teased him, maddened him, and then took him, I knew I was showing off for her, making it a little crueler, more playful. And when the kill came, it had an intensity to it that left me spent afterwards.” (TVL, p. 147)

When he’s teaching others how to kill, he likes to show off. Simple as that. I’m sure the victim he chose was a criminal, like most his victims, but the point is he never told Gabrielle that. To her knowledge what Lestat just did was brutally murder some random man. Two pages later we have the following passage when Gabrielle makes her first kill and it’s the guy on the horse she ends up stealing the clothes from:

“I was shaken. The innocence of her victims didn’t trouble her. She didn’t fight my moral battles. But then I didn’t fight them anymore either, so why should I judge her? Yet the ease witch which she slew the young man – gracefully breaking his neck when the little drink she took was not enough to kill him – angered me tough it had been extremely exciting to watch. She was colder than I. She was better at all of it, I thought. Magnus had said, “Show no mercy.” But had he meant us to kill when we did not have to kill?” (TVL, pp. 149-150)

Lestat obviously doesn’t feel comfortable killing innocent people, but there’s not one scene in which he either tells someone he’s having moral dilemmas with it, or tells others they shouldn’t kill innocent people. It’s his thing, and it’s his struggle, but he never shares it until he writes about it in TVL. Here’s another excerpt that highlights this:

“When [Louis] says I played with innocent strangers, befriending them and then killing them, how was he to know that I hunted almost exclusively among the gamblers, the thieves, and the killers, being more faithful to my unspoken vow to kill the evildoer than even I had hoped I would be?” (TVL, pp. 434-435)

The key phrase here is “how was he to know”, so Louis had no idea! All this time he spent with Louis, and he never told him that’s what he was doing! Which brings me back to the show, to the reunion moment where Lestat tells Louis “I don’t like to point out my virtues.”

Of course, in the context he’s talking about not telling him he saved him at the trial, but it’s a pretty general statement about himself and it’s true, so far, in the book. He only kills innocent people, never tells anyone about it. He saves Louis at the trial, never tells anyone about it. And while I’ve seen some theories about how him not telling Louis he saved him was part of some pact he made with Armand, I’m just going to take things at face value here until the show proves otherwise.

Lestat always claims he’s “evil” in the books, but he does a whole bunch of stuff to disprove that. I think part of why he doesn’t let people know his good deeds is because there’s a part of him that wants to be perceived as the “evil monster” that he sees himself as. It’s the biggest irony ever for Lestat out of all vampires to claim he’s evil when he’s never acted with malicious intent (in the books, but I would even say in the show as well but the show is more complex in that regard).

The big thing about Lestat, which would also set him apart from show!Louis is that he does his thing and lets others do their thing. He doesn’t interfere with others, doesn’t tell them how to live their lives “the correct way”. Sure, he has many heated discussions about it with Nicki, but those are not him telling Nicki he should live according to his philosophy just because he thinks it’s the correct way to view life. Nicki hates himself at that point, which just gets worse with his way of thinking, and Lestat’s trying to pull him out of that. Nicki’s worldview is actively harmful to him and at least part of the reason for his eventual demise. But that’s not really relevant here, so I’m just going to leave it at that.

Which brings me back to Felix and Lestat. Did he, at some point, go out of his shack to kill people to show Felix how to do it? Not necessarily. The show doesn’t say he did, he could’ve simply just told him how to do it, he did after all figure it out himself too. It’s pretty intuitive I suppose for a vampire, and even when Claudia does her first kill Lestat isn’t shown killing first. He waits in the car with Louis and Claudia manages just fine.

Lestat knows what’s in their nature as vampires, but he himself doesn’t follow it at all times. It’s implied in one of the excerpts above, when he says he’s “being more faithful to [his]unspoken vow to kill the evildoer than even [he] had hoped [he] would be.” He’s not holding himself to any strict rules or high standards here. He’s trying his best, and if he takes an innocent life, he probably feels uncomfortable about it (while he secretly enjoys the feeling) but he’s probably just like “oh well.”

And with Felix, it could absolutely be a situation of do as I say, not as I do. He teaches him what’s in their nature, but he himself chooses to do differently. That, to me, sounds quite a lot like book!Lestat.

Besides, another aspect I’d like to point out is the definition of the word “cull”. Since English isn’t my native language, I had to look it up to really get all the nuances it implies. Here’s what google says:

“Selective slaughter”. Now here’s where I might be wrong and please correct me if I am, but since there are parallels to Darwin in MW, couldn’t that also imply selectively killing a particular group of people? As in, weed out the evildoers, or the weakest who don’t have a chance of survival anyways (as Lestat does after Louis tries to kill him)? The latter would make sense with the Darwin parallel. What we see in MW may be skewed through Felix’ perspective. I haven’t watched MW, but these things happen all the time in IWTV. Killing mercilessly may be only his interpretation of what Lestat said.

TL;DR: Lestat understands vampiric nature well enough to teach others how to kill “like a vampire” when he himself still chooses to do differently. He also doesn’t “like to point out [his] virtues” which is why he never actually told anyone he only kills criminals.