#I've never understood the expression “being seen” until now

[alchemistc]

Based on this post by @beefcakekinard because I couldn't flesh it out enough in the tags

read on ao3

could be with you

"Didn't you have a date on Saturday?"

Tommy's eyes dart up. Galway is staring at him, hand on hip, brow raised, and Tommy sighs. "Never said it was a date."

"Yeah, but you had a moony look in your eye. Been a while since I've seen it, but I know your date face."

Tommy does his best to keep things neutral on his face. Clearly that doesn't work, because Galway's expression goes sympathetic immediately.

"Oh, bad date. Damn, Kinard, tough luck."

Tommy's had to get used to the fact that everyone at Harbor always wants in each other's business. It's pretty superficial shit, most of the time, but they always want to know the scoop, anyway.

He feels the flash of disappointment, followed immediately by a lick of defensiveness. Damnit. "Wasn't even a bad date, right up until the end."

Galway looks intrigued, but Tommy's not quite ready to entertain it. He's still stewing, a bit. Annoyed with himself for the way he'd reacted in the moment -- a beat too far because he'd given Evan an easy out and he'd grabbed it and flung it in the opposite direction.

Right, Evan?

God. What a dick thing to say. He'd -- panicked, a little. They both had, in their own ways.

If he'd known, going into it, exactly how new this was to him, maybe he'd have --

Lowered his expectations.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Tommy says, to get Galway off his back about it, and rolls his arms back to tug his flight suit the rest of the way up. And that's the crux of it, really. Tommy's spent too much of his life hiding away, and Evan hadn't even known he had something to hide until -- until what, the moment he realized other people could see them? He hadn't panicked in the moment -- that first moment, Tommy guessed, now that he knew a little more -- when their lips had met. Hadn't panicked in the days between, when the flirting had bordered on ridiculous in their texts back and forth. Hadn't panicked when Tommy picked him up, hand settling at the small of his back to guide him to the passenger side of his truck, or when Tommy complimented his shirt, or on the drive to the restaurant, Tommy nervously tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while Evan rattled on about beekeeping. They'd both been nervous.

Nerves, he understood. Nerves had settled under his skin the moment he closed the door to Evan's apartment, nerves like he hadn't felt in a good long while because he couldn't remember being so immediately charmed by someone in... a while.

Even through most of the date he'd been able to chalk it up to maybe being in a more public setting than he'd realized. They were both in a field that didn't immediately feel inclusive. Both big, manly looking men, and maybe Evan just hadn't done a lot of that before. Maybe Tommy wasn't his usual type. (Hindsight, as they say.)

He could have rolled with the first date with a dude thing -- awkward as it was, surprising as it was, considering the first time a man had come on to Tommy he'd nearly punched him about it. He'd had to reset some expectations, reevaluate some of his preconceived notions on the fly. That wasn't exactly a deal breaker. He liked Evan. Likes him still, in the light of day with a little time to dig into why exactly it had hurt so much to be sidelined in front of a mutual friend.

And he's still a little embarrassed he'd let it get to him enough to make a snide comment that could have outed him when he was clearly not ready to be out.

But it was one date. A good first date, even, until they'd been a bit blindsided by Eddie Diaz.

Which -- he'd walked himself in circles in his own mind about the Eddie Diaz of it all, anyway, half convinced he was slamming headfirst into the middle of some weird co-parents with benefits scenario. The fishing he'd had to do to even attempt to figure out that situation. He's fairly convinced, at this point, that neither one of them has any hidden latent romantic notions, about the other, but that hadn't really helped the situation, either.

"So no second date in the cards, huh?"

Tommy blinks. Swallows. "Nah," he says, but --

But maybe. If the timing was right.

Christ, Tommy, it was one disappointing date with an admittedly sweet, and kind, and fucking gorgeous guy. A guy with a devastating smile and a wide breadth of useless facts and a great ass and enough heart to fill the Greater Los Angeles area.

The text, later that evening, should surprise him more than it does.

Evan 9:34 PM: Hey, could I give you a call later, if you're not on shift?

Tommy stares at it for ten whole minutes, tucked behind a shelf laden with cleaning supplies while the rest of the crew is huddled around a Kings game in the downtime between calls.

I'm on until 8AM, he shoots back, and then stares at it until he gets a read receipt. Up above Evan's latest text there's a full thread he hadn't had the heart to delete, quite yet, and he can still see the image of the chicken Evan had taken his not great hand at drawing blades on the talons of. Call around half past?

It's a bad idea. He's had worse ones, but.

He gets another read receipt before he can flip away from the conversation, and three little dots that appear and disappear four times before another message pops through.

Evan 9:47 PM: Talk to you in the morning!

And then.

Evan 9:47 PM: Have a good shift. Be safe!

Shit.

--------

He's played out the phone call all the way through about twelve times in his head. Evan's a good guy. Sweet, kind, a little sassy but never mean. He's expecting a thank you, maybe an apology, although he doesn't need it.

He pulls the truck into the closest parking lot when Evan's name flashes across the screen.

"Hey," he says, once he's parked and prepared for the softest let down he's had in years.

"Uh - hey, hi. Hi, Tommy."

Evan Buckley says his name like a benediction. He's never really noticed the way it sounds, until Evan Buckley started saying it. God, this one might sting.

"Hi," he says. They drift into silence.

"Hi. Sorry. Hey. I called you. So. I should. I should say what I wanted to say."

"I'm all ears," Tommy tells him, charmed despite himself, wishing he could see his face.

"I --." The pause is...long. Awkward. Tommy wonders if he's running over a script on his head. "Actually, could we -- do you have any time this morning? Could we talk in person? If -- I mean obviously if you have plans, or, hell, you just got a shift, I'm sure you're tired, we don't have to --."

"I'm about thirty minutes out from home. Let me take a shower, run a few errands. We could meet around noon?" Bad idea. Still. But there's a small, tiny piece of him that thinks Evan might work through his shit at a much quicker speed than Tommy could ever manage. At the very least, he owes it to a younger, angrier Tommy to play this out.

"That -- yeah, that'd be..." He pauses. "You're sure?"

"I'll send you a pin. There's a coffee shop near where I'll be."

"Okay. Okay yeah. I -- just let me know if you're running late, or anything. I'll. I'll be there."

"I'll see you in a few hours, Evan."

"Okay. Yeah. See you in a bit."

Neither one of them hangs up.

Evan's nervous laugh fills the cab, and Tommy presses his head back until he can feel the headrest pressing into his skull. "Bye, Tommy. See you soon."

----

He'd slept where he could, the night before, actually feels pretty well rested, for working an overnight, for spending every free moment wondering what the hell Evan wanted to call him about, for trying real damn hard to temper his fucking expectations. His two wolves are disappointed expectations and romantic notions, constantly warring with each other.

Evan shoots him a text as he's leaving the barber two doors down.

Evan 11:49 AM: Headed out to the patio, see you in a few

Tommy is absolutely not drawing conclusions about him showing up early. None.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and ducks into the walkway that leads to the courtyard around back.

He'd chosen this place for a few specific reasons -- proximity to his haircut appointment, proximity to Evan's apartment, his knowledge of the lobby of the coffee shop and all it's private little nooks tucked away in corners. Something to ease Evan's mind, a little.

Yet when Tommy finally spots him, he's in the middle of a crowded courtyard, already seated, wearing a light, airy looking polo that stretches tight across his shoulders, and his smile when he spots Tommy burns brighter than the sun on Tommy's newly-shorn scalp.

Tempered expectations.

He doesn't sit, right away. Maybe this had just been an easier way to find each other in the midday crowds. Maybe this conversation won't be long enough to merit sitting.

Evan gestures at the coffee he'd apparently gambled on, and Tommy finds himself sitting before he can talk himself out of it. His posture is a mess, he knows it, but he can't quite help curling in on himself, feeling small as Evan studies him, as the white noise of the people all around them fills his ears. The coffee is terrible. The company is dangerously enchanting.

Evan Buckley goes from zero to sixty in under a second.

-----

Tommy is good at keeping a lid on the part of himself that longs to be romanced, to do some romancing of his own. He's had enough flops to be hyper aware that the reality of dating never follows a soppy script.

Evan says I think that something could be with you and reality takes a rain check, for a minute. Tommy shifts. Tommy flounders. Tommy had prepared for an easy let down, a promise to stay friends and a few awkward encounters in the Diaz living room. Tommy fights the smile, takes a deep breath, admits what he's been trying to deny since he cut things short.

"You already know that I'm interested." It's an easy out -- he's good at catching the ball and tossing it back immediately. It's a risk, but he thinks he and Evan are on the same page about what Tommy's willing to sacrifice, and what he isn't. Evan had made it a point to be out here in the open for this conversation, after all.

Evan takes the shot from half-court.

It catches the rim. Wobbles. Spins.

"Evan," he says, and he means it to sound stern, a hint of incredulity. He's not entirely sure it hits the mark.

And then he's doing that thing he does -- bright-eyed optimism, body language open, a smile curling at his mouth, pressing, pushing, digging into the rocky crevices of Tommy's skepticism and wiping them smooth. It's an insane idea. He's been to...two, three weddings with a date of his own? All long term relationships, because there's something about witnessing eternal vows next to someone that means something to you, something that makes it all a little more real.

But Evan is persistent. And dropping very loaded clues, hinting that he's talked to his sister about him -- them. Tommy doesn't know much, but his relationship with his sister had come up in conversation, he knows they're close. Hinting that he's well aware an invite means he's pulling the lid off 'picking up hot chicks' secrecy.

He doesn't even get all the way through "Are you absolutely sure about this?" before Evan is grinning, leaning in to meet Tommy's gaze, an emphatic confirmation escaping him, and suddenly it's intimate.

Tommy can't think of a reason to say no.

[cece693]

Secretary (Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)

Summary: Hannibal told Crawford that his secretary was 'pre-dispositioned by romantic whims' and traveled to the United Kingdom. However, it's rarely as simple as that.

tags: reader is Hannibal's ex-secretary, possible Stockholm syndrome, no established relationship, Hannibal being himself, kidnapping

You've been doing everything right—not disturbing Dr. Lecter unless absolutely necessary, keeping his records meticulously filed, and, with much reluctance, keeping Mr. Chilton occupied whenever he threatened to storm into Dr. Lecter’s current session to demand more of his time. Your job wasn’t easy, but you excelled at it, surpassing even Dr. Lecter’s expectations. Perhaps that should have been your cue to quit.

But you didn’t. And now, standing in the center of this impeccably furnished home—with its locked doors and an alarm system ready to blare at the slightest escape attempt—you understood the truth. Dr. Lecter would never truly let you go. He might grant you the illusion of freedom, but he would always keep tabs on you. Because, at the end of the day, he found you interesting. So much so that he didn’t kill you outright when you finally saw him for who he really was.

It had been an accident. You weren’t like the other secretaries who snooped and whispered about his peculiarities. You didn’t eavesdrop. You were just…there at the wrong moment. Gathering your belongings after a late evening at the office, you opened the door to leave, only to be greeted by Dr. Lecter standing outside. He was composed, as always. But then you noticed it—the splatter of blood decorating the bottom of his suit sleeve. Your eyes weren't quick enough to look away, and in that split second, you saw his expression change, just the barest flicker as he crossed his arms behind his back and straightened his posture.

"Ah," he had said, tilting his head slightly as if you were a particularly intriguing puzzle piece that had just fallen into place. "It appears I've caught you at an inopportune moment. I trust you’ll keep what you've seen to yourself?" His eyes were not asking. They were demanding. You swallowed hard, barely managing to nod.

"Yes, Dr. Lecter," you stammered. "Of course." He smiled then, a small curve of his lips that made your stomach drop.

"Good," he replied smoothly, stepping closer until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "It's always refreshing to know who values their… position."

That had been the end of it. Or so you thought. Days turned into weeks, and you convinced yourself you had been imagining things, that perhaps you had misread the situation. But then came the gradual transition: the dinners you were "invited" to, the unspoken requirement to be available whenever Dr. Lecter saw fit. And finally, the inevitable—this place. His home.

Back to the present, you hear the front door click open, the soft thud of polished shoes on the wooden floor. Your heart jumps to your throat, but you force yourself to remain still as Dr. Lecter enters, his eyes immediately locking onto you with an unsettling intensity.

“There you are,” he greets, as if he were a husband returning to his spouse after a long day. “I trust you’ve been keeping yourself entertained?”

You manage a small nod, not trusting your voice to remain steady. "Yes," you reply, clearing your throat. "I…tidied up."

"Wonderful." He removes his coat with precise movements, placing it on the coat rack before turning to you, his gaze predatory yet casual. "Today was most eventful," he begins conversationally, crossing the room toward you with a grace that should make you feel comforted, but instead sets every nerve on edge. "One of my patients had quite the breakthrough. It’s fascinating, really, how easily one can guide a mind to certain…realizations."

He pauses just in front of you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in an unsettlingly intimate gesture. "You’ve always had such a strong mind," he murmurs. "That’s why I like you. And why I believe our arrangement will work out perfectly. Don't you agree?"

You swallow, searching for words that will appease him without sealing your fate even tighter. "Of course." you say carefully, hoping the neutrality of your response will satisfy him. He smiles again, that chillingly serene smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

"Good," he purrs. "Now, why don't you join me in the kitchen? I believe a little conversation over dinner would do us both well. After all," he pauses, his gaze darkening, "what's a home without a bit of warmth and companionship?" With a gesture, he beckons you toward the hallway, and you follow, each step a reminder of the delicate balance you must now maintain in this life you never chose.

[5targh0st]

NUMBER ONE GIRL

40. loyal and kind (written)

prev // m.list // next

TW: implied sexual activity (I mean it's definitely not smut and is more of a mention of sorts but yeah)

Everything is ready. You've been waiting for this day to come for ages and today you're finally surprising Yeonjun. Up until now, he's always been the one planning everything and making sure you're always having a great time. He even made you a song. So, after all the mess and drama, you think it's only fair to reciprocate his actions.

It was rather awkward, talking about your feelings for him with his friends, but it was also easy and natural. Going on about all of the things you like about him when they also knew that side of him was refreshing. You didn't have to explain your feelings or try to convince them about anything; they understood.

You have to admit how grateful you are for all of the help and support Beomgyu gave you in the last few days. He's an amazing being but that's not something you're gonna tell him anytime soon.

Bringing Yeonjun to the festival without disclosing your true intentions was harder than you initially thought. He wanted to get dinner at a nice place and maybe go to the movies, he just wanted a date night. It took some convincing but he gave in and agreed to come with you to the festival.

Heesung smiles at you and gives you a thumbs up. Part of you wishes that Hyunjin was there, he is great at making you feel at ease, but wouldn't change Heesung does the world. He's been so supportive and caring that you've come to appreciate him in a way you didn't think possible before.

You hear your name being called and you walk up to the center on the stage with Heesung following you closely. You scan the crowd and see your friends cheering you on and, a few steps to the side, you catch a glimpse of Yeonjun's stunned expression. Beomgyu puts his arm around Yeonjun's shoulder and says something in between his laughter.

You feel the heat rush to your face but force yourself to speak. "Hey, everyone!"

Some people cheer but you don't seem to notice, your ahead are sizes on someone else...

"I'm YN and you probably don't know me but I've been here before. I'm part of a nameless band and sometimes I sing alone, although my friends are always here to show their support. Anyway, I'm not a musician by any means but I sing because it's fun and I'm not exactly bad at it.

I'm a photographer. Being the center of attention has been quite the experience, but I don't hate it. And I'm probably talking too much, but I promise it's important.

I take pictures of people and places to express something, I like to capture feelings in a way that everyone can get to catch a glimpse of the world through my eyes. I think I'm the most honest I can be through my photos. Today, however, I want to reach someone in their own language.

There are so many things I wanna say to you, but the most important of all is that I want you, all of you. The good and bad parts, your laugh and tears; I want all of it. I don't care about your past, the only thing that matters is that you're with me now. So, this is for you..."

You turn to Heesung so he starts with the piano and then you close your eyes. "When you think of all the late nights..."

Yeonjun can take his eyes off of you. His smile is so bright and can't even speak. Beomgyu wants to mock him, he really does, but there's this warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest that doesn't allow him to. He's never seen Yeonjun so happy before, not even with Yuna. He's happy for both of you.

"Your mother brought you up loyal and kind

Teenage love taught you there's good in goodbye

Every woman that you knew brought you here

I wanna teach you how forever feels..."

You meet his eyes and you notice this sparkle that wasn't there before. He's glowing and you realize this is what love is supposed to be.

"... but I love you more." People might be cheering but you can't quite hear them. Your eyes just follow Yeonjun and his clumsy attempt to get through the crown and reach you.

"What are you waiting for, dumbass?" Heesung's voice brings you back. And, as if you were set free after a long time being kept in the dark, you run towards that bright light.

You're not sure who catches who, but you're finally in each other's arms. One of his arms secures you close to his body by holding your waist while the other cradles the back of your head. You can feel his heartbeat, as soothing as ever, and you realize it's in perfect sync with yours.

"No one ever made a song about me." He says trying to stop himself from smiling but failing miserably. He just can't hide his happiness.

"I wanted to surprise you." Your hands reach for his face and stroke his cheeks lovingly. How could anyone ever say he's not made for love?

"You did!" His eyes trail down your lips as if asking for permission. Such a sweet guy, but you don't wanna wait so you take the lead.

It's perfect. Maybe a little too good to be true, but you're both happy and that's all that matters right now.

After the festival, some of your friends go clubbing while others just disappear without explanation. You don't exactly care right now. You just go back to Yeonjun's apartment so you can talk.

"So Heesung and Beomgyu helped you?" He's amused at the implications. Of course he knew his friends liked you but them going out of their way to help someone is completely new.

"They did!" You then tell him every detail about the creative process and how good of a teacher Heesung actually is.

"You really mean all those things?" He asks shyly. "You actually wanna be with me?"

"We all have a past; even I've done some things I'm not very proud of. But the thing is that you're not what you did or the people you've been with. And people talk and say mena things but they don't know you. And you don't have to explain anything to me, Jun." You reach for his hand. "We've all hurt others, and we've been hurt. We make mistakes, it's a part of growing up. Of course, people told me some weird things about you, but they haven't seen the way you care for the people you love. They don't notice the way you're always willing to help your friends, or how you always make sure to bring snacks cause you know Beomgyu forgets to buy his own. The way you talk so highly of Heesung and Soobin. That's the Yeonjun I know, that's the Yeonjun I care about."

His eyes fill with tears and you can tell his making a huge effort to not hide from you. "I love you." His voice is so low you almost think he didn't say it.

"I love you too."

Waking up next to him is kind of your favorite thing to do lately. His eyes fluttering and his nose scrunching are one of the most adorable things you've seen.

His arms remain locked around you and you feel his skin against yours. The memories of what happened last night make you blush. You clearly remember his lips against yours and the sight of his bare chest.You're not sure of what happened next but the feel of his hands caressing your skin and exploring your body still lingers and makes you feel at peace. It's kinda weird how you've never felt like this with anyone before. Yeonjun is intense and abrasive but, when you're with him, there's this soft and soothing feeling that engulfs you and you can't help but bask in his harmonious presence.

"Good morning, baby" His sleepy voice is so endearing.

"We're on a pet name basis now?"

"I'm your boyfriend now, so I get to call you baby."

His declaration almost makes you chuckle. You've been someone's girlfriend before and, by extension, you've had boyfriends before. However, no one's ever been so proud of being yours; he's not claiming you, he's devoting himself to you.

"Well then, since I'm your girlfriend now, I get to call you Jun or Junnie."

"Fine, but I get to call you angel and love on special occasions." He rolls his eyes playfully.

"You're so demanding!"

"I never said I was a low maintenance partner."

"Can I still change my mind?" Your teasing tone doesn't go unnoticed.

"Absolutely not! You were the one who said forever first," he tightens his grip on your waist, "so no take backs!"

After a shower and looking through his closet for something that doesn't make you look like a hobbit, he takes you out to get breakfast. If you thought he was unbearable when it comes to paying back when you were dating and even just friends, he's the worst with this whole boyfriend status.

He is your boyfriend after all, of course you're not paying for anything as long as he's here. For him, this is just the bare minimum. He's well aware that you're more than capable of paying, and he's ready to back down if it becomes an issue, but this is like basic boyfriend shit so he's just doing his best.

Seeing you laugh and having fun is enough to make his heart dance in his chest. Truth be told, he still feels like you deserve way more but he's gonna do everything in his power to be more for you.

"What are we doing tonight?" He asks with those adorable eyes that you've come to love so much.

"How about game night with the girls?" You suggest.

"Karina hates me!" He groans.

"She can't hate my boyfriend."

"Fine, but invite Hyunjin."

"Deal."

He's never been only hostile to Minho's friends but after spending some time with them, while respecting their limits, he's come to like Hyunjin. Maybe, under different circumstances, they could've been great friends.

notes:

imma be honest here, I'm hurting myself with all this fluff

finishing this here did cross my mind but we die like men here so pls have fun with the next few wholesome chapters

yeonjun is SO happy

basically everyone is rooting for them and I love it

I'm really happy about this development but yeah let me know what you guys think

taglist: (29/50)

@estella-novella @poetryforthesad @lisaswifey @angelzforu @ihrtlix @gloriousqueenking @domfikeluva @circus-of-thoughts @conwunder @miniature-tragedy @jeonginplsholdmyhand @sh0dor1 @yourenzoo @tkshairband @realrintaro @castingjinx @amara-mars @hwangrfrnd @nujeskz @jisungs-iced-americano @zeizeisjy

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Between the Pages

Summary: grappling with his violent past, Ettore is unexpectedly challenged by the silence of his unassuming cellmate | Word Count: 3.4k~ | warnings: mentions of noncon as a crime, violence

A/N: I've been wanting to kind of do a character heavy fic for a while since I read the interview about Ettore coming of age aboard the ship, so enjoy my take on it 😘

The darkness nibbled at the edges of him. From his feet and fingers, to his ankles and wrists, up his arms and legs. 

It curled deep in his gut, sliding around like oil inside, slick with a morbid curiosity that had lingered there for years. It crept up, weaving through his arteries and veins like vines, choking what purity there used to be, an innocent ignorance, and tainting it, into a sort of murky, sunless void.

He thought that once, he was capable of feeling anything else. Perhaps once, he was capable of love. Of some kind of affection. Maybe even deserved it.

After all, the ones you loved unconditionally, were supposed to give that same love back.

Right?

The day that darkness reached his heart, sucking the soul out of it like the way tendons and fat stick to meat as it’s torn up into chunks, was the day that Ettore understood this truth. Nobody was entitled to love. Not even him. And those people who were supposed to care, supposed to protect him, had abandoned him. What use was there in hoping for it now? He thought so often to himself. 

His body felt so heavy, felt so fucking heavy. The hatred marinated inside. Festered. What was there to do, but simply let it stay and rot? To allow it to become you.

How foolish of him to think that those who participated in making him, who chose to bring him into existence, would be able to give him the nourishment and support he wanted. That he needed. It was a story so often heard. That caregivers cared not about the people they assisted in bringing into this world. Their own children. At first, he admitted, he brushed it off.

It’s just the way my family is. Every family has different dynamics.

Until he couldn’t remember the last time his father had ever spoken to him. And then he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him. And then finally, his face. How he spoke. How he rolled up his cigarettes. He only remembered the smell of him. Fusty and deep. Like how old pubs smell. And the stench of whisky on his breath and yellowed teeth. 

He remembered being on the end of his fist most often. 

And when he was gone, though it was softer, he remembered then the palm of his mother’s. She didn’t have the strength of his father’s, but all the bite.

Trying to stay out of her way proved difficult most days. More often than not, he’d be out, even in the midst of winter as the wind nipped at his bones and the chill sank into his skin, he didn’t want to see the hysterical, screaming mess of a woman that was once his mother to be the first thing he came across when he got home. God forbid she ever spotted him.

He thought she must have thought he looked too similar to his father or something like that. Perhaps it was the eyes, the temperament or the expression. He hoped, somewhere deep, that it was perhaps the crime. Then there may have been some explanation for the way he was.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t figure it out for the life of him, so it was often easiest, to be out of her eyeline altogether. He wasn’t much better at staying out of trouble outside the confines of his home. Out there, in the big, wide world that he was so underprepared for, it was still difficult to be accepted. People had to want to be his friend, after all.

Eventually, he just didn’t even try. Though there was still a desire for acceptance, one he didn’t get by befriending men of a similar age and temperament to him. 

It felt only right, that he used the only things he felt he had, to his advantage. Looks. Talk. Confidence. Three things he was never short on.

And also the three things that fed easily into how he coped and how he eventually morphed into the person he was today. The looks got him into women’s beds, and in between their thighs too. The talk got them to stop fighting, to stay still and let him have his way. The confidence was the one thing in the end that worked to his disadvantage, thinking that the ones who he’d let get away wouldn’t say anything, and the ones he kept quiet by clamping his hands around her tiny, little necks, would inevitably fade away into non-existence. 

He still remembers the way their blood roared against his palms, how their breaths stuttered in his grip, and that addictive wide-eyed look, and the slow, blinking fade of life from their eyes. He thought there was nothing more powerful than holding someone’s very life-blood in his grip, and that was when he knew the rot had taken hold inside him. 

If he could, he would have wiped every judgemental glare off everyone in the courtroom that day. What use was there in pretending to be remorseful, as if he didn’t savour the memory of choking the hell out of those women with his dick so deep inside them still he could feel the way their bodies tried to reject him. Those are the memories he thinks of in those lonely nights in the Box. Those are the cold dark hands that drag him further and further. Until perhaps there is nowhere further to go.

Which is why she confuses him. His cellmate sleeps above him, a woman who he has strangely paid little attention to and can’t for the life of him figure out why. The narrow confines of their shared cell, with its cold, steel surfaces and harsh fluorescent lights, force a proximity that is usually unbearable for him. Yet, with her, there is an unspoken truce that puzzles him further.

There is a suffocating silence in the cell at night. Ettore’s usual trigger lay dormant for a while, an uneasy peace reigning in the small, padded space he shares with her. Unlike the other women aboard the ship, callous, loud and obnoxious, this woman keeps to herself, hovering just beyond the reach of his understanding.

Each day that goes by, he tries to solve the puzzle that she is. Why doesn’t she flinch at his gaze? Why doesn’t she cower? It’s as if she moves through a different realm, her demeanour calm, almost detached, unaffected by the chaos that typically surrounded him and the others alike, or the violence he is known for. 

She is a question without an answer, unsettling him more with each passing day. He sometimes imagines her figure from his bottom bunk, and how she would look while she sleeps, often with her eyes glued to the pages of a book. And he knows from the gentle thud of her tired hand and the half-opened novel on the mattress, that she has likely exhausted herself to sleep from reading and straining in the dark.

So he starts to look for signs, any clue that might explain her indifference, her silence. But she gives nothing away, her routine meticulous and quiet. When she reads, she never looks up. He supposes there is no reason for her to. Does anyone even know her name? Or do they do what he used to do, and just pretend she never existed in the first place? Perhaps that’s where she feels most comfortable.

It gnaws at him more than any confrontation could. His history with women was fraught with aggression, violence and brutality, but it provides no playbook for this experience. There is no anger in her silence, no fear. She merely exists in a state of complete neutrality, leaving him to wonder why she is even in prison in the first place. This indifference to life itself, it seems, is more disarming than any verbal or physical challenge. 

He hopes for a flicker of annoyance when he makes too much noise coming back to their shared cell some nights. But nothing. He hopes for the one day she glances up from her book, eyes clear and calm, as if nothing is wrong. 

She was like a candle unlit. A sheet of snow upon the ground without a fault or a footstep to taint it. Like a notebook you kept but didn't have the heart to write in for the first time, for the fear of ruining the very first page.

So it is that night, he lays with his hands behind his head, ever kept in a state of wide-eyed curiosity, when he hears the familiar thud of her tired hand dropping her novel. She never seems annoyed when she loses her place in her story, she simply gets up in the morning, and places something flat where she thinks she was, and is more than happy to start all over again. 

Despite the silence, his mind races, thoughts swirling and colliding in the shadows. He’s grown accustomed to the rhythms of their cohabitation, the sound of her breathing, the slight shifts of her body in the bunk above him, the soft rustle of pages turning. These sounds punctuate his nights, a constant reminder of her presence.

And yet, tonight, there’s a different kind of awareness, a curiosity that edges toward something he can’t quite name. It’s not desire, not the kind he’s known before, which was always tangled with aggression and control. This is something else, something quieter, more invasive. He wants to see her as she sleeps, to witness her in a moment of unguarded vulnerability, not to disturb or dominate, but to understand.

This thought, this need to see her face relaxed in sleep, strikes him with a pang of guilt. Even in the dim light of self-awareness, he recognises that this impulse feels like a violation, an intrusion into her silent world. He’s used to taking space, not just physically but emotionally, imposing his will on others as a way to affirm his existence. But with her, the dynamics are different. She offers nothing to conquer, only a silence to be filled, and in that silence, his own reflections become too loud, too clear.

Lying there, Ettore wrestles with the pull of his curiosity and the weight of his past. He knows too well the darkness that lives within him, the ease with which he could turn a moment of curiosity into something far more sinister. The battle within him is a quiet one, but intense. The thought of crossing the boundary, even just to see her in her sleep, stirs a deep-seated fear that he might revert to the man he was, the man he still is, underneath the surface of this uneasy peace.

His limbs move as if detached from his will. He places one hand on the cold metal of the ladder, then another, his movements slow, deliberate. Every rung of the ladder creaks softly under his weight, a grim soundtrack to his betrayal of self-promises. His heart pounds in his ears, not with excitement, but with a dread that feels both foreign and familiar.

As he ascends, each step feels heavier, burdened not by physical weight but by the gravity of his intentions. He pauses halfway, his body tensed, his mind screaming for him to retreat. But the pull is too strong, the need to see her, to understand why she affects him so profoundly, why she can exist so close to him yet remain a world apart.

Reaching the top, Ettore pauses, barely breathing. He is close enough now to hear her gentle breaths, the soft exhale of sleep that seems so at odds with the storm raging in his soul. She is a portrait of peace, her eyelids fluttering slightly with dreams he cannot begin to fathom. He yearns to understand her not because she is an enigma, but because in her quiet resilience, he sees a reflection of what he might have been, what he still could be. It's a longing not only to understand but also to be understood, to be seen not as the sum of his past actions but as the person he struggles to become.

He approaches her bunk with a reverence that surprises him. As he lays down gently beside her, he is acutely aware of the sanctity of the moment, of her trust not to be breached and of his own resolve not to revert to the man he knows he really is deep down. 

But there is a vulnerability that is roused in him when he watches her like this, and he doesn't recognise or like it one bit. It'd be so easy to just wrap his hands around her neck, like he had done before so instinctively, and be rid of her. Maybe then he wouldn't question this side of himself that has bubbled to the surface.

The mere idea of putting his fingers around her throat has adrenaline soaring in his veins.

But Ettore pulls back from the precipice of this dark impulse almost as quickly as it arises. The primal, instinctual urge to eliminate what confuses him, to destroy rather than confront, surges within him, his hands tensing at his sides. Yet, as he watches her, her chest gently rising and falling with each breath, he finds himself caught in a storm of conflicting emotions.

It's horrifying, the ease with which violence still beckons to him. The quiet, once a cloak she wrapped around herself, now envelops him too. The battle is not with her, not even with the world outside, but inside. But this realisation does not bring peace. Far from it.

Feeling as if his heart in his throat, his palm hovers above her body, starting from her legs. He is trembling, leaving an inch of space that feels like a chasm. And yet he can feel the heat of her form, as if radiating from her skin and pulsing into his.

He passes over her hips, his eyes zeroed in on a slither of skin that has become visible beneath her sleeping shirt. It beckons to him like a test of his will. If she were anyone else, one hand would hold her down, while the other would rip her sweatpants off and-

He clenches his fist tight, his eyes mirroring the struggle. Every moment he chooses restraint, he is redefining himself.

And yet as he descends the steps down from her bunk, she hadn't moved an inch and the prospect of her being a deep sleeper makes the intrusive desire to do this again ever more prevalent. It doesn’t reassure him at this point, rather it feeds into the dangerous allure of doing it again, and again, and again.

And each time in the days following, what he does becomes more bold, skirting around the edges of darkness he knows full well lurks beneath. He waits every night for the thud of her book on the bed, for her quiet breathing to let him know that it is safe to venture into what feels like dangerous territory.

Hovered hands become soft brushes against her flesh. Initially, these contacts are mere brushes, fleeting and barely there, against her arms, perhaps unintentionally grazing her leg, or the slope of her shoulder. With each night, his touches grow slightly more deliberate, and when he has straddled that line too closely and she stirs or readjusts, he feels his heart quicken and chest tighten. Sometimes he almost wants her to wake up, just to see what he would instinctively do.

This dangerous game continues, each touch a test of his self-control. His fingers linger a moment too long on the soft skin of her cheek one night, the warmth of her breath against his hand, and the next day he struggles to even glance in her direction alongside the torrent of emotions within him. The fear that he is becoming the monster he dreads appears more real than ever. The very act of touching her in her sleep, though innocent, yet an invasion of her privacy and autonomy, is a stark reminder of the control he once wielded without thought.

He understands now that this cannot continue. The path he is on, though it started with a quest for understanding and connection, is veering dangerously close to old patterns that had once felt familiar. And yet with her of which he cannot even envision.

He knows the only way to break this cycle, to truly change, is to confront the situation directly and honestly. No more silent, uninvited intrusions in the dark; he needs to face her in the light, to speak to her and gauge her response, to decide his next steps based on a genuine interaction rather than his own conjectures and impulses.

All the scenarios run rampant in his mind, stealing every quiet moment in his day to day life seemingly without effort. 

He is desperate to hear her voice, just for him, a sound to anchor the whirlwind inside.

If he speaks and she glances up from between her precious pages, with a look of fear, judgement, anger…there just might still be violence screaming in his gut. He imagines, with a chilling clarity, how he might react. To watch those eyes that have never landed upon him, wide-eyed and panicked with fear, her hands that would usually hold those delicate covers as if they were sentient, thrashing and scratching at his skin for escape.

However, if her eyes meet his with calmness, a soft but unyielding clarity, it might signal a different path. Such a look could secure him, pull him back from the brink, offering a glimpse of a different kind of interaction, one rooted in mutual respect rather than fear.

Throughout the day, Ettore wrestles with the decision to approach her at an unusual time, a moment outside their routine interactions, which are typically defined by the unspoken boundaries and silent acknowledgements of shared space. The weight of this choice, loaded with the potential for a shift in their dynamic, presses on him.

Finally, as the day bleeds into evening, he steels himself and walks towards their cell, a path he has traversed countless times yet now feels distinctly different. His footsteps echo slightly in the empty corridor, a hollow sound that seems to beat in rhythm with his anxious heart. He pauses at the doorway, his hand resting against the cold metal frame for a moment. He had never been short on confidence, until right this moment.

She is there, as always, perched on her bed with a book cradled in her lap, her attention fully absorbed by the pages. The familiar sight of her, so engrossed in her literary world, momentarily steadies him. "Hey," he calls out softly, his voice slightly rough around the edges from the turmoil inside him.

At the sound of his voice, she looks up, her expression shifting from concentrated reading to mild surprise. Her eyes meet his, clear and calm, carrying none of the fear or judgement he had feared. "Hey," she responds simply, her voice a quiet echo to his own.

In that brief exchange, just a single word spoken by each, there's a palpable shift. It's not a definitive answer to all his internal questions, but it grants him a moment of reprieve from his fears of eliciting a negative reaction. So he stands there, momentarily rooted to the spot by the simplicity and normalcy of her response. And it is this moment where her eyes are piercing right into him that he is offered his first real glimpse into her as well. Features he had usually seen undisturbed by the quiet of sleep felt familiar and yet uncharted now, such as the flutter of her eyelashes and the decorating of freckles across her cheeks, and the small, curious pupils looking between his eyes as if for an answer.

Realising he's been standing silent for too long, Ettore scrambles mentally for something to say, to break the growing awkwardness that feels almost like a first encounter. His lips part, ready to forge some semblance of normal conversation.

No sooner are his lips parted that he is rendered into silence he once would have expected from her. She dog-eared the page, closed her book off her lap and brushed her hair from her face, and spoke with a soft tone laden with genuine concern. It feels like an invitation, a door opening to endless possibilities where she has seen past the facade of toughness to the raw, uncertain man beneath. She invites him into a space where he can be vulnerable, and yet he is still unsure if he even wants to be there. Can those raging, endless violent impulses ever be quieted by just a couple of words?

“You okay?”

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[andreal831]

TVDU and forced parenthood

I don't know if it is because Julie Plec didn't understand parenthood or just didn't care, but almost every character has a messed up relationship with the idea of parenthood.

Starting with Rebekah, whose entire identity becomes about being a mother. When she is first introduced, she behaves like an immature teenager with almost no maternal instincts or desires. But it quickly shifts in TO to focus on her desire to have a child. I am completely fine with a woman wanting to have children, but she never gave a real reason to want it. Just this general idea that she had always desired it. I get she likely would have been thinking about it when she was human since, during their human period, women tended to have children in their teen years and it was what all women did. But throughout her 1,000 years, we never see her seek that relationship with anyone. She briefly develops a protective relationship with April and then Davina, but they are easily pushed aside. She even abandons her relationship with Hope multiple times. It never seemed to me that she wanted to be a parent, rather wanted a baby.

This is even more obvious by the fact that Klaus 'adopts' Marcel. Rebekah could have adopted a child, or taken in someone throughout her long life. Now, it could have been that she feared Klaus would be angry and jealous, but this story is never shown. In fact, Klaus seems fine with Rebekah training Marcel, even after he was jealous of Elijah teaching him.

Speaking of Marcel, this whole storyline was problematic. The Mikaelsons take in this boy and then make him feel indebted to them. I've seen people argue that they didn't adopt Marcel, but rather took him in as a ward. Either way you look at it, Marcel was a child and deserved to be treated like one and not some trophy (a lot of white saviorism happening). I do think Elijah wanted to raise Marcel as a son but Klaus wouldn't let him. So instead, Klaus raises him as a friend which created a complicated relationship. I also hate how you can clearly see the difference in how Hope is protected versus how Marcel was raised. Whether it's sexist or racist or just based on him not being their biological family, it's problematic.

And then there is Hope. Hayley will always be my favorite parent in TVDU. Even when she was young and overwhelmed, you could tell her thoughts and actions were all about protecting Hope. Yes, some things she did weren't the smartest plan, but she was also a scared 20-something-year-old trying to survive against enemies that were 1000x her age. She risked her life repeatedly for her daughter and would sacrifice anything for Hope to be safe and happy. She was the one character I felt truly understood what it meant to be a parent.

I always get in trouble when I criticize Klaus as a parent, but he was a narcissistic parent for 90% of the show and that honestly needs its own post.

It's not surprising the Mikaelsons don't know how to be parents. Mikael wanted to train them to be warriors and Esther had a similar feel to Rebekah, that she wanted babies but didn't know how to be a mother. I know Esther and Mikael likely had their own childhood traumas, but that's another conversation.

I liked that Kol and Davina never discussed children. Davina was young and Kol never expressed desires to be a father. Not everyone needs to want to have children. To me, Elijah was the only Mikaelson sibling who expressed a deeper interest in being a parent. Yet, he still didn't understand the full extent. He essentially acted like a parent to his siblings but ended up just having messed up relationships with each of them. He wanted to step in with Marcel and even Hope. I like to think he learned his lesson from Marcel and fought harder for Hope, but again, the whole family just fought harder for Hope.

I also think Freya having a child makes sense, but Vincent being the father had me baffled. He hated Elijah for what he did to Davina until Elijah died, but forgave Freya for her role? Not only forgave her but decided to help continue the Mikaelson line. I just find it hard to believe that he would have agreed to help. But Julie wanted to expand the Mikaelsons and then do nothing with it I guess.

Even in TVD, this idea that everyone wants to be a parent is pushed. Again, yes some people do, but not everyone needs to want children.

I understood Jo, Alaric, and even Stefan's desire to have children. This need to protect and care for others was built into them. We see Alaric (before his character sucked) basically adopt Elena and Jeremy. Jo was always protective of her siblings and loved caring for others so much she became a doctor. Stefan just always had this paternal need to take care of others in my opinion. I even see this with Elena and Bonnie. (Also the fact that Bonnie's future is never mentioned -- we hear about everyone else but what was Bonnie up to in Legacies??)

But Caroline and Damon having children made no sense to me. Caroline had dreams of a career and seemed adventurous, but then was forced into pregnancy at what 23 years old while she was still in school? Yes, we see she gets to become a journalist, but in Legacies we don't hear anything about her life or career. She isn't even there as a mother. Caroline's character basically disappears.

Damon never expressed a desire for children that I can remember. He enjoyed his vampire life and I can't see him giving it up to be a mortal, stay-at-home dad.

There are a lot of problems with the show, Friends, but one thing I've always loved is how they show the different pathways to parenthood. Pheobe is a surrogate for her brother, Monica adopts, and Rachel is a single mother. There isn't one way to be a parent, as long as you always put the children's safety and happiness first.

TVDU could have learned a thing about it. For a show that loved to randomly have a found family trope, it was also ready to throw it out the window the second biological family showed up. That's not how found families work, they are family through and through.

Also, and I cannot say this enough, not everyone needs to want to have children. Even women.

[official-impravidus]

"Dont touch her/him" with jealous parkner please ;)

I was clearing out my inbox and I thought it would be funny to reply to this prompt from like 2019 but I accidentally wrote a good fic and also may have gotten myself back into Parkner??? @peachy-keener 👀

Peter never considered himself a jealous person. He was protective, sure. He cared about the ones he loves deeply but he’s secure in the knowledge that they love him too, enough to not abandon him just because they make other connections.

(That’s a lie. There’s a festering fear that bubbles beneath the surface of his skin at every given moment that he will lose someone he loves again. And though the losses he has had were through death, out of his control no matter how much he blames himself for it, he can’t help but fear that the next time he is left again will be completely and utterly his fault.)

When he met Harley, he didn’t expect to love him the way he does.

It’s different for his love for Ned. His love for Ned is fierce and all consuming, the feeling of being known so deep that you are not a separate two but intrinsically combined, merged together through time, influencing the way the other grew and evolved as he grew and evolved with him.

His love for MJ is something steady, something that he considered to be romantic love but didn't quite understand as he felt it. A love that was all butterflies and fireworks yet also a moment of reprieve from his crazy life, a steadying silence and a moment to breathe. Something that didn't necessarily dim or dull but dissipated into something less like a passionate infatuation and more like contentment. A love for a moment, not a love forever.

Harley is… indescribable. What he feels for Harley isn't what he ever understood love to be and that's why he wasn't able to tell what it was. Fleeting moments shared in passing that slowly lingered until the two needed to pry each other apart. The need to listen, to know everything about him, to learn everything that makes him Harley but also the need to be heard and seen and listened to in a way you can't even listen to yourself.

It's a certainty. An unspoken trust built on respect and communication and painstakingly chipping away at the walls that they had built into themselves.

It's warmth and it's safety and it's good and nice and right.

Love for Peter has always been something so big. Love that he would lay down his life for. Love that was expressed in grand gestures and grander words just to prove even a sliver of the sentiment. Because he loves so big and the love he feels is inexplicable, not because he doesn't understand how he feels it, but because there is no way to explain it.

But with Harley, there is no need to address it. It is just known. And somehow, without clarification, he knows that he is loved too.

It's easy. It's simple. It's good, nice, right.

So, when Peter feels a pool of fire in his gut, the sort of burning roaring passion that he had once felt with his first love, for a moment he thinks that what he had adjusted to believe love could be was not all what love is at all.

But it's not the kind of overwhelming emotion, a maelstrom of feeling that pulses and pushes like how he had felt for his first love. It's not kind or love-like at all.

It's an ugly kind of passion. One that he attributes more to fistfights in the moonlit streets, bloody knuckles and bruised ribs, the ache that pulls for him to take a step to far that he can't quite cross.

Peter has never been one whose first resort is violence.

But right now, he wants to punch someone so hard that their stupid face with their stupid smirk caves in.

He and Harley are out at the park both in desperate need of fresh air and sunlight on their faces after holing themselves in the lab for far too long.

Harley had stepped away to get them a treat from an ice cream truck — "They made popsicles of you! They've got gumballs for eyes and there's a less than one percent chance they're in the right place, but I've think I've got good odds." — leaving Peter behind to pet the swarm of dogs that fight to have a spot in his lap.

When Peter hears Harley chuckle uncomfortably, his head immediately snaps up, eyes zeroing in on Harley who stands across the park.

A guy has a hand on Harley's arm, looking him up and down with hungry eyes and smirk that looks more like a snarl. Harley, polite as always, does his best to not engage but considering their positions in the line, there is nowhere for him to escape.

Peter is moving before he realizes he is, legs moving without him, a magnet pulled to Harley, but this time in a way that feels more like a planet being pulled into the gravitational field of a blinding sun.

"Don't touch him."

The guy doesn't move his hand. He just cocks a brow, shooting Harley an annoyed look as if Peter is the one who is unwanted there. "There's a line, buddy."

"I was actually saving him a spot," Harley says, finally ripping his hand from the guy's grasp as his fingers slacken at the statement. Harley wraps an arm around Peter's waist and presses a kiss to his temple. "Remind me what you wanted again, darlin?"

"Whatever you want," Peter says, the double meaning clear in the words.

"Well, I want a Spider-Man popsicle. And I want to be the lucky guy who gets the one with the eyes in the right place."

The guy, now realizing that his attempts at pursuits are futile, huffing petulantly, steps out of line and storms away.

Harley leans his lips down to Peter's ear. "You jealous?"

"No," Peter says quickly.

"Well, I wasn't lyin' when I said all I want is your eyes in the right place." Harley pulls away and looks into Peter's eyes. "On me."

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 5/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Notes below!

-----------------------------------------------

Ever since his redemption (a perplexing event he still couldn't fathom), Sir Pentious had never left Emily's side at all. Well, more like he wasn't allowed to leave the young Seraph's side at all. That tall lady, Sera, proved to be stricter than dear Vagatha.

Confined to a single floor among Heaven's bright buildings, he shared quarters with the Seraphs. Sera had instructed him to remain there until she could resolve the issue at hand.

He has no idea what the other means by that. Wasn't his redemption already the resolution they needed?

The snake demon- nope, angel now- felt an urge to consult Emily about it, as she reminded him greatly of Charlie. Yet, he never got the opportunity, when one day he was abruptly awoken and whisked away before he could even really wake up.

Sir Pentious: Emily, dear, where exactly are we going?

Emily: Last time, Sera said she had a meeting with the Heavenly Virtues, so I told her to tell them about you being a redeemed soul from Hell.

Sir Pentious: And who, pray tell, are thesssssse.. Virtuesssssss?

Emily: The Archangels of Heaven. They're the highest authority here just under the Lord.

Sir Pentious: Miss Charlie didn't mention any Archangels during her trial.

Emily: They weren't there. They put all their trust in Sera to handle those kinds of matters but... After the last extermination, there was no hiding Sera can do anymore. And when she was called for that meeting, I begged her to tell them about you.

Sir Pentious: I will guess that she hasssssn't?

Emily: She didn't! I can't believe her. She came back and she's refusing to see me or even go back to tell them! So, I'm making an executive decision to tell them myself.

Sir Pentious: Do I really have to be there?

Emily: Of course! You're living- uhh- dead? proof that a soul can be redeemed! Now come on!

Sir Pentious: Are you ssssssure we're allowed here, dear?

Emily had been noticeably fidgety—a trait Sir Pentious recognized all too well. From past experience, he understood that such behavior either means discomfort, fear, or guilt. He isn't sure what she's thinking right now.

Emily: Um- yep!

Sir Pentious: Then why are we sneaking in?

The angel's expression confirmed his suspicions. Right on the money.

Emily: Well- I- just follow me!

Emily continued to open random doors while dragging Sir Pentious along, seemingly determined to find a specific room among them. Despite their covert mission, they managed to evade any detection so far. Yet, the newly redeemed soul couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone in the building.

Emily: One of these rooms has to belong to one of them.

As Emily expressed her determination, a fleeting glimpse of familiar red and white caught Sir Pentious' attention.

He instinctively turned his head towards the direction, only to find the hallway empty. There's a nagging sensation compelling him to investigate further.

Emily intervened, grabbing his arm before he could even move away.

Emily: Sir Pentious! What are you doing?

Sir Pentious: I think I sssssaw ssssssomething, deary.

Emily's sudden burst of excitement propelled them both towards the direction where Sir Pentious claimed to have seen the figure vanished.

Emily: Do you think it's an Archangel? I hope so. We might get in trouble if it's anyone other than them. Then again, I've never been in this building before and I'm not really allowed but I'm technically acting Seraphim right now so-

Her words trailed off into rambling, but Sir Pentious paid her no mind, his focus is entirely on tracking the elusive figure. However, they couldn't catch up as they lost it amidst the labyrinth of corridors.

Sir Pentious: Hmmm. Perhaps it was no one-

The building suddenly shook so hard causing them to fall on the floor. It stopped just as quickly as it happened.

Emily: What was that?!

Sir Pentious: Emily, doesssss Heaven get earthquakessssss?

Emily: I don't even know what those are!

As Sir Pentious and Emily cautiously approached the door from which the sound of bickering emanated, they exchanged a knowing glance. With silent agreement, they inched closer, their curiosity piqued by the faint golden glow seeping through a suspiciously well-placed crack on the door just perfect for their eyes.

Sir Pentious chose to say nothing about it.

Peeking through the cracks, they find themselves shocked at who was at the other side of the door.

Michael: You don't understand! I- it was such a hard decision! It was the best option! I'm Heaven's protector and- Lucifer: You were my protector too!

Emily: Archangel Michael?! / Sir Pentious: His Majesty?!

Emily: His- wait. What do you mean?

Sir Pentious: That'ssssss His Majessssty, Lucifer!

Gasping a little too loudly, Emily's hands flew to cover her mouth.

A part of her wants to go back to the Archangel's words. Where did she hear that before?

Emily: Charlie's dad?? As in the King of-

Michael: -on their knees in front of people other than our Lord. It took so many meetings for them to relent. That's why you and Lilith spent a long time held in the Garden. Lucifer: Shut up. Michael: So, I'm really sorry that we let you down. Lucifer: Shut up, Michael! Michael: But if I had the chance to go back, I would do it all over again.

As Emily listened to the heated exchange between the Archangels, a pang of empathy tugged at her heart. She couldn't help but wonder if someone could truly utter such hurtful words even in the midst of apologies. She doesn't blame Charlie's dad one bit if she were in his shoes. If Sera hurt her like that...

Ah. But Sera did hurt her. She lied to her.

Amidst the confusing emotions swirling within her, Emily's acute senses picked up something else from within the room—voices that didn't belong to the two arguing Archangels. The threads are-

Lucifer: You should've killed me when you had the chance. And now you think you can beat me at my own game?

Wait a second. Where had she heard about golden thread before? What did Sera say? That every soul's destiny, human or not, was already determined by the-

Emily: Oh no. No no no no! Sir Pentious we have to get out here before they see us!

Sir Pentious: Young miss, the Archangel you need is beyond that door plus His Majesty! We can relay the news faster to Charlie this way!

There's manic laughter now but Emily is far too panicked think of it.

Lucifer: Divine move? Divine move? You think you have any moves at all?!

She's pulling him with all her might but the winner is stubborn.

Emily: This room- We aren't allowed here! We're not even allowed to see it! Sera said this is the room of The F-

Lucifer: Maybe then, Heaven could've killed that weak, naive angel. But me? ME?! Ì̶̢̤̉'̵͙͕͑M̷̱͋̀ ̵̬͌T̴̥͠͝H̸̫́̑E̶̳̠̐̎ ̴̠̣̎̐D̷̼̕E̵̢̳͆V̶̳̩̉̋Ì̶̬L̴̥̗̾ ̴̮͝F̸̝̓̀Ų̸̠͗̑C̵͚͗K̷̺̚̚I̵̠̋̕Ň̸͎͈G̵̘̔ ̵̤͛I̸̩͐N̷̥̰̋C̸͓̒̍A̴̙̓R̵͍͛N̴̤͎͠A̵͇̟̓Ṯ̴̯͊Ḙ̴͑̇,̴̰͆̑ ̵̤́ͅÝ̴̙̫̈́O̵͚͐͒U̵̙͂ ̷̱̆͜͝Ċ̸͍̌Á̷̰́N̸͉̈'̶͇̎͂T̵̠̒ ̶͖́K̶̛̲̮̆I̸͎̘͐̃L̴̟̙̔̿L̴̜̾͊ ̶̱̥̌M̵̳̕E̵͈̯͋́!

For the 2nd time that day, they fell as the ground shook with the screams inside.

They scrambled to their feet just in time to witness a terrifying sight—the manifestation of Lucifer's wrath in all its terrifying glory.

Emily's blood ran cold as she saw the scene unfolding before her, mind struggling to comprehend the Devil. The air crackled with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine, and her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Michael: Lucifer—what? Why do you look like that? What did you-

She refuses to believe this is Charlie's dad.

Emily: T-t-that's the K-king of Hell?

She doesn't know why she expected Sir Pentious to be smug or even be proud that this scary being was his former King. But he wasn't. In fact, he looks just as afraid as she is.

Sir Pentious: No. It isssss not.

Lucifer: Don't worry, Mika. I won't die that easily because I'll be there to watch Heaven fall.

----------------------

Even after the King of Hell departed and the Archangel Michael fell silent, Sir Pentious and Emily remained rooted to the spot, hesitant to leave yet also unwilling to enter the room. The lingering tension in the air held them in its grip.

It was the former sinner who spoke up first.

Sir Pentious: Thissss isss our chance, Emily.

Emily: Sir Pentious, maybe we should find another person we could talk to.

Sir Pentious: Come now, little missy. We've already missed His Majesty, and we barely could find a single soul in this building! An Archangel is right there and we must seize this opportunity!

Emily: Shhhhhh! If Sir Michael hears us even near this room, I don't know how I'll tell this to Sera.

Sir Pentious: Do not shush me, young lady! I'll have you know I-

The sudden swing of the door startled both Sir Pentious and Emily, freezing them in place like deer caught in headlights. Before them stood the champion of Heaven, the head of the Archangels, the protector of her home, wearing an expression that Emily could only describe as surprised—though she was on the verge of a full-blown meltdown to really be sure.

Emily: Archangel Michael! We-uh- we can explain!

Sir Pentious: Your Heavenly Grace!

----------------------------------

short my ass, aldjlakla the day had been busy so sorry for the late upload!

I had help from chatgpt again to avoid any redundant words cos I am no English native haha

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Something about the way people talk about Solomon's dismissal of his vulnerability rubs me the wrong way. (I don't have any specific examples, I'm just gonna hope you know what I'm talking about lol.)

I've never seen anything inherently mean, but I have seen comments that seemingly take offense to his "just kiddings" when he expresses his feelings, whether it's romantically or talking about past hardships... And I couldn't pinpoint what it was that confused me about the fandom's responses to that until now.

What Solomon is going through in moments like those is a trauma response. And yes, while trauma responses aren't always beneficial and can sometimes be hurtful to others or the person responding that way themselves, reacting with "negativity" to said responses just makes it worse.

Solomon has an avoidant attachment style, which means he struggles with opening up and being genuine in his feelings even if he wants to. I, myself, am the same way. More often than not, I also follow up a heavier topic with "I'm sorries" or "just kiddings." The thing about this, is it's not meant to be malicious. So, when I see people taking Solomon's comments as if it's a slight to them, I just...??

I can almost guarantee that if those comments where said to him right after he'd attempted to open up, even if it had good intentions, it'd probably make him want to close back up completely. Because there's no patience to his avoidance, no acceptance to why he behaves that way. There's just this perception of not being understood or that his feelings/thoughts aren't safe. It just feels like he's not allowed any grace.

[tusks-and-claws]

Miguel being depressed and picking up an anomaly who notices and is sweet and understanding with him.

Okay I'll write some feelings just this once because I like this. Reader is the anomaly in question. SFW angst/feelings under the cut

And it arrived in the unlikely form of a hulking figure in red and blue. He leaped through the darkness in near silence, binding you up with neon red webs as you struggled to break free. Was this Spider-Man? He didn't look like the Spidey from your dimension. And you, apparently, didn't look like any anomaly he'd ever seen. You looked so scared, so confused. Utterly helpless. When he finally realized that something was amiss, his mask retracted into his suit, revealing his face. It was angular and strong, but there was such weakness in his eyes. It struck you, and you stopped struggling.

-

You didn't know what an anomaly was until you became one, falling out of your dimension and into another. The experience was far more painful than you ever would have been able to predict. You looked out of place, you felt it, your body knew it. The longer you were there, the more it hurt. Until help arrived.

He approached you slowly, his hands up, showing you he didn't mean any harm. "I don't know what's going on," he said, his voice low and level. "But I do know that we need to get you out of here." Apologetically, he released you from his webbing and lifted you up into his capable arms. He carried you through a new portal that he created, bringing you to his headquarters.

There, he placed you in an orange containment device of some kind, and the light of it made you squint. "To keep you from glitching," he had said. "Wish I could give you a day pass, but I don't want to set a bad example. At the very least, I'm expediting the process to get you home. But there are some dangerous characters that need to be prioritized." You nodded. You understood as best you could. He asked you about yourself. And you both learned that there was a version of you from a different dimension that became some kind of villain. Your matching DNA confused whatever presence or influence transported you, and so there you had been, traveling through space and time without a single inkling as to why. A completely regular person in your own world, but a villain in another.

You were in a line, now, a line to eventually go home. The man who saved you seemed to feel terrible about you being there. It wasn't your fault that your interdimensional counterpart was evil. He brought you food and drink from the cafeteria. Empanadas, burgers, all sorts of things. One day, he sheepishly brought you a burger with a bun that looked like his mask. It made you laugh, and that seemed to soften him like nothing else had.

"What about you?" You eventually asked him from inside of your cage. He told you his name, Miguel, but not much else. "It's just that... you look so sad." You admitted.

"I know what it's like to feel so out of place."

"No," you said. "It's more than that." He picked his head up at that, suddenly on guard. "You don't have to tell me anything. I'm sorry. You do so much good. Surely, it outweighs whatever is hanging over you."

"Nothing will ever outweigh it...." He finally said, his expression tortured. "I do all of this because I know what happens when someone doesn't do it. I've made that mistake, and I can never take it back."

You shared a moment of silence with him before saying, "I hope you can at least rest knowing that you saved me. You're my hero because of that. Your past and your mistakes don't matter to me. You'll always be the man that saved my life."

He actually smiled at that. It was small but genuine.

The day came when it was finally your turn to go home. He brought you another burger with his mask on it. A goodbye gift. The sentiment tasted better than the burger ever could. He watched from the platform below as the machine detected your DNA signature and started to weave an enclosure around you. When the portal opened, Miguel's face was the last thing you saw before finally going home.

[sky-fire-forever]

Responding to your line that you put in the water for izzyxreader asks —

Maybe reader is super tough all the time, and so they and Izzy bond over repressing feelings and everything, and then Izzy goes through his transformation and healing era and the reader feels abandoned because everyone on this crew is touchy-feely and now they’re all alone in putting mind over emotion

But then they find out some really bad news (maybe they lost a loved one or something) and fall apart at the seams, and Izzy is there to pick up the pieces

Idk

[AN: I try to leave it vague as to what the bad news actually is, so I'll leave it to your imagination! This is my first time writing X Reader fic, so I hope it's any good! Also, I am posting this on mobile, so I apologize for any formatting errors]

FALLING APART [IZZY HANDS X GENDER NEUTRAL READER]

Izzy Hands is the only one on the ship who understands you. Or so you thought.

These days, it doesn't seem like anyone understands you at all. Izzy included.

It used to be you and Izzy against the world. The two of you understood what it means to be pirates: It means bottling up the fear and the sadness and the… all of it. It means facing the world with a brave face despite how you might feel inside.

You both understood that. Once.

Izzy seems to have forgotten. He wears his emotions on his face now. He talks about them. He wears the title of Unicorn with pride. Things that Izzy wouldn't have been caught dead doing once upon a time.

It seems so easy for him now. He sits with the crew, smiles with them, congratulates them on a job well done. He belongs with them.

And all you can do is watch.

You're almost envious of his ability to change, to grow. It was less lonely being an outsider when Izzy was on the outside with you. Now, you just have to look in and watch as he builds this fantasy family. You wonder how much it will hurt him when it comes tumbling down.

"You could join us, you know," Izzy tells you one night as the crew huddles together by the light and you stand on your own. "No point in you drinking all alone."

You scoff and wave him off. "I don't do well with people." It's an old excuse, one you've used for years.

Just as he always has, Izzy sees through it. "You don't need to push them away. They're... not what we thought they were."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Just because you've gone soft doesn't mean we all will."

Izzy looks at you with something like sadness in his eyes. "The invitation's open."

But it wasn't an invitation you could accept.

Not until later, when a letter comes for you.

As you read it, your hands begin to shake. Your vision gets blurry as your eyes fill with tears. Before you know it, your entire body is trembling.

"Fuck," you whisper. "Fuck!" You shout it at the sea, crumpling the letter in your fist and hurling it at the ocean.

You can never catch a break, can you? The world loves punishing you no matter what you do. People like you don't get a happy ending.

That's something you've always known. You're a pirate and pirates' lives are full of bloodshed and misery and death. A happy ending has never been in the cards for you. Hell, you never even expected a happy middle.

You've never seen the point in crying over the shitty hand you've been dealt. Expressing emotions changes nothing, fixes nothing. So what's the point?

But in this moment, you can't hold it all in. You fall to your knees as tears hit your cheeks. You sob so hard you can hardly breathe. The world around you becomes a blur as you begin to cry.

Strong hands come to wrap around you. Your first instinct is to fight, to shove away whoever is offering you comfort. But you're just too tired and weak to bother.

"I've got ya. I've got you, love." Izzy's soothing voice washes over you as he pulls you into his lap. "I'm here."

Not long ago, the idea of Izzy Hands gently holding you as you fall apart would have been laughable. But here you sit, curled up against his chest as he rubs circles into your back.

You hiccup, trying desperately to regain some control over your breathing. "H-Hurts," you whimper through the tears. "Fuck, it hurts."

"I know," Izzy says softly. "I know, love. I know it hurts. Just let it all out, yeah?"

He presses a kiss to your temple and you squeeze your eyes shut. Sob after sob wrecks through you and you're powerless to stop it.

There's a reason you keep your emotions to yourself. Crying is painful and it's weakness and it fucking sucks. Why would you choose it if you could lock it all away instead?

But somehow crying in Izzy's arms doesn't feel quite as bad as you feared. It still fucking hurts, but he holds you through it, whispering gentle assurances all the while.

And when you've finally cried yourself out, a part of you feels… lighter. Like a great burden has been lifted from your shoulders and all it took was falling apart.

"Shit. I'm sorry," you mutter as you wipe your eyes on the back of your sleeve.

"Nothing to apologize for," Izzy says. "How are you feelin'?"

You hesitate before answering. "Better," you admit somewhat grumpily.

He smiles like he knows how much it pains you to admit that crying helped. "It's easier to fall apart when someone will help pick up the pieces." He reaches up to cup your cheek, brushing away a few stray tears with his thumb.

You swallow and if you had any tears left to shed, you're certain you'd start crying all over again.

Instead, you just wrap your arms around Izzy and hold him close, burying your face in his neck.

"Thank you," you whisper.

He holds you close like it's easy to do it. Like being there for you isn't the burden you know it must be. "Always, love."

And you believe him.

[hoonzluv]

HEART’S ECHOES - NISHIMURA RIKI

chapter 5: goody-two-WHAT?

yn sat alone in the study room, surrounded by books, papers, and notes. she had reserved the room for the tutoring session but felt a bit nervous. even though she had told her teacher she was happy to take on the task, she wasn't entirely sure how it would go.

suddenly, the door opened, and ni-ki walked in, his backpack slung over one shoulder and a carefree expression on his face.

"hey," he said with a light smile.

"hey," yn replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "how are you?"

"i'm good, i guess. a bit tired from classes, but good. you?"

"i'm good too, thanks. so, what do you want to study today?" yn tried to keep a professional tone, wanting the session to be as productive as possible. "i have these papers for us to go over." she pointed to a stack of neatly organized notes. "these are my class notes. i also have my personal notes if you need something more specific."

ni-ki sat down across from her, pulling out a notebook and a pen from his backpack. he seemed a bit lost, like he didn't know where to start. "uhm, well, i think what i'm struggling with the most is math. i don't get any of the stuff from the last unit."

"perfect, let's start with that," yn said, sifting through her papers until she found the math notes. "i've got everything we've covered so far right here. if you point out what you don't understand, i can help you better."

as yn spoke, ni-ki found himself staring at her for a moment. he'd never really paid much attention to her before, but a few days ago, when they were texting about the session, he had seen her profile picture and realized how pretty she was. now, seeing her in person, he confirmed it. yn was strict and structured, sometimes a bit stubborn, but she had a dedication and passion that he was starting to admire.

ni-ki flipped through his notebook, showing a page full of equations and messy notes.

"it's this part about derivatives. i don't get when to use which rule, and i always mess up the steps."

yn looked at the page and nodded. "okay, let's start with the basics." she grabbed a marker and began writing on a whiteboard mounted on the wall. "there are three main rules you need to know: the power rule, the product rule, and the chain rule. i’m going to explain each one, and then we'll do some exercises together."

“wow, you’re such a goody-two-shoes, ynki teased, grinning at her. “always so prepared and organized. how do you do it?”

“oh, it’s easy,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm, “just years of practice being responsible while others slack off playing with balls.”

ni-ki’s grin faltered for a moment, feeling slightly offended by her comment. “yeah, well, not all of us are perfect,” he muttered, trying to brush it off.

as yn explained, ni-ki paid attention, though he occasionally scratched his head in confusion. she made sure to go step by step, pausing to check that he understood each concept before moving on.

"does that make sense so far?" yn asked after explaining the first rule.

"kind of, but i still feel a bit lost," ni-ki admitted.

"that's okay, it's normal at first. let's practice some examples together." yn wrote an equation on the whiteboard and asked ni-ki to try solving it using the rule they had just reviewed.

ni-ki took the marker and started writing, hesitant at first but growing more confident as yn gave him little nudges of encouragement.

"exactly, that's correct." yn smiled when ni-ki finished the equation. "now let's do another one, but this time using the product rule. remember, the key is to identify the parts of the function and apply the rule correctly."

the session continued this way, with yn patiently guiding ni-ki through different problems. after a while, she noticed that he was starting to grasp the concepts better.

"how do you feel now?" she asked after they solved several exercises together.

"better, definitely. i think i'm starting to get it," ni-ki said, smiling slightly.

"i'm glad to hear that." yn returned the smile. "we can review this as many times as needed. i also have notes on other units if you need help with something else."

"for now, i think this is enough. but i'll definitely need more help with math and maybe with chemistry too."

"perfect, i'm here to help with whatever you need." yn gathered her papers and organized them again. "next time, we can focus on chemistry if that works for you."

“yeah, that sounds good. thanks, yn."

"you're welcome, ni-ki. see you at the next session."

as ni-ki left, yn felt an unexpected relief. he first session had gone better than she expected, and although there was still a lot of work to do, she was confident they could achieve good results together and so she will be able to have one more thing in her extensive school record.

prev - m.list - next

note from now on the chapters will be based on different weeks because i need the story to progress... this stressful to do but i enjoy it XD

©  hoonzluv all rights reserved. 2024.

[billys-pretty-babe]

SFW Alphabet

Pairing : Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Warnings : A few mentions of Neil and his abuse and two mentions of Karen.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

At first, he's not very affectionate, maybe a brush of his hands against yours, quick kiss in public but as he gets more comfortable, he gets more affectionate, hand always in your back pocket or you waist.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Billy's a protective best friend, he hates seeing you get into trouble. Friendship would most likely start at school.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Billy loves to cuddle, he's a big spoon, it gives him a chance to protect you, especially when you guys are at his house for the night.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Billy was against settling down, he saw how his parents ended up and it scares him but when he sees a future with you, he's more than ready to leave Hawkins and settle down in California. He cooks, he used to cook for Max when Susan and Neil would leave them alone for a few days but he sucks at cleaning, leaves his clothes everywhere and forgets to clean the kitchen after he uses it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd be straightforward, nothing to soften the blow. I don't think he'd place blame on anyone (unless there is reason to) but blame it on growing apart.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Depending on the circumstance. I truly believe he had no girlfriends before you, or serious ones at least, he had hook ups but no one to give his love to. As soon as the two of you graduate and leave Hawkins, you guys get eloped at the courthouse in Santa Barbara.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Growing up with Neil, Billy had to have his walls up and show no emotion. Six months into your relationship, Billy understood that he was safe to show emotion, especially excitement. I feel like he may be a little rough at first with physical affection but in no way does he hurt you, he's just so excited to show you he loves you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Billy's a hugger, he likes when you sit in his lap and cling to him as he talks about his day, his hands under the back of your shirt as he gently rubs the skin. He's hugging you multiple times a day, no matter what.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

About six months in, he realizes he's in love with you but doesn't say it until about eight months.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh, Billy's jealous. He sees someone flirting with you at a party and he walks over with a red cup in his hand and places his other arm around your shoulders and you know it's him just by his cologne.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are fast paced at first, that's what he's used to. He likes to kiss your pulse point on your neck, just simple little kisses to show affection if he can't express himself properly. He likes being kissed anywhere

(BONUS : after the mindflayer, he wears shirts more often so you kiss the fabric, knowing exactly where his scars lay on his torso and chest).

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

"I've seen you, teaching lessons. Swimming lessons" This shows Billy's a good teacher to the kids, and while we never get to see him with them, I feel like he's gentle with children because he never got that with his father.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's not a morning person so it's spent in bed, talking about how you hope the day goes.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Dinner together, always, Billy hates eating alone now that you guys are together. He does his routine with you and everything.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

About four or five months in, his walls begin to break and he reveals just enough about his home life that you understand why he has the marks and bruises on some days that you get to see him. I feel like he doesn't give too much away at first, he doesn't want to scare you off.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

At first, he was ready to blow up at every little thing, he had anger issues. Now, he has a lot more patience and knows to step away from anything whether it be fixing something or an argument with you, before he gets angry.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Billy remembers everything you've ever told him. Let's say you guys have been together for five years, he still remembers what you said about your senior prom dress.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He truly doesn't have a favorite moment, everything is his favorite, he's just happy he found someone to put up with him and his flaws, you helped him heal.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Extremely protective, he hates when you leave the house alone especially if it's the weekend because everyone is out and he knows you hate crowds and it makes you nervous but errands have to be ran. In public, he's standing in front of you, if you're walking down the sidewalk, he's closest to the road. He doesn't like to be protected, it hurts his ego.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

You're Billy's first girlfriend so he puts his all into everything and it truly surprises you each time he does it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He pulls his hair until the roots break when he's stressed, sometimes, he forgets he's smoking and burns himself or the furniture.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

This is Billy Hargrove that we're talking about, the same guy we watched get ready for a date that he never got to go on. Curls are always styled to perfection, shirts are always unbuttoned and jeans are the tightest they can be. He makes sure to keep a good skin care routine and to shave his beard when it begins to grow but he leaves the stache.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, this poor boy only knew love from his mother so when you come into his life and you showered him with love, he hates, absolutely hates when he can't see you for a few days. He swears he's dying because his chest hurts.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Billy's shy, we saw him practice his lines in the car before going to meet with Karen, he needs to know what he'll say so he won't mess anything up. He exudes confidence but in reality, he's an introvert except when he's under the influence, then he'll talk anyone's ear off if they're willing to listen to him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

According to Billy, he hates everything but you. He doesn't like when you leave a mess in his Camaro but doesn't mind you leaving chap stick or your jewelry in the car, sometimes he'll hang your necklace on his rear-view mirror.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He snores, loudly. He likes to press against you so his mouth is near your ear and it wakes you up. He also takes all of the blanket, claims all the warmth you need, you'll get from cuddling with him, you guys sleep with separate blankets now and he pouts until you slide under the large comforter with him, your throw blanket over you just in case.

[aeferkssr]

serendipitous encounters. ━ if the stranger never meddled into your personal affairs, archons know where you would be right now.

‎‏‏ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‎i. charas. lyney x gn!reader

ii. an. double uploads!?!!? thats crazy!!?! anyways i kinda rushed the end i hope its still okay tho ><

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏g ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎iii. cw. su!cide attempt, hum4n trafficin (mentioned vaguely), reader wears a dress, ooc lyney (???), hurt/comfort, angst. please tell me if there are more!

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏ ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏

the air on the balcony was cool, cool enough to calm you from the several interactions.

the breeze danced around the delicate fabrics of your dress, shoes being long disregarded as you stood on the railings. you whisper faint and final farewells to the very stars that keep you company on your lowest nights, the garden that you would hide away in when you needed some time alone, and to the very life that you have been blessed with.

you doubt you'd be able to live as lavishly in your next life, (you doubt you'll even remember this one, much less make a comparison) but you decided to let fate take the lead.

"you can feel the midnight air just fine from down here, i don't think the need for elevation is mandatory."

fate has got to be fucking with you right now. you didn't even look at him. you respond:

"you needn't worry about me, i'll be careful."

"really?" you could hear the skepticism in his tone. he leans over on the railing and looks up to the stars.

out the corner of your eye you could see the top hat atop his head, intricate designs softly illuminated by the light of the gala and the moon's luminescent rays. a black and maroon ribbon covers the base and is tied in an extravagant bow.

you huff as you look back to the sky, closing your eyes and slowly leaning forward.

well, since he was here, clearly he's entertained by your misery. might as well give him a show.

"what bring you to a fatui ball, stranger?"

archons be damned...

slightly annoyed, you look down to be met with violet eyes and a facial expression you couldn't describe. honest, but sly? guarded, yet vulnerable? who exactly was this guy?

without an answer, he continues:

"clearly you have to have some sort of authority, why lose it all here?"

you take a deep breathe, exhaling every ounce of courage you would of have to climb up in the first place. gently, you make your way down with the help of the stranger, or your savior in this matter.

he takes your hand in both of his as you steady yourself on the floor, he looks worried? interested? whoever this guy is, he's definitely hard to read.

he finally asks,

"excuse my prying, but, what would make someone like you give up?"

you sigh, "very trivial matters, i'm afraid. i'm just a coward running away from my problems"

"a matter worth taking your life over isn't trivial to me."

you stare at him, someone you met for the first time is more worried about you than he was. he's been with you all this time, yet you feel more understood by a total stranger.

you try to not meet his eyes as you told your story, holding his hand a little tighter.

"count blanchett of poisson, he's have many wives in his years. there has been rumors of the women he weds only serving as countess for a few months... until never being seen again."

you sniffle as you try to blink away the upcoming tears, you shouldn't be weak right now, you can't be weak right now.

"...i've told father about the rumors but he tells me i'm being dramatic, that there was nothing to worry about and that his past wives were just incompetent, and to never be like them..."

you can hear his stern voice boom throughout his office:

"all of those women simply went back to their homes. to add, they came back disastrous, unfulfilled, disappointments. that will not be you, understand?"

"the stress of the eldest always goes to the weakest" your voice starts to crack as tears flow down your face. "all of my other siblings are just lap dogs, only there as trophies of his blood..."

you finally look him in the eye,

"why did i have to be the disposable one?"

his mouth hands agape, he didn't know what to say, there was nothing he could say. you pour out your heart and soul through you tears, your hand tries to wipe them away but fail as the sheer amount of sadness that flows out.

he couldn't comfort you, but he could distract you. even if it was for a moment.

he takes your other hand and slowly walks into the grand ballroom. it glows with the warmth of chandeliers casting a soft, golden hue over the polished marble floor. the room is alive with the sounds of a live orchestra playing a mesmerizing waltz.

he brings you to the center of the floor and the music swells. he extends his hand towards you as you sniffle,

"don't be shy. you do know how to dance, right?" he teases as you take his hand with a small smile.

you two begin, moving in perfect harmony to the lilting rhythm of the waltz. the stranger leads with finesse, guiding you across the floor with effortless precision.

your bodies sway in sync, a mesmerizing spectacle of fluidity and grace. with every twirl and dip, you two seem to float on air, lost in the timeless allure of the dance. the world around you fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them in their own enchanting universe.

you can faintly see your silhouette through his eyes as he looks directly into yours.

"you're a good dancer." he speaks, breaking the silence between you both.

"i learnt from the best."

he pulls you closer to him, your chest flush against his as he whispers into your ear:

"lyney."

aeferkssr.

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 10: Second Chances

I've wanted to write something like this for so long, I just adore Arueshalae so much. AO3 Link.

Arueshalae came to in a panic. How long had she been unconscious? Days, months, centuries? And what… what had Desna done to her? What do you dream of? The goddess’s parting words filled her mind. She didn’t know the answer to the question. And she was filled with so many unfamiliar emotions swirling inside her. But she was done with that now! She should just head back to Alushinyrra and get on with her life. Drown herself in wine and blood, eat grapes while mortals and demons serviced her, maybe go see Dimalchio and fuck him until he cried! But all of it seemed… Stangely hollow. It was probably just Desna messing with her head. She had insulted the goddess and gotten a bit too cocky, so suffering some revenge was understandable.

Then she turned her head and saw the priestess she had murdered. She had earned her trust and drank her life away for a few brief moments of pleasure. Arueshalae the succubus saw this woman in a way she never had before. The freckles on her cheeks, the creases worn into her dress from so much walking, the peaceful expression on her lips. Not drunk on pleasure or transfixed in horror, merely calm and at peace. And she was so utterly still. Tears began to form in Arueshalae’s eyes. She didn’t know why. She was crying? Why was she crying?

Why had she killed her? It was in her nature, of course. Arueshalae was a murderer, a remorseless cold-blooded monster who killed for pleasure. At least, she used to be remorseless. Staring at the woman, she couldn’t help but feel regret. Ancient memories of the souls that had created her stirred. They were lustful, depraved people perhaps, but they still loved. They still cared. Why could she not?

Arueshalae whimpered and clutched her head. What had Desna done to her? She shouldn’t feel like this! She shouldn’t feel regret or sorrow after taking a life, it was just a stupid mortal! A stupid, beautiful, important mortal. A life full of joy and love and sorrow and fear that she had so cruelly ended before its time. Arueshalae’s mind wandered back to her and the girl’s time together. It had been so easy to draw her in with good looks and charms, then lead her off to these old ruins.

“I-I mean, this is so sudden…” She had said, blushing. Arueshalae had seen it as endearing, but only for the sweetness of plucking such a shy fruit. “A-and after, you, um… We can cuddle? Please? You look so soft and I just… I enjoy being held.” She hadn’t understood it before. She had assumed it was some lie the mortal was telling herself, pretending she didn’t just want sex and pretending there was some silly notion of romance in their encounter. She saw it clearly now. The girl was lonely. She was starved for affection, she just wanted love. And Arueshalae had taken that longing, promised her love, and abused it to ruin her. She winced and strayed a hand to her own chest. She had abused the girl just like so many other demons had done to her. That had never bothered her before, but now the thought was a pit sinking into her stomach.

Did she want love? Did she want affection? What if, she wondered, she had been able to give the priestess what she truly wanted. Arueshalae looked at her corpse. Perhaps she could now, though it would be hollow comfort to her. Slowly, awkwardly, she looped an arm around the priestess. Some small part of her hoped that she would move in response. She cradled the priestess’s head against her bare chest, holding her close. She had only been dead for a few minutes, but her body was already growing cold. Arueshalae cuddled the priestess against her and began to sob. What if she was still alive? What if Arueshalae didn’t kill everything she touched? The priestess could have wrapped her arms around Arueshalae. The soft warmth of skin against skin, a gentle intimacy of two souls bonded in love and affection.

“I’m sorry…” Came choked cries as Arueshalae pressed her lips to the girl’s forehead. “I’m so sorry… I… W-what have I done… I-I’m a monster…” She pushed the corpse away. She didn’t deserve to indulge in such a fantasy. “D-desna… Why… W-why did you do this to me?” She wailed out to the sky as the Worldwound’s blood rain began to fall. “I was happy! I was happy being a monster! W-why am I regretting this now? I… I thought I was happy…” She started to whisper out a curse to the goddess, but paused and looked down at her hands. She couldn’t see it, but she knew they were soaked with blood. She was soaked with blood. But… She had never known any better.

From the moment Arueshalae emerged screaming from the depths of the Abyssal larvae, she had been a monster. It was in her very soul, or whatever dark pit a succubus had in place of one. It had never really occurred to her that she was wrong, or even that she had hurt people. She just didn’t care. She let out a dry laugh. She had always assumed mortals only pretended that harming others was a bad thing, just another of their silly social constructs. But those foolish paladins and priests had it right all along. Who could have guessed…

But now she had been fed the fruit of knowledge. Her eyes were open, her innocence gone. And it hurt. The knowledge of what she had done was a gnawing agony at her stomach. The guilt of centuries of every vicious crime she could think of weighed heavily on her shoulders, almost breaking her. She felt her soul was fragile, it had changed slightly. She could go back. Back to willful ignorance, back to being a monster. She could feel it inside her, it wouldn’t be hard. Despite the clarity that had dawned on the succubus, she still felt that hunger. It wasn’t so bad now that she had been recently fed, but… The thought of devouring another mortal life made her sick to her stomach now. She’d rather go hungry. 

Arueshalae felt a guiding light on her as she stared up at the moon. It was watching over her, she could feel it. What do you dream of? She wanted to find out the answer, and if she went back she would never be able to. Buried under all the muck and evil, she felt a tiny spark of light that had been awakened inside her. She wanted to keep it safe. She wanted to help it grow. She wanted to learn if there was more to existence than the tortured hedonism of her life up to that point. She wanted to learn why the priestess had smiled as she died.

She was reminded of what a different priest from her past had said. She had tried out a new strategy for her, feigning repentance so she could get close to him, seduce, and murder him. He had told her that everyone, even a demon like her, deserved a second chance. Everyone deserved to be allowed to make a positive impact on the world. Though, Arueshalae had never really gotten a first chance, at least not until now. 

The succubus looked up at the moon’s beauty with renewed eyes. She would take the chance she had been offered. She’d discover the beauty of life outside of the Abyss. She’d give everything she had to become better. With a long sigh, Arueshalae stood up. Her gaze lingered on her victim. She hoped that lovely priestess would be the last victim she ever took. She searched around the ruins for a shovel and began to dig a grave. She set a headstone at it, and engraved Desna’s butterfly into it. She didn’t know the girl’s name, so instead she engraved a promise to herself. “I will become better. I am sorry.”

She buried the priestess there and laid a few flowers on the grave, then wept at her mistake for a long while. Once she had cried her eyes out, she stood up and sighed. How did one actually improve themselves? She could ask mortals, but… Already she felt the familiar hunger, the longing for the rush of blood and life energy she would drink. She should stay away from them. She didn’t even know how to behave around mortals without hurting them. Then her ears flicked and she heard a noise behind her. She darted through the ruins, looking over the ancient road that laid below. A small group of crusaders, or at least travelers, was facing off against a group of babau. They were outmatched, and the demons were closing in.

Arueshalae shuddered. She could already see it, the bodies of these crusaders maimed and brutalized, guts ripped out and strewn across the road. Arueshalae had to intervene. If she was going to become better, that would have to start with helping mortals. She was unarmed, but the priestess had set her starknife on the ground, that would have to do. She grabbed it, wincing as the sanctified cold iron burned her unholy fingers, and leapt down. Her wings unfurled and carried her high, and she landed between the babau and crusaders with a crash.

Demonic gravitas swirled around her as she stared them down. Lies and intimidation came easy to her, and she sneered at the demons with a deathly glare. “Back off, boys. I’m hungry, and they’re just cute enough to eat.”

She felt the crusaders’ swords pointed at her now. Something about it stung, but she could handle it. She deserved their hatred and anger, and it helped to sell her ruse.

The lead of the babau let out a low growl at her. “Fuck off, succubus whore! They belong to us!”

Arueshalae’s glare intensified and most of the babau took a step back. She was their betters, and they feared her like all demons feared those more powerful than themselves. The lead had a streak of arrogance, however. He let out a roar and charged at her to stab.

Arueshalae was not the most inclined for combat, but she knew her way around blades. She nimbly swung her body to the side to dodge and let him charge into her starknife. She winced as she felt the metal rip through skin and sinew, severing his arm. It felt visceral, it felt like the violence she used to carry out. Claws digging into flesh, ripping and tearing as blood covered them in agonizing pleasure. She shook her head, she shouldn’t be thinking about sex right now.

He let out a screech of pain. She used to find such sounds rapturous, now they made her cringe. She fought through the cloud over her mind and the sting of cold iron and gripped the weapon tight. She swung again, a wide arc that ripped through his neck. His head tumbled off and his body collapsed with a few final twitches.

She was breathing heavily. She hadn’t even been scratched, but she felt the same panic rising in her chest as when she was badly hurt and scrambling to survive. The rush of blood, the roar in her mind, it was overwhelming and had panic rising in her breast. Her composure started to crack as she turned to the rest of the demons and mustered her willpower. “A-anyone else want to deny my meal?”

The other demons scattered quickly, running for the hills. Arueshalae still felt the crusaders at her back, frozen in fear and confusion at why she wasn’t attacking. She was crying and shaking now, she couldn’t turn to face them. “Leave. NOW! Run for your lives!” She tried to speak as harshly as she could, praying they’d just run. All but one backed away, then started to run down the road.

She glanced back, keeping most of her face hidden. The crusader that remained was a young woman, dressed in Erastil’s colors with a bow at her back. She stared hard at Arueshalae. The succubus couldn’t bear to meet her gaze as she desperately tried to hide the panic in her.

Finally, the woman spoke calmly. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but… Thank you.” She slowly took the bow off her back. “I… I understand the hatred of melee combat. The rush is so overwhelming. Maybe… Maybe this will serve you better.” She set it on the ground and turned to run away back to her fellows.

As soon as she was no longer in view, Arueshalae crumpled into a sobbing heap on the bloodstained ground. She had never been so averse to close combat in the past, but even only a few seconds had her panicking with terror as her demonic rage and desires flooded in her mind. Maybe the priest was right. Maybe she should learn to use a bow. She carefully reached out to pick it up, feeling the smooth wood in her hands.

But, she should celebrate, a voice in her head said. She had done something good! Those crusaders would have died if not for her! The thought brought a slight smile to her face. She was capable of not hurting people. She was even capable of helping them! It would be hard but… Perhaps she really could change for the better.

[nuoyipeach]

My Alpha

Kang Seulgi X Lee Taeyong

warnings: none really

tags: @seulyongggi @gerardeveryway @gomseulgiii @innssanityyy

so this is actually one of my first oneshots from like 2018 lol, I was going thru my wattpad & figured it deserves a revised version (different pairing as well hahah), hope you guys enjoy it♡

Just as I woke up, memories of yesterday flashed by my eyes, and I remembered. I am no longer the young Luna Seulgi. I am no longer the only daughter of the Alpha from Kang Pack. And, I am no longer single.

I slowly opened my eyes, and saw silk, heaving up and down, and knew instantly who's chest this was. I thought about doing something to see how he feels about this marriage.

Yes, this was an arranged marriage, between me, the young Luna of Kang Pack, and him, the Alpha of the Lee Pack, the strongest there is. But it isn't entirely arranged. Mine was under risk of threat from their Pack, and so I suggested to my parents to marry me to him, to keep my family safe. Of course my parents were reluctant about it, but here I am, the morning after my wedding to the strongest Alpha there was, Lee Taeyong. He accepted obviously, but I was still curious as to how he really feels.

I stared as his chest heaved up and down, and thought about what to do. Slowly, I snaked my hand around him, and snuggled into his chest. He is my husband now, so why not? Suddenly, I felt his arm go around me, hugging me tight to his body. The corner of my lips twitched, but then, his next move caught me off guard.

His head is suddenly in the crook of my neck, and I freeze feeling his teeth on my skin. He was still pulling me closer, cuddling I assume, but I was confused what he's trying to do. A few moments in, he's now on top of me, and I now can tell what he's doing.

Taeyong laid on top of her, biting into her neck in different spots. She squirmed under his weight, but being the patient young lady she was, did not think to push him away.

He's my husband now, so I shouldn't mind.

She felt a sudden pierce in her neck, and groaned in pain, grabbing his arms tight. Finally he looked up at her.

He stared at me with such frightful eyes, so I kept still. "Taeyong..." I tried to call him softly.

"You have no right to call me that." he growled. "To you, I must be called Your Majesty. Understood?"

I of course nodded. I've heard stories of this Alpha, and he was not one to be unpleased. I've heard how many have died, or how many were tortured. So all I have to do is comply with him.

"And remember, no matter what I do, I will never love you."

My heart broke into pieces? No. I knew this would come. But I couldn't care less. I did this to keep my family safe, and that has happened.

And besides, I have seen my parents. Their's was a completely arranged marriage, to the point where they only saw each other's faces on the day of their wedding for the first time. Yet after few months, and until now, they cherish each other whole heartedly. My mother always told me how they even slept in different rooms at first, and now they can never think of having different beds.

So I nodded, and could see the slight shock in his eyes.

>>> 

Seulgi walked around the Palace garden, observing the nature around her. She was not sad, at all. She enjoyed her life as it was. Her maiden had told her in secret that after she came along, the Pack became much calmer than before, and she was happy to have made a change for them.

"Would you like me to take some flowers for your room Your Highness?" my maiden asked as I touched a rose. I smiled back and shook my head.

"They are beautiful as they are. There is no need to do so. If I want to see them, I'll come outside."

She looked at me with an unreadable expression, but I didn't bother. We returned to the Palace, met by the running around of the other servants. The Palace was always busy, but never this chaotic, so I stopped a man to asked what was happening.

"Your Highness, the Alpha is angered. His mistress was seen with another man, and it has been known that they are marrying today. The Alpha is furious, close to destroying the Kingdom."

Was I surprised? No. I knew about his mistress, since before our marriage. Did I care? Not really. Until a certain point, I didn't bother. But right now, I need to find him. I ran up to our personal floor, and watched as servants flew out of the study room. I went closer, avoiding all the flying forms of wolves and human, until I found him, and a destroyed study.

Taeyong faced the back of the room, breathing heavily as he slowly switched forms again, back to human.

"Your Majesty."

"Leave Seulgi." he spat out. "Leave now before I kill you!"

I continued to get closer. "How can I? You may not like it, but you still are my husband. It is my duty to care for you." I held his shoulders from behind, and slowly enveloped him, resting my head on his shoulder. "Please calm down. We can resolve this somehow. Don't worry."

I could hear him huff. "Are you not hurt? I have a mistress, and you're going to help me resolve this?"

I nod my head, because that was the only truth.

"Leave Seulgi. Now!"

"Yes, your Majesty."

>>> 

"Your Highness, his Majesty had the mistress executed, and the man exiled." the servant told me while serving me tea.

But I honestly couldn't care less.

"Oh. Alright."

"Are you not perhaps happy?" he asked me.

"Happy? About what?" there was nothing for me to be happy or sad about. I did not know her, I did not care for her.

"Never mind. His Majesty would like you to come up to your bedroom." he said finally before taking the tray away.

I nodded and signaled him to leave. I closed my book and left the now fixed study and arrived at our room. As I entered I noticed how dark it was, unusual since it was noon. The curtains had all been left closed, and no candles were lit except two or three.

"Your Majesty," I called once seeing Taeyong on the bed, facing the other way, "you called."

"Get over here Seulgi, right now."

I stood in front of him, and he looked up at me, eyes as if full of fire. Suddenly, he grabbed my arms, and pulled me down on top of him, sat on his lap.

"I have killed her. Are you happy?"

"If you feel relieved, then I am."

"Are you happy I got rid of her? Speak for yourself!" he growled, his hold on my arms tightening.

"But, I have nothing to do with her, your Majesty. I have never seen her, and know nothing about her. What is she to me whether dead or alive?"

>>> 

I love to dance. Whenever I am bored, I find amusement in dancing. And since I have come here, I made sure the garden is completely mine, no one else, except Taeyong, is allowed to enter without me present. He granted me this wish easily, so now I can dance whenever I want.

I wore my favourite black dress, and danced away to my own music box. It was not a way of stress relief, I don't get stressed. It's just a hobby.

As she danced away, a figure appeared not too far from her, and approached the flowers. With anger built up in him, he starts ripping at the flowers, pulling and scratching off the petals and leaves. He growled and groaned, causing the young lady to turn to his direction.

It was Taeyong. And he was killing the flowers, and that was something I was against. But seeing him behave that way, I know I have to step in. So I did.

"Your Majesty?"

He stopped, heaving deep breaths. "Seulgi... Why did it have to come to this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Why did I not realise before, this was all a terrible mistake?"

He is drunk. I can tell.

"Your Majesty, let's retire for tonight. Come with me." I gently held his arm, careful of his reaction.

He didn't react, instead turning to me. His eyes were sorrowful, something I had never seen in an Alpha before. "Seulgi, if you were given the choice, would you love me, or hate me?"

"I would love you."

"Why? Why can you not just hate me?"

"Because I have no reason to. Why should I hate you?" he pulled his arm away from my hold.

"I have never shown you any affection. I kept my mistress even after marriage. I took you away from your family and Pack. Why would you still love me?"

"Because I still married you knowing all this. I knew you would not like me, I knew about your mistress, and I knew I would leave my Pack behind. And yet, here I am, as your wife." I smiled a little. His expression changed, and he grabbed my arms, pulling me closer to him. I held his as well, trying to keep balance. He suddenly hugged me, and I could feel my shoulder getting wet.

He's crying. Why, I don't understand. I simply hugged him back and stroked his hair, trying my best to soothe him. "Why are you crying, Your Majesty?"

"Don't call me that anymore Seulgi."

"Yes..." then, what do I call him?

"Yours. Call me yours. When someone asks who I am, I want to be known as yours. I want everyone to know that I belong to you. I am only your Alpha."

Am I happy? Of course. He's finally confessed, and I'm more than happy. I hugged him tighter, and left a soft kiss on his cheek, to which, I could feel, he froze.

"Taeyong, let's go back inside." I whispered to him.

"Can we sleep together?"

"Of course. We're married. We're supposed to sleep together."

"No Seulgi."

He pushed me out, holding my shoulders tight.

"Can we sleep, together?"

He was emphasising, and I finally understood what he meant.

Taeyong pushed her down to the bed, their kisses getting more rough and passionate. He tugged on the hem of her dress, hands sneaking up her bare skin and squeezing her body wherever he could, to which she moaned.

"Taeyong." he let go of her lips to look at her. "If you were to choose, would you love me, or hate me?"

"There is only one answer to that." he responded, the softest she had ever heard him speak. "I hate that I love you, because I love you so much it makes me weak... I wondered what type of Alpha that made me, my ego wouldn't let me accept it." he lowered his face again, their noses touching as he pressed his against hers. "But now I know, loving my mate makes me stronger."

He kissed her again, not leaving any space between their bodies, their clothes peeled off one at a time, pulling her closer until they became one.

>>> 

My maiden told me today that the Pack has never been so peaceful and happy before. I have achieved my life goal, to make the people around me happy, by doing anything possible. And I did. I married their Alpha, my Alpha, and made him happy, even myself.

Seulgi finished writing, when the pen was suddenly taken away from her. She looked behind her and smiled at the man, who had been watching her. He smiled back, and suddenly wrote at the bottom of the page, and she read as he wrote each word.

"Now, we will be happier than before, because I am carrying my Alpha's child."

Taeyong closed the diary, and pulled her out of her chair, one hand holding her waist, while the other carassed her big tummy. She threw her hands around his neck, and they smiled at each other.

"What am I Seulgi?"

"You are the leader of the Lee Pack." I teased, smiling as he scoffed.

"And..."

I love him so much, my smile meant so much more than fun, and I knew his did too.

"You are my Alpha."

>>>