#a letter titled : I Hope You've Been Doing Well

[solomonyau]

what it's like inside my mind - Chapter 13 : 'a letter titled : I Hope You've Been Doing Well.'

I hope you’ve been doing well. 

This may not seem like the most conventional way to send my letters, but I figured you’d never open them anyways so I thought I’d let you know that -

If I could nail my hands to the closest things that reminded me of you, I’d nail them to your smile

Your scent still lingers on the hoodie that you often times deliberately stole & wore to every single time we met 

The pictures, still littered on my wall felt as though as if they were glued with the strongest glue in the entire universe

Funny enough, I never really believed in the thought of love until I met you

But now I understand that loving you was the best thing that I’ve ever done 

& maybe it’ll never be the biggest mistake that I’ll ever do

But if the law of love was timing & chemistry - then maybe according to physics I’d be off exactly the amount of spaces between calloused hands

This empty squared-foot of a structure would be broken down, rebuilt with constant defence’s known as heartbreak 

Shattered glass - impending ambulances with the sirens on 

Whaling at the footsteps of heavens gates, structuring procedures to stitch this torn up vessel 

Doctors yelling ‘He needs a love transfusion, we need a donor!’ 

Watching you walk out that heavy door only known to lovers

So, I hope he’s been treating you well

I hope he loves the way you smile as it grins across your face

I hope he wears your colours, as I’ve only known to wear black

I hope he holds your hands, when they get cold & lets you pull away when you are embarrassed for your sweaty palms 

I hope he gives you hugs, when the darkness gets so unbearably cold

I hope he fills your void, for I was never enough to eclipse the moons that were covering your star signs

But lastly, I hope he kisses you, in the small doses that you ever so love

So, I hope you’ve been doing well

I hope you’re achieving the happiness that ever so eluded you, 

& just know that this will be the last ever letter I’ll ever send to you.

[lehguru]

GYM (STAFF) CRUSH + RORONOA ZORO

getting a part-time job at your local gym during the summer sounded like a good idea. the guy you've been eyeing for months thought the same thing.

info: my submission to the help wanted! collab hosted by the @interstellar-inn!! its been sum time since i last wrote sum this big sob. wc 1.5k — warnings: gym talk, a gym goer is a bit of an weirdo towards reader, swearing || ko-fi

if you focused enough, you could see the heat waves coming from the asphalt outside. the sun seemed unbearable—you felt bad for the people that left their cars in the parking lot—, but the air conditioner hitting you right in the back of your neck ensured you were comfortable. as you were typing away in the reception computer, pretending to do the spreadsheet the manager asked you to fill (before she simply left, the surfboard on top of her car a good clue to where she went), you lost yourself in the song playing on the loud speakers.

fortunately, you managed to put your playlist on that day. All the songs playing not only were the ones you listened to while working out, but also were your favorites to daydream with too. while you were softly dancing and shaking your head to the beats, you didn’t notice one of your coworkers approaching you.

the burly man rested his forearms against the counter, his gray eyes started to watch your movements and one of his eyebrows raised. you finally turned around, you wanted to get some documents to actually submit something to the spreadsheet, and jumped back, one of your hands coming to rest against your chest. your eyes locked into his cold ones, your cheeks immediately heating up. his eyes narrowed for a split second; if you weren’t staring at his face, that would’ve escaped you.

“dude! you scared me!” you took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heavy gaze staring at you.

“sorry,” he muttered, his deep voice making it sound almost like a growl. he placed a clipboard in front of you, the title ‘storage’ making you hum softly. “the inventory and stuff we need to buy.”

you nodded, thanking him quietly and smiling at him. the man didn’t smile back. he never did, anyway. he nodded and turned around, walking back inside the gym and leaving you with your inner turmoil. as you sighed loudly and turned to the computer again, you tried to focus on the work.

getting a summer job wasn’t a bad idea. as a college student, you could use some extra money for emergencies—even if you knew you would end up spending it anyway, it was still extra money. your local gym had some job openings and you, someone who went there everyday, thought it was a good idea to send an application. it was indeed a good idea, the job was easy, you could stay in a cool environment while the heat outside seemed to cook you alive, plus it paid you enough. the only problem was that he had the same idea.

roronoa zoro was your gym crush for a while. you were convinced he was everyone’s gym crush, though. throughout the couple of months since the first time you saw him—you still remember how your eyes widened seeing his broad back flexing during pull ups—, you noticed that you both went to the gym at the same time and, fortunately, sometimes your workout would match his. the longest interaction you two had, before starting to work together, was him asking if you were done with using a specific bench. you murmured a quick and embarrassed ‘yes’, almost tripping over your own feet in the process, and he just nodded, taking your place in the bench as you walked to your next exercise.

you thought that having to see you almost everyday would make him open up, but the green haired man always kept you at arms length, never letting you past the ‘we are coworkers’ wall. you sighed once again, frowning slightly and erasing another random line of letters you typed to look busy. a small cough and an ‘excuse me’ took your attention from the screen, from your thoughts as well, and you turned around, hoping to see zoro standing there. unfortunately, it was one of the guys that always caused some kind of trouble around the gym—your manager didn’t really care enough to kick him out or even give him a warning.

you put on your best customer service smile and blinked sweetly at him. “yes, sir? how may i help you?” you said, trying to not sound like you wanted him gone… which you did.

“can you change the music or something?” he said, placing his hands on the counter and leaning towards you, almost as if he was trying to intimidate you. you raised your eyebrows at his behavior and he carried on, not caring about your reaction. “i forgot my headphones, so i have to listen to what you guys play.”

the smile on your face faltered for a second. the urge to just tell him off, say that him forgetting his headphone wasn't your problem, overwhelmed you quickly; biting your tongue, you answered:

“unfortunately, there's nothing we can do. the playlist is selected by the staff and—”

“you're staff, you can change it then.” he cut you off and smirked, making you almost roll your eyes. “c'mon, this playlist fucking sucks. anything will be better.”

before any other word could escape his crusty lips, a voice you grew used to interjected into the conversation. “i like this playlist.”

you both turned to look at zoro and you bit your lower lip to hide a smile. your coworker was looking terrifying; his arms were crossed, his biceps and shoulders seemed like they were about to burst open the black sleeve of his shirt, and the absolute angry gaze he shot at the man—who was now cowering a little—made you almost feel bad for him.

“is there any problem, sir?” you placed a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your giggle in a subtle way. if you looked at zoro, you would see how the corner of his lips curve up for a moment.

the guy shook his head and put his hands up, slowly backing away from the counter and leaving through the front door. as soon as he left, you allowed a soft chuckle to escape your lips. before you could thank zoro, or call the other guy an asshole, the man in front of you murmured loud enough for you to hear:

“fuckin’ asshole.” he turned to look at you. a deep breath made his chest wave up and down, your eyes flicking from that movement back to his eyes. “you good?”

you nodded. the muscles on his jaw flexed and roronoa opened his lips slightly, as if he was about to say something, but he closed them again. you wish you could be inside his mind, the curiosity of what he wanted to say made you lean forward; you hoped it would make him want to say.

instead, he uncrossed his arms and rubbed the back of his head. “i will be in the back.”

you felt a little bit…disappointed. you hoped he would stay there and talk to you a little more. the situation you just went through was shitty, but it made him stand up for you. you wanted him to stay there, to use the situation as an excuse to be with you for the rest of your shift, but you just nodded.

“i— your buzz cut looks nice.” you blurted out of nowhere, making you want to slap yourself in the face. you prayed he wouldn't notice your embarrassment.

if he did, he didn't mention it. he just chuckled, a deep and husky sound that almost made you giggle again, and growled a ‘thanks’.

as you tried to settle back into your work, you couldn't shake off the small feeling that settled in the pit of your stomach. it wasn't necessarily bad, it just…annoyed you. having the man as your gym crush was already annoying, how would you work with him if you had a real crush? you felt your face heating up even more, but you were pulled away from your thoughts by zoro himself; not even five minutes after he left, he came back to the reception.

“actually…” he started, his eyebrows furrowing. “do you want to work out with me tomorrow?”

the way your eyes widened gave out your surprise, but you quickly answered. “su— sure!” you licked your lips—you were obvious to the way he followed the movement with his eyes and licked his own lips—and sighed. “but the manager did say that thing about ‘no workplace relationships’... not that this would be a relationship, i mean—”

“fuck the manager.” he growled, shutting you instantly. you smiled with joy at his audacity, you wanted to say the same out loud for a while. “see you at the same hour tomorrow, then?”

you nodded. “yeah. same hour.”

he nodded too and walked away, this time a big smirk—it was your first time seeing anything like that—stamped on his face. you scoffed. did you seriously let him defend you and be the one to take the first step?

well…at least that gave you a push to be the one to initiate a kiss.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

[yanderegrizzsworld]

Heyyy. I just got into the digital circus fandom and I'm HOOKED with how well you write down the characters (even if it's only a few works) Not really a request but I just got an idea to share y'know. What if the Reader found a way to get out of the digital circus but can only transport themselves out, leaving the circus gang behind. What do you think they would be like?

In my opinion I think they would go nuts, because now their friend (and emotional support) is gone and it would increase their risk of getting abstracted.

Anon, I love how generous you are about how you think their abstraction risk levels would merely increase, as if they wouldn't just already abstract by the mere moment the learn the reader somehow managed to leave the circus.

Most of the crew would have a similar reaction, that of initial shock & disbelief. But afterwards, emotions differ slightly between each before an inevitable abstraction happens, but who would be the very first is hard to say.

Characters like Pomni, Ragatha would absolutely deny the possibilities of you escaping at first. How could you escape? More so, How could you escape without them? Why without them? Between the two, it's a pretty close tie on who abstracts first, but I'm of the belief that Ragatha would beat Pomni.

Kinger & Gangle would have a complete mental breakdown by your disappearance. Everyone viewed you as emotional support, but this two in particular made it very obvious that you were their support through this. I can imagine Ragatha attempting (& failing) to keep this two calm while she's trying not to abstract as well, yet their screams & cries echoing all around them is making it very difficult for her to.

Then you have Zooble & Jax, who both show little to no concern about the sudden problem. Hell, Kinger or Ragatha might even call them heartless (they don't actually mean it, they're just full of so many conflicting emotions & thoughts). But they both do care, & they feel just as heartbroken & empty of the fact you've left without even telling any of them. To an extent, they feel slightly at fault, that maybe if they were there for you more, that if they were softer with you, less rude, more open, perhaps you would've stayed? Perhaps you would've turned your back at the opportunity to return to the real world? For them?

Ragatha is already very close to her breaking point by the digital realm & she's my pick for the first one of the crew to abstract first. She's most likely/definitely seen previous performers abstract right before her eyes, any sense of self identity & awareness fully gone by the shatter of the mind. She held on to her self well & seemingly even better with you around! But now? I truly hope deep down she'll be happy to at least see Kaufmo down there, somewhere.

Pomni, I feel like, would ponder if she did something, for you leave without anyone, without her. Did she upset you? Did she annoy you to the point of using the opportunity to escape her? Why didn't you at least leave a letter or something? Her mind, so full of endless questions & what if's, completely consumes her. She won't feel or notice her body shifting & contorting as she abstracts, or maybe she does, & somewhere deep down in her, she feels she deserves it. You were arguably the only reason she didn't abstract yet & she was grateful for that, but now? She'll at least finally meet the other perfomers down there.

Kinger might honestly be the first to abstract the moment such words are uttered out loud. How?! When?! ...Why? Getting him to quit screaming at the top of his lungs will be high feat alone, but keeping him from abstracting? That's close to impossible now. He can at least have the "title" of the oldest & longest lasting performer who's been in the realm without abstracting.

Gangle is, pure & simple, an absolute mess. I don't personally think she'd abstract immediately after hearing the news, but she does become a ticking time bomb until her abstraction. She's very similar to Kinger, only difference is she sobs profusely instead of screaming. She most likely can't find the strength to wear a newly fixed comedy mask, the tragedy mask permanent on her face, regardless of Caine's insistence that she puts on a smile for the "audience".

At first everyone would believe Jax simply didn't care about the fact that you're gone. It wouldn't help his case if he were to say some snarky remark along the lines of how now he has to find a no one but himself to execute his pranks. Whatever he says most likely gets him a slap on the back of his head from Zooble. Yet under all that I don't really care attitude he has, he is just as devastated as the rest, he feels like some form of void has been born within him, everything from astounded to seething to desolate, an ardent & overwhelming collision of emotions that threaten to rip out of him with sick firmness. He feels at fault, he feels he's pushed you too much, made you feel unwanted. His guilt eats him alive, but he won't show it, he can't, he's the "funny asshole" of the crew! He's got a image to uphold here! But sometimes, when no one is around to see, he might knock on your old door or leave something in there, maybe in the hopes you'll return? Reveal it was some sick & unfunny joke on all of them? I feel like he's abstraction would be slow, but when he does, he's much more violent & seems almost desperate, perhaps looking for you?

Zooble is very similar to Jax in the way that their tone & general attitude come off as they don't care. Unlike Jax however, it is possible to see that they are affected by us leaving if one looks closely. Zooble is moodier than usual, quicker to snap at others (especially Jax) & is more adamant at being left alone, yet there's a palpable tint of sadness in their voice –slight cracks even– & when not locked up in their room, their found in areas that we frequented or liked the most. We've essentially become a touchy subject for them & the moment we're brought up, the room becomes a landmine. Their abstraction is also a slow one, yet everyone feels & expects it to come at some point now, when Zooble's ticked off, most back away in fear they'll abstract & attack them. Zooble's incredibly hard to read, & that makes them scary when abstracted.

[moodymisty]

Instead of Lorgar getting cucked by Erebus (shudders) what about Argel Tal? He’s a Word Bearer space marine and I’ve heard good things about him. Also, this way we can have had Lorgar get cucked by his father (Emepror), his brother (Horus), and his son (Argel Tal)

Author’s note: I’m sorry I couldn’t not do it XD I'm normally really not a cheating/NTR type of person, but i had this idea and decided to just go for it.

Warnings: very vaguely lewd, Cheating, You are Lorgar’s beloved but he’s been gone for almost two years so Argel’s gonna tap that

Lorgar was often gone for so long.

For months, months apon months, It wasn't uncommon for life ending droughts and city destroying floods to happen in his absence. Entire building erected or torn down.

It's approaching a year and a half now since he left, and if it weren't for the murals, tapestries and art, you would've sworn you had begun to forget the details of his face.

You've stopped sleeping in his room since. You couldn't do it anymore. Something about it just felt so empty and cold.

He’s due to be gone for months longer still, as his crusade has drifted him so far from home. The letters and vox calls have stopped since, it's too far for them to reach Colchis.

It’s been so lonely. The emotional loneliness, the lack of someone to talk to…

The physical loneliness; The want for a hug, and a warm bed.

Argel Tal has at least been saying your need for the first type, talking with you as you look over the balcony. You’re leaning against it, dress gently flowing in the wind as the cool night air hits your skin, while Argel grasps it with a single, armored hand. You're surprised he's made such good company, normally the astartes are so stoic that it's hard to speak to them for more than a bit at a time.

Then again, you also think he's doing it because Lorgar ordered him to. To keep an eye on you. You only have an inkling, but even if he was, at least he seems to be enjoying it a bit none the less. You are as well.

The conversation has tapered off however, and you watch lights in the far distance flicker while the stars shine in the sky. It's peaceful. Argel breaks the silence with his voice- deep and rumbling in that odd astartes way.

"...Do you miss him, my Lady?"

He takes off his helmet, looking down at you. You hear the soft clink as he hangs it on his belt. It takes a moment for you to gather the words.

"I do, more than anything, but..."

You hesitate. Argel Tal is his son, one of his prized captains. His look is expectant, and for some reason you perhaps naively think he won't misconstrue your words.

"He's been gone for so long that I almost miss him less. Like when someone dies and you miss them with all your heart, but the wound slowly fades."

Argel looks down at you, jaw shifting as he thinks.

“Perhaps the others might not but, I understand.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Argel. You are a good man.”

Argel smiles, his tan skin scarred across his cheeks but still warm. You can't help but smile back at him as a cold breeze makes you shiver.

“I am honored you think that.”

Argel has so much humility compared to the other Word Bearers you’ve met, it’s refreshing. It also helps that he isn't as dedicated to Lorgar's titles for you; And had listened to your request when you told him to not use them.

You've been always looking forward to seeing him in these moments. It's the most joy you get in weeks long stretches at a time.

“I,” You don’t know why you hesitate, for a moment. “I should head to bed. Thank you for your time again, Argel. I hope you know how much I appreciate you being here.”

The astartes nods, pulling away from the railing as you do the same.

"You make good company as well. Astartes like I don't often get to speak with normal humans beyond giving orders." You give him another smile, before wishing him good night. He nods and leaves you, after you politely declined his offer to bring you to your quarters.

When you had, he seemed like he had something a bit more to say, but instead closed his mouth and walked away.

You decided about halfway that you would return to Lorgar's personal quarters instead; Perhaps to read a few of his books before trying to sleep. It probably wouldn't help, but you still wanted to try anyways. It was a long walk to get across the palace to where his quarters were, and by the time you got there you felt like sitting down.

You close the massive doors behind you, looking around. The bed is made from the last time you were in here, not a thing out of place. All the papers on his desk are scattered just the same, things half written or abandoned; Almost as if frozen in time.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps right outside causes you to turn back towards the door with a look of surprise, which only grows widen when the door is shoved open to reveal Argel. He’s removed his armor in the short time since he left, walking towards you in only his loose robes.

You don’t have time to say anything; Argel’s hands grab your face with both hands around your jaw- ignoring your shock gasp and instinctive fear has massive hands reached towards your neck - and leans downward to smash his lips against yours. He is rough and unforgiving, but even in his forcefulness you can feel something gentle there.

“You cannot tell Lorgar about these sins I have already committed,”

He says, lips brushing over yours. You could say the same as well. You are his beloved, but not yet wife.

But you are also so, unbelievably lonely.

“I won’t, I won’t ever-“

His lips are back on yours, and you attempt to pull him towards the bed. Any hope in realizing you shouldn’t do this is gone, you lost it as his hands gripped the thin fabric of your nightdress. You lost it in the desire for some sort of company, to fill the places in your heart Lorgar's constant abandonments leave ripped open.

Your back hits the bed and Argel follows.

“Tell me what you want, before I lose myself to my own selfishness.”

His body is so heavy, but he’s unfraid to push his weight against you. He takes the breath from your lungs, his hand tight on your waist.

“Just… Just touch me.”

[lucysgraybird]

whoa...part 3 of modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader, and it's 18+? who is she. anyways part 1 here, part 2 here

warnings: mdni, oral (f&m receiving), p in v (unprotected), blood mentions (minor), religious imagery (minor)

The summer between junior and senior year comes and goes, as does the first semester of your last year in college. It's filled with internships and grad school applications, but you're still going strong with Coriolanus. You get through the most unguarded you've ever seen him – the weeks leading up to the release of LSAT scores. You're actually unaware that it's coming up because he's been so private about the whole process until you get into a screaming match in the Snow apartment with him about something you can't even remember now. When you threaten to leave if he can't be polite, he breaks down crying – something you didn't even know he was capable of. He apologizes and explains himself, and though you suspect his tears aren't genuine, you catch him in a hug and hold him on the couch until he falls asleep. 

A week letter, his score comes in the mail: a perfect 180. The celebration is quiet – just you, his family, and his boss, who Coriolanus is closer with than you knew. He's an interesting man – his name is Strabo Plinth, and you learn that he's the CEO of a company that manufactures weapons for the government. You want to tell your boyfriend that such a job may not play well on his resumé at the polls, if that's where he wants to end up, but it's not your place and you're sure he's thought about that. 

All in all, by the time the spring semester rolls around, your futures are beginning to take shape. You both get into your dream schools, him for law and you for intelligence analysis. When that letter comes in, Coriolanus teases you up and down about being the stereotypical academic recruit into the CIA, but you care more to understand these agencies than work for them. You won't attend school together anymore, but it's not more than an hour by train to visit, and there's been no indication of the end of your relationship nearing. In fact, when your parents come down for parents’ weekend, Coriolanus spends about forty minutes talking to your father away from you and your mother, and when they rejoin the group, your father claps you on the shoulder and tells you that you found a good man.

There's a brief, blissful period at the end of the year before graduation when everything's been turned in and you can just enjoy the sunshine and new warmth. One of these days finds you and Coriolanus lounging on the quad on a blanket. Your head is in his lap as he plays with your hair, working his fingers through the small tangles that the early May breeze has created. It is quiet, and you are bored.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” you say, opening your eyes to lock on his. The midday light turns them almost white, like his eponymous snow. It takes a lot of willpower not to pull a face. 

“Yes, darling?” A nickname he's picked up in the last month or so. It made you laugh in shock the first time he said it, but now it feels lush. 

“I got an email from the dean the other day. I made valedictorian,” you say with a toothy, cruel grin.

You're hoping for a reaction, maybe a flash of anger. It dances across his features for the barest fraction of a second, enough to work a little adrenaline through your body, and then you get a neat smile and a cock of his head.

“Congratulations.”

“You're not mad?”

“Why would I be? You've worked hard, you deserve it. I'm not going to get upset over a silly title.”

You sit up and turn to stare at him. “What do you mean, silly?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that. I mean that I decided it wasn’t important to me anymore, now that I’ve gotten into law school. I thought you had gotten over it too, but since it’s important, congratulations.”

He’s deflecting, obviously, and you tell him as much. 

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he shrugs. “Okay.”

“No, you are! What, did you get salutatorian? Since when are you fine with second place?”

“Since first place wouldn’t have gotten me anything, darling. You’re ruining this for yourself, okay? I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

You’re left with nothing to say, searching his face for any mark of that brief rage from earlier before flumping back into his lap. He laughs. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You don’t need to pout. I would’ve said something else if I had known it was going to upset you like this.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not,” you say, giving him a gracious smile, having found a new mate-in-one. “Whether or not you wanted the title anymore, we’ll always know who’s smarter.” 

Your face says teasing – your tone has teeth. Coriolanus’ eyes narrow. 

“That’s not what this means.”

“It’s what it means to me. And you clearly don’t care about that, so it should be no problem if that’s how I’m taking it.”

And ooh, you know it’s petty. You know this is possibly the most childish conversation you’ve had with anyone in years. But he doesn’t reply, opting instead to settle back on his hands and stare across the quad. There’s a mean tension in the air now, blooming hot, fizzy pride in your sternum. It’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe through it until it’s just another triumph. 

Graduation goes as smoothly as anything run by the school can – which is to say, too long and a bureaucratic clusterfuck – but you give your speech and get your diploma and take about forty pictures of Coriolanus onstage, and it feels like the perfect punctuation on this chapter of your life. After seemingly endless festivities and photoshoots with various family members, you’re dropped back at your apartment. There is no work to be done, for once: nothing to write or study, and your lease doesn’t end for another month, so nothing to pack. For the first time in your memory, you are truly idle, and you’re learning that it is not a feeling you enjoy. You pick up your phone and call your boyfriend.

“Hi, darling,” he says when he picks up. His voice is brighter than usual, a sure sign that he’s been drinking. “Did you get home okay?”

“Mhm. Did you?”

“Just laying in bed now.”

“Oh.” You try to keep yourself from sounding too disappointed, but from the huff of laughter on the other end of the call, you know he’s picked up on it. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, but if you’re in bed, then nevermind.”

“Come over, like–”

“If you want.” You have yet to go this far with him, but tonight seems like as good a night as any. 

“Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right over.” 

The line goes dead, and you have to laugh. For all his airs and poise, he is still just a man. 

The benefit of today being important is that you’re already pretty done-up: your makeup is still perfect, though your lipstick gets a reapplication, your hair looks good, and you have matching, nicer undergarments on. Honestly, you’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do for this, not with him, and the confidence you had calling Coriolanus is fading fast. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late to be having those thoughts, because within twenty minutes, he’s knocking on your door. You let him in. He's still in his button-down, tie, and slacks from graduation, though he's shed his suit jacket. He leans down to catch you in a quick kiss. You wrap a hand around the Windsor knot in his tie, though whether it's to steady yourself or pull him closer is a mystery even to you. Not like it makes a difference; it elicits an electric, low groan from him anyways, his mouth opening over yours and deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne, sweet and shimmery and young. It is a contrast to the way he grabs your waist with a heavy hand and presses his tongue in to fight yours, which feels like whiskey; all heady, stinging heat. You have not had anything to drink: you are starting to wish you had. 

When he pulls away to catch his breath, his lips are swollen and slick and stained with your blood-red lipstick and finally, finally, something alights in your chest and in your stomach and even lower, a ball of fire sitting in the cradle of your pelvis. You release his tie and drag a manicured thumbnail under the line of his bottom lip, smudging away the rouge you left there.

“Pretty,” you murmur, though you're not sure where that comes from. He is pretty, though, especially like this; undone and imperfect and desperate (you can tell as much by the way he's pressing into your hip), all for you. 

A growl releases from Coriolanus' throat and his hand goes to the belt of your dress, deftly undoing the buckle. He is desperate, but desperate for you to know that you haven't made him weak. You can only have from him what he is willing to give, he will take from you anything he wants. Or, at least, that's how he thinks as he starts dragging the zipper of your dress down, crowding you against your apartment wall.

“I have a bed, Coriolanus,” you protest weakly, the complaint dying on your lips as his latch onto your pulse point. He scrapes his teeth over the tendon in your neck, and you recall how he smiled at you when you were first dating, like he wanted to eat you. You realize he could now, if he tried, open his maw wide and sink sharp canines into the side of your throat, pierce the carotid artery and stain perfect teeth red with blood. Tipping your head back against the wall, you shiver and give him better access.

“Let’s go, then,” he murmurs, not stopping his ministrations on your collarbone, where he's working a bruise into the hollow between your clavicle and the muscle of your shoulder.

You shove his head back gently and lead him to your room, which is tidy save for your desk, which is still scattered with papers from exams. Coriolanus doesn't seem to care, just crowding you back towards your hospital-cornered bed. Once you're down, he's crawling over you and returning to suck marks down your shoulders and chest as he tugs your dress off your body. When he gets to your bra (a small, silk thing, meant to lay smooth under the dress you wore today), he just stares for a moment, tracing a finger over the fine fabric. Just as you're about to tell him to do something, Jesus Christ, he latches his lips over your nipple and mouths at it through the cloth, sending sparks down your spine and a wavering moan up your esophagus. When he switches to the other side, the wet patch is exposed to the air and the sudden chill is almost more electric than the warmth of his tongue. You wonder if he could push you over the edge with just this; it certainly feels like he could. Then he shoves a hand under your back to release the clasp and tear your bra off, and the two seconds his mouth is off your skin gives just enough reprieve that when he returns and bites down, the rush of pleasure drops straight to your core with an ache that has your hips canting up. This inspires a breathy, warm chuckle from Coriolanus.

“Impatient,” he teases. 

You swallow hard. “It's not my fault you're…”

“Good at this?” He says, dipping his hand between your legs and dancing his fingers over the gusset of your panties, eliciting a whimper and an honest nod from you. 

“You don't know the half of it, darling,” and he hooks his arms under your knees to drag your hips forward until they're nearly off the bed. He's knelt between your legs like he's taking the Eucharist, ready to devour the blood and body of all that is holy. You watch his blonde head through fluttering lashes as he licks a line up the inside of your thigh before biting down right where it meets your hip. He breaks the skin, soothes the little wound with his tongue as he works your underwear down your legs. The way he stares at you – all of you – while he's still fully clothed, no mark of the past half-hour except his loosened tie and lipstick-marked mouth, makes you squirm. He braces your hips down with a strong forearm and looks up at you with a hunger in his icy eyes that is yet unfamiliar to you.

“Pretty,” he whispers like the beginning of a prayer, echoing your earlier utterance, and collects your wetness on his index finger as he runs it through your folds. 

The foreign feeling makes you whine. Coriolanus’ tongue flicks out over his lips like a snake before he dives into your cunt like a man starved. When your hand shoots down and grabs his hair, the groan that he lets out against you has you jerking like you've been electrocuted. He only grabs the fat of your hips harder, the pads of his fingers pressing in so hard that you're sure you'll have little dotted bruises there in the morning. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he works you to orgasm, your body trembling and your breath stilted as you teeter on that peak. His eyes flash and one hand releases you. Before you can ask what he's doing, he plunges two fingers into you and curls them up right as he sucks your clit hard, and that pain-pleasure of the sudden intrusion combined with his mouth has white-hot flames engulfing your body as stars explode in your vision and your legs very nearly go numb. His tongue and fingers don't stop until you're coming down and pleading with him in a broken voice, an orison to the congregant turned deity drunk on newfound power. He acquiesces, though, crawling up your body to kiss you and lick the taste of your pleasure into your mouth. Underneath it, there's the bitter, sanguine taste from his bite to your thigh, a reminder of the vulnerability necessary for that blessing. 

Legs still shaking, head still a little fuzzy, you use his determination to kiss you breathless to flip the narrative so you're straddling his hips, his growing need heavy and hard against you through the fabric of his dress pants. One eyebrow twitches up as he grins, though it wavers when you shift on him. 

“My turn?” He asks as he smooths his hands down your thighs, and you know he can feel the way your muscles twitch and jump under your skin.

“Your turn,” you reply, and shift so you can undo his belt. 

The metal of the buckle is cold in your hands, your skin still feeling a little like it's been set aflame, but you get it off and shove your hand into his boxers, unceremoniously pulling out his cock. He lets out a choked groan at the speed, and you think his eyes roll back in his head when you slide down his body. You allow yourself a moment of hesitation, having never done this before (or even really thought about it) before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. The moan he lets out is primal, raw, and you are determined to get another from him as you hollow your cheeks and sink down further, minding your teeth enough to let them just graze the shaft. He shudders and jerks upward, hitting the back of your throat, and though it makes you gag, there's a certain pride in knowing you're breaking his composure, so you hold him there for a moment until he whimpers and slides a hand into your hair and you know you've taken the power back that he stole from you a moment ago. You swallow around him there before slowly moving back up, flattening your tongue against the underside before licking over his slit and sinking back down as far as you can bear, and his voice cracks around a moan as he cums down your throat. 

When you pull off him and swallow, he has an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asks. His hair is tousled, sweaty strands stuck to his forehead and you grin, toothy and mean.

“Beginner’s luck,” you say as you take his softening dick in hand and watch how quickly he sits up.

“What are you-” he starts, but cuts himself off with a whine as you slide your hand up and down a couple times, trying to work him back up. “Stop, stop, that-”

Another moan, and you watch, pleased, as he starts to harden again in your grip. To be honest, you don't know where you're going with this, or what you expected to happen, you just wanted to see what other reactions you could get from him, how far you could take your regained power. 

As it stands, not very far, because he's hissing as you slide your thumb over the tip and flipping you over again so his elbows are braced next to your head.

“You're on the pill, right?” He reaches down between you to swipe his fingers over your clit.

You nod and buck your hips up into his hand, and with a breathy chuckle, he takes himself in hand and starts to guide himself into your entrance. There's a slight sting - he's bigger than anyone you've ever been with before - but he takes it slow, an uncharacteristic tenderness.

That is, until he's buried to the hilt and staring down at you, then snapping his hips in a way that should hurt but doesn't. It feels full and close and warm, his skin sliding against yours, sweat and other fluids mingling. You sneak a hand down to your clit and rub quick and hard, the way you do when you're alone at night and just need to get off and go to sleep. You're determined to reach your release before he does and you succeed, catching him in a kiss just as you cum, muffling your moans against his lips. The way your walls clench around him has him going rigid and giving you the most raw, tearing groan as he spills deep inside you, clearly not having expected to get there as quickly as you forced him to. He doesn't pull out immediately, opting instead to kiss you again, and you're not sure where you end and he begins, every bit of you mixed, in some way, with every bit of him. You stroke over the tense muscles in the back of his neck and he lets out a shaky breath onto your skin. Somehow, you know you've won this round, taken a weakness from him that he never meant to show you. When he rolls off you and tugs you into his side, you close your eyes, sleepy and sated in more ways than one.

[strawberrynightmere]

Bad Cats!!! [Part 3]

Warning ⚠️: yandere tendencies, mention of (temporary?) re-homing, mention of financial struggling (idk how to exactly put it), an attempt at writing a professional sounding email.

A/n: Sorry, this took a while, I had things to do. This is a bit longer than what I expected.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

It finally happened. Your boss' incompetence has set back the whole company. You knew it would happen eventually, but you thought that by then, you'd be working somewhere else. There's still no reply from the places you applied to and the bills! What are you going to do now? The obvious thing is to cut your food supply short, but that's still not enough.

And how are you going to take care of Andrew and Ashley? You can't just toss them outside. That's inhumane! You've grown attached to those two and they have also grown attached to you. Besides, they've been living here with you for some time, and you're afraid they won't be able to adjust to the streets again.

All of this has been brought up in your conversation with Julia. Unlike Nina, Julia knew how to offer helping you.

"What if I take them in until you get back to your feet."

"You would do that? Even take in Ashley?"

"Yeah! You said they got tamer over the time, besides when introduced to new people. I can deal with that for the time being."

You wanted to cry in releaf. Like a boulder just fell off of your shoulders. You make the arrangement with Julia and end the call.

"Meow?"

Andrew was right at the doorway looking at you with what you can pinpoint was concern.

You crouch down to his level and pat his head. "Everything is alright."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

You were waiting for Julia in the park, where you said you two would meet. Andrew and Ashley were in their cat carriers wondering why they were here and what was happening.

You hear footsteps running in your direction. It was Julia!

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic." She said out of breath.

You take her to the bench you were sitting on to rest a bit. While she was resting, you, for some reason unknown to anyone, spoke to Andrew and Ashley.

"Listen, you two will be staying with Julia, temporarily, please be good to her. I'll come back for you as soon as possible." Then you turn to and tell her what she needed to know about the two.

Meanwhile, Andrew and Ashley were confused, to say the least.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The time the cat siblings spent with your friend was unpleasant. Ashley hated everything about this situation. She hated the place they were living in. She hated Julia. She hated how she treated them as babies. She hated that Andrew was unresponsive the whole stay.

"Are you still going to stay quiet?"

At this point, she'll die of boredom and frustration.

Speaking of which.

Ashley slaps her brother with her little back paw.

"Are you gonna talk now?"

"She left us."

"Huh?"

"She. Left. Us." Andrew repeated, emphasizing each word.

"Well, watcha gonna do about it?"

"Something I should've done before."

That surprised her. It took only a moment for her to realise what he meant.

"Oh. Oh! My god, really? Are you actually gonna do it? You are gonna listen to me. This. This moment is so much bigger than me! I'd like to thank myself for holding up for so long. My parents... can continue to rot in Hell where they belong."

Andrew just rolled his eyes at his sister's dramatic speech, like she was gonna get some kind of reward.

"But anyways. This episode is titled 'Andy and Leyley and the-"

"You're not going."

"Huh?!"

"You'll stay here and distract the human. She still can't tell the difference between us."

Ashley sinks down to the floor.

"And Leyley is stuck with the crumiest job possible."

"Daww, don't worry, Leyley. We'll pick you up very soon." Andrew assured in a teasing tone.

"Ha ha ha! Fucking asshole."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

One rejection letter after another. You were losing hope. You're gonna end up homeless at this point.

Slumping your head on the table.

Ding!

An email from your current job. It's probably gonna beo something like half of the company being let go. Whatever. You click on the email.

---

Respected workers of [COMPANY],

It has come to us with a heavy heart to announce that [REDACTED] from [DEPARTMENT NAME] has been forced to let go.

As you are all aware of the current setback in this company. We are glad to announce that this is just a small hiccup, and in soon time, the company as a whole will soon be able to function like before, and you'll be able to receive your full payments.

For any questions you have, please email us.

With full regards

[RANDOM NAME]

P. S. As for the new manager of [DEPARTMENT NAME], the position will be vacant until further notice.

---

This has to be a dream. You rub your eyes to confirm. Yep. It's real. So many questions were forming. Was any of this possible? What was this feeling right now?

Who cares! You won't have to worry about this anymore. You won't have to worry about finding a home for Andrew and Ashley or the possibility to send them to a pound. You won't have to worry about starving or being homeless.

And the best part? That sucker of your boss finally got fired.

Wait. Andrew and Ashley. You'll have to see until next month if you'll be able to take them back. Right. It's late. You'll tell Julie about the good news in the morning.

"Meow."

What the...

Black fur, green eyes. Either you're hallucinating from the lack of sleep and the lack of nutrition, or that really was Andrew sitting at the doorway.

You carefully get close to the cat and stretch your hand out to him. And then you feel his little head rubbing against your palm.

"What are you doing here?" You ask in a voice that was right above a whisper. "I can't take you back just yet. I need to call Julie."

Picking up your phone from the table, you dile Julie and wait for her to pick up, but there is no answer.

"Gess, I'll return you back there tomorrow."

As you say that, two arms trap you at the table where you were sitting. Turning around, you see the same man from your dreams. Black hair and green eyes. It suddenly dawned on you.

"You're not taking me anywhere."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

A/n: There were a lot of possible plots I was working on, and honestly, this one was the only one that was working out for me. Hope you enjoyed it.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Love Letter

Summary: There’s only one thing you love more than the library, it’s the owner’s son. 

Oneshot

Fluff, Non-idol au

Possible Warning?: Slight height difference 

Word Count: 2,395

Juyeon X Reader

[A/n: I’m currently so soft from this… Anyways, @jinkoh thanks for rotting with me 🥰]  

------

If there’s one place in your life that’s remained consistent, it would be the library. You've been going to it since you were five. While you've traveled the world, you'd always return to it because it always felt like a home away from home. While the books on the shelves were ever-changing, it always felt the same. From the warm browns of the shelving to the sage green carpets to the enormous piles of books all waiting to be shelved. Everything felt like it had its place, even if it wasn’t in the correct spot. The books that made it to the shelves were always tightly packed in. But you knew where all your favorites hid. 

The best spot in the library was your reading nook. In the furthest corner, near the staircase, was a chestnut table and a lamp in front of a soft armchair where you curled up to read. Like clockwork, by the time you were in the middle of a book, Mr. Lee would check up on you. He'd always bring you something to drink while you read. Or if you were hungry. He’d grab you a snack from upstairs. When you were younger, you used to worry, “What if I spill something on the pages?!” He’d shrug and go, “Well, don’t.” And you’d both laugh before he set your tea down next to you before going back to organizing the ever-growing piles. 

There were so many things you enjoyed about the library. The list was never-ending. And at the top of the list was Lee Juyeon, Mr. Lee’s son. While you were in school, you used to see him a lot more often. You both would head to the library for different reasons, walking together and conversing before he headed upstairs to their living area. While you stayed downstairs, either studying or reading a new book before heading home. Sometimes he’d come downstairs to talk to his dad, and you’d secretly look over at him past the pages. And on the lucky occasions, you’d end up studying together for exams you shared. 

But since you’ve both gone your separate ways, you haven’t seen him since. It bummed you out every time you’d go in, hoping he’d come down the stairs only to finish your book without a sight of him. But now, when Mr. Lee would give you tea, he’d tell you life updates about Juyeon, keeping you up-to-date about him before asking you what you were up to with all your travels. You’d happily tell him before he’d let you get back to your reading. You’re sure he’d love to hear about your latest adventure, just like you can’t wait to hear about how Juyeon's been. 

As you walk to the library, you can’t help but feel excited to see it’s the same as you left it. You chime as you walk in, “Good morning, Mr. Lee!” Expecting to see the friendly man behind the counter. But instead, you see Juyeon standing behind the counter. He awkwardly smiles, “Hey, (Y/n).” And you blink at him, not expecting to see him the slightest, “Juyeon?” And he scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah.” You ask, “What are you doing behind the counter?” He looks over the store before making eye contact with you again, “I own the shop now…” Your eyes widen, “Is Mr. Lee okay?!” He laughs, “Yeah, Dad’s fine. He and Mom are traveling the world now and left it in my hands.” You sigh in relief, “Ah, okay. Well, it’s nice to see you again.” He gives you a small smile, “Same here.” You look behind your shoulder over at the packed shelves, “I’m going to find some stories to read.” He nods, and you walk away, searching for something that catches your eye. When you spot the new title you’ve meant to read after asking Mr. Lee to order it, you take it off the shelf before heading to your reading nook. 

It’s been about an hour when you hear something rustling beside you. You peek up and see Juyeon coming down the stairs. You smile at him, and he comes over. “I remember Dad always doing this for you, so I thought I’d um…” You see the teacup and saucer in his hand, and you grin as you take it from him, “Thank you! Sure you’re not worried about me spilling it all over the book?” He shrugs as he puts his hands in his pockets, “You never have before.” You nod, “You have me there.” He nods before backing away, “Later!” You hum as you go back to reading, calming your heart, “Later.” 

You finish your tea and book at the same time. Thankful that Mr. Lee got it in for you before traveling the world with his wife. You get up from your spot and find Juyeon staring absentmindedly in your direction. You shrug, not thinking much of it. He’s probably just trying to pass the hours. You put your book away before collecting your things and heading his way. He smiles at you as you walk up to him with the saucer cup and tell him, “Thank you.” He shrugs, “It’s no problem.” You smile, “It was sweet that you remembered that.” He nods, and you give him one more smile before telling him, “I have to get going, but I’ll see you soon?” He grins, “Yeah, I’ll see you when you come back.” He heads upstairs while you head out the door. 

—

It’s been over a week since you’ve last been in, trying to find free time to return. All you wanted to do was kick back and read the rest of your day away. When you walk into the library, you see Juyeon putting books on the top shelf with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows. You silently watch him until the door rattles closed behind you, ruining the moment. He turns around with a big smile on his face. And you smile back, “Good evening, Juyeon!” He smiles, “Good evening, (Y/n).” He turns to put more books away, and you look around for something to read. 

Nothing catches your eyes until you see a title you’ve read front to back a hundred times. And unlike before, where it usually was on lower shelves, it’s now on the top shelf. You resist your grumble about someone placing it up there. You do your best to grab at it, hoping not to make much noise to alert Juyeon. And just as you manage to touch it, he comes around, “Woah! Hey, let me get that for you!” You gulp as his chest grazes your back when he reaches over you and grabs the book you were struggling to get. You blush as he moves back and hands it to you, “Here.” You thank him quietly as you take the book, “You used to read this all the time…” You nod, “It’s one of my favorites.” He smiles, “It’s been well loved.” You smile down at the book, “Hopefully, by many.” He looks at it, “Just a few.” “Oh...” He continues, “Just you and I.” “What do you mean?” “I mean… I uh only picked up the book 'cause you read it… And uh Dad keeps a log of what books are read by who...” You look at the shelf, “Is that why it was so high up?” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s a comfortable reach for me.” You laugh, “Of course. Did you enjoy it?” He smiles, “It was a beautiful love story. I see why you read it all the time.” You grin as you look at the weathered spine, “Yeah.” He tilts his head back to his work, “If you need anything else off the higher shelves, I’ll be over there.” You nod, and he lets you go to your reading nook. You curl up in the armchair and read it for the nth time. 

—

“Oh, Dad said you wanted to read this.”  You peek up from the love story you’re immersed in, nearly to the end. And see Juyeon holding the new book that you read last week. You look back down as you tell him, “Oh, I already read that one.” You don’t see his disappointment. But you hear it, “Oh... Okay, sorry.” You quickly go as you lock eyes with him, “But it’s okay if I read it again!” He smiles at you as he puts it beside you before nodding, and as he starts to walk away, you ask, “What if we read it together? If you liked the last romance, you’ll probably like this one.” He lets out, “Huh?” So you reiterate it, “Would you like to read it together?” His voice is soft as he asks, “You would like to read it with me?” You tell him, “Yeah, I’d love to.” He gives you a small smile, “Okay.” You tell him, “I just have to finish these last few pages…” He nods, “That’s fine. Would you like some tea to go along with it?” You grin, “I’d love that.”

As you finish reading the last few words, he returns with two teacups and sets them down. He pulls a chair over as you close your book and ask, “Would you like me to read first, or would you like to?” He shakily replies, “You first, please.” You nod and wait for him to sit beside you and get comfortable before opening up the new book and skipping past the foreword. In a silly voice, you start, “Chapter One~! How I fell in love with him.” He laughs, and you smile before returning to your regular voice and reading the first few pages before handing the book to him. His voice was soft yet rich as he continued where you left off, “I watched as he sorted his papers before returning to my work. How could something so simple be so attractive?” You could ask the same thing about him while he read to you. It wasn’t extraordinary, but because it was him? It made your heart swell. He hands you it back, and you start chapter two. 

Every couple of pages, you two would trade-off. You were almost to the middle of the book when you both finished your teas. Juyeon starts reading chapter eight to you and after a few more pages. He hands it back to you. You watch from the corner of your eye to see him resting his head on his arms with his eyes closed, just listening to you read to him. That’s when you start to feel something stuck between the pages. You don’t acknowledge it but decide to read until the page to find out what it is. When you finally turn the page to it. You can’t help but feel giddy. Excited to see what it was until you realize it's a letter. 

You tilt your head at it, pausing your reading to open the letter sealed with a heart sticker. And wordlessly begin reading the letter, “(Y/n), I knew I wouldn’t be able to say these words without taking one look at you and forgetting all I wished to say. I’m not sure when I’ll even get the courage to give you this…” You hear him rustle beside you and catch him hiding his head in his arms. You nearly giggle but continue reading, “And I’m not sure what started it all. But I’ve known since I was a kid that I've loved you as more than a friend. You make my heart swell. I can't stop thinking about you. I don’t think I ever have. When I was away, I’d always ask Dad to tell me about what you’re up to. And now that I can see you, it’s like all these feelings came back in full force.” You pause before taking a breath to continue, “You don’t have to reciprocate my feelings, but since we’re both back home. I think it’s best I let you know while I still have the chance to tell you.” 

It ends there, and you have to hold your tears back as you look over to see Juyeon peeking his eyes over his elbow, trying not to look you in the eyes as he apologizes, “I’m- I’m so sorry- I thought you’d read it by yourself- and then as you read to me… I forgot that I put it in there…” You shake your head with tears in your eyes, “Juyeon, I’ve always watched you over the top of my books when you’d come down to talk to Mr. Lee. I love this library with all my heart. But every time I come back. It wasn’t just to read. I desperately wanted to see you again. And I’m not sure when it started either... But when you’d walk here with me. I tried to slow my pace. So I could be with you for at least a second longer before you headed upstairs…” He blinks at you, “You, what?” You smile, and a few tears finally break free, “I’ve loved you since I was a kid, too.” His jaw drops, immediately adjusting his posture, “You have?” You nod, and he asks, “Seriously?” He reaches up and wipes the tears that have slipped out of your eyes away. And you see he has tears pricking his own. You put the letter and book down before asking, “Can I make a childhood dream of mine come true?” He whispers, “Which?” You put your hands on either side of his face, mirroring him, “The one where I kiss you for the first time?” He sighs softly, “Please.” You bring his face to yours and kiss him for the first time. 

It wasn’t fireworks, but it was soft and tender. Just as you always wished it would be. When you both pull away, he rests his forehead against yours. Breathlessly telling you, “My inner kid is cheering. How about yours?” You grin, “Mine too.” He brings your lips to his, giving you a peck before asking, “Want to continue reading?” You smile as you both pull away from each other, “I’d love to.” You lean your head against his shoulder as he reads to you again. Now, you no longer had to sneak glances at him. You could look at him whenever you wanted. 

[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.

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us Chapter 2 || Masterlist

Literally posting the first two parts and then passing out lol, same tags as last time, same inspiration from this art by @cheesy-cryptid , same everything basically.

Summary: Octavia goes to a place in the Upper City to meet her boss. Turns out it's extremely secretive.

Oh one thing I forgot to mention. The chapter titles are based on the song "I Caught Fire" by The Used.

Thanks again to my babe @micropoe10 for being my beta reader and best friend ❤️

also tagging @satanicspinosaurus because they're the first person to ask to be tagged (!!!!) Thanks for the support guys, it means A LOT.

Chapter 2

Could stay a while

Gale gave Octavia the very secret directions to the restaurant she was due to meet her boss in. It was a fancy place in the Upper City, secluded enough for only those who knew where it was could find it. Looking down at the piece of paper with the code to enter, she knocks on the door. A voice comes out of nowhere, loudly asking, "PASSWORD?" Nervously she speaks the phrase on the paper, instantly the door opens and the piece of paper is gone. "Wow, they really don't want people to know about this place huh?" "I would assume not, some of us do pay quite a bit of gold for the exclusivity." A haughty voice speaks out from behind her, a blush quickly develops on her cheeks as the realization crosses that she was not alone.

She quickly stammers "Oh it's my first time here, I was more surprised than anything." She chuckles at her own expense. The man behind her is cloaked in the light of a street lantern directly behind them. "Well, I hope you enjoy it, they say the first time is incredibly memorable..." The last word spills out with a sultry drawl, he walks past her and into the hallway, eventually fading into the darkness of the restaurant. The blush on her cheeks has definitely covered her entire face now.

Octavia takes a few breaths. Then steps into the dark restaurant. The interior of the establishment is lowly lit, almost completely dark, save for the candles on the tables and sconces on the walls. She looks around to the other patrons, all impeccably dressed in clothes that look like they would cost at least 5 months pay.

"This way, miss." Octavia is led to a private room towards the back, the waitress knocks on the red wooden door in front of them, a voice that sounds like Gale's calls out "I think she's here, let me go greet her!"

Gale comes out in a much nicer suit than his usual one, slightly fitted for a guy who you only see in cardigans and loose sweaters. "Okay, now I definitely feel underdressed, is there a dress code here that someone forgot to inform me about?" Octavia jokes, "Because if I had a reason to go buy a new wardrobe with my graduation money, it would've been good to know."

Gale looks at her slightly confused until he notices her wearing practically the same outfit she wore to work, the only exception was her blazer, it wasn't the one he accidentally spilled ink on when they were restoring some letters together earlier in the day.

He sucks his teeth and apologizes "I absolutely did, and I'm not sure how to make up for it yet, but I promise you look wonderful. You have your talents and expertise to speak for themselves! No amount of lavish clothing can eclipse that. Besides, Mr. Ancunin trusts me much more than anyone else. He and I have talked at great lengths about your impressive knowledge of the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. He's made remarks about it, seeming like you've been there yourself!" He laughs as he leads her into the room, would this be the time to tell him her family history?

As she approaches the table, a shadow becomes clear and his form begins to take shape. His hands are the first thing she sees come out from behind the cloak around his shoulders; slender fingers with a spider like length, lustrous skin like pearls, one reaches out and takes hers in a handshake. "My my..Made your way over from outside, darling?" That voice sounded like the man from outside."How was the walk over? Not too far in the back are we? I wanted to make sure our meeting was nice and private."

The waitress who led her down to this room lights a few more candles, replacing some that had apparently gone out. The barely lit room fills with warm yellow light and her boss becomes more illuminated by each one.

Octavia notices his hair first, a mop of silver and white styled into a messy tousle of curls. His ears were pointed, the few rings of hair that fell on them perfectly encircled around as if on purpose. She noticed something particular though, he was wearing sunglasses inside? In this dark place?

Before she even knew, she asked "Why are you wearing sunglasses inside at night?" Taken aback, her boss laughs loudly as he looks towards Gale, "You were right, cheeky little pup, isn't she?"

His grin grows mischievously. Gale shrugs and pulls the chair out in front of him, he motions Octavia to sit. She makes her way over and takes her spot, Gale sitting to her right. "Miss Octavia, I would be honored to finally introduce you to our esteemed head curator of the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, Mr. Astarion Ancunin."

Gale flourishes the last bit by extending his arm out to his right, Astarion dips his head in a small bow. "I do apologize for the last minute absence, my dear" he sips his wine and places the glass down.

"I believe you're both reaping the benefits of that excursion in the hard work you've been doing. Which is the cause of this little outing I've set up for the three of us. Obviously, I wanted to meet you beforehand, Octavia, but some things have to be sacrificed for the good of preservation. I take this work very seriously, I want to ensure these priceless artifacts don't get lost to time, as some things have before." He takes a slow sip of his wine, "I believe Gale has told you about his little interest in our Szarr art collection?"

Astarion playfully asks Octavia, as he turns to Gale, a devilish smile on his face, sipping more wine. "He has, actually, but I asked." she answers "Really? And what do you make of this mystery subject? You must have a theory, yes?" He places a hand under his chin, turning to look at her behind those dark lenses.

Octavia feels the same chill she felt when she first looked at the painting on the wall. She gulps,"Uh not yet, but I'm curious as well...the subject looks like a male elf, maybe about 40? No more than 100 it seems..."

She trails off a little, looking down at the table. "Whomever they were, they seem important somehow, like they were a favorite or something? A favored consort, possibly? I'm hoping that after Gale and I are done with this project, we may be able to find out?" She fidgets with her fingers a little under the table, hearing a pleased hum she straightens up and looks to Gale. He has a giant smile on his face, and gives her a reassuring nod.

A silence falls on the table as they turn to look at Astarion, his eyebrows come together.. he seems angry, perhaps annoyed, was he upset at her speculation? Her heart was in her throat, where was the waitress? She needed water and quick- "Why do you think that?" Astarion asks pointedly, taking a more prominent drink of his wine. "Why do you think that one is favored?"

Octavia feels a lump at her throat, she swallows and answers "They're in a lot of paintings in the gallery...I noticed them in at least a dozen...in the forefront of four, the background of 6...the main subject of two..it's quite a lot for someone who doesn't matter.." She hears a soft huff, not annoyed this time. "Interesting. Most people say that he's pretty or gorgeous or go on about his beautiful body, but you focused on the importance of the subject. I admire your insight, Octavia. I see why Gale tipped the scales for you."

[sadiecoocoo]

Attack on Titan Fanfiction - The Sorrows We Drown Chp. 1

Summary - Two years after the Rumbling, the alliance has been going back and forth between Paradis and the rest of the world. On a week off, disaster strikes. People start getting sick, rumored to have caught a plague from the dead bodies still yet to be cleaned on the edges of the Rumbling's reach.

a few days later, titans destroy the new city of Liberio.

Relationships - Reiner Braun/Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun & Connie Springer, Jean Kirstein & Connie Springer, Reiner Braun & Jean Kirstein & Connie Springer, Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart

Tags - Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Horror, Horror, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Reiner Braun Needs a Hug, Reiner Braun Has Issues, sad Reiner Braun, Protective Jean Kirstein, Soft Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer is a Little Shit, could be reiner/connie/jean, still debating that, Roadtrip, but the violent running from the law kind, Post-Rumbling (Shingeki no Kyojin), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Canon, Minor Armin Arlert/Annie Leonhart

Word Count - 2,583

Read on AO3

Notes: This could be seen as Connie/Reiner/Jean but I haven't explicitly tagged that and so far haven't written any intimate scenes between all three of them. honestly Connie is just an oblivious third-wheel during the apocalypse. the title is from the song, Writing on the Wall, by Will Stetson. it's meant to symbolize how Reiner gives himself up to protect others as a way to try and atone, and if you've listened to the Alhaitham version of the song, how Jean wants to help him. this is gonna have a bit of gore, but this chp. is mainly build up, and I do have a few chapters written already so they'll be a few weekly uploads before I catch up to where I've left off (if I don't finish it by then lol) anyways, please enjoy!

Armin hummed along to the slow, yet upbeat tune coming from the radio as he helped make dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy. Really, he hadn’t had much better than the rations from his scout days, even after the world started to heal from the Rumbling.

It had been about two years since then. In that time, Armin and the rest of the Alliance had been going back and forth between Paradis and the rest of the world for peace negotiations.

 Overall, Eldians were being treated better too. There was still some resentment, bigotry didn’t go away that easily, but it was fading as time went on.

Armin and Annie had moved in together recently too. Though both of them had their own duties to take care of, they still spent plenty of time together. Sometimes he was still amazed that he and Annie, of all people, were able to work out a healthy relationship. He cherished it greatly.

The others were all doing well too. Connie, Jean, and Reiner were all living together. They visited often when there weren’t any politics to worry about. Pieck had stayed with her father, but still went with them all on diplomatic missions when needed. 

Levi was healing well, though he was still bound to a wheelchair. The former captain had been staying with Gabi and Falco’s families in another town. He sent the bare minimum of letters, but they all knew he cared.

Mikasa was the only one Armin wasn’t entirely sure about how she was doing. Last time they saw each other, she had grown out her hair again, and seemed to have permanently given up being a soldier. She still had a gloomy aura around, and he doubted that would go away any time soon.

As Armin was cutting up some potatoes, there was a loud crash outside. He jumped, and accidentally cut his finger in the process. The knife clattered to the floor in his moment of panic.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing a cloth and placing it on his bleeding finger. He leant over to pick up the knife, then placed it in the sink to wash later.

Armin went over to the window after the crash was followed by yelling. He let out a sigh, hoping it was just another incident of road rage. There hadn’t been cars that survived the rumbling, and the roads were mangled still, but some people managed to afford one of the vehicles left.

Peering out the window, he discovered that it was indeed a small car accident. He couldn’t tell if anyone was hurt from his view, and debated for a moment going outside to check on things. He lived on the second-story of an apartment complex, so he at least got a decent bird's-eye-view.

There was muffled yelling as one man got out of his car and started towards the other. Armin was starting to get the feeling that he might be needed to break up a fight, given how the man seemed to stalk towards the car with his arms waving wildly.

He stepped away and headed towards the door. Armin left the bloodied cloth on the counter, first checking to see if his finger had stopped bleeding. It wasn’t hurting and had already scabbed over, so he figured it would be fine. He guessed he hadn’t cut too deep, despite the amount of blood at first.

Grabbing his coat, he swung it around his shoulders and walked briskly through the halls. It was a dingy place, really, with stains on the walls and wet patches on the carpet from leaking pipes. A majority of the rooms were the same story, though Armin and Annie had managed to get fairly lucky.

After rushing down the steps and heading through the small lobby, Armin opened the front door to the outside world. For a moment the change in lighting made him squint, but he quickly adjusted. It was a nice day, despite the small car crash currently in front of his apartment building.

“Hey, is everyone okay?” He yelled over to the man.

Armin jogged over to the other vehicle. The first man was standing in front of the open door, his shoulders strangely slumped. Armin stopped behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Sir, are you alright-” He stopped as soon as he saw what was happening in the driver’s seat of the vehicle.

Armin urgently pushed the first man out the way, and he backed up obediently. The driver, another man, looked to be in his late twenties to early thirties, was sat convulsing. His mouth was agape; a line of drool went down to his chin, and his eyes were rolled so far back Armin wondered if perhaps he could see his own brain.

“Get a doctor!” Armin yelled urgently, turning towards the bystanders in the streets. “Someone go get a doctor now!” He repeated.

Someone was crying in the backseat, though he hadn’t noticed it before. He rushed to the back of the car and started to pry the door open.

In the backseat there was a little girl bawling her eyes out. Armin tried to shush her gently, to reassure her that everything would be okay. He reached towards her with as calming a smile as he could muster, and she quickly leapt into his embrace. This girl couldn’t have been older than seven.

“Shh, it’ll be okay. We’ll get your Daddy some help, sweetie.” He said, rubbing her back gently. He pulled her out of the vehicle and set her on the ground, where, thankfully, a kind lady knelt down to help look after her.

As he extracted the girl from his arm, his eyes landed on his cut finger. The scab was completely gone. It had only been a few minutes since he had even been cut in the first place. If he really looked close, he thought he could see wisps of something rising from his finger.

Steam.

Doctors are not certain of the cause of the strange new affliction, but hospitals are full of its victims! It is unsure if the sickness is contagious or not, but it is recommended that people stay in their own homes for the time being. If you are experiencing symptoms of great fatigue, chills, nausea, dizziness, or seizures, do not wait to get help!

Jean put down the paper. It landed on the table with a light slap, causing Reiner and Connie to both lift their heads up expectantly. 

They were just trying to have dinner. A nice meal of Butternut Squash Pasta, something only recently shown to Jean and Connie. Sometimes he wondered how Reiner could stand the transition to such shitty food, then he remembered that to Reiner this was probably a meal saved for holidays.

“Something the matter?” Reiner asked with an arched brow. The blonde had recently shaved his beard, having decided after too much teasing from both Connie and Jean that it really did make him look too old for his age.

Without answering, Jean slid the paper over to Reiner. Connie leaned over to read it as well. Jean could only put his head in his hands as he waited for their own reactions.

“There had been a few cases of plague where the cleanup wasn’t as thorough.” Reiner muttered after a moment, almost as though he were speaking to himself.

“Are seizures really symptoms for a plague, though?” Connie asked, his nose scrunched worriedly. Reiner only shrugged.

“How could this have popped up so suddenly? And so quickly?” Jean asked, though he knew none of them would have the answer. Reiner looked at him as if he were sorry he wasn’t all knowing, and Jean suppressed an eye roll. 

He was so tired of Reiner looking sorry all the time. At least now the brute smiled more often.

Jean was starting to feel like he had truly gotten to know Reiner, not the Scout Reiner, or Warrior Reiner, or Titan Reiner, just Reiner. It was honestly refreshing.

 He was a lot more sheepish than anyone would have guessed back in training. When he wasn’t moping around feeling guilty, he was surprisingly sweet too, and most of the time it looked like he didn’t even put any effort into it.

Jean was glad that the three of them had decided to move in together. There was no way he’d be able to survive Connie’s annoying dumbass without someone to suffer through it with, and he would prefer to not live alone.

“Either way,” Reiner started, heaving out a sigh, “There isn’t much we can do about it other than try not to catch it.” He said. The blonde had started pushing his food around on his fork mindlessly.

“Right,” Connie agreed uneasily. Jean felt bad just brushing it off like that, but they all knew, logically, plagues weren’t something that veteran soldiers and peace ambassadors could fix.

The rest of their dinner went on in relative silence. Eventually Connie started to talk about what all he saw at the ever-growing market. It seemed like every day a new part of Liberio was being rebuilt. It felt like it was in such little time too.

Once they’re all done eating, Jean takes it upon himself to clean up the kitchen. They had all fallen into a strange routine, somehow wordlessly. Connie would go to the market and get whatever they needed; sometimes they’d talk about it beforehand and sometimes the numbskull would just grab whatever for them to experiment with. Reiner would cook most often, he had a strange talent for it, despite his lack of experience. Finally, Jean would clean everything up. Of course, none of this was set in stone, it just happened naturally half the time.

Once, Reiner had gotten sick with a light fever. Both Connie and Jean were paranoid that they’d catch it, so they decided to try making something simple. It may or may not have ended with small fire, and them being banned from the kitchen unless they were preparing war rations.

Either way, they all helped around. It was a fair solution, and still gave them all plenty of time to do their own thing later, even if they had gotten a ton of paperwork to do.

Jean had picked up art again in his free time. Connie really just did whatever he was in the mood for, which was usually either annoying one of them or getting them to play some card game. He had noticed that Reiner read a lot, and occasionally saw him writing down a few things in a small journal.

Once, Jean had peeked over the blonde’s shoulder. The journal had been filled with neat cursive handwriting in what he assumed to be the Marleyan written language. He could only make out every few words, the written language was still a pain to memorize.

“Do you think we should check on Peick?” Jean asked over his shoulder as he worked on scrubbing up an annoying piece of gunk off one of the plates. “Y’know since her dad is already sick?” he added.

“Nah, don’t wanna risk giving it to them.” Reiner answered. “I’ll send a quick letter, though.” he decided. 

Jean hummed to himself and went back to work.

Several hours later, long past midnight, Jean had woken up in the night with a parched throat that he couldn’t ignore. He dragged himself out of bed and slunk through the short hallway and into the kitchen again.

He poured himself a small glass of water and chugged it. He finished with a soft sigh. Jena filled the cup again and took it with him back to his bedroom.

As he was passing the bathroom, however, he heard the telltale sound of someone dry heaving. He groaned internally at the obstacle between him and going back to sleep, but knocked lightly on the door anyway.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked through the door. His voice sounded a bit deeper from sleep.

There was a sputtering cough behind the door, and Jean fought the urge to just barge in. at the lack of whinging, Jean guessed Reiner was the unfortunate soul to be getting sick.

“‘M fine!” the blonde finally answered. Though, by the way his voice shook, and the declaration was quickly followed by more coughing and dry heaving, Jean sincerely doubted that he was fine.

“You decent?” Jean asked. He was soon answered by a very pathetic sounding affirmation.

Jean quietly opened the door to see the sad sight of Reiner leaning over the toilet and fighting to not throw up. Jean shut the door behind him as he moved to the sink and turned on the water. He threw a washcloth in the sink as it ran.

After the water felt somewhat warm, he wrung out the washcloth. Jean moved to kneel down next to Riener.

He placed the warm washcloth on Reiner’s nape, trying to soothe the nausea. He rubbed Reiner’s back as well, tracing calming circles and smoothing out wrinkles in the fabric.

“Food bad, or are you getting sick?” He asked after a minute or two of relative silence.

“‘M hoping it’s the food.” Reiner answered, turning his head up ever so slightly to look at Jean. The bags under his eyes seemed impossibly darker, and Jean felt a pang of worry tighten in his chest.

His still sleep-addled mind finally remembered the damn paper. If Reiner had somehow caught the plague going around, they were all screwed. The blonde had explained that his titan would mostly keep him from being sick along with healing injuries, so his immune system was shot. Jean didn’t want to know what this new plague looked like on someone who could barely handle more than a cold.

“Yeah,” Jean mumbled in response. He continued to rub Reiner’s back, and at some point the brute had leaned into his half embrace. His head was resting on Jean’s shoulder now.

“Think you can go back to bed?” Jean asked softly. Reiner hummed a quiet affirmative in response.

It wasn’t long before Jean had helped Reiner up and gotten him to his room. Reiner staggered over to his bed and plopped face first into his pillow. He let out a groan as he reached his hand back and flung the blanket over himself haphazardly.

Jean could help the breathy laugh that escaped him. Reiner never complained about anything until he got sick, then the entire world had to know of his suffering.

Jean moved to readjust the blanket, pulling it over Reiner’s shoulders. The younger man then sat down on the edge of the bed and patted Reiner’s head playfully. The blonde leaned ever so slightly into the touch.

“If you still feel bad in the morning we should get you to a doctor.” Jean suggested softly. He knew Reiner wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, but if there was the possibility of him having caught the plague, he would have to ignore his discomfort.

“Whatever.” Reiner mumbled into his pillow, almost quiet enough for Jean to not hear it. He lifted his hand and gave the smallest of waves, “see you in the morning.”

Jean let out another soft laugh as he patted Reiner’s head again and got up. He closed the door to Reiner’s room softly before heading back to his own room.

As he laid down on his bed, he couldn’t ignore the knot of worry worming itself in his gut.

End Notes: yay I set up some exposition!!! and gave you guys a soft moment between Reiner and Jean and also showed them living a nice and happy life… it'll TOTALLY last anyways, gore in the next chapter <3

lmk if anyone would like to be tagged in the next chapter, I'd be happy to do it!

Chp. 2

[givemea-dam-break]

a/n: since quite a few of you wanted a part 2, here it is for this request - heyy could you do anthony lockwood x reader, where they used to be best friends but something bad happens to the reader and they stop talking and after years they reunite because of a case. maybe angst and fluff - i hope you all enjoy! on my masterlist, it's titled Downfall

warnings: mentions of deathh, spoiler (for those of you who haven't read the end of the whispering skull aka end of s1's book), mild language gn reader taglist: @tellmeoflegends @shampoocovers99 @nessa-stark @moonysstarconstellation

part 1

Your coffee went cold about ten minutes ago, and yet still you wait. Begrudgingly. Hopefully. God, who knows why you're waiting?

Lockwood's almost half an hour late. Really, you should've left twenty minutes ago. Really, you should've never agreed to come out to get a coffee with him, but it felt necessary. He and his friends had just rid your house of the ghosts of your mother and aunt, and you'd been feeling particularly emotional at that moment, so you'd agreed. Now, you're beginning to regret it.

The sun gleams through the windows of the café, one you used to frequent with Lockwood the morning after he'd had a case while he was still working as an apprentice. You chose it simply because of how much you loved their coffee.

You've not had a sip.

Even though it's a drink, it carries memories almost as bitter as the taste of it, and you can't bring yourself to have a bit. It feels wrong. Everything about this feels wrong. The way you look at the door every time the windchimes sound; the way your heart is pounding in your chest with apprehension. You should be at home, making sure your dad is all right. Not meeting up with the guy who ignored you for years for something outwith your control.

You check your watch, frowning at the time, when once more the windchimes jingle.

This time, it's not an old man or a young couple that walks in, but a tall, slender boy in a far-too-long coat, a rapier by his side.

When Lockwood spots you, he smiles and hurries over, sitting down slightly out of breath. His cheeks and nose are a rosy pink.

"So sorry," he says. "I was running late."

"Clearly." You nudge your mug around on the maple table, watching the sun reflect off the white porcelain. "I was about to leave."

He grins in a way that was once contagious. No longer. "Well, I'm glad you didn't. What did you get? The usual? Back in a moment, I'm going to get a tea and a muffin."

In seconds, he's away and at the counter ordering, and you can feel all of your energy sap out of you and into him. You're not sure how he's so high-spirited, nor so energetic. You're positively shattered. But his temporary absence allows you to try and gather your thoughts and emotions.

It's like the barista knows your predicament because she's taking obscenely long to make Lockwood's tea. Not that you're complaining. Just as well you tipped her beforehand. Maybe you'll tip her more.

"Ah, nothing like tea on a cold day," Lockwood says as he sits down again, placing his mug on the table gently. "So, how are you? Good, I hope, seeing as you're ghost-free."

You shrug, watching the coffee in your mug follow the swirling motion of your spoon. "As good as I can be when my mum and aunt are dead, and my dad is losing his mind. What do you want to talk about?"

"Straight to the point, as usual." He smiles brightly, and it retains even when you don't return the gesture. "I just thought it'd be a good idea if we worked things out."

"Worked things out? Lockwood, there isn't anything to be worked out. I moved away without a choice, you got mad at me and never answered my letters. What more is there to say?"

For a millisecond, his joyful mask slips, revealing something that looks like a mix between guilt and irritation, but it's back in place before you know it. "Can I at least properly explain why?"

For lack of better judgement, you nod and cross your arms, sitting back in your seat. There's a weird feeling in your stomach, almost like squeezing. Like how some snakes wrap around their prey, squeezing the life out of it to consume, Lockwood's words do the same to your very soul.

How long have you waited for this conversation? To finally get clarity as to why he just cut contact with you?

Well, you know some of it. After the deaths of his family, you were the only person he had left, and his biggest fear was losing you, too. He clung to that fear for the five years between Jessica's, his sister, death and your move as if it were the only thing keeping him afloat in a dark, endless sea. It's why you insisted on writing and sending letters every day even when you had nothing of interest to talk about. You didn't want him to feel alone.

What more could there be?

Much more, apparently.

"Well." For the first time in this whole encounter, Lockwood seems nervous. His fingers are tapping against his mug, occasionally making little clicking sounds when his nails make contact. He keeps looking at the bridge of your nose instead of your eyes like he used to do when he was a kid and wanted you to ask your mum to get you both ice cream. "You were my closest friend. Nigel Skyes, you remember him? My first employer? Well, he was great, but I'd never consider him a friend, so you were essentially it for me. I mean, you know as well as I do, that all this charm? The bravado? It's fake, (name). You were the one person who could see through it and still accepted me as I was.

"So, yes, it hurt more than anything when you left, because I needed my shield up all the time. After my parents, after Jessica -" He pauses for a moment to slow himself down. He had started to ramble. "It was hard, but around you, I didn't need to be brave or happy all the time. Then you left, and - and I can't even begin to explain the fear that ran through me. What was I meant to do without my rock? The one person who saw what a mess I am but didn't care, because they were just as bad."

"Thanks," you mutter.

"You know what I mean, though," he continues. "It's like... When you're on a rope swing, really high in the air, and then the rope snaps and you can just see the clouds growing distant and the ground rising up to meet you before you crash into it. It was disorienting not having you around, and it felt like that when you told me you were leaving."

You only speak because of how final that last sentence sounds. "I didn't leave. Leaving implies I chose to go, which I didn't."

"The premise stays the same. You were here, and then you weren't."

"You -" Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself. You'd both chosen to meet out in public so you didn't start shouting at each other. "Okay. I understand how you feel."

His eyebrow quirks up as if to say, Is that so? But he says, "Thank you. Your turn."

For what? you think. You've got nothing to explain, no actions to justify. You did everything in your power as a teenage kid to stay with your best friend, and you got the response most teenagers would receive from their parents for such a request. No. What more could you have done?

"You could've replied to my letters," you say quietly, unable to look at him.

"I did," he says. His voice is soft, and you can feel his eyes on your face. "I just didn't have the guts to send them."

The emotions that overtake you then are overwhelming. Sadness because you never got to read these letters or see the stupid responses he came up with for the even-stupider things you said. Anger because he never sent them, never even sent one to tell you that he couldn't handle it. Regret because you never should've sent any in the first place. Comfort because he spent time actually reading your thoughts and ramblings and sat down to respond, even knowing he wouldn't send them.

But there's that little part in you that doubts what he says. How are you to know that he's not lying?

Swallowing the clog of feelings in your throat, you say, "I just wanted my best friend. Even if I couldn't stay here and see you all the time, I wanted to know how you were doing. If you thought of me as much as I thought of you."

"I never stopped."

You take a sip of your cold coffee then to hide the tears clouding your eyes.

"You could've taken the train to come back and see me, you know," Lockwood says. "A visit every now and then wouldn't have hurt."

"And so could you," you retort. "I gave you my address. I had school to think about, and I couldn't spend however many days a week on a half-hour ride there and another back. There was too much going on,"

His lips purse, and there's a little pang in your heart seeing him without his smile. You had forgotten how fulfilling it had always been to see it, even when you were mad.

"Did you mean it when you said you've not made any friends where you are now?"

As embarrassing as it is, you say, "Yeah. It's not easy when you're the new kid with social issues. Why do you think I always made you do the talking?"

He breathes a laugh then, a faint glimmer shining in his dark eyes. "I suppose you never were very good at talking to people."

"No." You tuck your hair behind your ears, staring down at your mug. "I never realised how hard it was to make friends. With you, it had been easy. You were just some chatty kid who wanted some of my doughnuts. No one could compare to you, so I never bothered."

Lockwood hesitates, breathing in as if to speak but no words pass his parted lips. With the sunlight streaming through the window, he looks like he's been painted onto the scene in front of you with those shadowed eyes that hold a lifetime's worth of mystery and an almost unrealistic air about him. The golden light splits across his face far too perfectly. It's infuriating. It never does that for anyone else.

"I think what hurt the most," he says, and his voice holds a very unrecognisable note of trepidation, "is that I had been planning to ask you out the day you told me."

Your hands, which had been tapping the tops of your thighs, stop short, and you look over at him in shock.

"What?"

His smile this time is small, bashful almost. "I'd liked you since we were twelve, in all honesty. But I never acted on it because we were kids and I was still grieving. Admitting I loved you felt like sentencing you to death, and I didn't want that for either of us. And then I worked up the courage, got my shit together, but look where that's got me."

It hurts a little to breathe. "You're kidding."

"I'd never joke about that." He's the one who won't meet your eyes now. "It hurt twice as bad getting the news because I was losing my best friend and the person I loved most on the same day. But I went on."

You note the wording then, how he didn't say move on, and an old, almost foreign spark of hope flickers in the dark abyss that once held your heart. Like every minute spent with the boy you left it with makes it slowly return.

"I loved you, too, for what it's worth," you murmur. "But, you know me and talking. I couldn't get the words out."

The nature of his smile shifts to something more remorseful. "I wonder how much trouble we would've avoided if we'd told each other."

"Or caused, you mean."

And he laughs softly at that, bringing a little smile onto your lips and a warmth to your chest. Something about the conversation, even though you're still insanely mad at him for the things he's done - or not done, more correctly - has made you feel lighter, liberated, in a way. It's easier to smile and laugh and feel a little okay. To allow yourself to connect with him in a way so minuscule to how you once were years ago but so tremendous compared to your time apart.

You never thought you'd be sitting here with him now, sharing smiles, and the thought makes you tear up again.

"Do you think we could ever be friends again?" he asks hopefully. "I mean, I know you'll still be a half-hour journey away and all, but I'll send my letters this time. I swear it. I want to hear all about your life at university."

No, a little part of you cries. You'll just end up hurt again.

But you don't want to listen to it. You want your happiness back, your best friend. You want to be able to wake up in the morning happy, knowing you're not all alone in your life anymore. You want to suffer through a stuffy train journey on weekends and holidays to come and see him and drink bitter coffee and eat stale doughnuts like you used to when you were fourteen.

Most of all, you want him again. A week ago, you would've scoffed at the notion and told anyone who thought it to go screw themselves, yet this one conversation...

It has given you clarity, along with a lot of anger and frustration and sadness, but sitting across from him? It feels worth it. Everything from the past three years feels worth it because now you're across from him and you're smiling and so is he.

So you say, "Yes."

And while part of you screams that you've made a mistake, another tells you that you made the mistake of falling into his web so, so long ago and never yearning to leave it, instead calling it home.

"Yes," you repeat because at least he's your mistake, your downfall, your home.

[corpocyborg]

Secure Your Soul: A Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfiction

This fic was previously published under the title “Before the Event Horizon.”

Summary: Six months ago, V’s boss at Arasaka ordered her to assassinate his rival. Instead, with the reluctant but invaluable help of her old friend Jackie Welles, she pushed them both off their thrones and claimed one for herself. Now the new Director of Arasaka Counter Intel has a problem. She’s uncovered information that indicates that Yorinobu Arasaka, the heir apparent to the Arasaka dynasty, is a traitor. But without solid proof, she’s forced to take matters into her own hands.

An AU in which Corpo!V never leaves Arasaka.

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE BEGINNING IS THE END IS THE BEGINNING

[read on ao3]

SIX MONTHS LATER

"Johnny Silverhand?" Frank Nostra repeated, incredulous. “The old-school rockerboy?”

"That's correct," V confirmed. "His engram, anyway. On one of our Secure Your Soul relics. My source doesn’t know why NetWatch wants it, but he’s sure that’s what they’re purchasing."

Nostra furrowed his brow, his gaze shifting distractedly to the holographic koi fish circling outside the windows of V's office.

V rapped her knuckles quietly against the surface of her desk as she waited for him to speak. She respected Nostra, and their quarterly reviews proved they worked together far more harmoniously than their predecessors had, but the burning knowledge of this particular piece of intel would not allow her to remain inactive for long.

"And you're sure—one hundred percent sure—that the seller is who you think it is?"

"Yorinobu Arasaka," V enunciated the name clearly. "You can say it, you know. My office isn't bugged."

"You'd better hope it's not," Nostra retorted sharply. "That's the emperor's son you're accusing. The heir apparent. If you're wrong—"

"And if I'm right," V interrupted him, "then there's a crack in the very foundation of Arasaka's legacy. If a splinter like that is allowed to spread—"

"Okay, okay," Nostra interrupted her in turn, "Let me think for a minute."

"All right, Frank. I understand your caution completely. But we're on a sensitive time table here."

"So you've mentioned. This source of yours at NetWatch—what did you say his name was?"

"I didn't." V frowned. "And I won't now, either. He’s risking his life by bringing me that intel."

"I'm sure he is, V, but without proof, I don't see how we can go any further up the rungs with this."

"We are, respectively, the Directors of Counter Intel and Spec Ops, and you're telling me there's nothing we can do about intel that indicates that Saburo Arasaka's son is a traitor?"

Nostra winced, and despite her earlier claims of security, V felt a slight twitch in her neck. She had to restrain herself from turning her head to check that they weren't being overheard. 

"I didn't say that," he clarified. "I said we need more proof."

"Nostra, I told you, the deal's supposed to go down tonight."

"Yes. At Konpeki Plaza. I understand." 

“Then you understand why we can’t afford to wait.”

“I’m not telling you to wait, V.” Nostra’s face was thoroughly neutral. “I’m telling you that you need more proof.”

V was silent. Her heart began to beat more rapidly. She realized what he was implying. He wouldn’t officially recommend that she obtain proof on her own, but he was letting her know that that’s what was necessary. It was a risky endeavor, and she wasn’t entirely sure yet how she’d accomplish it. But the idea filled her with eager anticipation. 

“Okay,” she told him, folding her arms neatly on the surface of her desk. “Understood.” 

Nostra nodded. “I hope so.” He stood. “Keep me updated, Director Locke.” He left the room with one last backward glance at V. 

His use of her official title was deliberate, she was sure. Almost everyone she knew at NCHQ called her V. The single letter alias had been assigned to her during her first year at Arasaka Academy as part of a particularly challenging group project—a simulated undercover operation. V’s plan had led her team to victory, and she’d spent a blissful two weeks of fame at the top of the student leaderboard before someone knocked her off it again. Since then, the nickname had just stuck, even though it was an atypical form of address between coworkers. By using her title instead, Nostra reminded her of her position and her responsibility to look out for Arasaka’s best interests.

V swiveled her chair slightly to the right so she had more room to comfortably cross her legs. She leaned back into the cool, supple leather. As always at the start of a new mission, V began by considering what she already knew about her enemy—Yorinobu Arasaka, Saburo Arasaka’s second-born son and presumed heir, since the death of his first-born son way back in the 2020s.

She knew his sordid history, a rebellious youth messing around with Japanese gangs. By all accounts, however, he'd been brought back into the fold since then, becoming leader of the Taka Faction and the most likely of Saburo’s potential heirs to actually take control one day. 

Even as a Department Head, V was far too low-ranking for her viewpoint on the issue to truly matter, but she privately thought that all of Saburo’s potential heirs fell short of him in various ways. His daughter, Hanako Arasaka, was reclusive and cautious—she was unlikely to be able to command respect to the degree that her father could, and her preference for playing the waiting game could result in missed opportunities. On the other hand, Michiko Arasaka—Saburo’s granddaughter via his first-born son—was well-loved by the public, but not so much by high-ranking executives in Arasaka, and the reform policies her faction lobbied for were too restrictive for V’s taste. And Yorinobu himself…

His faction’s namesake was the hawk for a reason: Taka was the most militant faction, and they were also globalist in scope and innovative in approach. All this, V appreciated. Yorinobu himself struck her as quick-tempered and headstrong, qualities that he shared with his father, but overall he seemed to have more passion and less restraint. That was a useful insight, at least. Emotional people were always easier to predict and manipulate.

All right then. That was the gist of what she knew about her enemy, little though it may be. Now onto her goals. Step one: getting into Konpeki Plaza. 

Luckily, as Director of Counter Intel, there were myriad possible excuses she could come up with for her presence at a place like that. She had several upcoming meetings in the pipeline that she could easily reschedule to tonight. What could be more natural than to apologize for the abrupt scheduling change by choosing a highly comfortable meeting venue, like say… Konpeki Plaza, for instance?

But then she'd have to figure out how to sneak into Yorinobu Arasaka’s suite while working around the schedule of the meeting, which might not leave her with sufficient time. And sending a delegate to replace her at the meeting would be suspicious at worst and extremely rude at best, considering she’d be the one who’d demanded the meeting occur on such short notice in the first place. No, that wouldn’t do. She needed an excuse that explained her presence at the hotel, but didn't draw anyone's attention to her specifically. 

Time for another approach. 

She used the optics display on her Kiroshi to pull up a calendar of events at Konpeki Plaza. She scanned through the conferences scheduled for tonight. If she could find one that could function as a realistic cover story, she could purchase a ticket and use it to get into the hotel. Her early exit from a large, crowded event was unlikely to be noted. And, better still, the conference rooms were on the ninety-eighth floor of the Plaza. Yorinobu was almost certainly on the hundredth floor—the penthouse suite. Anything less would be unseemly. She'd only have to find a way to go two extra floors higher.  

She scanned the possibilities. She was hoping to find a talk on something related to her work to buff up her cover story, but no such luck. One event did stand out to her, however. At 8pm in the Sapphire Conference Room, Hideyoshi Oshima, the famous braindance producer, was hosting a conference on the implementation of multifaceted emotional states in next-gen BDs. The timing was perfect, though the content of the meeting was ill-fitting with the type of events V typically attended. It certainly didn’t have much to do with her career. Still, she could plausibly claim a personal interest in the topic. 

She pulled up the event’s seating details and purchased a ticket. They were pricey, but what was the point of that ample Arasaka paycheck if not to spend it? She checked the time. She had about twenty minutes to change into a fresher suit and get to Konpeki Plaza, if she wanted her timing to seem realistic for the event. This called for her fastest ride. 

—

Fifteen minutes later, her Rayfield Excalibur touched down near the Arasaka waterfront, just outside Konpeki Plaza. She exited and was immediately greeted by a young, gold-skinned valet. Literally gold-skinned. One of the requirements of a job at Konpeki Plaza was a uniform you could never take off—you had to replace your natural skin with a shiny coating of metallic, gold Realskinn. V appreciated that level of dedication. 

“Hello, Director Locke,” the valet said. “Welcome to Konpeki Plaza. I’ll take care of your AV for you.”

She didn’t miss the excitement in the kid’s eyes. He may have been accustomed to luxury vehicles, but the Excalibur was the best of the best. V understood his enthusiasm. It was the fastest street-legal vehicle in the world, not to mention safe, comfortable, reliable, and absolutely gorgeous. V’s was off-black in color, exterior embellished with the Arasaka logo, and so polished that it gleamed even in the low lighting of the parking area. She smiled at the valet, waving her right hand in the signal that transferred a generous tip from one of her bank accounts to his. “Take good care of it."

“Of course, Director.” He nodded deferentially.

V made her way through the front doors of Konpeki Plaza, breezed through the security scanners, and walked up to the check-in desk. The receptionist recognized her on sight. “Director Locke,” she said. “Welcome back. Here for another meeting?” 

“Not this time, ” V answered, already placing her hand on the scanner to verify her SID chip. “I’ll be attending a conference tonight.”

“Ah, yes,” she responded. Her eyes lit up momentarily as she received the upload of V’s data. “Hideyoshi Oshima’s talk. He’s very good.” Her eyes faded back to their normal color and focused on V again. “Are you interested in braindance advancements, Director?”

“I am,” V responded, smiling warmly at the receptionist despite the irritation she felt at the question. She always strove to be courteous to the help—they were perfectly placed to overhear a treasure trove of gossip. Besides, she’d rehearsed a point of view on the topic during the AV ride. “I think Oshima has an interesting premise, but I maintain that experiencing a heightened sense of passion is actually a major selling point of BDs, and that therefore complicating that would actually counterintuitively cheapen the experience. His ideas, in my opinion, might not apply as well to the medium as he expects.”

The receptionist nodded earnestly. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. You may be right, Director.”

“Well, we’ll see if his speech impresses me,” V said, leaning towards her over the countertop with a conspiratorial look. “If you see me leaving early, then you’ll know I haven’t changed my initial assessment.”

The receptionist laughed. “Come down to the bar if he bores you. No sense in wasting the evening.”  

“None indeed,” V agreed. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that offer.” She threw one last smile her way, then turned to leave. “Have a good evening.”

“You as well, Director,” the receptionist responded cheerfully. 

V heard her voice from a distance. She was already halfway towards the elevator. But as she passed the bar, a snippet of conversation caught her ear. 

“You wanna know what a bearer of bad news looks like?” A drunken businessman was gesturing wildly at a disinterested bartender and shouting loud enough for half the bar to overhear. His speech was slurred, and he occasionally interrupted himself with a hiccup. “What’s four hundred yards long, weighs a hundred thousand tons, and is nuclear powered? The answer’s docked in the bay. Hanako Arasaka decided to take a little vacation!”  

Hanako Arasaka was in Night City? V slowed down, her mind reeling. Her source at NetWatch hadn’t mentioned anything about that. It was possible he was unaware of her presence, but the odds of it being merely a coincidence were not great. 

V adjusted her course, heading towards the bar. By now the drunk had calmed down a bit and was staring morosely into a glass of golden liquid the bartender had handed him. V slid up next to him but faced the bartender, who turned his attention to her as well. “Evenin’,” he said. “What can I get you, baby?” 

That was the second time tonight she’d been addressed casually. No wonder the Night City Konpeki Plaza ranked below so many of the others in quality of customer service. “Evenin’,” she responded, mirroring his tone. “A glass of Centzon, please.” 

“Of course,” he said, pulling the appropriate bottle and a lowball glass from the shelf behind him. He poured the tequila and handed it to her. “Enjoy.” 

V took a small sip, savoring the taste. It was her favorite drink, but she wanted her mind to remain clear tonight. She watched the drunk from out of the corner of her eye and plotted her opening line. 

“A word of advice, if I may,” she spoke to him quietly, without turning her head. “Be careful what you broadcast for all the world to hear.”

He jumped slightly, no doubt pulled suddenly out of some private train of thought. A splash of his drink flew towards the floor. He stared at the stain for a moment, then looked up at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “What d’ya mean?”

“Your speech earlier, about Hanako Arasaka’s visit,” she reminded him. When he startled again, V explained herself. “You were loud enough that I could hear you from the other side of the room.”

“Was I?” he asked, momentarily abashed. Then a flush of anger returned to face. “Well, good! ‘Cause this affects us all. It’ll slap everyone in the face!”

“I get it,” V said. She propped her elbow up on the bar and placed her hand on the side of her neck, turning her full attention to him. “You’re pissed off. That’s fair. But you’re not gonna fix anything by mouthing off in a bar. You’re just gonna make things worse for yourself.”

At first, he looked angrier, and V feared she’d taken the wrong approach, but then all at once, the anger drained out of him, and he just looked tired. He took a swig from his nearly empty glass. “Why do you care, anyway?” he demanded, his voice a desperate whisper. 

V shrugged. “I guess because I’m in the same boat. I’m a tech specialist with Arasaka Counter Intel. I know how this shit can get.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, a trickle of relief creeping into his tone. “You would, wouldn’t you?” He scratched his head, a thoughtful gleam lighting up his slightly more lucid eyes. “Didn’t you have a big crisis a few months ago? Some psychobitch director shooting up the competition?”

“Something like that, yes.” V looked away from him, fixing her gaze on a point in the distance and letting her eyes glaze over like she’d seen Carter’s do when he’d spoken to her about finding the bodies. “It was terrible. If you’d have seen it… all that blood…”

“Hey, now,” he said, adopting a soothing tone. “You can’t go getting worked up over a little blood. You’re gonna see way worse things if you stay in Counter Intel. You need to be prepared.”

V analyzed his demeanor, checking if he noticed the irony of their role reversal. But he seemed too pleased to care. If only she knew how to cry on command. She took a deep, shaky breath instead. “How do you cope with it?” she asked him. “Is it always like this for you?”

“No, not always,” he reassured her. “I mean, I’m a liaison. That’s a sort of go-between from one branch of Arasaka to another. I represent the Night City branch in negotiations with the Tokyo branch. It can get stressful, but situations that get me this stressed aren’t usual.”

“I feel like things like this happen all the time.” 

“Nah, of course not. I mean, there’s no way something like this happens all the time.”

She looked at him doubtfully.

“No, really,” he insisted. “I mean, Hanako just had to follow her father…” 

He broke off his sentence hastily. V struggled to maintain her composure while she waited for him to resume it. Saburo Arasaka was in Night City??? Did he know about Yorinobu’s plan? Was he trying to stop him? Was he in the building right now? 

But there were some dangers so great that even intoxication and a pretty girl couldn’t make a man walk into them. When he began stuttering and trying to take a sip out of his empty glass, V knew she’d lost him.

“Look,” he said, finally putting his glass off to the side. “I should really get back to my room. It’s getting kinda late, and I’m probably gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”  

V was far too shaken to try to convince him to stay. “All right,” she said simply. “Be careful.”

He looked at her strangely. It wasn’t until after he’d walked off that V registered why that must have been. Unlike everything else she’d said tonight, that warning had been genuine.

[acknowledge-reigns]

Apologies (Roman Reigns x OC)

Angst/Fluff.

Description: Roman wants to apologize to Jey for the way he treated him in the bloodline but struggles with expressing his feelings of remorse.

Kayfabe compliant, this is story about Roman not Joe.

You can find my other stories here.

And you can read more of Roman and Lilith specifically here.

Exhausted. He was emotionally exhausted. Lilith gave Roman an encouraging smile as she offered him the glass of Bourbon she'd just poured up for him. Roman's gaze barely leaves the the notebook in his lap. He could do many things. He could spear men twice his size, he could lock in a guillotine in a manner that's practically inescapable, he could break record after record - But to apologize? No. That's different.

"Let me hear it again." Lilith prompted supportively.

Roman sighs and begins to read from his notes, "Jey, I really could've handled things differently and I see how I treated you was unfair..." Roman trailed off, "I can't say this, Lil. I did everything I did for HIM. To elevate him. For our family. Our bloodline. Life isn't fair." Roman said.

"Ro, do you want to fix your relationship with your little cousin or not?' Lilith questioned.

"Of course I do, but I need him to see my side of things too." Roman said.

"Do you think you're struggling to verbalize your emotions because you're afraid of being perceived as weak?" Lilith asked.

Roman thought for a moment, unsure what to say. "I guess that's possible." he shifted uncomfortably. Putting his pride aside wasn't easy. Admitting he could have been a better Tribal Chief at times wasn't easy.

He went through years and years of harassment, of borderline abuse from the WWE Universe before he finally snapped and took what he and his family deserved. Last time he was this vulnerable, the people who were supposed to cheer him on kicked him while he was down.

Seth betrayed him. Hit him in the back with a chair and busted up the shield. He lost his brother that day. Not his friend. His brother. Dean left not long after. Another brother gone. Years pass, he grows fond of Sami Zayn and what does he do? the same thing Seth did. Not just that but in Roman's mind, he successfully turned his cousins against him.

Everybody leaves. No matter how hard he tries. No matter if he's the good guy or the bad guy. That's why he's chosen to simply be THE guy.

The only person he trusts with his heart is Lilith, and even so he's been known to lose sleep wondering if it's a matter of time before she decides he isn't good enough. If he loses the title will she leave? if he's knocked off of the top of the mountain will she still be there?

That's part of why he's so dedicated to extending an olive branch to Jey, even if he feels he's making an absolute fool of himself. He has to be a better man. For Lilith.

"What if you write him an apology letter instead?" Lilith asked.

With that, Roman spent the afternoon penning a letter to his cousin with Lilith by his side soothingly rubbing his broad shoulders for moral support, He sits down at their dining table, a pen in hand and a blank sheet of paper before him. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow of a candle casting flickering shadows on the walls. Roman begins to pour his emotions onto the paper. He takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame of the candle, and begins to write his apology.

"Dear Jey,

I hope this letter finds you well. I've been wrestling with my feelings and regrets, and I find myself needing to express them to you. First and foremost, I want to apologize for my actions and the pain they may have caused you. I may not fully understand your decision to team up with Cody Rhodes, but I realize now why you've decided to leave the bloodline.

I want you to know that my love for our family, our bloodline, has always been at the forefront of my decisions. Every step I took, every move I made, was with the intention of protecting and upholding our legacy. But in doing so, I failed to see the impact it had on you, my cousin, my brother.

I am hurt, Jey. Hurt that you chose to align yourself with Cody Rhodes, someone who I perceive as a threat to our bloodline. It felt like a betrayal. I am hurt that you attempted to take my position as tribal chief. I'm hurt that at every turn whether is be with Sami or with Jimmy or even with Cody you failed to choose my side. But looking back, I realize that family is more important than any rivalry or personal agenda.

I want to mend our relationship, to rebuild the bond we once had. We've faced countless challenges together, and I believe we can overcome this as well. Let's set aside our differences and find a way to heal the wounds that have come between us.

I am committed to making amends, to listening to your side of the story, and to understanding your perspective. I value you, Jey, and I want nothing more than to have you back by my side, fighting alongside me in the ring and in life as my right hand man.

Please know that I am here, ready to talk and listen whenever you are. Let's find a way to move forward together, for the sake of our bloodline.

With love and remorse

- Your Tribal Chief, the head of the table, your cousin.

Roman Reigns"

Roman finishes writing and reads the letter aloud, feeling the weight of his words as he fights back tears. He refused to cry. Lilith reaches out and places a comforting hand on his, offering support and reassurance. She believes that this heartfelt letter will serve as a catalyst for their reconciliation, hoping that Jey will see the sincerity in Roman's words. She knew this was far from easy for him.

Roman takes a deep breath, feeling a mix of vulnerability and determination. He knows that this letter is his best chance to convey his true emotions to Jey, to show him how much he values their bond as family. With Lilith's guidance, he revises a few sentences, ensuring that his apology is genuine and heartfelt.

Once satisfied with the final version of the letter, Roman folds it neatly and tucks it into an envelope. He seals it and places it on the kitchen counter, ready to be delivered to Jey.

"You did good, Ro. You should be proud of yourself." Lilith said.

Roman gives a small, appreciative smile. Her words bring a sense of comfort and validation to his anxious mind. He takes a moment to let her words sink in, feeling a glimmer of pride and gratitude for her unwavering support.

"Thank you, Lil," Roman replies, his voice warm with sincerity. "I couldn't have done it without you by my side."

Lilith reaches over and gently squeezes Roman's hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and affection. "You've shown true growth, Roman. It takes strength to acknowledge our mistakes and make amends. I believe in you, and I know that your heartfelt gesture will make a difference."

"The bloodline means everything to me, family means everything to me. I want nothing more than to have Jey back by my side, fighting together."

Lilith's gaze softens as she listens to Roman's heartfelt words. She understands the depth of his desire to mend his relationship with Jey, to restore the unity and strength of their family. She reaches out to gently brush her fingers against his cheek, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Your sincerity will shine through, and I believe that Jey will see it too. Trust in the bond you share, and give him the time he needs. Remember, apologies are just the beginning. It's through actions and consistent effort that true healing and forgiveness can be achieved."

Roman takes a deep breath and nods allowing Lilith's words to wash over him. Her presence and guidance have been instrumental in his journey towards growth and reconciliation. With newfound determination, he sets his sights on the future, ready to do whatever it takes to rebuild the bond with his cousin and bring their family back together. Roman gives a small smile and leans in for a kiss.

Lilith kisses him back with love and passion, "You've got this, Ro." She said.

[officalroyalsofpierreland]

An Executive Decision

Emperor's Study, Palais de Royal Rouge, Pierreland

Katalina: Did you have to be so combative with her David? Honestly!

David: She started it!

Katalina: Dios Mio! David, if you had just pulled back the letter-

David: Like I could! It would've made me look weak!

Katalina: Yet you are now looking like an asshole. For fucks sake David, you could've told them that Felipe forged the damn letter. I know that the young Napoleon V is not a fan of your son and Vivianna could've-

David: Then I look like I have no control over my own family!

Katalina: You don't! Watcher, you couldn't even leave Felipe in here alone. What if he rummaged through your desk? And found the fucking report about what happened with your father. About Ben's-

David: Katalina. You know we don't fucking talk about that. Ben. was. killed. by. firing. squad. That is what happened. And it shall stay that way.

Katalina [pushing his hand]: Yes. yes. I know, tow the party line. However, what if he found it! He's bound to find out you've cut him off. He knows you're angry.

David: And he didn't find it Kat. And let us hope that the truth goes with us to the grave. Felipe will be punished. Granted it shall sound severe.

Katalina: Not exile...David...the children.

David: no no...like you said, I already look like an asshole. Strip him of his titles. Bar him from my presence for a number of years but allow for his wives and children to visit if they wish. Matches the current level of asshole if you ask me.

Katalina: Like they will if Felipe is barred. David...think this through.

David: Why are you always questioning my decisions?

Katalina: Cause they've been fucking questionable lately! I don't know what's happened with you and age, but some of your decisions are not well thought out. Hence, what is happening with Lenerd.

David: The Empire must not look weak-

Katalina: He is a toddler! Who is our blood. He is not a matter of state, and yet your fucking pride made it one!

David: He is de facto heir of the IU right now! How would we do succession? Co-parenting? Religon? Cause dear Watcher, Eloise is marrying the Simparte boy-

Katalina: Who will have more of a fatherly influence on our grandson than his own father at this rate.

David: Louis is not-

Edmund: Are you two always going to be fighting when I get summoned.

Edmund: Cause this is getting awkward...and frankly, the fact I can't tell Dee Dee any of this is stressing me out...

Katalina [sighing]: I'm sorry Eddie...we can't risk any leaks...I'm already worried about Felipe.

Edmund: I haven't seen him lately...what's going on?

David: Let's all sit.

Edmund: Is everything alright with him? What did you decided to do about young Lenerd?

David: I haven't heard from your brother in a while and....I technically didn't decide anything.

Edmund: What does he mean? Mama?

Katalina: Your brother...forged your father's handwriting stating that your father will not tell Louis about Lenerd or acknowledge him-

Edmund: No...

Katalina: And burned the original letter

Edmund: No

Katalina: So now your father has refused to recall the letter, and is attempting to carve out a tentative peace with Queen Viviana instead of just putting his ego aside...we tell everyone in 10 years the truth.

Edmund: DAD WHAT THE FUCK!

Edmund: You're going to let...my children be denied the opportunity to be with their cousin??

David: Look...it's the best I can do while giving Louis some buffer-

Edmund: Look...I love my little bro, but fuck him for a moment. He needs to be there!

David: Look at your brother's current behavior over Maggie getting a boyfriend. Tell me that's a guy ready to be a dad.

Edmund: You could just tell him to make him grow the fuck up.

Katalina: okay Edmund, you've sworn enough for the both of us at this point.

David: Look...this is the decision on Lenerd. In terms of Felipe, I want you to tell him my terms and that he will be summoned to accept them.

Edmund: I take it whatever the terms are, he has the illusion of choice?

David: Yes.

mentions of @empiredesimparte and @funkyllama

[maaarshieee]

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬, 𝐈𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞, 𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞 ୧ ⎯⎯

➢ Aʟʜᴀɪᴛʜᴀᴍ x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x Kᴀᴠᴇʜ

➢ 1.5k ᴡᴏʀᴅs ┊ Hᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

a/n - i had a really stressful project recently and i had to do smth i was particulary good at. but i lost the competition and didnt manage to get top 5 and i felt really shity about it so have this comfort fic. titled "deep breaths, inhale, exhale", have a nice day/night! i hope ppl who are also stressed get comfort at least :) also trying to come to terms that i don't have to write flamboyantly for it to be 'good'

It was just a normal day for the two housemates; Alhaitham and Kaveh.

Usual bickering whilst they ate, not afraid to raise their voices at each other despite it still being the crack of dawn. At this point, their neighbors have learned to adapt to the two men's senseless blabbering early in the morning, resulting in lessening noise complaints.

Despite the headache-inducing arguments that transpire from their (Alhaitham's) home, there was still a sort of order when it comes to responsibilities. Although every now and then, the house would be a total mess. Let's just say they're the perfect balance between calm and utter chaos.

As per routine, it was Kaveh's turn to wash the dishes and Alhaitham would go on ahead to the Akademiya to resume his duties as the Scribe. Then Kaveh would begin drafting his projects or spend his morning eventfully at the Grand Bazaar.

But it all came to a halt when their door slammed open.

It startled both residents, and hastily getting on their feet, the loud screech of wood against wood reverberated throughout the house as they summoned their weapons. But upon laying their eyes on your familiar figure standing in the doorway, they rejoiced. Kaveh, feeling his heart leap at your sudden arrival, grinned ear to ear and ran up to you, while Alhaitham tried to contain his excitement by maintaining his disinterested expression. However, not a soul would notice other than you and Kaveh, his lovers, the way his eyes lighted up and the small quirk at the corner of his lips.

You were a rather well-known member of Vahumana. A few weeks ago, you went on a faraway expedition to pursue a project you've been dreaming of completing and share your research with other scholars. Oftentimes, you sent letters, updating them on your progress, difficulties you've encountered, and horrible homesickness, missing both of them dearly.

But as of late, you hadn't sent any letters. While both assumed that you were just particularly busy, they both waited patiently for your next letter. Of course, this was sheer nonsense to people who have managed to witness them during that point and time.

Alhaitham had to physically stop Kaveh's worried ramblings about you by pressing a deep kiss on his lips, while Kaveh had to hide the coffee from Alhaitham because if he didn't, he'd drink 5 cups of coffee solely because of his unease and would rake his fingers through his hair, just as he liked (though would never admit to Kaveh).

Your intention was to submit your project, then surprise your lovers with your arrival. But those plans were quickly shattered when the Akademiya unceremoniously rejected your project. And rather harshly at that. It broke your heart of your results. While you resented the Akademiya like the rest of the people attending it, you couldn't help but feel so beaten down.

You had thought that it was your magnum opus, you've worked blood, sweat, and tears with this passion project of yours. That it would bring upon revelations in Sumeru like other Vahumara scholars did. And you were sure that your research was feasible too if others dared to collaborate as well. But no, the Akademiya shut you down without hesitation.

Angry, frustrated, sad, and most importantly, tired.

Their cheerful mood dampened down when they finally saw your tearful eyes, dark bags under them, and a shaky, bitter smile on your lips. You hadn't meant to return in such a foul mood, trying to maintain the pep in your walk and a bright (fake) smile that you usually wore whilst you walked back to your home. But the closer you got, the more your heart constricted uncomfortably due to the stress you desperately tried to swallow down.

Averting your eyes from their concerned expressions, you took an interest in the floor, your body aching from your heavy bags. Both wanted to ask all the questions running through their minds, to wrap you around their arms and comfort you, but seeing how hard you're trying to keep it to together...

Alhaitham silently took your bags from your tired form and you let out a small, broken "thank you" and a sigh of relief once he did, making him frown deeper. Kaveh's warm, delicate fingers found themselves on your cheek, and almost instantly, you leaned against his touch, bottom lip now quivering.

"Welcome back dearest," Kaveh cooed into your ear, leading you inside the house and closing the door behind you. Alhaitham, after putting your bags down, took your other cheek in his rough, calloused hand. "We've missed you." Alhaitham was not one for words like these, but he wanted you to momentarily forget whatever happened to upset you and only focus on them.

The textures of their hands contrasted, similarly to their personalities, but they both felt so nice on your skin, you couldn't simply get enough of the feel. Another sigh escaped your lips before you mustered up the courage to speak, only to pathetically mutter; "I missed you too." Barely above a whisper.

Alhaitham and Kaveh shared a knowing look, nodding to each other. Alhaitham carried you into his arms, one hooked under your legs and one on your back after he asked for your permission and Kaveh pressed a kiss on your forehead. "You must be tired, want me to make anything for you?" He asked, eyes softening when you curled up against Alhaitham even more, head against his pectorals.

Your gaze was distant, but you let out a thoughtful hum. "Something... You know I'd like, please?" You requested, a small smile etching your lips in an attempt to lighten the mood, though they could both see the underlying pain in it. But Kaveh could only chuckle for you, "But you like anything I make, sweetheart!"

Alhaitham sighed exasperatedly, appearing as if his patience was thinning but it was to merely appear as if the normalcy between the three of you has returned, just for a little bit, before you decide to tell them what was wrong. "Then get on with it, you're in the way." He huffed.

Kaveh's lips pursed at that, glaring at the silver-haired male, quite offended. "Well excuse me for just conversing with our dear lover!" Fortunately, it elicited a small snort from you, hand covering your lips as your shoulders shook lightly. Your giggles were enough to quell their worries, even if it's just a little.

By simply being in the presence of your dearest lovers, little by little, the weight on your chest slowly dissipates, and your enthusiasm returns in your heart. By just seeing them bicker or stare lovingly at you, you know it's just going to be alright. You're going to be alright.

The Akademiya might've rejected you, but when you have Alhaitham and Kaveh by your side, who you know would support you over anything as long as it makes you happy by your side? What's seriously stopping you at this point? Their rejection doesn't mean you're not worth anything at all. It was rejuvenating in their presence, the motivation on continuing onwards with your project.

In between your lovers after Kaveh made your favorite food, listened to Alhaitham ramble about his recent projects, which quickly turns into another argument once Kaveh pipes in, you merely found comfort in what others thought was annoying.

Even while they quarrel, it's also quite the sight of them being so irritated at one another while you're in their arms, unharmed. Seriously, why can't they just shut up and kiss already? It makes your eyes roll.

And just like that, your rejection has slipped from your mind. They've made you feel so much better ever since you came back without even telling them the reason. It makes your heart swell, and before you know it, you've fallen asleep.

"They must've been so tired," Kaveh whispered to him, making sure you're laid properly in between them and pressed a loving kiss on your cheek.

"I agree, I can only assume that it has something to do with the Akademiya," Alhaitham responded, rarely agreeing with him. Kaveh's eyes widened in surprise for a moment but never spoke of it. If he did, he'd never hear those sweet words ever again.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around your torso and laying his chin on top of your head, not after he kissed your nape, earning a sleepy giggle from the ticklish feel. Kaveh would put aside his frustration toward the Akademiya for another day, what's more important was you, and he would do anything to keep that smile on your pretty face.

Alhaitham had his hand on your waist, rubbing circles with his thumb as he let you wrap your arms around his larger form, listening to you softly snored, watching your chest slowly rise and fall. The same he did with Kaveh once he fell asleep as well, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. You both looked so peaceful, it brought a smile to his lips.

"Good night," He whispers, pressing one last kiss on your forehead, and moved slightly when he pulled away, chasing his lips. His heart thumped at that, pulling you closer to him. "We will be here for you once you wake up. Always."

If you want to be tagged in future works, fill out this form to be added to my taglist! Remember that usernames are only lowercase and have no spaces!

Taglist: @anniejourn, @dilucssiliconedildo, @achlysyo, @sunoo-bby, @iyagato, @randomidk-123, @kujobug, @louise-rosita-leroux, @eliciana, @gattahaveit1

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[dairyminki]

HIIII CONGRATS ON 300!!! and for the event i would like to request just a silly little hongjoong scenario where reader (either fem or gn is fine) refuses to hold his hands bc they’re sweaty,,, i just think he’d be very dramatic about it sksksk

✨️ part of my 300 milestone event 🪄

title: tattletale

pairing: kim hongjoong x gn!reader

genre: established relationship

warning/s: mention of hospital and a brief description of injection

wc: 416

a/n: hi tysm for requesting!! i hope u enjoy this silly lil joong scenario hehehe ^^ (this is the most dramatic i could make him jsksk) joongie here is kinda based on that clip of him calling his mom abt the rainbow sherbet thing iykyk

* reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated!

—

"For the nth time, no!"

Silence meets your sudden exclamation, and for a moment there, you thought it would stay that way.

You really hoped it would.

But your boyfriend just happened to be a certain someone named Kim Hongjoong.

"But why?!" Hongjoong whines, and he makes it a point to say it near your ear because he knows very well how much you hate it when he exactly does that.

And right now, you do—hate him.

You turn your head from left to right, trying to see if anybody happened to pass by the hallway and witness Hongjoong throwing tantrums like a five-year-old kid beside you.

The both of you are currently at the hospital you frequent every month for your regular health check up. And even if you've been doing this for quite a long time already, Hongjoong's still not friends with syringes with needles on it, especially if it pokes on his skin.

"Well, first of all, our turn is near, and second, your hands are so clammy, Joong! How'd you expect me to hold that thing?"

Wrong move clearly, because the second those words left your mouth, Hongjoong's mouth forms into a big letter O, and elicits a loud gasp.

"That thing? That thing?!" Hongjoong's voice rises up a notch that you basically had to move closer to him and cover his mouth. However, one of his hands flies on top of yours in an attempt to pry it away from his mouth—and yes, they're sweaty alright.

"My mom will hear about this! And trust me she won't be happy, nu-uh." Hongjoong says, scoffing every now and then while he fishes out his phone from his pocket. And because you know him so well, you stop him from actually calling his mom for this and do what he's been demanding—more like whining—from you ever since the nurse announced that the doctor will be meeting you both soon.

Hongjoong is a huge tattletale but you love him for what he is so…

"There, I finally held your hand, Joong. I hope you stop being a brat now or I will literally-"

"No, you won't. You love me too much! And didn't you say that you'll protect me from everything?" He retorts with a smug look evident on his face.

"That…that's unfortunately true," You answer with a sigh, never letting your hand slip away from his sweaty ones. Not that Hongjoong's giving you much of a choice with his tight grip on you really.