#and I hope that one day someone does for them what they did for me should they ever need it

[starryjake]

thinking about toxic situationship!heeseung :(

you’re by far his favorite out of all the girls he fucks but he’s too cocky to let you know that. in the back of your mind, though, you know. you can’t imagine that he takes his other girls out for late night ramen or lets them sit on his lap and watch him play video games.

you can’t imagine he’s as gentle and sweet during aftercare with anyone else. in fact, you really hope he isn’t. you hope he kicks out all the other girls he sleeps with as soon as he’s done with them. you hope that he doesn’t let them spend the night like he does with you, even going as far as to make you breakfast or take you out the next day.

every time he’s with another girl, he can’t stop thinking about fucking annoying they are and can’t help himself from comparing them to you. he knows you would be so much better: better at sucking his dick, better at riding him, just your pussy in general was better.

he’d text you when he was hanging out with other girls, not even waiting for them to leave the room but doing it right next to them. he didn’t care if they could see, even when he was texting you about how bad they were and how he wished he were with you instead.

heeseung: this blows

y/n: whys that?

heeseung: bc she isn’t you baby

y/n: you could always leave and come over :)

heeseung: aww my girl wants me to ditch this chick and come fuck her instead? is that what you want, little princess?

y/n: fuck hee…please :(

he could not say no to you. 10 minutes later and he’s ditched the random girl he was with and was instead pounding you into your mattress, grunting loudly as you clenched around him.

“fuck yeah, baby,” he moaned, hips drilling into you. “you’re such a good girl. so much fucking better than anyone else.”

and you took it so well, eating up every last word.

he also loved that you didn’t talk to any other guys. you just wanted him and only him so, so badly, and maybe if he did relationships, he would choose you to be his girlfriend. but, he didn’t date and he made sure you were aware of that from the start your situationship. but the point was, he loved that you were still loyal to him, not even wanting to talk to another guy because they just weren’t heeseung. no one did it like him.

no one ate you out until you were squirting everywhere and shaking like he did. no one fucked you until your eyes were rolling into the back of your head and drooling onto his sheets like he did. no one made you feel like passing out from intense pleasure like heeseung.

you liked him. you were probably in love with him. you hated knowing he saw other girls and he loved knowing it made you upset. he loved knowing that you liked him enough to get so jealous of other girls.

again, he would never tell you that he couldn’t give less of a shit about the other girls. in fact, he would purposely use them just to make you jealous, fucking them for the sole reason of knowing you would hate it. your jealousy was what got him off because it showed that you cared about him, that you wanted him all to yourself.

he thought about you every time he thrusted his cock inside another girl’s pussy. he thought about how much tighter you were than them. how much warmer, wetter, and more delicious you were.

heeseung liked you a lot too. he was also probably in love with you and he realized that when he was finishing on the tits of someone else and moaned out your name instead of theirs.

-

like sorry i just needed to get this off my chest bc heeseung is FUCKING WITH ME TODAY!!

anyway how are y’all? :3

[niilue]

—when vi finally speaks, it’s not just her words you hear, but the weight of everything she’s too scared to lose.—

part i.

cw: female reader, vi x reader, angsty, jealousy, emotional hurt, hurt-comfort, vi’s emotional struggle, vulnerable vi, mention of caitvi's relationship, slow burn, spoilers s2. this is long writer's note: guys this is long!! i didn't even know how to do this part, i tried to make it as canon as possible to vi's character, and remember this is fiction, not hate <3-

vi didn’t move immediately after ou left. she stood there, in the middle of the alley, listening to the sound of your footsteps fading away and feeling like with each one, something inside her broke a little more. your words still echoed in her head, louder than any punch she had ever taken in the ring.

"why are you acting like this is personal?"

she had said those words reflexively, without thinking, in an attempt to protect herself. but now, as she remembered them, all she felt was a sharp pang of shame. she had seen the pain in your face when she said them, had felt the weight of your emotions and how your words had been filled with anger and something deeper, something vi couldn’t quite understand.

"why did it matter so much to her?"

it was the only question she could ask herself as she stood there, motionless. she had faced fights, betrayals, even death, but she had never dealt with something as confusing as this. she had never had to look at someone and realize she didn’t understand what they were feeling.

caitlyn approached, breaking the silence with a tone that seemed to carry more judgment than compassion.

“vi…”

“not now, cait,” vi replied automatically, with a harshness that wasn’t aimed at her, but at herself.

but caitlyn didn’t stop.

“vi, you have to let her go. it’s clear that this… whatever it is that’s going on between you two…”

“you don’t understand!” vi raised her voice, turning toward caitlyn. her eyes were red, full of frustration and something caitlyn hadn’t seen in her before: fear.

caitlyn raised her hands in surrender, but the damage was already done. vi felt the explosion of emotions inside her, a chaos of unanswered questions that pushed her to act, to move, even though she didn’t know where to go.

"why does she care so much?"

vi started walking aimlessly, her footsteps echoing in the empty streets of zaun while her mind raced. the image of your face, of your eyes full of tears and pain, wouldn’t leave her alone. you had said you were nothing, that you would never be anything, but even so, your words had been full of something more: broken hope, a love that seemed too strong to ignore.

"why does she look at me like that?" vi thought, clenching her fists. she wanted to hit something, wanted all that noise in her head to stop. but she couldn’t. your words were still there, like an echo that wouldn’t fade.

“i never asked her to stay,” she muttered to herself, her voice heavy with self-defense.

but as soon as she said it, she knew it was a lie.

vi stopped in a dark corner, leaning against the wall as her breathing turned erratic. the streets around her were empty, but inside her, everything was full of noise.

“she’s the one who decided to stay,” she whispered again, trying to convince herself. but she couldn’t.

every time she tried to come up with an excuse, your image came back to her mind: you, taking care of her on the days when she didn’t even want to get off the floor. you, following her steps even when she yelled at you to leave her alone. you, looking at her like there was still something in her worth saving.

"why did you do it? why do you care so much?"

vi closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she tried to recall every word you had said. you had mentioned the darkest moments, the days when she punished herself in the ring, the days when alcohol was her only companion.

you had said you were there. that you had always been there.

vi felt something inside her break. you had been there, yes, but she had never seen it that way. she had never allowed those things to matter because… because if she did, she would have to face something she wasn’t ready to feel.

"why did you do it?" she murmured, as if speaking to you, though you weren’t there to hear her.

the answer came slowly, like a current breaking through the chaos in her mind. you hadn’t done it for her. you had done it because it was what you felt. because you wanted to save her, even when she didn’t want to save herself.

"you took it personally because it was always personal."

vi felt the air leave her lungs. it wasn’t just that you cared. it was that you had always seen something in her that she couldn’t see in herself. and now that she finally understood, now that the pieces were falling into place, you were gone.

she closed her eyes tightly, letting her head fall back against the wall. tears began to stream down her cheeks, hot and silent. she didn’t try to stop them.

"i’m such a coward."

that was the only conclusion she could come to. you had been there, enduring her worst, taking care of her when no one else would, and she had ignored it all. and when you had finally laid your feelings bare, when you had exposed the full weight of what it meant to love her, vi had responded with doubt, with silence, with words she now knew she should never have said.

"why are you acting like this is personal?"

because it had always been personal.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

vi turned the corner into the alley and saw you. you were sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around your knees, with your hair falling over your face, hiding your eyes. she knew you’d been crying. she knew because she recognized that posture, that way of curling up when the pain consumes you and you don’t know how to keep going.

vi took a deep breath, forcing herself to take a step toward you. then another. and another. her boots echoed softly against the damp ground of the alley, but you didn’t lift your head. not until she finally spoke, her voice low and tense:

“i’m here.”

those two words made you lift your head, though slowly, as if every muscle in your body weighed too much. your eyes, swollen and red, met vi’s, and she felt something inside her crack at the sight of all the pain she’d caused.

“why?” you asked, your voice broken but sharp enough to cut deeper than any shout.

vi swallowed hard, looking at the ground before forcing herself to meet your gaze again. her hands trembled at her sides as she tried to find the right words. but there weren’t any.

“i can’t leave you like this,” she admitted at last, her tone so low it was almost a whisper.

you laughed, but it was a bitter, joyless laugh. “you couldn’t leave me like this? that didn’t seem to matter when you let me spill everything i was feeling, and you didn’t do anything.”

vi pressed her lips together. she couldn’t defend herself from that because it was true. she had left you alone, not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know what to do with what she felt. because she was afraid.

“i didn’t know how to react,” she confessed, her voice still tense. she took another step toward you, though you didn’t move. “i don’t know how to handle this… how to handle you.”

your brows furrowed, your eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and anger. “and what does that even mean, vi? what the hell does that mean?”

vi took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she ran them through her hair, tugging at the short strands as if that would help her think.

“it means i care about you,” she finally said, and though her voice was low, every word came out with an intensity that seemed to fill the entire alley. “it means you matter to me more than i know how to handle.”

the weight of her words hung in the air between you, and vi lifted her gaze to yours, searching for some sign that it wasn’t too late. but there was no response on your face, only a mix of emotions she couldn’t decipher.

“if i really mattered to you, you wouldn’t have done this,” you said, and your words were like a direct blow to her chest.

vi clenched her fists, but she didn’t look away. she knew you were right. but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

“it’s not that simple,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to hold herself together. “not after what happened with caitlyn.”

the mention of her name made your expression harden, and vi noticed.

“what does she have to do with this?” you asked, though you knew the answer might not be what you wanted to hear.

vi closed her eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the truth hit her before forcing herself to speak. “cait… made me believe i could trust someone again. that i could be more than a broken fighter.”

your chest tightened at her words, but you didn’t interrupt.

“and then, when things got bad, she left. she hit me, insinuated i was a monster, and walked away,” she continued, her voice cracking slightly at the end. her eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in her before: fear. pure, absolute fear. “it wasn’t just what she said or did. it was… that she made me think something i’d never believed was possible. and then she took it away.”

vi’s shoulders slumped as she exhaled, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long. “i don’t know if i can trust someone like that again. i don’t know if i can let myself feel that again.”

her words fell over you like a weight, but you didn’t let your expression change.

“then why are you here?” you asked, your voice filled with pain and defiance. “if you can’t trust anyone, why do you keep coming back to me?”

vi lifted her head quickly, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. she took another step toward you, this time lifting a trembling hand, though she didn’t touch you.

“because it’s different with you,” she said, and though her voice was quiet, there was something in her tone that made it sound louder than any shout. “because you saw me when no one else did. because when i wanted to destroy myself, you wouldn’t let me.”

vi lowered her hand slowly, her shoulders sagging as her voice softened even more. “but you scare me too. because with you, i can’t pretend. and i don’t know if i’m ready for that.”

the silence that followed was deafening. you could see the internal struggle in her gaze, the way she was caught between wanting to move forward and the fear that kept her anchored to the past.

finally, you let out a shaky sigh, turning your eyes away. “then i don’t know what you want from me, vi.”

vi pressed her lips together, her eyes filled with something that looked like a silent plea. “i want to try. even if i don’t know how.”

your chest ached as you listened to her, but you couldn’t just give in. not after what you’d seen, after what you’d felt hearing her call her “cupcake” as if nothing you had done for her mattered.

“this doesn’t erase what you did, vi,” you said, your voice low but firm, trembling under the weight of the emotions you had tried so hard to hold back. “it doesn’t change how i felt when i saw you call her that, like… like i didn’t mean anything to you.”

vi blinked, her face contorting into a pained expression. her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but you raised a hand, stopping her before she could start.

“you don’t get it, do you?” you continued, your words laced with restrained anger. “it’s not just the nickname. it’s what it represents. it’s how it makes me feel, like everything i did for you wasn’t enough.”

vi opened her mouth, but her voice broke before any words could come out. finally, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to respond. “i didn’t mean for you to take it that way. it wasn’t because you don’t matter to me.”

“and how am i not supposed to take it that way, vi?” you shot back, taking a step closer to her, letting the intensity of your words fill the space between you. “you always say you don’t know how to handle this, but it seems so easy with her.”

vi shook her head quickly, her eyes filled with something that looked like panic. “it’s not easy with caitlyn. it never was.”

the mention of her name made your teeth clench, but you forced yourself to let her continue.

“with her it’s… it’s different,” vi admitted, her words clumsy but honest. “cait was always… what i thought i needed. someone who made me feel like i could be more than what i am. but with you…”

she trailed off, her gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again.

“with you, i feel exposed. and that scares me because i don’t know if i’m made for something like this.”

you stood in silence, your breathing shaky as you processed her words. the anger burning in your chest still lingered, but there was something in her tone, in the way her hands trembled at her sides, that made your defenses start to crack.

“that doesn’t make it hurt any less, vi,” you finally murmured, your eyes shining with tears you refused to let fall. “but at least now i know why.”

vi nodded slowly, swallowing hard as if admitting all of this had drained every ounce of energy she had. she took another step toward you, her voice lowering even more.

“i want you to trust me. i know i don’t deserve it yet, but i want to try. i want this to mean something.”

for a moment, the weight of her words filled the space between you. it wasn’t a perfect promise. it wasn’t an immediate solution. but it was something.

you took a deep breath, looking away for a moment before locking your gaze back onto hers. “then show me, vi. because if you ever make me feel like i’m not enough again… i won’t stay.”

vi nodded again, more slowly this time, and though her eyes still held uncertainty, there was something new in them: determination.

you didn’t say anything else. you turned toward the alley’s exit, your footsteps echoing softly against the ground as you walked away. vi didn’t stop you this time, but she didn’t take her eyes off you until you disappeared into the darkness.

she stayed there, motionless, her chest tight and the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat. she knew that this time, words wouldn’t be enough. she knew she would have to show you that you could trust her.

for the first time in a long time, vi felt like she had something to fight for.

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

(to be continued)

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[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: The Kooks show up on the beach and JJ defends you

I was with the Pogues all day, like any other day. The sun was shining and the waves were awesome. We woke up that morning and quickly went to the beach. It seemed like everybody had that idea, the beaches filled up within ten minutes it seemed. We got the Twinkie to the beach, well John B did, but not without almost crashing since he was drinking. I tried to tell him to stop, but there was no telling that kid what to do.

I never really was taught how to surf, but that didn't stop me from going out there and just sitting on my surfboard. JJ has tried to help me, but I'm just not very coordinated, to say the least, but he still loves me. I watched everybody surf for a while before deciding to go back to the beach. As I was walking back to the Twinkie, I saw a Jeep start driving over my way. I knew it was Topper and his goons as soon as I saw the vehicle. I sat down on one of the folding chairs we had set up before going to the water, trying to ignore them. I watched as he parked next to us. "What the hell is he doing?" I heard someone ask, looking to see Kie walking over to me.

"I have no clue," I replied, "I just hope no drama happens. It's a nice day and I would hate to have it ruined by them.” I looked over to see Topper, Kelce, Rafe, and Ruthie. I've never liked Topper, but I don't think he's a bad person. I think he's so focused on Kooks versus Pogues, that nothing else matters. It's always been a competition between the two. "I don't understand how he goes from Sarah," I gesture over to Sarah, still surfing, "to Ruthie." I look over to where the Kooks are and see Ruthie glaring at us.

"Well, it's simple," Kie started, "he had the best with Sarah, and now he's just, well, desperate." We both chuckled. I looked over at Kie and saw her grabbing a beer from the cooler, she raised one up to me and I shook my head. I know that there should be at least one of us sober to drive home. "Kie, we're being real mean girls-esque right now," I pointed out. She shrugged her shoulder before responding to me, "Trust me, she's said way worse about us." Kie came over and sat next to me. We sat there for a while before we heard someone walking over to us.

"Hey, can you tell your asshole boyfriend to stop hogging all the waves?" I look up and see Ruthie talking to me, not even acknowledging Kie. I look out and see JJ standing up on his board, noticing Topper doing the same thing before jumping off into the water due to JJ getting in front of him. If it was any other situation I would mention something, but I also know JJ wouldn't do that to someone else. "Ruthie, I can't control what he does," I look up to her hovering over me, "he's out there and I'm over here." She rolls her eyes at me, "You're such a bitch. Can't you just do something for once in your life?" she asks me, it was more of a statement than anything.

"Ruthie," I stand up and walk in front of her, "if JJ comes over here, I'll say something, but until then, how about you go back to your friends and leave us alone." I turned around and started to walk over to the Twinkie, looking at Kie and rolling my eyes at the whole interaction. I didn't get too far before I felt hands on my back, pushing me forward. "What the fuck," I heard Kie shout before coming over to me. I looked back at Ruthie and rolled my eyes at her. “Can't believe you were ever a Kook," she said with attitude before walking away from us.

Kie started to go after her, wanting to protect her friends, but I pulled her back, "Kie, it's not worth it," I told her, "they'll just turn it into our fault if you do anything." She tries to argue with me, but I just sit back down in the chair, trying to forget the interaction. I'm fiddling with my nails when I hear someone ask, "Hey, you good?" I look up to find a shirtless JJ jogging over to me with his board under his arm. I look over and see Sarah and John B getting some drinks from the cooler. I didn't even notice they were back. I nodded my head at JJ and gave him a small smile. He came and squatted down to be level with me, he took my hands, "What happened?"

"Ruthie," I replied looking back down, "she came over and was talking shit. Normal Kook behavior." I looked up at him before I heard Kie, "She pushed her, but your girlfriend over there decided to take the high road. Wouldn't even let me go after her." I looked over at Kie and gave her a look, not wanting her to have said anything. I look back to JJ who is looking over at the group of Kooks. "JJ, it's fine," I tell him placing my hand on his cheek, trying to calm the storm that is forming. He quickly stood up and started walking over to them. I quickly got up and went after him to stop him, but not before Topper yelled over at us, "Oh, look who it is, the Pogue prince and princess."

I took JJ's hand in mine, trying to calm him down. I felt him squeeze my hand tighter, letting me know he was fine. "Topper, let's cut the bullshit," JJ said in an annoyed voice, "all we wanted to do was enjoy the waves and the nice weather but you always seem to be right there, ruining it; your girlfriend too." Topper chuckles at JJ and gets closer to him, "I'm not the one ruining it. You pushed me off my board, and Ruthie here was just defending me."

"I didn't push you off your board, you jumped off," he stated with a small smirk on his lips. "Plus, you had been getting in front of us every other time, I thought it was a competition." Topper scoffs at JJ. I had only seen JJ get in front of Topper that one time, but it didn't surprise me that they had been getting in front of JJ beforehand. "Yup," Topper dramatically throws his hand up in the air, "it's always the damn Kooks fault with you guys."

"Seriously Top," I interrupted getting closer to him, "You've always hated the Pogues, don't act all high and mighty. You've started shit with them so many times I can't even remember. Even when we were friends you were an asshole to them." He looks at me with wide eyes, "I can't imagine what Sarah ever saw in you." As I turn my back away from him, I'm quickly pushed to the ground. "What the fuck!" I hear JJ yell before helping me off the ground. I wipe the sand off my legs and turn to face them. Ruthie was smirking at me, proud of herself. Topper was staring at her with a hint of anger in his face.

"Don't ever fucking touch her again," JJ said to Ruthie, but it was directed towards the entire group. I started walking away, not wanting to even be on the beach anymore. I overheard JJ add, "Don't even come near her or I'll fucking end you."

I heard his feet shuffle in the sand to catch up with me. He took my hand and faced me towards him. "I'm so sorry princess," he said before he engulfed me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and he placed a kiss on the top of my head. "If they ever bother you again," he says and places his hands on either side of my face, looking at me, "please tell me." I shook my head at him before he put his arms around me and pulled me into another hug. I've never felt more safe than when I'm in his arms.

We walk back to where the rest of the group is standing. They started asking questions about what happened and we told them. "How was I ever with him before you," Sarah asks looking over at John B. He shrugs his shoulders before we all chuckle at her, trying to in fact imagine what she saw in Topper. We packed up our things and left soon after, not wanting to be on the beach any longer.

We drove home and quickly unpacked our things before we went to the house. We were stopped at the door by Pope, with bloody hands. The atmosphere taking a drastic change from earlier.

I started this with a different ending in mind, but it didn't go in that direction so here we are... Not my favorite but it's what I got lol

[ilovedinodino]

…i was so miserable? l. hc smau

26. different (written) wc: 1515

Haechan, as usual, came to the studio first and very early. In fact, he didn't want to come today at all, because he needed to tell you what he knows, otherwise Renjun would do it, and then things would get even worse. But the main reason he didn’t want to come and see you was fear. He was scared and shy to look you in the eyes after finding out you had feelings for him. Of course, he had feelings for you too—very strong ones—but for some reason, your mutual feelings frightened him yesterday. He had been so sure that you would never like him in that way and that he would never have a chance with you. He was prepared for rejection and had accepted that you would never be together. But yesterday, you proved him wrong, and now his head was spinning with emotions. He was overwhelmed and nervous.

Every training session with you had been fun and comfortable, which surprised you. Falling for Haechan after just seven practices wasn’t something you expected. But he truly was special. Haechan was always kind to you. Even when you made mistakes, he never got upset but patiently helped and supported you. He took charge of everything, you could say that he was the leader in your duo and a very caring leader.

Haechan was different. He wasn’t like your ex.

After your breakup with Chanhyun, you were convinced that you didn’t deserve love and that you would never find someone who could truly be a good partner. He never listened to you and pretended that nothing was going on with you and that you didn't have any problems. Chanhyun never cared about you, ignored your feelings as if they didn’t exist. He saw your diaries and notes in secret and hid about it until one day you saw your diary out of place. It broke your heart that even though he saw everything, he didn't try to talk to you. Even when you tried to talk to him and show him how much you were struggling, he remained indifferent.

Haechan was different.

After that experience, you closed yourself off, even from close friends, and only shared your thoughts and feelings online, where no one knew you. You kept telling everyone you were fine, and most people believed you. But not Renjun. Renjun always knew you better than you realized. He saw how unhappy you were with Changhyun and tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen. After your heart was broken, he was the one who stayed by your side. He saw your tears and the depression you sank into. That’s why Renjun became like an older brother to you, protecting, caring for you and didn't let suspicious guys near you. You didn’t mind. At that point, love wasn’t important to you anymore.

You left the café, holding two cheesecakes and a coffee, feeling happy. Today, you and Haechan were finally going to finish your choreography, and you couldn’t wait to show it to your team.

When you entered the studio, you heard familiar music. “Ateez?”

Haechan was sitting on the couch with his phone in hand. Hearing the door open, he looked up. “Oh, Y/N!” “Hi!” you smiled, sitting next to him and placing the cheesecakes and coffee on the small table. “I got one with strawberry and one with chocolate. I hope you’ll like them. This café always has the best cheesecakes!” you said with a sweet smile.

Haechan froze, staring at you. You were so beautiful in that moment, and he felt his love for you grow even stronger. Wait. Love? Did he love you?

“I’m sure they’re the best cheesecakes,” he replied warmly.

You stood up to go change, but suddenly paused as you listened to the music. “Wait, Ateez? Why are you playing them?” “They just had a comeback, so I decided to listen. Plus, you like them.”

You nodded, heading towards the changing room, but a thought crossed your mind: How does he know I like Ateez?

You stopped in the doorway. “Donghyuck?” “Yeah?” “How do you know I like them?”

The air in the room felt heavy. You weren’t smiling anymore, and Haechan noticed, becoming slightly anxious. “You told me! I remember you mentioned them once, so I remembered!” he said, trying to sound confident. “Oh, really?” you replied awkwardly,already believing in his words, but then he added: “I even remember that your bias is Yunho.”

What?

“Yunho?” “Yeah, you like him a lot, don’t you?” “I never said Yunho was my bias.” “You did.” “No.” “Yes, Y/N, you…” “No. My bias is Seonghwa, not Yunho. And, by the way, I’ve never even mentioned Seonghwa before. Yet you’re claiming I talked about Yunho.”

Why was Haechan so sure about this? What made him think that? How did he even know you liked Ateez? Did you ever tell him?

You froze. “Y/N, are you okay?”

Haechan’s behavior was suspicious. You started recalling all the moments when he unexpectedly showed up when you needed something. You thought he was just attentive, but no, that didn’t seem to be the case.

You remembered how he suddenly gave you chocolates. How he comforted you when you were anxious. How he unexpectedly suggested going for a walk. How someone "randomly" transferred you money when you needed it. How you suddenly started hearing Ateez songs and that your bias is Yunho. And finally, you noticed how Haechan’s attitude toward you had changed. He became more cautious and caring. If he used to joke around and tease you often, now he was entirely different.

Haechan had changed. Haechan knew.

“Do you know about my Twitter?” you asked sharply, looking at him.

Haechan froze, panic spreading across his face. “T-Twitter? Of course, I know. Everyone knows. You know mine too, right?” He let out an awkward laugh, trying to play it off.

“My private account.”

From his reaction, you realized everything. He knew about your Twitter. He knew all your thoughts and struggles.

Haechan swallowed hard and stood up, looking you in the eye. “Y/N, I...”

“You know about my account, Haechan.”

Haechan froze. You never called him Haechan; you were the only one who always used his real name. Hearing his nickname from you in such a cold tone hurt him deeply. “No, no... I’m Donghyuck, not Haechan,” he stammered.

“And here I thought you were just attentive, but instead, you stayed silent and kept it all to yourself?” Your eyes welled up with tears as you stepped away from him.

Haechan panicked and stepped closer, trying to take your hands in his. “Y/N, let me explain everything... It was an accident...”

“God, Renjun was right...” You stepped even further away and lowered your head. Haechan saw tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N, Y/N, I didn’t mean to. I came across it accidentally, please hear me out.”

“You seriously read everything about me, and...” You raised your head, and Haechan froze. “How am I supposed to dance that choreo with you after this?”

Haechan’s heart shattered. “Please, Y/N, hear me out. I didn’t find out that long ago. I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. I was afraid you’d shut me out. We were never that close, and I thought this was a good way to understand you better. I genuinely wanted to help you.”

“You wanted to know me without asking me directly? You know, maybe it’s my fault for not locking my account. It’s not your fault—it’s mine,” you said bitterly.

“No, Y/N, you’re not to blame. Please, don’t say that.”

“Haechan, I just don’t know how to talk to you now, knowing that you know everything about me. Knowing I..." "...I was so miserable?"

“Y/N, don’t say that. Please. You’re not awful. There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“It hurts to know that you now know my worst secrets, but I don’t know anything about you except the image you show to others.”

Haechan stood there, stunned. He watched you breathe rapidly, and he himself was on the verge of tears. “That’s not true! You know a lot about me already, and if you want, I can open up to you even more.”

“So you know that I have feelings for you,” you interrupted, recalling your tweet.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but I want to go home. I can’t dance,” you said as you started gathering your things.

“Y/N, please don’t shut me out. We need to talk...”

You stayed silent.

“Do you want me to tell Jeno that we can’t show our dance? I’ll tell him it’s my fault. I won’t mention you.”

You still said nothing, a lump in your throat stopping you from speaking. Haechan wanted to hug you but feared crossing another line.

“I...” you stammered. “Tell him whatever you want,” you said and walked out of the studio.

Haechan wanted to run after you. He didn’t want to leave you in such a state, knowing he had caused it. But he stayed frozen, staring at the door, tears welling up in his eyes.

Was Haechan different?

-------

prev / masterlist / next

note: I put my soul here. It was so funny to me when you all thought that renjun was jealous and in love with her😭 renjun is my favourite here btw

taglist (open) : @alethea-moon @dinonuguaegi @jenoleeaesthetic @gukuwii @doughyk @elsbunny @dudekiss3r @yuthabitz @thegracerammy @soobinbunnie5 @joyzluvr @yewshi @miniature-tragedy @jaymelee @foxy-kitsune @slayhaechan @chibilino @sleepyvic @minkyuncutie @olladecaramelos @samvagejkflxhrt @gomdoleemyson @nctjunie @ypoom151999

[lovelaetter]

hii ! it's my first time writing & sending an ask so I'm kinda unsure what to say "( – ⌓ – ) but please hear me out on rosie posie ♡♡ quick psa, has a lot of context sorryyy

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ stepcest & kinda dubcon

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀( stepdaughter!reader × guilty!stepmom!rosé ) rosie feels so bad for seeing her daughter like that—she's supposed to be her mom, she married her father—but she just can't help herself. guilt building up 'n she gets all flustered whenever she sees you because her mind starts swirling and she just can't. you obviously notice because who wouldn't notice someone who's recently moved in ogling at them. oh my. rosie thinks she's being discreet because, once again, she married your dad, she's supposed to be attracted to him. but she swears she can see you staring back at her, stealing glances, but she refuses to give it thought. there's no way her now-daughter is going to reciprocate—that would be immoral.

but she can't help herself anyway, not when she's doing laundry and hopes you don't notice the fact some of your underwear is missing. when they appear again, this time with her own «ysl libré» scent, that's all the confirmation you need.

confronting stepmom!rosé is all a haze, rosie's not sure how she ended up eating you out as an 'apology', all she knows is that it feels so good to finally let go to her wants. you aren't very nice though, pulling on rosé's hair as to guide her and also what could be called a makeshift leash. rosie is sloppy, unsure, too pussy-drunk to actually do anything but loll her tongue out and deliver kitten licks. but that's okay, you have plenty of time to teach her mommy how to please her.

and then rosie can't believe she actually did that—but you can. ever so often teasing rosé by spreading their legs a bit wider than normal whilst they sit across from rosie during dinner. maybe also a bit of increased touchiness, discreet groping that makes rosé squeak and then cover it up with a cough. what else is she supposed to do? she'll have to admit she ate out her stepdaughter to get anything to stop. but she also doesn't mind your teasing, honestly, she loves it. she does get a good reward at the end of the day for being so good and quiet tho. she's so filthy for wanting her stepdaughter, the least she could do is behave for a small prize.

you're constantly reassuring rosie because who wouldn't want a pretty, older girl wrapped around their finger? rosé has never been one to go behind her lover's back, but now she can't help but picture you when she's giving her hubby a blow or when she's getting pounded dumb by your dad. but it's okay, you're still there to dumb her down even more.

⠀⸝⸝⸝⠀⠀she doesn't need to use her pretty head when all she has to do is just take it. maybe bent over the kitchen counter while your dad's at work. she's whining and tearing up because she's just so sensitive and one more finger would break her in half. something against that one spot is so different—so much better—than her husband mindlessly pounding into her. your fingers curl up and it just feels so good for her because it's not just her cervix, it's her spongy insides and swollen clit that are making her cry out in need.

taking her on the living room couch as well, some cheesy series you wanted to watch with her turning into her eating you out. she was a bit dumb to believe you actually wanted to just watch a movie—you're wearing loose clothes and your panties are peaking, you obviously have other intentions. there's even a bottle of lube shamelessly staring from the coffee table. all she can hear is the sounds from the TV turning into white noise as your moans drown out everything out. you're pulling and tugging on her hair, keeping her in place with your thighs, making sure she does well.

(I also have a few thoughts for roles reversed as in stepmom!reader corrupting stepdaughter!rosie (⸝⸝ ˊᗜˋ⸝⸝ ) but I think this is already long enough hahahah)

signed by ☃️

STEPCEST

yes, god, my head HURTS, i have nothing to add to this just yes… yes! if you don’t have a blog, i need you to create one asap and let me know bc !! i kinda want to live inside your mind ngl

and i might be suspicious about stepdaughter!rosie because i love the concept of her x older!reader so much, in my humble opinion she would only be allowed to date older women, so please share your thoughts on that too, i really want to hear them :(

[httpskuzuu]

L”m so happy your back! I would like a request a yandere! Pm Dazai (18 yrs old) with a darling who’s naïve and innocent (of course he kidnaps them) how would he react to a such pure person! Thank you for taking this request.

Yandere!PM!Dazai with a naive and innocent reader

This is the first time I write for PM!Dazai (and I do headcanons), don't kill me

Yandere!PM!Dazai x Reader

Idk english, I don't like english, let me

summary: the title :D

tw: kidnapping, corruption of innocence, stalking, death (not reader or Dazai), physical and psychological abuse, maybe something else but idk

Honestly, I don't know how you got into this situation.

I can only think of two options as to how you ended up getting his attention: Dazai was looking for someone like you or you just surprised him.

With the first option, I guess he wanted to get away momentarily from everything he had known in his life, get someone who wasn't as fucked up as he was.

Or you just came unexpectedly into his life, maybe you got involved in one of his missions without having any idea.

Either way, Dazai was dazzled by your innocence.

You are the opposite of him and he wants to keep it that way, he knows what this world is capable of doing to pure souls like yours and he is not going to allow that.

First he won your trust, it was easy, you trusted everyone too fast, you didn't even doubt him in spite of his strange attitude that didn't let you see beyond him.

You never realized the danger in front of your eyes and that only made Dazai adore you more.

He would know every little part of your life, the names of all your friends and the places you go to, he always has an eye on you.

He would keep your friends and family away from you, he's not afraid to kill, threaten or torture others for that purpose.

Deep down, all he wants to do is to corrupt you.

He wants to be the one to destroy your innocence, to show you the cruelty of the world, even if it is contradictory to his initial purpose.

Maybe that's the reason he kidnapped you.

And oh god, that's when the real fun begins.

He doesn't care about your opinion, not in the slightest, and punishments are just around the corner.

Forced affection would be a normal thing, he sees you as a kind of safe place where he can be a bit more vulnerable, just a bit 🤏

Still, I doubt he would ever let you see his true feelings.

That would only be way down the road in your relationship, when Dazai can have complete confidence that you'll never escape.

Yandere!Dazai is not easy, least of all if he's PM Dazai, but your attitude would make it somewhat more tolerable.

Being such a naive little thing, he can trust you more easily.

Plus you're terrified of him, so you don't even think about running away.

But if you were to try… Well, remember what I said about punishments being just around the corner? Then get ready for torture.

Breaking bones, beating you unconscious, isolating you for days, starving and thirsting you, etc.

Although he usually mistreats you as well, it's all more psychological.

He wants to make you see the evil, to see you break and cry.

Makes him have a mix between sadistic joy and regret.

He really feels very guilty for everything he does, for seeing you in such a broken state.

He would never tell you, the closest you get to that would be a strangely silent Dazai cuddling like a koala bear to you.

I hope you have enough mental stamina to endure your stay with Dazai

Oh, and if he sees that he's broken you until there's nothing left of the original you or that all your innocence is gone, maybe he'll kill you because he's bored 😀

The image of your friend would not leave your head. He was immobile, cold, dead.

It was the first time you saw a corpse in real life, it made your blood run cold. Especially because you saw him die and you couldn't do anything about it.

Dazai killed him, after many hours of torture, one shot in his head and his screams stopped. You saw the blood spill on the floor along with pieces of flesh. You did not vomit because of the absence of food in your stomach, but the nausea was there.

He wouldn't let you take your eyes off him, even when he was torturing him. When his fingernails were being pulled out and his skin was burning. You had to keep watching or the torture would transfer to you.

You couldn't save him. Your throat was torn from screaming, but he was still dead. Would his corpse still be in that dark warehouse? Would that be his grave? At least you would have liked to have been able to give him a proper funeral, not abandon him.

You didn't understand how someone could be as evil as Dazai was. Your friend did nothing, he just worried about your disappearance. Now, because of you, he too would become a missing person.

The tears were still wet when an extra weight was placed on the bed. You refused to move, afraid that he would take you back to continue seeing those horrible things, things you can't even describe without breaking down in tears.

He lies behind you and wraps his arms around you, his hands that caused so many murders gently holding your body.

You never thought before that the perpetrators of these acts could be ordinary people, people you would trust and befriend. But they could be, the proof of that was Dazai, someone too young to be killing.

You are conflicted by the situation, you empathize with Dazai. You want to understand him and know what led him to be the way he is today, try to justify him, but he killed your friend. The dilemma of whether he deserved a forgiveness eats at you inside. Could his actions be justified by his past? Maybe Dazai is just a victim like you.

Be that as it may, apparently you still have time to think because he doesn't plan to let you go anytime soon.

I am sleep deprived

[mymoodwriting]

Royal Blood

Female!Reader x Alpha!Seonghwa

Genre: A/B/O, Royalty

Warning: Solitude, Anxiety, Late Nights, Sleep Deprivation, Promises, Manipulation, Star-Gazing, Spacing Out, Swords, Death Threats

Words: 5.9K

Chapter Three

(Prev//Next) (@starillusion13 @yizhou-time @hannahdinse8)

Prompt: You were a princess in name alone. Unable to perform any of the duties that come with the title. It seemed to be your destiny to live a quiet life. That is until you met someone who refused to see you silenced. Perhaps your fate was wrong all along.

“I’ve never been given flowers before…”

You couldn’t help but stare longingly at the flowers Seonghwa gave you. In the morning you looked around for a vase, getting some water and setting up the flowers by your window. You made sure they were soaking up the sun, watching them with a smile on your face. Although despite the joy they brought you they did also make you worry. These flowers weren’t ones you grew yourself, so surely someone would question where they came from. You weren’t sure what kind of excuse you’d give, or what would be believable. Then again you made yourself anxious for no reason.

When your ladies or eunuch came by they merely did their duties. You tried to hide your flowers, but it made no difference. As far as you knew they didn’t even notice them. To a degree it made you sad the flowers weren’t important enough to be noticed, but at the same time it should have been expected. You lived such a quiet life, the little things never stood out. At least you didn’t have to worry about hiding them and could admire them all the time. What you were really nervous about was Seonghwa. He said he would visit you again, and you excitedly waited for that time. The first two nights after his visit you didn’t expect him, but on the third you stayed up late.

You’d sit at your window, enjoying the night breeze and carefully tending to your gifted flowers. You’ve been doing your best to take care of them and make them last. It was easy to pass the time as you stared up at the stars, even starting to doze off. At some point you fell asleep, startled awake when you hit your head on the window sill. It was still dark out, but the moon was no longer up in the sky. The sun would be peeking over the horizon soon enough. It seemed that Seonghwa couldn’t make a visit tonight, but you weren’t upset. He was a busy person so perhaps tomorrow. You shut your window and went to bed. Of course you were tired by the time the sun rose, but you didn’t mind and just pushed through.

No one was around so there was no issue with taking a nap during the day. After all, that next night you stayed up again, waiting for your secret visitor, but no one came to see you. It did hurt, but you really couldn’t get your hopes up too much. Seonghwa surely had a lot of new responsibilities that kept him occupied, and a late night visit meant sacrificing his sleep. You napped during the day once more, and wondered if you should stay up late again or not. Ultimately you decided to sleep. He’d surely come visit you eventually, so you just had to wait. What really hurt your heart was the fact the flowers he brought you were wilting. The little reminder of him that you had was fading away.

“Princess… pst… y/n… are you awake…?”

“Hm…”

You groaned and slowly opened your eyes, looking around your room. Eventually your gaze turned towards your window, seeing a blurry figure waving. You didn’t need clear vision to know who was there, a smile appearing on your lips. You crawled over to your window, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Hello, I’m sorry I had to wake you, but I really wanted to see you.”

“Hm… it’s nice to see you too.”

“Did you miss me?”

“I’ve been waiting…”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Seonghwa chuckled. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re busy.”

“I don’t wanna be too busy to see you.”

“Then tell me about your days. I wanna know what a scholar does around the palace.”

“It’s very boring stuff.”

“I’m confined to my quarters all day. Anything outside these walls is interesting to me.”

“Very well.”

Seonghwa indulged your request and told you how he spent his days. He admitted he wanted to see you sooner, but his father swamped him with work. Once he was done with lectures he had tasks and different assignments to complete. He had to get through those first before he could even have a moment to himself. As tiresome as they were, they did take him all over the palace and gave him a chance to introduce himself to other officials.

“It sounds like you’ve seen more of the palace in the few days you’ve been here than I have my whole life.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“You forget I’m also a lady. I doubt I have any business in many of the places you’ve been.”

“Still, this is your home.”

“It doesn’t feel like it… then again, I don’t think I know what a home feels like…”

“We’ll work on that.”

Seonghwa reached over to gently pet your head, continuing on as he told you about the things he did. You eagerly listened, loving the stories, but eventually Seonghwa noticed you dozing off. 

“I see someone is sleepy.”

“I’m not… I can stay up…”

“Sh, it’s okay, I’ll come again to tell you more stories. Although, before I go.” Seonghwa revealed a bouquet of fresh flowers. “These are for you. I’ll take the old ones.”

“No, wait.”

“Hm?”

“I wasn’t going to throw the old ones away… I wanted to bury them in my garden… I don’t want any gift from you to leave me…”

“Ah, how sweet. I’ll bury them for you on my way out then, but you must go to bed now.”

“Fine… can I at least make another request before you go?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t… don’t make me wait so long… please…”

“I shall do my best princess, but you know-”

“I do… as long as you return before the flowers wilt, then I won’t be mad.”

“I see, I think I can work with that.” 

Seonghwa grabbed the flower vase, taking out the old flowers and putting in the new ones. He made sure to arrange them nicely, noticing your gaze on him. There was a nice little twinkle in your eyes, one that was only for him.

“There you are. I shall see you again soon, my princess, good night.”

“Good night, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa stuck around until you were tucked under your bed sheets, and he could be sure you’d be sleeping soon. He made his way through your garden, using the moonlight as his guide. Once he found a good place he dug a hole, burying the flowers he had given you before just as promised. Although he did take a petal, wanting a token of this gift as well.

♦♦♥♦♦

“The Crown Prince is here.”

Yunho was doing his best to see you, wanting to make sure you were alright, and also giving himself a break from studying. Although when he came to see you he immediately became worried. You were laying in bed, food half eaten. He quickly knelt down at your side, gently coaxing you awake.

“Y/n… y/n, wake up.”

“Hm… Yunho…?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…” You sat up, yawning. “What are you doing here?”

“Paying you a visit, but why are you in bed? Do you feel ill?”

“No, no, I’m just sleepy, that’s all. Look, I ate, and took my medicine.”

“You should have eaten everything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Have you not been sleeping well?”

“I have. I’m fine, Yunho. There’s not much for me to do, so sometimes a nap is nice.”

“Hm… I’m not sure if I believe you.”

“Then call Yeosang, but I’m perfectly fine.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling over your food table, deciding to finish up what was left so Yunho could worry less. He happily watched you, reaching over to pet your head and getting a smile out of you too. While you ate he looked around the room, thinking of things to get you so you don’t get so bored, but then his eyes landed on something peculiar.

“Where did you get those flowers?” Yunho asked. “You don’t grow those in your garden.”

You froze mid-bite, knowing exactly what he was talking about. You were trying not to panic, knowing your heartbeat could give you away. Despite all the time you had you never really figured out what excuse to give when asked.

“Did one of your court ladies bring them?”

“… yeah… I wanted something different… maybe I’ll ask for these flower seeds in the future.”

“I see. They’re nice. Should I send you flowers?”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“Something else perhaps. New flower seeds for your garden?”

“I’d prefer new paints. It’s what I mostly do to pass the time.”

“Very well.”

Yunho stayed with you for a while longer, wanting to make sure you’d be alright and not sleep away your day. Even if you said you were fine he couldn’t help but be concerned. So of course he sent word to Yeosang to pay you a visit later. He had to be sure you were okay at any given time. Even though you had requested paints he did like the idea of sending you flowers, although he wanted to make sure they weren’t ones you had in your garden. He thought to send Jongho out to get some, but the boy let him know he didn’t have much knowledge of flowers, let alone which one’s the princess kept in her garden. It seemed that Yunho would have to venture out of the palace for that, so he’d have to plan for that in the future.

♦♦♥♦♦

“I feel like we’ve been seeing each other more often these days.”

“Does that upset you, princess?”

“Not at all. If anything, I feel bad for wasting your time.”

“I’m a royal physician after all.” Yeosang reminded. “It’s my duty to look after the royal family.”

“Well, once again, I assure you I’m fine, but my brother needs to be sure.”

“There’s no harm in that.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s ease his worries. I’m told you’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

“Not really… I just want to take naps during the day.”

“That’s new behavior for you.”

“So? It’s not concerning, is it?”

“Not at all, but it does sound like you’re not sleeping well at night.”

“I am.”

“Which I am inclined to believe. Medically speaking, nothing in regards to your health should be affecting your sleep schedule, but I’ll check just to be sure.”

“Go ahead.”

You were used to Yeosang’s check-ups, especially as they were happening more than usual. Although you did need to figure out a way to stop making your brother worry. It seemed that every little thing about you was cause for concern, which was far from the truth. Staying up late at night and sleeping during the day shouldn’t be a problem to him.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re not sleeping at night?” Yeosang asked. “I know there’s an answer.”

“… sleeping during the day just passes the time faster. I don’t have much to do anyway… besides, star-gazing is really nice.”

“I see. You’re not a nocturnal creature though, so you shouldn’t mess with your sleep like that.”

“I’ll do better.”

“I hope so, but just in case I’ll leave you with some sleeping aids. Take one before bed with water and you’ll be good.”

“Thanks, Yeosang. You can let Yunho know I’m doing okay.”

“I will. Now, since I’m here, is there anything you want to discuss?”

“About what?”

“Anything, really, but if you say you’re good then I’ll be off.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you next time.”

“Be well, princess.”

“I’ll do my best.”

♦♦♥♦♦

If Seonghwa truly had his way he’d see you every night, but that was a luxury he’d have to work hard for. Even if he had his own plans and desires, he still had his title to uphold. For now at least. So there were things that were expected of him as a scholar and a Park. Not to mention he knew his father would be keeping a close eye on his progress. Moreso to make sure he didn’t do anything to embarrass him or the Park family. Still, the thought of seeing you and winning your favor was all the motivation he needed. He knew you eagerly awaited his visit every night, which ultimately worked to help his plans.

Once he had a good routine every other second or third night he’d make the journey to your quarters. Each time he’d happily coax you awake, loving the twinkle in your eyes as you awoke to his call and realized he was there. You were so well behaved and eager for his company, Seonghwa knew he practically had you in the palm of his hand, but he would remain a gentleman. You needed care and love above all else. So he always made sure to bring fresh flowers, not wanting to repeat himself, nor give you anything that you had in your own garden. He had stuck around a while longer once you had gone to bed a few nights prior, wanting to get familiar with the space you called your own.

He felt your friendship was growing nicely, and as things progressed he did more. One night in particular he had brought over a blanket, wanting to lay under the stars with you. It provided you with some fresh air, and company. Seonghwa was more than happy to talk about the stars and the things he knew about them. It seemed you were fascinated with astrology, keeping your eyes glued to the stars while Seonghwa’s gaze remained on you. By now he had the temptation to kiss you, but he had to hold himself back. Time was on his side for now, and he could be patient. Of course late night visits could only last so long. While talking Seonghwa realized you were curled up next to him, dozing off. He chuckled and softly pet your head.

“I see it’s time for you to get to bed.”

“… it won’t be warm…”

“Shall I go with you then? I can stay until your bed warms up and you’re asleep.”

“… yes, please…”

“Alright, but you have to get up first.”

A pouty whine escaped your lips, but still, you had to get up. You sat up with Seonghwa’s help, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. The two of you went back to your room, Seonghwa making sure you were under your blankets before laying down beside you. He gently moved to spoon you, wanting to keep his word and warm you up. Although he had to be careful not to fall asleep himself. Late night visits took a toll on him too, but he could trade a good night’s sleep for this. He hummed for a moment, listening to your steady heartbeat.

“You know… we should try daytime visits.”

“… that’s dangerous… I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble…”

“I worry more about you, but I do really want to see you bask in the sunlight. To tend to your garden together. Perhaps even share a meal.”

“I don’t… sorry…”

“Hm? Why are you apologizing?”

You rolled over to face Seonghwa, seeing his curious eyes, but you could also see the exhaustion. You could get away with napping as you had nothing else to do, but Seonghwa didn’t share in that privilege.

“You must be tired during the day…”

“Ah, it’s okay. I function well on a handful of hours of sleep. I’d rather see you and lose some sleep than not see you at all.”

“But those short nights will catch up to you eventually…”

“I can handle it.”

“Do you want some sleeping aids?”

“Sleeping aids? Why do you have those?”

“When my brother caught me taking a nap one morning he got worried and had Yeosang look me over. He’s my doctor, and he gave me some sleeping aids, saying I shouldn’t mess with my sleep schedule.”

“Ah, are you saying I’m bad for your health?”

“No, not at all.” You chuckled. “My brother just worries about every little thing when it comes to me. Anyway, I don’t use sleeping aids, but it sounds like they’d work better for you.”

“Hm, perhaps they might.”

“Take them.”

You got up and brought over the little box Yeosang had given you before. You held it out to Seonghwa, who took it and examined the contents.

“He said you’re supposed to take one before bed with some water.”

“I’ll give them a try then.”

“Good. I want you to sleep well.”

“As long as I get to see you I know I’ll have sweet dreams. Now come on, you do need to sleep.”

Seonghwa tucked you back in under your blanket, humming to help soothe you. It wasn’t long before you were fast asleep, all warm and comfy. Seonghwa would have loved to stay longer, but that ran the risk of getting caught. He carefully moved away, being careful not to wake you. He took the box of sleeping aids and snuck out the window quietly closing it on his way out, then gathering up the blanket he brought. He still wanted to try and see you during the day but that would be a conversation for another time. 

♦♦♥♦♦

Hongjoong was always rather nervous as he stood guard outside the princess’ quarters, not wanting to get caught, or worse, get Seonghwa in trouble. He was only ever at ease once Seonghwa returned to his own quarters and turned in for the night. That’s when he got his much needed downtime, although on this particular night that wouldn’t be the case. As Hongjoong got ready to sleep himself he was approached by a familiar face. Words didn’t need to be spoken, so Hongjoong merely followed the other, soon finding himself a guest of Minister Park.

“Minister Park, how may I be of service?”

“There’s no need for such formalities. Sit, I merely wanted to speak with you.”

“Of course, minister.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t been easy keeping an eye on my son, but knowing you are with him puts me at ease.”

“I’m glad to be of service.”

“There hasn’t been any trouble, has there?”

“Not at all. Lord Park does well to maintain the honor of the Park family. All those who meet him are impressed by him and eager to build a relationship.”

“I see. He must be very busy then. So he’s no longer making late night visits to the princess?”

“…”

“He’s persistent.”

“Lord Park focuses on his duties first and foremost. His visits to the princess are only when he has time. He knows what the real priority is.”

“Hm… then perhaps it’s best to remind him who he is.”

♦♦♥♦♦

Seonghwa truly enjoyed being in the palace. It felt right, and gave him peace of mind. So he had no trouble stepping out into the nearby villages, happy to mingle with the locals knowing where he’d return to in the end. Today he wanted to do something special, wanted to try something new. Of course Hongjoong was against the idea.

“Visiting the princess during the day is very risky.” Hongjoong reminded. “You’re already bust as it is.”

“I have more time during the day. Besides, outside of meals and basic things, the princess is alone. There are many opportune times to visit her.”

“You could get caught at any moment.”

“That’s why I have you, and if you need any help we can ask Wooyoung.”

“Seonghwa-”

“I won’t do anything until I have a proper plan, so you don’t need to worry.”

“I still don’t think you should do this. Why don’t you just focus on your work in the palace? You have an incredible career ahead of you.”

“One I don’t care for. I can do better for this nation and you know it.”

“Seonghwa, you have to know that what you’re after is insane. If anyone-”

“I’m going to need you to run a little errand for me today.”

Hongjoong has wanted to dissuade Seonghwa from his plan of courting the princess since he was first told of it. He had been trying, but his pleas were falling on deaf ears. Of course many times when the subject of the princess was brought up, Seonghwa was quick to change things when he no longer wanted to hear Hongjoong try to reason with him. 

“What kind of errand?”

“I want you to deliver something to the princess.”

“What!?”

“She’s never been outside the palace, so I want to send her something unique. These vendors sell all kinds of little treats I’m sure she’s never had. Although I should probably speak with her physician to make sure I don’t send her anything that might make her sick.”

“I doubt her physician would share such information.”

“I have my ways of getting answers… today I want to send her little cakes, what do you think of these?”

“Seonghwa, this is also risky.”

“When I first wanted to apologize to the princess you suggested I send her a letter, what’s so different about this that now you disapprove?”

“I-”

“Just sneak into her quarter’s after her court ladies leave her lunch. Can you do that?”

Hongjoong sighed. “Yes, I can.”

“Good. I’ll take these then and write her a letter.”

Seonghwa paid for the cakes, eager to return to the palace and send off his gift. Although as soon as he was back he was approached by his father’s guard. He told the guard he was busy, but that wasn’t an acceptable answer. It seems his gift would have to wait till later.

♦♦♥♦♦

“Your Highness, the King requests your presence in the throne room.”

“Right now? Is there a reason why?”

“One was not stated, but we should not keep the King waiting.”

“Agreed.”

Yunho was rather surprised by the request. Even before the most recent events his father was not one to call on him so suddenly without reason. He couldn’t help this uneasy feeling but he’d have to face it regardless. He made his way to the throne room, his arrival being announced and then stepping inside. He expected his father to be alone, but instead he was met with some guests, and familiar ones too.

“Crown Prince, I don’t suppose you remember Lord Park Seonghwa, he is Minister Park’s son.”

“I do. I heard of his return and the two of us reacquainted ourselves.”

“That’s good. Since Lord Park has studied outside the palace he’d likely have good insight for you, so building a relationship would be wise.”

“I understand, your Majesty.”

Yunho knew the two of them would likely be pushed together by their fathers, but he didn’t expect this so soon. Still, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with rekindling an old friendship. A few more things were mentioned but Yunho and Seonghwa were soon dismissed.

“How have you been adjusting to the palace?” Yunho asked. “It must be very different to the way you lived before.”

“It’s not too difficult to adapt, your highness.”

“I suppose this is still technically your home.”

“It always has been.”

“Come. We should talk in a more comfortable setting.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Things were a bit awkward between the two. Yunho would have preferred to build this relationship on his own, but there was no harm in getting to know each other sooner. If anything Yunho could help Seonghwa out as he settled into things at the palace. He brought Seonghwa over to a quiet place in the royal garden. Those from their entourage kept a few steps away and out of sight.

“I honestly thought you’d visit throughout the years, but I never saw you again until now.”

“I wanted to, but my father rejected the idea every time I brought it up. So eventually I stopped asking.”

“You’re back now though.”

“It was my father who requested I return, well, more like ordered me too. He sent me away and brought me back. I still don’t understand why.”

“Perhaps it was all for this.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve lived and studied outside the palace, something I could never do. Together we’d surely be able to take care of the nation. Just like our fathers have.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

For a moment the two just sat in silence, letting the sounds of nature fill in the empty space. Their fathers would surely expect them to spend more time together going forward, but maybe not right now.

“I’m assuming your father brought you to the throne room and interrupted your day.”

“More or less.”

“Then I won’t keep you too long. Feel free to stop by my library when you like. We should see each other more often and I would enjoy hearing some stories from your time outside the palace.”

“I’ll make an effort to see you at least once a week, your highness.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Seonghwa excused himself, but Yunho remained in the garden for a while longer. He thought back to his childhood, and the times he and Seonghwa used to play together. He wondered if they could actually rekindle an old friendship. His father and Minister Park got along well, and the nation thrived. He wanted to do right by the people as well when he became king, and Seonghwa was meant to help with that. Although his thoughts soon drifted to his studies. Besides his desires he had other things to consider, and he was nowhere near making a proper decision.

♦♦♥♦♦

“Seonghwa, are you alright?”

Hongjoong was certainly worried when Seonghwa was summoned and wound up in the throne room. He waited anxiously outside, and only got more nervous when the Crown Prince arrived. He feared the worst, but was greatly relieved when Seonghwa stepped out unharmed. Although the fact he was accompanying the Crown Prince was odd. Now that their little gathering was over Seonghwa was clearly upset.

“He did this on purpose.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My father has been making sure I have my hands full with my studies and tasks, trying to make sure I’m too busy to do anything else. Clearly that wasn’t enough so he brought me before the King and Crown Prince. He knows if I refuse them it not only looks bad on the family, but most of all me. He’d have me disowned and exiled from the palace immediately, which would ruin my plans. He knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Then for now you must comply with his wishes.”

“If I want to remain in the palace, yes.”

“Perhaps your father doesn’t have ill intentions and is merely trying to help you. The Park family name is respected and you have a bright future ahead of you as-”

“An advisor? No, a servant, better yet a slave. I’ve seen what this nation is like and it’s time for a change.”

“Seonghwa, don’t speak like that. If someone hears you-”

“You may not have studied history as much as I have, but I can tell you that the Jeong family has been in power for too long.”

“If you want the throne so bad why don’t you just challenge the King?” Hongjoong snapped. “Or wait until the Crown Prince ascends, why involve the princess? You’re playing with her heart and manipulating her for your own benefit! Your father is trying to help you and remind you of what’s important!”

“My father… what did you tell him?”

“What?”

“The other night I was looking for you and saw you walking off with my father’s guard, now what did you tell him?”

“I didn’t-”

“No wonder he pulled such a stunt today. He needed to add to my workload to keep me away from my own goals!”

“Seonghwa, you-”

“Get lost.”

“What?”

“Get lost! I don’t need a traitor like you at my side.”

“I serve the Park family, Seonghwa, and that includes you. It’s my job to protect you from all kinds of danger, especially while in the palace.”

“I don’t need protection here, I need a friend, someone I can trust, and I mistakenly thought that was you. Now get out of my sight!”

Seonghwa took back the little bag of cakes Hongjoong had been holding onto, storming off, but Hongjoong followed without hesitation.

“Seonghwa, you’re being ridiculous, you-”

All of a sudden Seonghwa stopped in his tracks and turned around. He startled Hongjoong, distracting him as he reached for the boy’s sword and unsheathed it. The tip of the blade pointed at Hongjoong’s throat, keeping him frozen in place.

“If you’re a servant of the Park family then you should know by now I intend to make my own path. I don’t need a guard, I don’t need you, Hongjoong. I told my father to stay out of my way, and the same applies to you. Do not show your face to me again unless you are prepared to die.”

Seonghwa threw the sword to the ground and walked away, this time Hongjoong did not follow. He merely stayed put, watching the other leave, uncertain of his own future.

♦♦♥♦♦

Seonghwa couldn’t bring himself to see you, not after his day had fallen apart. As far as he was concerned everything that had happened so far would have no effect on his plans, but it would just complicate things. The little cakes he had gotten you were now cold, and he wanted you to enjoy them while they were fresh. He’d have to make another trip outside the palace and plan accordingly in order to deliver them himself. For now he just retired to his own quarters, needing some peace.

A few days later he went to visit you at night, keeping to his original promise of seeing you before the flowers died. Despite everything that twinkle in your eyes shined bright, like a beacon of light in the darkness. You loved star gazing, but tonight he merely wanted to hold you in his arms. Hongjoong’s words rang in his head since they were true, but not entirely, not anymore. He thought he could trust him, but he should have known better. You can’t really trust anyone in the palace. As he was lost in thought he was suddenly pulled back to reality by a hand running through his hair. His gaze met yours, seeing the curious and worried look in your eyes.

“Are you alright, Seonghwa? You seem… distant tonight.”

“Apologies. I have a lot on my mind.”

“You must really be busy.”

“Indeed I am.”

“Then… I won’t hold you to your previous promise anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to come before the flowers wilt… I can wait for you, however long that takes.”

“Princess, you don’t need to say such things.”

“You’re busy in the palace, and have many responsibilities to uphold. You’re also the son of Minister Park, there must be quite the expectations on your shoulders. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“Y/n.” Seonghwa reached over to cup your cheeks. “You’re not a burden to me. Seeing you brings me much joy, and it’s the best remedy after a long day. I’m still getting used to everything, so I apologize for being so distant.”

“I can understand you have your priorities but… I must ask…”

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why… why do you care about me? Why did you approach me? Why do you sacrifice and put yourself in danger to see me?”

Seonghwa chuckled softly. “I wanted to see what had become of you after all these years… but also… I know what it’s like to be alone when there are so many people around you. To be at arms length from your parents… it may not really be my place, but I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Are you alone in the palace?”

“It seems I am… besides you of course.”

“But you have your father, and guard.”

“Not really, not anymore.”

“… I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know the palace is a lonely place, which is all the more reason to come see you. I want to keep our promise, and I want to see you during the day.”

“Seonghwa, you know-”

“I do, I do, we’ll talk about this more some other time. Let’s just enjoy the present.”

Seonghwa pulled you closer, wanting to keep you wrapped up in his arms, safe and sound. He hummed softly and closed his eyes, listening to your steady heartbeat, providing him with comfort. He was slowly dozing off, a lot of exhaustion catching up to him, but then he heard a tapping on the window. His eyes snapped open, immediately on alert. For a second all he caught was the hilt of a sword, and then he noticed the slivers of sunlight in the sky. He had stayed for too long. Thankfully it seemed that you hadn’t woken up, and he’d do nothing to disturb your sleep. Seonghwa carefully pulled himself away from you, biting his lip instead of kissing your head. He made his way out, careful to be quiet and not be seen.

��Thank you, Wooyoung. I’m sorry I must have fallen asleep at some point and lost track of time.”

As Seonghwa thanked Wooyoung for being his look out he saw the boy shaking his head, gesturing to someone behind Seonghwa. A scowl quickly appeared on Seonghwa’s face and he drew out Wooyoung’s sword. Although when he turned around, ready to keep his word, he saw Hongjoong on his knees, bowing his head as he held up his own sword. For a moment there was silence and then Hongjoong dared to speak.

“I was wrong, my lord. I am not a servant of the Park family, only yours. Whatever you desire, whatever becomes of you, I wish to stand by your side as a protector, but most of all a friend. The palace is a dangerous place and you should not traverse it alone. If you’ll have me… I shall serve you until my dying breath. If I cannot do that for you then I ask you to keep your word. I am prepared to die.”

Hongjoong raised up his sword higher, still keeping his head bowed. Silence once again filled the air, the sounds of nature waking up, of a new day, began to take over the quiet morning. Seonghwa returned Wooyoung’s sword, stepping towards Hongjoong and taking the blade presented to him.

“Stand.”

Hongjoong did as he was ordered, but did not meet Seonghwa’s gaze, not until the tip of the sword was under his chin.

“You swear loyalty to me, no matter what happens? You’ll die for me if needed?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Tsk.”

“Seonghwa.”

The tip of the sword was pressed against Hongjoong’s throat, any more pressure and blood would be drawn. If this was the end Hongjoong would accept it. He deserved it for abandoning his friend. Instead Seonghwa pulled the sword away, stepping closer and returning the sword to its sheath.

“I will hold you to your words, Hongjoong.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“Thank you, for the wake up call.”

“You definitely need to sleep more, which is why it’s best you visit the princess during the day.”

“Ah, is that so?”

“Yes. I know how you can accomplish this.”

“Do tell.”

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Liam and His Ickey

Set around s5 I guess

In the show, Liam doesn't really talk until he's older so he doesn't really say much here

4 +1

///

“Carl, don’t shovel it in like that, you’re going to burn your mouth,” Fiona frowns in disapproval. She’s made a big batch of potato soup for dinner, and honestly, it’s really fucking good. Mickey’s not used to home cooked meals. Him and his siblings are either eating what little is around the house or whatever they manage to steal. 

“I’m hungry,” Carl says in between mouthfuls. 

“Jesus,” Ian mutters. 

It’s mostly quiet around the table. Debbie chatters about school and fucking Lip adds in a thing or two about his own life that Mickey couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits about. 

Even so, it’s kind of...nice he supposes, to sit around the table like this. Fuckin’ weird, but he’s never really had this. Back when his mom was around, they never ate together. She was always sprawled out on the couch, passed out and intoxicated. 

Ian’s fingertips leave a ghostly trail on his leg. The electric current shoots up Mickey, leaves him tingling, and he flushes, hoping nobody else notices. 

“Mmm,” Liam says suddenly. He looks up at Fiona with a toothy grin, soup around his mouth. “Mmm.” 

She laughs. “It’s good, huh?” 

He nods and mmms, again. 

“Well, at least I have Liam’s approval,” she says to the rest of them humorously. 

“He’s just trying to get on your good side,” Ian teases, “so you don’t give him a bath.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Fiona groans. “I think it’s my turn.” 

“Glad it’s not mine,” Debbie says. “I hate doing it now. He splashes too much.” 

“I don’t mind,” Carl pipes up now that he’s almost done with his bowl. “He makes it look like a waterpark in there.” 

“Yeah, that’s just what we need,” Fiona deadpans. 

Lip wipes his mouth, takes a drink of his beer. “I think Mickey should have a turn,” he says, and Ian and Mickey’s head swivel in his direction. “It’s only fair now that he’s living here.” 

Fuckin’ asshole. Mickey glares at him. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Come on, Mick,” Lip must have a fucking death wish. “Haven’t you bathed a kid before?” 

“Lip,” Ian says warningly. 

“What? I’m just saying. We always rotate the chores.” 

“Mickey helps out around here,” Ian says firmly. Yeah, he fucking does. Doin’ the laundry, the dishes and other shit. He never did any of that at home. “If he doesn’t want to bathe Liam, he doesn’t have to.” 

“Ian’s right,” Fiona agrees. Huh, Mickey takes a second to blink. “He doesn’t have to.” 

“Okay, okay,” Lip grumbles, holding his hands up in surrounder. “It was just a suggestion.” 

“Yeah, a stupid ass one,” Mickey interjects. Lip rolls his eyes. 

Silence falls over them again. Their spoons clink against the bowls, chairs creaking whenever someone shifts. 

“Ickey,” Liam pipes up again. All heads turn his way, expressions flicker with confusion. 

“What did he say?’ Ian asks. 

“Ickey,” Liam repeats. 

“He said Ickey...” Debbie furrows her brow. “Is he trying to say Mickey?” 

“Ickey,” Liam emphasizes. This brings forth a laugh from Fiona and Ian. 

“It’s fitting,” Lip quips. Mickey scowls. 

“What the fuck ever.” He digs into his bowl, taking a large scoop and ignoring them all. 

Fucking assholes. 

*

Mckey thinks it’s a one and done kinda thing. For a while, Liam doesn’t say it again, and the others make a few jokes for a couple of days before they move on to something else. 

Of fucking course it isn’t that simple. Liam waits for the perfect opportunity to strike. He’s a fucking sadist, Mickey’s sure. 

Today, Colin and Iggy drop by. His brothers are starting to be around more since Mickey came out. It’s uncomfortable as fuck, even though Ian beams like it’s the most fucking precious thing he’s ever seen. 

His boyfriend really is gay as hell. 

“What do you fuckheads want?” Mickey demands, His words don’t have as much heat to them, not really, it’s just how he talks. 

Iggy tosses a plastic bag his way. “He’s more of your clothes, Stupid.” 

“What brought what we could,” Colin shrugs. “Terry burned most of it.” 

“Asshole,” Mickey mutters. 

Iggy nods a little too enthusiastically. “Shoulda seen it. He made a huge fire pit in the backyard.” 

“Whoop de fucking doo.” 

He’s pretty sure both his brothers are complete idiots, because Colin glances around, not even trying to be subtle here. “Where’s your boyfriend?” 

There’s this change to his tone at the word boyfriend, like it’s this strange new thing for him to grasp. Mickey supposes in a way it is. 

“None of your damn business, that’s where,” he retorts. 

“Cool it, Mick,” Colin rolls his eyes. “I’m just askin’.” 

“He’s just protectin’ his boy, ain’t that right?” Iggy grins. 

“Do you wanna fucking die?” 

He staggers back when Colin uses the palm of his hand to push his chest. 

“You forget that we changed your diapers,” his older brother snorts. “We’re not scared of you.” 

Iggy nudges Colin. “Remember when he used to get mad if he thought we didn’t hug him enough before bed.” 

“I never did that!” Mickey snaps, his ears going pink. 

“God,” Colin shakes his head. “He used to throw the worst tantrums. Worse than Mandy ever did.” 

He doesn’t need any of that information to get back to the ears of any Gallagher. “If you don’t have anything else for me then get the fuck out,” Mickey orders. 

“Aw, Mick-”

“We were just messing around, dumbass.” 

“I don’t give a shit,” Mickey folds his arms. 

At that moment, they all hear thudding coming down the stairs. Mickey assumes it’s Carl until he turns to find Liam all dressed in his pajamas. 

“Liam, come on. It’s time for bed,” Fiona’s voice is getting closer. Kid musta ran right outta the bathroom. 

Unfortunately, he has really bad timing. He spots Mickey, beams and says, 

“Ickey!” 

Fuck, Mickey sulks while his brothers crack up laughing. 

“Did he just call you Ickey?” Colin howls. 

Iggy is laughing so hard he leans against Colin for support. Liam giggles too, even though he probably doesn’t know what’s so funny. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Mickey sneers. “It’s real fucking funny.” 

*

“Ickey.” 

“Mickey,” he enunciates slowly. “Quit forgetting the M, kid.” 

They’re sitting at the kitchen table where it all started, just him and Liam. Ian comes down the stairs, shooting Mickey this shit-eating grin. He comes over to the cabinet to get himself a glass, filling it with kool aid. 

“How’s the spelling lesson going?” He asks lightly, taking a seat beside him. 

“Fuck off.” 

Liam just doesn’t listen no matter how many times he tries. Mickey thinks it’s a Gallagher trait. 

“Mickey,” he repeats. 

“Ickey,” Liam says solemnly. 

Ian snorts. Mickey contemplates strangling him. 

“It’s not Ickey,” Mickey says through grit teeth. “It’s Mickey.” 

Liam does not agree. “Ickey!” He exclaims defiantly because that’s all these Gallaghers knew how to do. 

“No!” Mickey barks. 

“Has anyone ever said you’d be a good teacher?” Ian says. 

Fuckin’ Gallaghers. 

“I’m never touching your dick again if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Mickey threatens. 

“You make a really compelling argument,” Ian says, not at all sincere. 

Remind him again why he chose this dumbass? 

“You know, if you keep bringing attention to it, he’ll keep doing it,” Ian continues. “Just ignore it.” 

“No,” Mickey shakes his head. “Cuz he’ll think he’s won and he didn’t win.” 

“He’s three, Mickey.” 

“So what? You think your ginger ass wasn’t annoying at his age?” 

“You didn’t know me at three,” Ian says, amused. 

“Don’t have to know you. You’ve always been fucking annoying,” Mickey says. “Nah, I ain't gonna acknowledge it unless he says it right.” 

Ian rolls his eyes. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously, Firecrotch.” 

“You’re at war with a three year old, you know that right?” 

Mickey ignores that. He knows he can win this. He ain’t gonna be outsmarted by a damn kid. 

It goes quiet. Liam loses interest in the conversation so he goes to color in the living room. Mickey accepts a beer that Ian offers him, and they just sorta sit there, close and enjoying that the house isn’t currently being overrun with a million Gallagher brats. 

Few minutes or so pass when Mickey feels a tug on his jeans. 

Liam has a picture he wants to show him. “Ickey, look!” 

So he deliberately turns away. 

“Oh my God,” Ian mutters. 

“Ickey,” Liam repeats. He frowns when Mickey doesn’t respond in any way. “Ickey!” 

“Seriously?” Ian sighs. 

“Ickey!” Liam starts to poke him incessantly. Mickey takes a deep breath. He won’t let himself be bothered. 

Except it does bother him. 

Poke, poke, poke. 

“Ickey, Ickey, Ickey-” 

“What?” Mickey explodes, whirling around in the chair to face him. His outburst startles Ian a bit but Liam is unfazed. He’s grinning and holds up the drawing. 

“Look!” 

Ian stands up, bringing the cup to his lips as he passes by to put it in the sink. “I guess Liam won,” he comments nonchalantly. 

*

Now he’s not just goin’ around calling him Ickey. He’s been sayin’ My Ickey too. 

“My Ickey,” he’ll say at random times, just pointing to him. 

Maybe it’s because they’re around each other a lot. Him and Gallagher stay at the house whenever Mickey’s not working while Ian tries to get adjusted to these new meds. So he sees them two more than anybody else. 

Ian says Mickey is partly to blame, he shouldn’t be saying, “No!” whenever the kid says it because it’s just encouraging him. 

What the fuck ever. 

Like now, while they’re trying to watch TV, Liam decides he should be the one in the middle. 

“My Ickey,” he says to them seriously. 

“You wanna sit next to Mickey?” Ian grins. Liam nods. 

“Too fucking bad,” Mickey says blandly. “Stay there, Red.” 

“He’s just a little kid, Mick-”

“So what?” 

Liam becomes impatient from a lack of action. He pushes his way onto the couch, trying to separate them. Ian laughs and scoots over. Mickey wishes he wouldn’t. He’ll fucking murder somebody if they knew but he liked having his redhead right there with him. 

Once there, Liam leans into Mickey, hugging his arm. “My Ickey,” he says, strangely firm for a kid. 

“I think I have competition,” Ian snickers. 

“Ay, Kid,” Mickey tries shaking his arm but Liam has a good grip on it. “Let go.” 

Liam ignores him. 

“Face it, Mickey,” Ian says cheerfully. “You’ve won the hearts of two Gallaghers. How’s that feel?” 

“Fuckin’ great,” Mickey deadpans, although there might be some part of him that warms ever so slightly. It’s not like he’s used to people seeking him out other than Ian. 

That warmth floods him from head to toe when Laim squirms his way into his lap, his head against Mickey’s chest. He’s pretty sure Ian’s giving them those heart eyes right now. 

Whatever. This Ickey shit still has to go.

*

He’s trying to sleep. He’s nearly there when he feels a tug on his shirt. 

“Wha-” he mutters sleepily. 

Liam’s beside the bed, clenching a stuffed bear that’s seen better days. 

Ian’s sleeping soundly as is Carl. Mickey sits up slowly so he won’t wake his boyfriend. “What’s up, Kid?” He yawns. 

“Ickey,” he chews on his lips. From the moonlight, he can see tears in Liam’s brown eyes. 

“You have a nightmare?” Mickey says, hushed. 

Liam nods. 

“Fine. Go on,” Mickey jerks his head towards the bed Liam’s using, the one that Carl used to sleep in back when Lip was here. 

The kid climbs onto the bed and Mickey follows. Liam’s been having a lot of nightmares recently, and with no one else up at this hour to tend to him, that falls on Mickey. 

“What happened this time?” Mickey whispers. 

“Monster,” Liam sniffles. 

“Ay, it’s okay,” Mickey pulls the blanket up so it’s covering Liam again. “There ain't no monsters here. No unless you count that goofy ass red giant over there.” 

His words do little to comfort the kid. 

Come on, work with me here, he thinks. 

“Look,” Mickey says, “even if there were monsters, we wouldn’t let ‘em get to you, alright? We’d let ‘em eat Lip if we had to.” 

This makes Liam giggle. It makes Mickey start to smile unconsciously. 

“You good now? Think you can go to sleep?” 

Liam considers this, and nods. 

“Good.” Mickey doesn't kiss him goodnight or anything, he just starts to get off the bed when Liam throws his tiny arms around his neck to hug him. 

“My Ickey,” he whispers. 

Mickey sighs, a smile emerging against his will. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, for once not at all annoyed like he should be. “Your Ickey.” 

[spirk-trek]

Hey so, it's me. The debbie-downer vaguing you in the spirk tag. I didn't mention you directly because my post wasn't directed at you, although it was made in response to checking some of your posts because I do have Unification in my filtered list (content and tag), so those fanworks? Behind a button, so my choice to look is all my own. (I didn't send the anon, though. That was someone else, sorry to say.) It sucks that that's how tumblr's system works but yay content filtering! Tumblr didn't always have that.

I didn't make that post to start drama, and I'm not the sort to get my kicks by being a contrarian for opposition's sake (like. I'm a Shatner fan. In a lot of online Star Trek spaces, I might as well say I hate K/S or Leonard Nimoy or kick puppies in my spare time, you know?), but I did make it in anger and for that I apologize. I should have waited longer on it to phrase things better or simply have deleted it from my drafts after typing it out. (But it's out there now and I'll live with it.)

I do understand where the joy of connecting the past to the present comes from (as a lot of your posts do with connecting old and new fanworks together), and that a lot of people are celebrating the Unification short as a culmination of 50+ years of K/S despite their initial separation according to the initial story, but for me (personally! I want to stress that. It's just me and my own opinion here), I keep seeing it as a valuing of what a company is finally offering fans rather than the celebration of fans who saw where K/S's story ended at the time, rejected that ending that was offered by the corporation, and made their own ending for K/S, without looking towards any official channels as a guide for their visions. That's what my post was about, where my anger was from, those questions--what becomes lost in fandom if we accept canon from the corporation that holds the copyright? What does it say if we look towards that same canon as being above what fandom has already envisioned? In a fandom as old as Star Trek's, one that laid so much groundwork that we take for granted, to overlook that worries me.

I suppose the biggest issue here is it's too similar, like a reflection in a mirror: on one side, Unification stands as the canonization of what the fandom has envisioned all along. It culminates. On the other, Unification appears as a bone tossed to finally appease fans who have seen K/S from the start and it feels too little, too late. Ironically enough, the short has seemingly managed to divide people, but it's too early to tell how lasting such a division could be.

Hopefully I've cleared the air by this. Unification clearly is not my cup of tea and I'm honestly not trying to ruin anyone's fun (most of my posts have gone untagged for a reason but I forget tumblr still parses for post content to index. Yikes. That post was tagged, though, because it was a snap decision made in anger and I wanted my thoughts to be seen). One could argue the short wasn't even made for me as I've long wondered if I will watch Generations because I've read the summary and didn't like it. But that's the joy of fandom and transformative works. We can look at the story and pick our favorite parts and rewrite the ones we don't like. If we didn't do that, fandom wouldn't exist, or it would but it wouldn't be as much fun.

Sorry for the essay in your inbox and for causing any confusion and hurt. I hope you've had a great day 💛

i'm not going to lie, it does hurt a little. i wasn't going to answer this publicly but i don't have the time today to have a private convo and i don't want you to think i deleted it or ignored it, so here we are.

i don't think unification made spirk any more canon than tmp did. i don't think the short was made with k/s in mind at all, even as a bone to toss starving shippers. star trek at large was never intended as a love story between them, but people have always seen it anyway. 

i'm conflicted about the use of nimoy's likeness too. despite that, i think that they did it as respectfully as they could have and involved the right people. it was a goodbye, not using him for a cheap cameo or advertising purposes (yes i know it was an "ad" like everything is, but it's not like spock holds up a coke at the end). you can disagree with me, and i understand your point of view. that's why i said i understood where that anon was coming from. 

what i see is william shatner and others taking a story that ended in a way that was disrespectful to both characters, one of which he himself has been playing for the majority of his life, and trying to fix that. it doesn't mean there's no corporate greed involved. both can be true. at least they posted it on youtube, they didn't premiere it or put it behind a paywall. it was just eight minutes, and less than a quarter of that had nimoy's face in it. my favorite part of the whole thing was seeing tos kirk meet his future selves. i love that even though they both die out of their times, they find each other in the end. 

i don't want to be an activist or defend or endorse anything, i just... 

those zines i tagged were 1) a poem by della van hise that was so accurate to the short that others were already reblogging it (i posted it weeks ago). i found it super interesting that she wrote a poem about them meeting again in death before tmp/wok even came out, let alone this short. 2) i was gushing about unification in the tags. 3) another poem about being side by side, which again, i found incredibly relevant. the other one i posted was because it went well with the others visually. it has nothing to do with unification other than the fact that spock is laying down. 

this has just made me sad tbh. i'm not angry and i love your analysis/fan work so much, so :( idk, i don't want anything i post to be divisive or disrespectful. i wasn't even worried about that before. i just really needed a win and maybe i clung to that a little too hard :/

[thesaart]

The concept of a Fool

(this is basically a fanfiction so I have fun with writing it. I didn't really have a full plan when I started to write this but it's about Sampo so I wrote a lot anyways)

Going through this world I realized one thing and that is, that no matter what, who I am is of no importance to the story. What is important is to know what you want, regardless if you know the ending of the story or not. If you know what you want you can steer the story into that direction. You don't need to be the protagonist, if anything it's better if you're not. You can ask yourself questions of my origin and please tell me those questions. I will answer them. Because everyone knows, someone who says they are a bad liar can spin the most magnificent of tales. What planet did you come from? Do you have a family? Any siblings? Did they die? Did you kill them? Are you human or a worm? A corpse or a puppet? I came from a pebble. My father was a needle, my mother was a leaf and my sister was a tax machine. The leaf was crushed by the tax machine and the needle broke after avenging the leaf and I was the one who smashed the tax machine. I neither leave footprints nor grooves in mud. I can take your money and I can dig a hole. So if someone gave me a mouth and taught me how to speak, tell me what would be the difference? I can walk, I can dance, I breathe and blink but if you take my hand you yourself would freeze.

When I was younger I listened to storytellers, well that wasn't their job but regardless they were good at telling them. Wonderful little tales based on what those people themself went through. To be honest whenever I listened to them I never believed a word they said. However then I realized it was never about if they happened like this or not. Because truly who cares? What does it change if the people lied or not, if those stories truly happened the way they described? I knew that with all those workers, I would take their name, listen to their tales and then they would leave and I would never see them again. So after that realization, I remembered their tales and I started to build myself with these stories as a starting point. 

I made the clothes I'm wearing. Build tools based on blueprints I drew myself. I created weapons and gave them to the people that needed them. I made them specifically based on the people I would give them to. All who used my creations praised my talent as a craftsman.

There were articles written by me. They always told the truth, exposed the evil and praised the good. My word was law and could shift opinions as quickly as new trends could be created. Politicians paid me millions to praise them in my articles. And all believed my words. For I was known as the people's most trusted journalist. A new theater play started just a few weeks ago and have you heard, I'm the main attraction. The stage lights follow every step I take, the music dancing to my whims. 

The audience, so focused on my every word. Applauding every note I sing. Maybe you're lucky and you can catch one of my performances.

One day I found a letter and a package in front of my door. The package had only one thing inside of it, a uniform. The letter spoke of a war and that I don't have a choice but to join it. I walked into the camp, scared but determined to defend my home land. I was handed a weapon, a gun, that was clearly used. Who knows who had used it before. I entered the battlefield, screams were the first thing I heard. 

I fought and killed, defended myself from the enemies. I saw comrades die. I held them, hugging them till I could not feel the beating of their hearts anymore. I sat behind the walls of broken buildings hoping that I would come out alive.  

In all my time I had seen so much. I saw how people were exploited and their worries and needs stayed forever ignored. The governments whose only purpose it was to stand with its people, spitting on the ones who they were supposed to protect and aid. I hated them so much, I hated the hypocrisy behind their actions. I joint group after group to tear it all to the ground. I helped liberate nations and become an enemy of the ones who tried to stop me. I fought for freedom.   

I grew up as an orphan with no coin to my name, no one ever gave me aid. They saw a sad little boy destined to starve on the streets. The only thing that was thrown my way were looks of pity. so I hid and observed. I saw what the ones around me were doing to earn money. The shop owners lied to every customer, inflating the prices of their goods. Street performers would make the audience gamble away all they had. Other children would beg and use the looks of pity to their advantage. I observed and learnt. I took from people what was precious to them and changed the appearance of what I stole. Then I went to the ones it once belonged to and sold it back to them. I build a name of a salesman who knew exactly what others wanted. A trusted man with quality goods and the price, always fair. It wasn't my fault if the goods quickly broke or if the material never fully matched all the way through.    

Once I organized a heist, determined to clean out every last bit of valuables that place had. First it was an attempt to right the wrongs of others. I stole, yes, but only so I could share it with the ones that actually needed the money. I told myself that for a few times but after the fifth heist I struggled to continue to tell myself that. The hostages in front of me, cowering, fear radiating in their eyes, knowing as well as I did, that all that was a lie. I didn't care about the civilians or the ones who were forgotten by society. I just liked the thrill. I never wanted the laws to change. If anything, I wanted more of them so I could break them over and over again.  Then one day I realized, I was older now. Those stories, entering to tell others and myself. Now both, wrong, just tales, stories of workers I listened to as a child and also true, having earned experiences, I found myself in all those roles. I fought in wars, killed others, and experienced starvation. I built the shell of bombs and brewed poisons to fill them. I forged the blades I use to hunt and defend myself with. I wrote articles to influence the public. Played with how easy it was to point fingers and declare something to be good or bad. I infiltrated organizations and lied to friends and the ones who trusted me. Selling the good will of others and betraying them without looking back. And between all of this I was invited to perform, to be an actor. However the stage I was destined for had no adoring audience, just a crowd that knew, as well as I did, that we were laughing into the abyss. We knew how futile all this was but we still laughed because it just was so funny. I never thought about a clear line that I wouldn't cross. Stealing was fine, ruining people's lives was alright, destroying and tearing apart order and seeing places burn, was just part of who I was. But then I found that line and stopped for just a moment. It didn't change my world view, didn't make me a better person, just gave me a new perspective. So I gave my mask to a person I knew would never give it back to me for free. Only if I would do something for her, if I would dance to her whims. So if I ever decided to go back I could be sure that it was no quick decision based on longing or boredom. After I was free of the mask, of the tavern and the laughter, I traveled. It was the same as with the fools. Truly it felt like nothing had changed. I made friends that I quickly betrayed and I joined different factions just to see how those behaved. I found myself in different taverns. The only change was just the color of the curtains.

This next bit is hazy even for me. I went to a planet I shouldn't even have known of. But I went anyway, typing in unknown and forgotten coordinates. Maybe one of the workers told me a tale about that planet or maybe someone told it to another, while a little orphan boy was listening. Regardless, when I left my ship and was greeted with the cold winds of a frozen planet, it felt like I was entering an ancient theater.

Those winds let me deeper into those ancient halls. No walls, just ice and snow. Mountains covered in a thick layer of snow, reflecting the few rays of sunshine that were able to escape the heavy blanket of clouds. Like the spotlights above a stage.  After walking in the freezing cold for what felt like an eternity, with the noises of my heavy breathing as my only companion, I found myself on a cliff looking down towards a city. 

Sneaking into the city was a lot easier than I thought. It felt like I was walking next to invisible footsteps, leading or suggesting a way. I observed the townspeople and listened to them. Finding out about the name of the little city and its history. Well as much history as I could glean from peoples discussions and daily gossip. One thing that was clear to me was that those people were dying. They knew their time was running out but they just went on with their lives because there was nothing else they could do. 

From my perspective, I  just, I don't know exactly how I felt. If anything, I think I felt disappointed. When I entered this theater's halls I thought it was a story about a place of tragedy but determination. Believing that they will come out alive that everything will be fine. All the factions I went to had at least a version of that determination but especially Qliphoths people tended to have that blind faith. 

I'm not sure why, I could have left, but I didn't. This time I stayed and I stayed for a lot longer than I thought. I got to know the people of the overworld and played with their perception of me. They thought I came from the Underworld, an intriguing sounding place I was sure to visit as well. I quickly became a merchant and for some more direct and may I say ruder citizens, a scammer. Finding out what those people needed or craved was exhilarating. I played with what they wanted and seeing what they would do for just a simple distraction was fascinating. Being chased by the silver main guards was also just fun. I found myself excited by just the anticipation of what will come next? What do those people want? Where will I run and hide to today? But even though the Overworld was fun, the Underworld gave me a feeling I struggled to describe to myself for many years. The Underworld was a warm place, its people so busy running around, no time to lose. Working, providing both places with energy, mining all day. Kids running around playing, yelling at each other and laughing. The sounds of their voices and the noises of picks hitting rock and mining cards grinding on iron tracks, created a melody that was so vivid and clear to my ears, that I could almost dance to it. I let myself be carried by this atmosphere, following in the footsteps of the busy workers, offering my help and just being. I never had this much fun. 

Then one day the atmosphere shifted. The gates and entry between the two places were cut off, the Silvermane Guards stationed in the Underworld were ordered to get back above ground, leaving the people alone. Priority will change opinions and perspectives but still for me and a lot of other Underworlders it felt like the Overworld decided we weren't worth their protection. With no explanation given they left them all to rot. Hoverwever surviving was a thing I was always good at and like me the Underwolders were similarly gifted in that regard. So they went back to work, now they needed to provide energy only for themselves so there was at least that. Still the places exchanged more than just energy. The underworld powered machines, providing energy for cars, for heaters, for gears to keep both cities turning. However the Overworld aided the people with food and medicine. So like at the beginning, I knew the people of the city were going to die but the way how, was now a lot clearer, a lot more vivid and I was lost. I didn't know what to do. Like everyone else in the Underworld I was stuck. I searched for ways to reach the Overworld to do something. But every time I thought I found a path, Svarog, an ancient robot that, at least judging with how stubborn the tin box was felt more human to me than robot, would find those paths as quickly as I did and destroy them. I was at my wits end, I didn't know what to do. I never was at my wits end, I always had a plan or a concept or just a spark of inspiration but at that moment my head was empty. Now, what to do when you don't know what the next step should be? I did the only thing I could think of. 

I took a walk. 

I kept walking blindly into any direction. The warmth around me was still there. The people were still so busy but now that warmth was fueled with something else, an undertone to that captivating melody. If it was frustration or anger or hurt I could never figure out but now the atmosphere felt like a steam engine with broken glass and dented metal.

Cracked but still moving.  

Regardless of what will happen next, they will keep moving and so I will keep walking, for now, following in their steps, moving to their rhythm. I vouched that I would help them. This planet's tragedy and its people's situation and the underworld's whole existence sang to me in a way I both loved and hated. How dare they, how dare those people resonate with him? What does he have to do with they're shitty situation? Why should he even care and why doesn't he care at all about those questions right now? Does this really matter? The why or questions of how a planet, a city, people can be this unlucky. Finding a reason won't fix their situation and I don't know if answers to those questions would explain why I cared so much about those people. Especially for the people of the Underworld.    

While my thoughts were powering my steps I found the ground underneath my feet change. The rock and gravel dirtying my shoes changed slowly to a soft but still slightly dirtied white. The noise of my feet sinking into the thick layer of snow and the cold winds whipping around me was the next thing that greeted me.  

I smiled and spoke out loud, 

“Found it.”

The moment I found this little path I made sure no one else knew of it and somehow they didn't, not even Svarog knew of its existence. The path wasn't a simple straight line either. That would have been too easy. It was more like a winding array of lines all interlinking, melting together. Traversing through it felt like I was a wild gust of wind ripping through the delegate little lines, dancing through its halls with steps somehow only I knew. 

This path was all I needed because now I could be a link between the two cities. 

The Overworld needed heaters? Or oh no, their fuel source is running out. Who could help them? I made my money, built my reputation and made the Silvermane Guards fairly angry at me. 

A scammer who somehow seems like he can teleport, so fast and undetectable, footprints lost in snow. Come on run and try to catch me. This will keep you warm, the unpredictability and distraction of a little chaos, who could deny its effectiveness?

The things I stole? the materials I traded for? The food I could buy? Why, all of it was too much for me alone. So I gave it to the Underworld but not through my hands. My face would not greet those hungry and determined eyes. They wouldn't take it from me. They would never take it from someone who can't be trusted.

I understood the concept of trust better than most others I met, so I knew how both, fragile and also how utterly useless it was to me in this situation. The people didn't need to trust me. They needed to know me. I needed to play with their expectations so I needed to create a character that could act in ways so predictable that I could steer people into situations and places that would help me. To be able to ensure their survival for just another day. Wildfire was perfect for what I wanted to do. Like with the Silvermane Guards above ground, Wildfire was all about justice and helping the people however they could and similar to the Silvermanes, Wildfire also had a leader. However their leader was a lot easier to talk to and far less complicated in her ways of thinking as the leader of the Silvermanes. 

Natasha was a truly kind person and to my annoyance a pretty smart and observant person too.  One of the first times I met her I just happened to have some rations with me so when I gave them to her. Simply because a doctor would know far better how to handle those things then me and that I could give her more for a bit of info on wildfire and its members. She smiled at me, looked me in the eyes and took the supplies with her, with only a “See you later” as her answer. 

I knew from her look, those eyes that read you like a book, that I need to be careful around her. I don't think she ever fully figured me out, however, she, from all the people I interacted with on that planet, came the closest to seeing through me and I would lie if I would say that that thought didn't worry me. I met other members of Wildfire and most of them reminded me of people I’ve met on my travels. A strong and straightforward but oh so rude and brash warrior, a shining light of hope and protection keeping the will and spirits of all that are around him up and running. An old general molded by fights and bureaucracy and a child so full of fire and life, making her run in chaotic and huge lines, brightening the streets wherever she goes. I aided them and the rest of Wildfire with what they needed, to help the Underworld to survive as long as they could.   

The longer I stayed the more I didn't want to leave. I knew I couldn't leave at that time anyway but I knew that there would come a point where I couldn't deny that my time here would run out. So I just kept up with what I was doing anyway. The merchant and scammer become more well known. The helping hand of Wildfire was both an annoyance to the group but also, you could sometimes hear a sigh of relief coming from its members when they saw little old me.

Then one day I heard the metallic sound of an ancient and imaginary whistle ringing through the cold winds of the snow plains. Whispers of old tales hit me once again and I felt my excitement grow. Oh what a wonder, the train stops here too. 

As I said before, you don't need to know how the story will end, you just need to know what you want. Because the moment you know what you want, you have the power to push the story into that direction. When I got here I didn't know why, didn't care for why. 

Now I know a part of me wanted to be here to feel this type of connection once again. 

Stepping out of the dirty and cracked halls of the ancient theater, being greeted by the few rays of sunlight that could escape the heavy clouds. I felt again like an actor but this time taking on the same role that I also played for the townspeople. My part isn't over yet so  gather around members of this ancient train and let me, your friendly merchant, Sampo Koski, tell you a tale of a doomed city and please, 

help us all. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of my favorite things about getting older is that I’m just more sure and more confident in taking control in social situations and making other people feel at ease. I really love it!

[ruvviks]

having an idea for a game but it's miles above your skill level

[exopelagic]

honk shoo.

[judeharoldvich]

just found out there are people who hate channel awesome and think that the nostalgia critic videos are 'substitutes' for watching movies and don't fall under fair use. don't let them see subway surfers tiktok they'll have an anuerysm

[caruliaa]

losing something you once had feels so much worse iv learned then realising youll never get something you never had